-

Rosy cheeks and white flakes in your hair make you seem more innocent than I know you are.

Two can play at your game.
But I'd rather sit in the stands and watch you try to play defense against yourself.

Nerdy analogies

The strongest Jedi's were tempted by the Dark Side and resisted.

What would have happened if the tin-man hadn't helped Dorothy? If Samwise Gamgee had given up on the quest?
Half of me wants to let her get lost, crash and burn. The other half doesn't want to give up on her, but even when I try to help her, she ignores me.
If you keep following the wicked witch, you'll never know what's at the end of the yellow-brick road.


I've seen sinking ships go down with more grace than you.

Writing like I have no papers due.

Thought dump for a class assignment. I had to put emotion on an inanimate object. Afterward, I fixed the chair.

"The back of the chair lays thrown carelessly on the floor as if someone got angry at it and ripped it off. It's originator,spine exposed to all the world. The chair looks naked and awkward with its back laying lifeless next to it.
A chair cannot be functional with only 1 leg. But a chair cannot be happy with its back support laying helpless on the floor. A happy chair is a functional chair."

iJammin

Full moon presiding over an eerily quiet night.It makes me anxious.
Calm before the storm?
Eye of the storm?
Did I miss the storm?

My perfect boy would have one quality: The ability to slow down time.
My technology is surpassing
me. iJam keeps selecting Christmas songs.

Time is hurdling toward the end of the year and my parachute is malfunctioning

language leech

Language is a virus. We are merely the hosts.
The human dies, but the written word, the virus carries on, implanting itself into a new life-form.

I don't know where I'm going with this.

Tired kids and wired eyes

Trapped in a revolving door to the building that houses hurt and confusion on all floors.
Stuck between the lobby and the sidewalk. The outside world or the strange comfort of the florescent lights and tile floors?
He's only capable of love in 30 minute increments. She loves continuously.
The placebos to each other's loneliness.

I've noticed a lot of people on campus that don't agree with the current governement. I also notice a lot of people not doing anything about it. What of the people of yesteryear? If people didn't like the government, they marched right up to the seat and changed things.
What of the people now? I see people complaining, but no action. Apathy? A feeling of worthlessness?
I know, I'm one of the "I take issue with certain things, but I'm not running for president to try to change things,", but I don't see anyone else doing it either. What happened to proactivity?
Remember: People shouldn't be afraid of their government; governement should be afraid of its people.

Well tough shit

You think I'm cold and stubborn, but compared to the rest of the world, I've got a heart of fucking gold.

You know, for a "ghetto New York City" girl, you're awfully soft.

There's just something about laying in the grass on a nice sunny day reading a book full of words you wish you had written.
Something tells me the boy for me is doing the same thing right now.
But if we keep our noses buried in books, how will we ever meet?

Lost and found

Yesterday afternoon produced an angry rain shower and a sopping wet dog in our bathroom.
It was the kind of rain that seemed like it was raining out of anger of something. The kind of raindrops that seemed like they might break the glass when they hit. The kind that make a 'splat' noise and then break into thousands of tiny droplets, because of the force of the impact.
On our way home from the store in the angry rain, we passed a tiny dog walking down the sidewalk. Normally, we wouldn't have done anything. But it was raining and the dog looked pathetic. When we pulled over, the dog took shelter under the car and I had to coax it out, and into the front seat. He still has all his male parts, which leads me to believe he's not nuetered, he has no collar, but he's much to well behaved and people friendly to be a stray. He's also practically housebroken.
After putting up signs after the rain rested it's rampage, I decided to use the 'zip code search' on myspace and ask around there. Nobody was missing a dog, but I did get an offer from a girl who lives nearby to take him if nobody claims him in a week.
He's a cute dog, we just can't keep him.
Oh, the wonders of myspace. I wonder, though. Will someone write a news article on this? "Girl gives dog away using myspace"?
I'm reminded of the song sang at the end of Napoleon Dynamite. "I love you. But not as much as technology. Always and Forever."

late-night tension

Do I like being the one that has to be the 'cold-hearted, bitchy' friend? No. Do I like having to be the one that has to yell at my friends when they do something stupid? No. Do I like having her mad at me? Of course not. But someone has too. Someone has to tell them, even if they don't listen.
Of course I have feelings. It kills me to see friends go through the same hurt over and over and over again. I certainly don't enjoy it when they continously break up. But someone has to be the one to forget the heart and listen to the head when it says "it's happened 15 times before. Chances are, it'll happen again."
I don't like it when I have to go to sleep knowing she's not happy with me. But I'd rather go through that awkwardness than have to see her crying over the same guy a few months from now. It's getting ridiculous. I couldn't help but yell at her.
I think I'll just stick with being the tin-man for now. I just wish Dorothy would take my advice. Just this once.

Thoughts from the Mesa

There's something about the night air that is so much better than daytime air.
Essentially, nothing has changed. But the feeling is different.
The night air seems more pure. A little colder and more moist. The night air doesn't try to suck all of the moisture out of my body.
The breeze is different too. Blowing the troubles of the day away and leaving my mind calm. Almost a naive feeling breeze. Not aware, nor caring about what tomorrow might bring, just making sure that the air is clear while the city sleeps.
The city seems more defined in the dark. The city lights reflected in the stars I can see from the mesa. Everything twinkles in the night air. The sky, the city, even the people, all dressed up to dance in the carefree breeze.
As much as I enjoy contemplating the personality of the night air, it soon calms me to sleep.

Doosh,Doosh,Doosh

So last Thursday I went to a club. A night club. With dancing. And a bar. A real club. The first one I've ever been too, as a patron. It was 'goth night'.
I only went because it was free since I was 21, and I was having an urge to socialize. These urges don't come often, so I figured I should act on it.
It was an interesting experience, but I don't think I'd go again.
1) Goth kids dance funny.
2) Some of them are kind of rude.
3) The ones that don't dance sit in a corner and mope.
4) It was incredibly smokey. The patrons were allowed to smoke inside the establishment and I wouldn't be suprised if I contracted some second hand smoke disease from spending a few hours there. So Erin and I went outside for a while to get some fresh air and people were smoking out there as well.
But we did meet a very nice gay boy-Ryan, I believe was his name. He gave Erin and I advice on how to get the nice pre-med and law students at UNM because, quote "Those goth boys don't have jobs or ambition."
The advice:
1)Get a cute pair of jeans
2)A lime green t-shirt
3)Some pointy shoes to wear with the jeans
4)A big purse
5)And white eyeshadow under the eyebrow.
Nice boy, that Ryan. I'm thinking of taking his advice and see if I can catch me a pre-doctor.

thump

I love live music. There's just something about being thisclose to the music. You can see the vibrations of the drum set, you can see the emotion on the singer's face, you see the precise second when a mistake is made. You can see the split second frustration face the guitarist makes when he misses a note, and then flawlessly keeps going, not missing a beat.
My chest is still hurting from being so close to the bassist that my heart was thumping that beat instead of its usual one. It's probably not healthy that my chest still hurts, and it kind of feels like my heart might explode soon. But I know that it'll go away soon, and the thought makes me sad.
The festival (www.hyperactivemusicmag.com) went pretty damn good, considering it was its first year. We had some mix ups with the venues, a couple of bands didn't show, but things went well. We're hoping that we'll get to continue doing it, and that maybe it can become our own, better and more awesome South by southwest.
Sometimes, I wish that the local bands, containing people I know personally, would stay local. But I also know that they deserve to get world-wide credit, and I feel bad for wanting to keep them all to myself.

Hit by a Bus
The Mindy Set
Fielding
The Story Changes
The Giranimals

Implausibilities.

Listen to the musnt's, child.
Listen to the don'ts.
Listen to the shouldn'ts, the impossibles, the won'ts.
Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me;
Anything can happen, child.
Anything can be

-Shel Silverstein

Ethel...

Why do we have cemeteries? Why do we keep a stone and a casket full of bones in a field? It strikes me as a little contradictory. We-as in our culture- always talk about closure and moving on with our lives after loved ones die. And yet, we insist on keeping these memorials around, visiting them religiously and decorating them. It seems deductive to closure. And why do we decorate the graves? It's just stone afterall. We spend all this money getting the best, biggest and prettiest stone for someone who's never going to be able to appreciate it.
The whole thing is just another display of wealth and faux sympathy. We want to appear like we really cared for this person, but really we just want to show the other families that we cared more than they did because our stone is bigger. But you never see those people at the deceased's grave.
I found it ironic that the person who visited the grave across the street always went to this particular small, groddy, worn stone. I find myself hoping that the man wasn't apologizing for not being able to get "Ethel stonetoworntotell 1928-1989" a better, more flashy stone. Ethel knows you care, old man. Not because you were able to get a giant piece of granite, but because you still visit, after all these years.
Although, it depresses me that old man will never get closure because you're still there, bones in a time-capsule, name on a stone.

man-friend

My dad keeps bugging me to start looking for a boyfriend. And Ronnie thinks I'm gay because I'm just not interested. I'm not gay. I love penises. They're interesting looking. I just don't have the time. I'm a full time students,with a job-soon- and a family and chores. I barely have time to hang out with my friends, I sure as hell don't have time to worry about a clingy-college, immature, sex-driven BOY.
And it's not that I don't want a loving, caring male to cuddle with and tell me I'm pretty, I'm just very picky. And not just normal picky. I have A List. A long one. I can afford to be picky! Now when I'm 30ish and still not married, maybe I'll cross some things off. But right now? I'm looking for someone who can match ALL of my requirements.
And along with that pickyness, I also just don't feel like it. I have my list, I'm just to tired to go shopping. And right now, it'd be like going to the mall on a Saturday afternoon. Crowded, all the good stuff taken, only the inexperienced high school sales people to help. No, I want to go shopping on a Thursday morning. Great selection, not to crowded with the experienced cashier and all day to try stuff on and make sure it fits right.
These undergraduate boys, just don't have everything on my list.
Maybe I should start shopping in the graduate section.

daddy's girl much?

I miss my dad. I'm glad he's coming back today. It's weird, I never saw my dad much growing up so I thought I'd be fine when he took this job-travelling some. But I guess seeing him constantly over these past 3 years has spoiled me. He's only been away for 4 days and I can't wait until he gets home.
His birthday is tomorrow! Yay Daddy!
I'm wearing his jacket right now. It fits oddly.
I feel like such a little girl.
Dad=<3

The Chickens! They've escaped!

So, our Lit professor wanted us to write about what we remember about dinner/the kitchen from when we were younger. So, I started thinking about my grandma's kitchen, and all I remember about it is Chickens. Everywhere. She had it decorated in this really old fashioned style with chicken print everything. On the tablecloth, the curtains, magnets, canisters, she even had this big spoon thingy with a chicken on it in the middle of the stove.
And I remember how during fall and spring break, she would get me to clean the kitchen cabinets with this really strong orange smelling solution she would make, and she would have me get up on the counters to get to the high cabinets. I remember being scared I was going to fall, because the counters were skinny. I never fell.
I remember this huge jug we had in the corner, to keep pennies in. But now that I think about it, it really wasn't that big. It was just that I was about 2
feet shorter.
Now that I really think about it, I don't have one bad memory in that kitchen. Out of all the bad memories I have of that house, those people, none of them happened in that kitchen. It's like it was neutral ground.
I've decided that even though that kitchen was ugly, I'm going to decorate my kitchen like that. Maybe even get one of those spoon thingys to put on the stove. Maybe even figure out what it's for.

Whip it.

I just whipped up some pudding. I whipped it. I whipped it good. I shaped it up. It's not to late. To whip it.

Word disection:
Pudd-ing. The fact that it has an 'ing' at the end, suggest that 'pudd' is a verb. What would 'pudd' be? It sounds like a type of dance. Do the Pudd! But who decided that you should take the pudd- do the pudd, making the term for what you would be doing, pudding, and make into the word for something you would eat?

mmmmasochism

In some weird, masochistic way, I guess I kind of like the pain. It reminds me that while the rest of my body is frozen numb from the early morning sunlessness, I am, in fact, still alive.

But then, I get home, I thaw and my knee is still screaming at me "help me! I'm hurt!" And I have to think "Something I'm doing while I'm running is hurting my knee."
So I make a list:
1) Maybe I run funny.
- then..no can't be that. I run normally. I think...
2) Maybe its the cold making it throb in agony
- can't be that. I run all the time in the cold and it only started happening when....
AHA!
3) Maybe its because I've developed a love for running in barely there shoes. This can't be good for my knee joint, right?

So, as much as I enjoy running in thin-as-ballet-shoes shoes, if I want to keep my knee in tact, I'm going to have to suck it up and dig out my running shoes.

prefect? perfect

I'm in love. With the weather today. Perfect.
It snowed. But not to much to get everything slick. Just enough to make everyone get little white flecks on them.
I love it.

I love the irony in having to take off my glasses to see. I love the temperature- cold, but warmer than it was yesterday, because of the moisture in the air.


<3.

Sunrise Log

I witnessed the coolest sunrise this morning.
The sun comes up from behind the mountain, where clouds were sitting uptop of.
At first, the sun just light up the bottom of the clouds, leaving the top dark, but the bottom a vibrant orange. Then, as the sun came up behind the clouds, it highlighted the outer edges of them, making it look like the sun was being eclipsed by something thicker than clouds.

It was awesome.