Does this song bring all the middle school summer vibes or what? I heard it on a preview for Pen15. (Seriously, try watching any of those previews and see if you can keep it together. You can’t!)

Speaking of memory lane, I was in the clouds last September when Libby turned 10! Two digits! I feel like I owe her a ‘best of’ mix, except she already has one. Which is kind of weird cause I think it’s from only the first year. I looked back and I’ve only mentioned it twice, The Best of Libellus.

The original mix was a gift. The online version has 11 songs, I’m not sure if there are more on the CD. I can’t really remember if they were my like best writing or the entries that spoke out most to the creator or you know, the ones you want your crush to notice the most. I’ve forgotten so much, I really need a boring print journal where I can record the kind of stuff I’m always forgetting without being so public.

I wanted to use an Okkervil River song for a new post, but realized I had already used it. It fits the current post, but I should have tried harder to find a Phantom Planet song that fit the mood. Reading over the post I felt a little pride.

I’m reading a book about Alzheimer’s and a book set in senior year of high school when final decisions are made about college and getting serious. Beteeen that and the slow aging of my own body, I miss much about that time. I wish I had found my college therapist sooner so that we could have set a more sturdy ground for me to trample across. I had such horrible test anxiety that I’m surprised I never puked before one. I would have benefited so much more from a peer study group. I wish I had tried less to be there for the cool stuff and just made it happen goofing off and baking and reading in all of those beautiful scenic spots. Sucked up my fear & did the work to be a DJ. I was just so intimidated all the time.

Anyway, my writing wasn’t half bad. I think I might need to listen again & make a Ten Year Reunion mix.  I remember the first mix did not sound all that great together. It was very eclectic. Was the mix itself organized by order of favorite posts or sets of themes or just the best one could do with those songs? I should remember, I’m sure I’ve had the conversation a few dozen times over the past decade. But my memory fades and each time has that hot-cheeked, deep smile satisfaction feeling like it’s the first time.

Boys have been bringing that smile back to my face and I forgot about the giddiness that comes with it. Is this why it’s better to fall for new guys and not pursue the same one (over and over, on repeat, just like my dreams)?  I had this one post back in the day with some high and mighty talk against girls only talking about guys, but I was such a little liar. I loved talking about my crushes. It was the relationship stage I never really talked about.

There is that ever present expectation for me to settle down and start planning that family, but I feel like the first spring flower blooming after the last of the winter frosts. Tell me all the ways you really like me. Let me see what else you’ve got to offer.

Labels: Best of Libellus, crushes, make me a mix, mixtapes, Okkervil River, writing

When I was a little girl and I'd get mad at my parents, I'd tell them I wasn't going to talk to them. As if that was real punishment for however they hurt my feelings. The only problem is that I could never keep my mouth shut. Now all I want to do is thank my mom and I can't even speak. Thank you laryngitis for enlarging my lymph nodes and pushing unfairly against my voice box.

So my mom came up with Charlotte and they were everything I needed. When I took the second dose of my medicine, I started to fall asleep on her lap while she played with my hair. And all I dreamed about was Etta James singing Sunday Kind of Love. I wish life had more moments like that.

Labels: Best of Libellus

I've come to realize that I'm still not living. I am far from having the adventure I desire, far from fully fitting in with the different groups of people I meet. I feel like I'm in high school all over again.

I reclaimed Mean Everything To Nothing from my car and am obsessing over The River. I want that life we spoke of, late that night in the hall. Put me in an eco-efficient Mystery Machine and we'll build our tents in parking lots, in the woods by the old fence links, in a desert near a cactus. We'll chase bands and we'll follow sunsets. We'll finally find the soundtrack to our lives. And we'll make mixes of our feelings, box them up and send them to the proper soul. We'll shop at vintage stores and I'll build a collection of sunglasses. You'll paint your fingers the colors of the rainbow and we'll dance like hippies in the rain wearing clothes made out of garbage bags. The stream will overflow and I'll pose by a truck that hasn't moved in years. We'll play house and I'll cook if you clean. We were going to make this happen. Or maybe I'll go it alone.

Labels: Best of Libellus

Okkervil River has an intensity like most my muses. Something about the band lightens up my face and makes my lips move in small, synchronized movements. My fingers twitch and my eyes fly left then right. A movie flickers onto my inner screen and I see life through a different person's eyes. I'm him or I'm her and I'm immersed in their feeling and ideas, wants and needs.

I'm shy to admit it, but if there is going to be any hope of me contributing productively to a creative writing reunion, I'm going to have to open up about my own writing process.
So this is my process. I blog because it stirs my thoughts. Any form of free form writing sifts my thoughts and feelings and pulls out all of my cravings to write something of significance.

I play a band or watch a movie or read a book that affects me so much as to cause the film to turn and the screen to fill with images. It repeats over and over again in my head and I feebly try to put sound to the images. The soundtrack of the music flows overhead and I stop talking and start feeling. I swim around in a river of emotions, kicking a leg towards the tributaries of confusion and purpose, only to backstroke down the middle listening to the swell of my own heart.
I dwell on relationships and how they build a character. How families mold a character and friendships twist and turn the mold into a friend or an outcast. How love gets in the way and does its own damage on people. I think of all of this and then I ask myself, how loved is this person? At the center of our being, at the end of the day when we achieve our success or learn from our failures, we want one thing more than ever. Love. We wants someone to share our successes with or we want someone we love to help us through the harder times. Love is the reason behind the slightest, unexplainable actions.

My muses get me through all of this. They drag me through this long drawn out process, granting me hope and fulfilling my curiosity, and then ever so slowly they lead me out back into reality so that my own life doesn't fail in comparison to my imagination.

This newest muse, where ever it may lead me, fosters my passion and pursuit. I am thankful to one person, for opening my eyes and ears to this band. I am regretful of whatever has happened to the possibility of a friendship, but am ever so grateful for this one inspiring gift. Whatever this blossoms in my writings, I owe that to you. Thank you.

Labels: Best of Libellus

"I really want a boy. Especially now."

I heard that maybe 5 times last night. It is the new thing on all of my girl friend's minds. Like the November Single Blues or something. Sure it has it's variations - boy, guy, man, lover, girl - but that's all based on how we view ourselves.

The thing about that phrase, is the rant you're supposed to endure after it's spoken, and the obligatory response you're supposed to give. You know, the friendly head nod and a few kind words. Well that's getting on my nerves. Nowadays an obligatory man hating rant either slides itself into the conversation or else you face the ranter's pitiful glance that you've been single longer than them.

"So, are there any new guys in your life?" (Insert girls if you feel the need.)

You get that question from all sides. Parents, siblings, nosy grandparents, hometown neighbors, people you work with, and most especially, your hair dresser. When I got my hair cut this question blind sighted me after a small conversation on little kids trick or treating. Well whatever, it happens everywhere. "No."
My singlehood brings her to sympathize with, "Yeah, there's been a lot of man hating from my female clients lately."
"I'm not a man hater, I just don't feel like I need to bother with all that right now."

Well you can see where this went. Complete silence for close to five minutes.

Say it aint so a-woah-a-woah.
Your drug is a heartbreaker.
Say it aint so a-woah-a-woah.
My love is a life-taker.

I'm reading Love Monkey for the first time, and between it and Weezer all I want is to have a crush. But take it from OK Go, it's tough to have a crush. I want that stupid bubbly feeling and the uncontrollable dreamy smiles. I'm just not ready to join those silly girls who doodle names in their notebooks and drift out of important conversations because something that was said reminded them of their crush. As if.

I think.
I think...
I think I've gone so long being technically single that I do more than just tolerate it. I live it. Most girls, on the other hand, have difficulties adjusting back to their single selves. And that's what annoys me the most about crushes. Just when I get my friends back into the swing of girls nights and remembering that their current boyfriend is not on the top of my conversation charts, well then they go and fall for some other boy whom I'm stuck hearing all about.

I sound like the ultimate loveshit hater. I'm not. I dream lovely dreams too. I just try to dream quietly.

Labels: Best of Libellus, crushes, the single life