I have become obsessed with Ryan Adams. Not enough for Lindsay to start punching me in the face, but probably enough to annoy Red on our car ride to Kennesaw. It'll be fun seeing her again, but I think Leslie's home and I don't know what my schedule looks like on Saturday. I hope it's fairly clear so that we can hang out.

I just realized it the other day, but if I dye my hair a different shade of red, I'll be the last one from my high school group to do it. Saulser went red freshman year or was it over the summer? Red had that red streak in her hair that stayed pink for forever. Now Leslie has reddish hair. Crazy, it's like the 90's all over again.

Back to Ryan Adams though. Like all good music, I'm pretty sure I first heard of him through Kings of Leon, and have been listening to some of it for a long time, but thanks to Alex, Lindsay, and Red I have this new bigger collection that puts the biggest smile on my face.

Side story: I came home and Charlotte feels like she's been gaining weight left and right. So I sat her down, turned on Ryan adams, and brushed her. No wonder she felt so heavy! I collected a gerbil sized ball of fur from her...and I didn't even give her an extensive combing. She should start clothing runaway gerbils and hamsters, you know, the ones who are so used to the luxurious life of the cage that they don't realize they're gonna freeze their bums off out there in the real outdoors.

I've been talking about change for a long time. The tv's been talking about it too. I usually hate change, like, it looks good on other people but I don't wear it well. I'm ready to get rid of that idea. On Tuesday I'll be standing in lines too long to cast my vote for change. Next Friday I'll be downtown, raising money for change and...dancing (?). Today I started out small though, I got my hair cut and woke up early on a day that I could have slept in.
Change is coming. I think it's time to throw a dance party for it!

Labels: Ryan Adams

On her albums Regina Spektor makes all these cool noises with her mouth and you kinda wish you could do that too. If you're me, you really really wish you could.

Then you start thinking, well how do you move your mouth to make those sounds? Will I look wierd moving my mouth like that? Then you see Regina live. She is the heroine of this story, so of course she's amazing. She sits at her piano, and drums on a chair while playing the piano, and then she sings and you wonder if you could ever multi-task like her.

Then you hear her background and realize she's been through so much. I still wonder who has her first piano. Did they give it back to her grandfather?

Somedays aren't yours at all

They come and go

As if they're someone else's days

It's 3am and I'm just finished blogging & catching up on Stuff White People Like. My eyes are drying out and my contacts feel like hell. So I thought, "It's 3 am, why the hell am I not wearing my glasses already?!"

I really like living with someone for, I don't know...two months, and have them say to me, "You wear glasses? What?" because apparently I don't even grace my roommates with my high-fashion,not-early high school-what the hell was I thinking glasses.

I wonder how much I'm going to regret still being up at 3:20 tomorrow morning. At least I get to sleep in on Mondays.

This weekend has been all about the roommate bonding. Mostly Lindsay and me. Sweet!

Friday we stayed in with her friends and watched French film #1: Love Me If You Dare. It was crazy messed up, but I LOVED it! Loved it, loved it. Waffle House, sucky service, what's new.

Saturday I allotted my time so that everything would go swimmingly. Until the Bitch ran into me while I was backing out in my parking lot. I'm not one to cry bitch, but a bitch is a bitch especially when your roommate says so.
She called the cops, who can't point the finger on private property, so we both went away ticket free although I broke her light, badly, and she just tucked in the corner of my bumper. Bitch didn't even clean up her broken glass, just took her Wendy's takeout and bratty friends to her apartment. Um hello, there are pets living here, nonetheless people! I will not have poor Steve, my favorite and friendliest neighbor, get cut on glass because his owners don't believe in Georgia's leash laws and Bitch doesn't clean up her own messes.

I went to the retreat anyway, bonded with amazing girls, felt like part of a huge family...something I've been missing since Girl Scouts, and took scandalous photos at midnight involving a dock, the ferry boat, and a bunch of ridiculously adorable girls.

Sunday was/is like roommate bonding extreme. Mary came along because she needed some groceries. Lindsay was there to be my moral support for approaching the Delta Sigs. And so it went like this:
I drove. First stop Delta Sig house. Lindsay lead me to the laundry room entrance. She interrupted this guy and his relative (mom?) having a friendly chat whilst he did his laundry. We told him our purpose. I waved my letter. He brought out the hung over president of the fraternity. Oh dear! Secret meeting with the Prez in the laundry room, with the letter. Totally illegal.
Well the President had no idea what we were talking about, Lindsay ended up doing all the talking, AND she shook his hand. haha. "The letters. To the soldiers. The one you asked us to write for you. (So that you could throw big parties this weekend with Cartel.)" "The what?" "The LETTERS!" (Side Note: How does the President of a fraternity not know what the guys in charge of service hours are doing?!) "Oh I think I know who to give this too." (So hung over!) We shuffle away awkwardly, I'm laughing so hard I'm about to bend over, and they slam the door. Totally illegal. The Laundry Room. lol.

We go shopping. We hit Kroger, and the bank, and Target. Lindsay calls me hilarious or adorable or something while I'm driving. Apparently she doesn't multi-task in the form of driving/talking to her mom on the phone/listening to roomies conversations/muttering to herself/talking with a sticky note in her mouth. I guess I'm special.

We shop. We eat at Panera. Lindsay and I watch another twisted French Film, À la folie... pas du tout, He Loves Me...He loves Me Not. Love Audrey Tautou! Love her! The usual Sunday scene hits our TV. We watch Brothers & Sisters and cheer in excitement when Justin and Rebecca finally have sex, FINALLY! Lindsay later on the phone said of this moment, "We finally had sex." and as a correction, "Well obviously I felt like I was there." I'm paraphrasing, but I definitely piped up that it 'sounded like it was a threesome, and she was in it.' I said I wanted to find a straight Scotty. Cause, damnn, Scotty is so damn supportive. Love Scotty! I do want a straight Scotty.

This prompted a "Fuck, we're both single" kinda conversation. Which lead to, "We go to college, we practically live on campus, how are we not finding guys? It's not like we're looking for guys at bars or at our own booths at Tate." I figured out the basics of Plan Find A Guy. (Classy title cred goes to yours truly, believer in real classy titles.) Lindsay will set up shop at the cream/napkins/whatever side table thing in the SLC next to Jittery Joes. Her plan: To nod and say hey with a sexy implication to any (maybe hot or attractive or not gay?) guy who goes to use the table/bar/whatever thing. She'll of course use her charm and dashing good looks to win the hearts of several Ryan Adams look alikes.
Back to my plan. Yours truly will sit outside of Park Hall, with a classy book or the best of the best of the pale people magazines (Paste, Spin as an alternative) and headphones on low listening to the coolest of cool songs while sitting on that little semi circle brick half wall facing Park. Lindsay thinks I'll be scowling at all the Park guys with their girlfriends shuttling them about, but I think I can accomplish a satisfying scowl when no one's looking. We're both just hoping that I can get words out of my mouth when approached by Park guys, cause we know how well I shut up in the presence of hot males. Due to this inhibiting factor, we believe she will have higher chances of succeeding with the plan than I will. This is unless I can find a plethora of guys who love creative girls who don't seem to talk much around them.

Mad men. Season finale. Sparked a phone call to Alex. Somehow they/we were talking about Ryan Adams. Because I plan on working in/with the music industry, Lindsay now thinks I'll introduce her to Ryan Adams before Alex will. She mentioned Ryan Adams and his stuffed animals, and how they talk in his blogs, and I made this face that wouldn't go away and prompted her to yell, "You can have any one else but him! You don't get Ryan Adams!"
Caught up in roommate bonding and red hot cheek bones I said, "I'm like 99.9% sure I'll lose my virginity to a musician," "Not him!" "...of some kind." A minute later she makes me break out in unending laughter/school girl giggles with "101% the way you're talking."
I was not aware I was talking about sleeping with lots of musicians previously. I am now the tour bus whore of the conversation and Lindsay is living in New York with her husband Ryan Adams, watching him line up his stuffed animals and putting on his Marc Jacobs jacket.

I regain my not so slutty apartment status when she writes on facebook,

"I would jump him in a heartbeat. He would be like, "Hi, ...I'm Ryan." And I would start unbuttoning my jeans."

So I started watching Ryan Adams vlogs, laughed so damn hard, had a heartfelt moment, and started to resume listening to his music. Ryan loves his stuffed animals and I love that he's on day two of no smoking, because people shouldn't make smoking look sexy.
And that is how roommates bond while acting like little girls the whole time, classy and witty.

New blog post coming soon!!! Soon like tonight, or this morning, however you choose to look at it. Dependng on your time zone. Yeah.

What to expect:

A lot of !!!!!!
A lot of me freaking out.
Roomie bonding.
French films.
Waffle House with bad service, so old.
Car accidents.
Police.
Retreats.
Scandalous photos (Just in mentioning, not in revealing.)
Laundry rooms.
Delta Sig relatives and hung over presidents.
Shopping.
Mad Men.
Phone calls about Mad Men.
My virginity.
Lindsay's ability to unbutton her pants at his "Hello."
Ryan Adams.
Vlogs.

Scandal, bonding, swooning, sex appeal, fun. Sums it.

My lovely friend, who wishes to remain anonymous, made a blog! So cute!!! She found this picture, that looks like it should be a part of those Dove commercials about loving your body and yourself. Anyway, it was refreshing.

I've been so stressed this week because I've been studying all week for this test I have Friday and I'm still not even through reviewing half of it. And then on top of things, my roommate went missing. We found her, nothing bad happened, but we were sitting around this afternoon and I turned to one of them and asked her when was the last time she had seen our missing roomie. Sunday night was our joint answer.

This accumulation of stress has just left me feeling....well, crazy to be perfectly honest.
So I did what all crazy people do when they need to wash their cares away...I tuned up some fun music like Hold It In by Jukebox Ghost, Tilly and the Wall, and Time To Pretend by MGMT and had the most fun time I've had all week. I danced around my crazy dark room in my undies, ohhhhh yeah. I felt like a little kid again. I miss being a kid a lot. I especially miss not constantly worrying about your body image in the back of your head, and not even knowing that you don't have the most perfect body. Not caring. Loving your body like they teach you in Sunday school - "Your body is a temple."

When I was little I worried about having to do actual athletic things in gym class, not how my body looked in my gym uniform. I mean, yeah, I like no longer having to show off how unskilled I am when it comes to hand-eye coordination, but I could take that ten times a day to go back to having such a positive self image.

Gosh, I remember the days I wanted boobs. There was that girl in my sixth grade gym class who was at least a B and you could just hear the depressing sighs come from my peers when we got back to the locker room. We were all so so so jealous of her and her B cup boobs.

Shit I was naive. My flat friends have gotten over the way their gene pool screwed them over and have moved on to the thought of implants. You have GOT TO BE SHITTING ME! They kept coming and coming and coming and now all I want to do is give them away, go back to the days where wearing a sundress didn't pose the threat of looking indecent. The days when fashion still flowed with my body and designers didn't create that stupid line across the chest that doesn't look good with any decent C or above.

Aileen asked me if I'd be there for when she got her tattoo, if she ever did. I said of course. I asked her to be there if I ever could brave getting a reduction. Only if we do it together, she said. The shittiest thing of all is to get a reduction, for no medical reason, they told her they'd need to take at least a pound, each. Hell, that's like getting a mastectomy. When I was a little girl swinging on the monkey bars and chasing my friends around in a game of tag I never thought of these cultural side effects.

Tonight was the best bra and panties party. Tonight was the best going crazy I've ever had.
Gah. I miss dancing in my underwear. Those were the fun days.


Most of all, I miss twirling around real fast, with your arms spread out wide, and your hair flowing behind you in a blur of color. I think I'll do that Friday, to celebrate my test being over.

Blog time. This morning I woke up during this awesome Phantom Planet dream, which is reason enough to blog.

Phantom Planet and the Dream

Preface:
I first found out about Phantom Planet in 4th or 5th grade when they guest stared on Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Oh yeah, we've had a tight connection since grade school. When they first hit The OC they bounced back into my life and we've had a behind the scenes kinda relationship ever since.

Actual Contact with Band:
Freshman year of college the band came to the 40 Watt in Athens promoting their upcoming album and taking any and every request to play really old songs.
Haley and I went all psyched. (Since we're pretty much the same person living two different lives, she had an obsession with Phantom Planet in middle school/high school that rivals my Kings of Leon obsession.)
So we were excited, we had a great spot in the 2nd row, and my friend Janie let me borrow her amazing Nikon = I took 100 pictures that night and many actually had photojournalism potential. We stayed after the show to meet the band, and we had really good conversations with everyone except Alex, who was still dealing with a swarm of fan girls.

So we went outside and talked to the other guys some more and Alex came out, finally, with his stuff to put into the van and Haley and I lamely approached him and he ended up inviting us to a post-show dinner. This is what I famously reference as my date with Phantom Planet and my narrow escape from syphilis. What a night!

Second experience:
Haley and I went to see the band the day after my 20th birthday, and stalker girl knowingly 2 days before Alex's birthday. They played a really short set, mainly because Alex stage dived too much. Alex reached out and grabbed my hand in the audience, like a scene out of some lame girl's first concert experience or something, and the next thing I knew the set was over and we were in the parking lot listening to Darren tell us that it was haunted 'round those parts' and then it began to rain and BAM, we're all huddled around the van. Jeff offered me a bite of a poisoned apple, Haley & I got somewhat into the van for a photo, and all the guys wished me a happy birthday.

Pre-dream:
About two days before this dream I watched THIS video. Which explains....enough.

Actual Dream:
I'm in my kitchen, cleaning out the fridge, and Alex is sitting at the island singing me a song about the months that he's making up on the spot. We started with our birthday month, cause duh it's the best, and then we just started working through the calendar. As I take things out to throw away, like strawberries, he includes that item in the verse. So the verse about February mentioned strawberries. After that, all I remember is that we didn't get past April because of my alarm clock which was really annoying.

Labels: 40 Watt, concerts, dreams, Phantom Planet, Sabrina the Teenage Witch

The first Nadia I ever met is this beautiful artist, political activist, music enthusiast, amazing woman. OH! And she has the most charming, darling British accent when she speaks English. She's believed in my art, no matter the form, every time I made something new and asked her to check it out. She really is a fantastic liar and great friend!

Last year she proposed an idea that had my mind twisting and turning for months, perhaps the best opportunity anyone has offered me (other than college, duh!). Despite all of my idiosyncrasies, obsessions with music and art, and crazy spur of the minute ideas, she offered to let me stay with her during my study abroad. I had found this really new, unknown program that would allow me to study photography and have full access to a dark room, with no extra fees. I picked Buenos Aires because I can understand Spanish, and I still remember a lot of conversational Spanish, because it's gorgeous, and I thought Nadia would be a great mentor on top of my professors. So color me surprised when she insisted that if I come to Argentina I have to stay with her, for free, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

I'm not really sure if the offer still stands, but I like to preoccupy myself in boring classes with romantic dreams of independent me, living in a photograph that's just waiting for me to snap the lens. That doesn't make sense really, but in my mind it kinda does.

Anyway, Nadia just added new portraits to her website. They're provocative mindfucks, and of course, beautiful artwork. She's amazingly talented, so you should check her out!
http://www.nadiarivero.com/

EDIT: Her new photos haven't hit her website yet, BUT they're on her art myspace:
Nad's Photography.

I wish maintenance would hurry up and come already. I can't keep doing homework in the living room, it's just too noisy. And while they're at it, my light "fixture" is the crappiest one in my apartment. Upgrade?

Finally it feels like fall. North Carolina was beautiful. It reached freezing at night so I went to bed with all the quilts my grandmother could find for me, which was like a hundred, or 5. My grandparents' neighborhood is on this real country road and across the street is an adorable apple farm. The apples were bundled around the trees, the fallen leaves were flying in the wind, and my cheeks even turned rosy on my walk. LOVED IT! Love fall!

5 Favorite Fall Accessories

1. Convertible mitten-gloves.
2. My Nancy Drew-short-sleeved-detective-cape-thing.
3. Boots.
4. Scarves.
5. Jewelery & hair accessories made by Janie!

Favorite thing to do in the fall: LAYER!
I'm such a dork. Sweaters, jackets, coats, winter coats - love them! I miss all the extra pocket space.

Question: Can super fun music your gay friend gave you really make up for the light bulb in your bedroom burning out?
A: Yes because you can have a super fun dance party in the dark with no one to make fun of your old school dance moves. Just make sure to clean your floor.

My mom insisted we play my CD on the car ride to North Carolina.
My dad chuckled at Gracie.
My mom made him play it again. Then she cried.
My family is such an emotional roller coaster, I love it.

The Snake The Cross The Crown inspired me today, and to avoid becoming an avid ranter, I figured I could share some creative ideas.

Mixtapes 101: Know your audience.

I'm going to make my dad a mixtape. I thought that, mulled it over for a few seconds, and decided that I wasn't going to. I was going to make my dad AND my mom a mixtape, a family mixtape for the car. They've been there through everything I've stumbled upon in college and they've accepted me at the times when I felt I had disappointed them the most. So my mixtape is about family love and the meaning behind it.

Family Love:

The Middle by Jimmy Eat World
Gracie by Ben Folds
Snails by The Format
Maps by The Snake The Cross The Crown
Father by Annuals
Sleeper 1972 by Manchester Orchestra
For The Window In Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti by Sufjan Stevens
Julia by The Beatles
Constellations by Jack Johnson
You're Just A Baby by Belle & Sebastian
Still Fighting It by Ben Folds
Do You Realize? by The Flaming Lips
Better by Regina Spektor
Let Love In by goo Goo Dolls
Baby Girl by Sugarland
God Put A Smile Upon Your Face by Coldplay
Home by Great Northern
Ballad For My One True Love by Mason Jennings
The Luckiest by Ben Folds
On Your Porch (acoustic) by The Format

I'm giving it to my parents tomorrow. I can't wait!

Last night I went to Super J's and we watched the debates and then the Project Runway finale. We brought up how aggravating the pro life/pro choice question is for a woman because you have to stand up for keeping the government out of your uterus and then you have to stand up for your morals and beliefs. Which is when Janie said, very quietly,"That song Breathe is about abortion." So now I have a pro-choice/pro-life mix started up.

Brick by Ben Folds
What Its Like by Everclear
Breathe by Anna Nalick

Labels: mixtape

I'm pissed off by how much people use each other. The philia, brotherly/sisterly love, that all my friends were just drunk off last year has dissipated to a casual conversation and total bullshit. Bullshit.

I'm not dissing all of my friends, and I'm certainly not mad at all of them. I just think that the absence of the impersonal dorm life has left some of us sticking to our comfort zones, hanging with the same people, and in some cases, we (they)'ve stopped caring. When my friends get sick I go to their place and make them soup or at least offer to. I visit them when they're left alone being sick. Take away my closest friends and no one from last year lifted an eyebrow when I couldn't leave my bed. I care too much, I understand. I want to speak of love and beauty and art and then I rant. I could probably help it, I just like it too damn much.

Close friends. They cared, they sent loving texts. Except for those few. I'm not saying this rant is about one or all of those few, but it's about the attitudes I've seen come from them.

Today I thought, I should call L. soon and we should get dinner because it's crazy that we live 2 minutes away from each other and we're both on the meal plan but we never eat together.
Around dinner time she texted me. I was excited until I read it. A quick compliment to butter me up & then straight to "Can I borrow your dress?"

I wasn't too upset at that point, we borrow clothes every once and a while, I could still ask her to go eat. Until she called me to follow up on getting the dress. No 'are you feeling better's or 'we should get together soon's. Just me being used, skirting away from confrontation, and dealing with the emotional side effects.

Can anyone blame me for leaving all this shit behind me to spend a weekend in a beautiful rural town in North Carolina, with my warm and loving grandparents? It sounds like a fairy tale right now.

Labels: college., rant

Life's payback for vanity: asthma.
Let me just add that to my list of up and coming health issues. kthanx.

At least I was called the Gold Clinic's "Most Interesting Patient of the Day." They even called the research student in they were so delighted at the sight of my two uvula. It was kinda cute how excited he was, how they all were. I'm like some medical rarity.
Which I guess I kinda am.

I'm suffering from broken eyeliner syndrome. It's the worst.
I can be so vain.



Ben Folds makes things better though:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRlgq59dsFQ

I went through this phase, which was way too long for my liking, where I just couldn't listen to The Format. It's crazy, it was horrible, but it happened.

Today I was itching to do three things.
1. Listen to The Format
2. Write
3. Study

I blame the studying on my upcoming midterm, and The Format definitely put me in the mood to write. If I were to go on a ledge, I'd say that I haven't listened to The Format because it inspires me. I've had no time to write, nevertheless edit, and I think deep down I was just worried that my creative juices have all been squeezed out and everything I write is bound to have the same unsettling ending because I'm just not in the mood to give my characters happy endings.

I write the same four stories month after month. Maybe I'll write a chapter in a month. Maybe I'll get around to editing a few scenes. I used to share bits. I used to ask others for advice. The problem is that my characters develop with the music that influences me, and I haven't necessarily heard the right songs for each story.

I don't refer to my stories by titles, but rather by character. And the trouble with The Format is that they inspire me to write about Sierra, which is just difficult balancing her optimism with her depression. I want my characters to make a difference. It just sucks that I take so much away from them.

So my thoughts, crazy and...insane, as always, is that I peer pressure my old creative writing class to the best of my ability into meeting again, like we had planned to, and get back to sharing. Lindsay's in, Haley loves the idea, and then I hit a speed bump because I never talk to anyone else. If it's a success I'll have a forum to share my work, an opportunity to be blown away and feel like my work sucks in comparison, and then the drive to write better. Oh dear, I need your help.

Lies I tell myself to make it all seem okay and the truths behind them.

Friday:
I told everyone I was doing much better. lie.
I nearly fainted in Kroger a few hours before the party.

I told myself I would take it slow at the party. lie.
I can't even remember the end of the party.

Saturday:
I told Summer that my sickness had just gotten worse. half lie.
I told Summer I could handle staying until the 4th quarter. lie.
I wanted to have a good time with my sister & I didn't want to waste her birthday present.
(Especially when we managed the 7th row of the student section!)


I've been living out of my bed for most of the past two days. My stomach has been punching the rest of my intestines and they're pretty pissed off and fighting back. I'm worried about what happened at the party. I'm worried about my psych midterm. I'm worried that someday I'll end up working in the corporate world, in a cubicle with bad lighting, while my camera collects dust in my closet. I'm worried that I worry too much.

I hate the flu.
I think being sick in short increments makes you extra cynical.
Like yesterday, when I was walking down the stairs in the SLC and ran into a couple holding hands on the stairs. Love shit. Complete and total love shit. I texted Lindsey & Jenn, who have the same views on love shit as I do.
Their responses:
Lindsey - "Disgusting."
Jenn - "Beautiful."

I'm like 99% sure Jenn's text was loaded with sarcasm. However, I did mention in the text how I slipped on a puddle of water on the stairs, went flying, fell on my ass, and then heard the couple laughing "quietly." So yeah, 99.9% sure it was sarcasm.

I kinda have a knack for falling...and bruising.

I really like talking about concerts. I was expecting to discuss the nights adventures.
Instead I think I have the flu. I think someone was like, Fuck being sick, WITH THE FLU, I'm going to go to a concert, enjoy myself, and contaminate everyone around me.
Which doesn't make too much sense because Haley feels fine.


Reasons this is one of the absolute worst times to have the flu:
1. It's still my birthday week.
2. Next week is my psych midterm.
3. I have a Latin test tomorrow. (Thank God my professor is so damn nice and is letting me retake it.)
4. I lost my car key.
5. I'm an idiot without a car.
6. Most importantly, Friday is the party, a lot of people from out of town are coming to stay with me, and I have not even 48 hours to get better.

My birthday has gone by shittingly.
Too shitty to be a fairy tale.
Too real to be a lie.
Too full of feeling to be a dream.
(And I can feel in my dreams, so to be too full is quite an extreme.)

Only one girl has ever professed to hating me. Not in the normal way of saying so, but with her actions. We used to be friends, so I try my best to just stay out of her way. I don't want to stir that much hatred inside of her. My friends tell me to stop caring, that I don't owe her any more respect than the respect that she pays me.

On my birthday I wish I didn't care. I wish I had better luck, but I don't. So I eat my birthday lunch alone and of all the people I know, I see her there. I wish it didn't hurt, but my birthday is just as shitty as the next day.

So I blare Jack's Mannequin in my headphones and try to take his advice to heart. He survived cancer, he has to have good advice. I ride the bus home and absorb his words and compose this post. I wonder how much longer I'll have two posts for one day. I wonder if they'll equal out the silence that will blare for months.

And I'll be damned if I am going out
I will not go out that way!

There's something about growing older that makes you act bolder.
And smile wider, even when doing Statistics homework because hey, it's your birthday, and knowing that just makes you smile wide all day.

My adorable roomate, Yu, thinks thinks this guy in one of her classes is cute. She is very happy with her Harvard boyfriend, but she still gets flustered by really cute guys. Which is perfectly normal, for any girl, but is adorable on her. She still struggles with how to communicate her feeling in English and always wants to know the proper way to say things.
So in trying to describe to me why she thought he was cute she said, "He's kinda beautiful."

And then we had a good laugh. I don't know, maybe you have to know her.
She's just so damn cute.

I tried editing my last post. I tried to not look like a selfish brat.
I can't lie.

My grandparents love me and, despite how hard it can be for them, they try their hardest to understand me and accept me. We come from two different worlds, but we love each other greatly. We just show it differently. There's a song by Mason Jennings called Keepin It Real and it makes me think of my grandparents. It makes me think of his farmer background and her happiness at finding him. It's a fairy tale that we made true.

They're full of love. I'm still young and I have a lot to learn.
One day I'll learn. One day I'll love like them.

Irony. Oh it totally surrounds us.

Yesterday I was driving home and right as I was getting on 316 my ipod started playing Teenage Wasteland. It's such a great song to blare in the car on long car rides with countryside backdrops and pretty ironic when you're driving home to celebrate the end of your teenage years.

I had asked my parents if we could go to North Carolina to see my dad's parents this weekend. I miss my grandparents and they still celebrate my birthday like I'm eight. Last year after Pap pap had a stroke we went up to visit him. He was having trouble communicating his thoughts, but one evening he lifted my wrist and kissed my tattoo. No matter what he understands me.

This weekend I asked to go up to see them and my mom totally misunderstood me, tried to schedule our trip for a weekend that didn't work for me, and then went ahead and told her parents they could fly down from Michigan to come visit for my birthday. Thanks mom. I hid my tattoo from my mom's parents for maybe nine months, because they just don't understand me. More than that, they're so conservative that they like to feed my mother the idea that I'm the wild child.

Instead of a relaxing weekend, enjoying my birthday with people I can be myself
around, I have to struggle between maintaining my personality and acting polite
and uncomfortable. Love, oh love.

EDIT: I owe an edit to love and the truth. My mom's parents used to own a wedding decorating and supply business. Weddings were their lives. About two years ago their company went bankrupt due to the economy in Flint and they had to completely reconstruct their lives. The threat of poverty may have caused them to become a little looser in their ways, and the money their family has supplied them to maintain a normal elderly lifestyle.
My father's generosity astounds me, daily. Tonight he took a portion of his bonus and just handed it over to them, because the truth is they need it more than us. To watch an old couple weep, breaks your heart. To watch my grandfather try to smile with his new teeth, tears slipping off his face, is heart wrenching.

It's only Teenage Wasteland.

I don't like coffee, I like hot chocolate.
I like lids that work, not ones that spill hot liquid all over your shirt.
I like songs that remind me of happy times, of people I like.
I love Something Corporate.

Maybe when the room is empty
Maybe when the bottle's full
Maybe when the door gets broke down love can break in
Maybe when I'm done with thinking
Maybe you can think me whole
Maybe when I'm done with endings this can begin
This can begin...this can begin

If you could be my punk rock princess
I would be your garage band king
You could tell me why you just don't fit in
And how you're going to be something

Maybe when your hair gets darker
Maybe when your eyes get wide
Maybe when the walls are smaller there will be more...space
Maybe when i'm not so tired
Maybe you can step inside
Maybe when I look for things that I cant replace
I cant replace...I cant replace

If you could be my punk rock princess
I would be your garage band king
You could tell me why you just don't fit in
And how you're going to be something
If I could be your first real heartache
I would do it over again
If you could be my punk rock princess
I would be your heroin

I never thought you'd last
I never dreamed you would
You watched your life go past
You wonder if you should

Now you should be my punk rock princess
I would be your garage band king
So you could tell me why you just don't fit in
And how you're gonna be something
If I could be your first real heartache
I would do it over again
If you could be my punk rock princess
I would be your heroin

Whoa oooh, you know
You only burn my bridges
Whoa oooh, you know
You just can't let it sink in
You could be my heroin

*For further reference, this is for you Jenn:
Get real. Yes it makes me think of you. (Your newest catch phrase.)
Yes I love the color you died your hair. ("It was last minute and porn star red.")
Yes I'd totally spill my drink on him. (I don't remember what he did, but this was before you got back together.)
No I can't relate.
But yes you do deserve better. (Thankfully he realized this.)
The free spirit & the music lover...I can't believe we're best friends now.

*One day I'll post your doodles of our talks.

5 Habits I've Picked Back Up

1. Making lists.
2. Obsessing over Kings of Leon albums.
3. Talking less.
4. Having a drink with a side of textbook reading.
(Modifications: 1. Last year it was Coke & rum, this year it's wine. 2. Last year it was more crazy, this year it's just Jenn's place.)
5. Singing in the car.

Red - Andy Hull is coming to the Vinyl Nov. 13 for a cd release party for his side project, Right Away, Great Captain! and you know you want to go! It's a Thursday but it's worth it. I have no idea how we'd figure out the details, but I really, really, really want to go. He did a Manchie/Andy Hull Daytrotter Sessions & I can't stop listening to it. And I miss going to shows with you.

Fear

I'm having a horrible day. It was going so well, I was so happy and so excited and now I'm just scared. I didn't want this.

My heart's in my throat and it's thrashing about so much I fear it's going to just use my fear to choke me. I want home. I want that feeling I had earlier. I want fall and lazy afternoons at Park Hall and I don't want to be consumed by my fear.

I was supposed to have a great day and now I'll just have another bad night. I need my best friend. I need my best friend. I need my best friend. I need my best friend.

Facebook ads, they're supposed to be geared towards the individual with the account. So because I'm a young female, why do you think I want to try some never-gonna-work celebrity diet? Ew! Get outta my face!!

Today Facebook ads, you went too far. Too far! WTF, why on earth would I want to see Hanson on my birthday?!?! Seriously?!?!

I don't care if their new stuff sounds like U2 acoustically. I don't really like U2 that much. Partner up with last.fm and then get back to me on what music I should be listening to, thank you very much stupid facebook ads.

Redheads and Stigmas

I am sorta, kinda, totally obsessed with redheads. It's not like I favor redheads, I just like going to places like Six Flags and seeing "my people" reapplying SPF 45 in thick white streaks. It's nice to know I'm not alone.

Redheads are actually a minority that doesn't get much cred. For example, have you realized that the number of redheads have declined over time? It's a dying trait. (Okay, okay,...I totally wasn't trying to make a joke, but it actually has a little situational humor. Sweet!)

There's actually a trait linked to some red hair genes that causes the red to fade out over time. (Like by the time you're in your 20's.) No wonder we're a dying breed, close to half fade into normal brunettes. Which is where I fall.

My hair color is still no where near a "normal" shade, but there's speculation. I was born with bright red hair, got a few carrot head jokes as a kid, and by middle school my friends were describing my hair as "cheese orange." Now I have people standing up to me left and right trying to convince me I'm not a redhead.

There are certain stereotypes attached to blondes, but blondes & brunettes don't realize that when you're born a redhead, it becomes a part of your personality. But some stereotypes are just stereotypes. People say redheads are hot headed and temperamental. Not always. When I get mad I eventually vent to someone but in the heat of the moment I just get quiet...and start cleaning. (Hence, it's good that my room is always soo messy.)

But even if your hair color fades, if you're a redhead, you will usually have an obsession for sunscreen only healthy for redheads. And because of the skin tone we get dealt, we'll always have at least a small amount of freckles. It just comes with the territory.

So why am I so obsessed with my hair color fading? (Because technically the summer sun lightened/brightened it up a lot.) Well, I had the realization the other day that my hair is a reflection of who I am, and I too have been fading into just going through the motions, again, and I've failed to let myself be fully happy.

In my process of getting back to taking a thousand pictures and going to shows every week, I made a decision. Over the course of the semester I've gotten 3 offers for a free home hair cut. A change would be nice, so I'm going to take Janie up on her offer. If you watch the show Gossip Girl you'll know that Jenny cut her hair off last season and it looks really good. Well Janie wants to give me around that length, with what she describes as "sharp" bangs, which maybe translates into fierce? And then to give it some more of my personality she's gonna give me some cute layers. I think all in all I might be losing 4 to 5 inches, tonight! Crazy. So hair cuts, they're nice. They can be drastic, but they're usually pretty safe.

That's why, if Janie can give my hair what I want, I'm going to get it colored a Jenny Lewis red! I know, I'm on a Jenny theme. But Jenny Lewis is my redheaded idol, even though I had to miss her amazing show last night. I'm excited. My older sister has always had this gorgeous deep red hair and people always compliment her hair before even looking my way. (Jenny's shade is in the middle of what my hair is now & what my sister's is.)

Thank God I live in Athens, where if I go somewhere to get a hair cut I have a good chance of running into hair dressers who have good taste in music and know what I'm talking about without a picture. I love this town.

I'm so excited, even though my internet is not working and the SLC has become my savior, tonight will wash all that away.

Popsicles, good friends, free hair cut, and Project Runway here I come!