My thought process is as follows: Have a thought. Put it on the blog. Rinse and repeat.
Since obviously I'm still up for unknown reasons, I keep swinging over to Facebook. Right now, in this very moment, I miss Tex something wicked. He was tall. He was gorgeous. He was a Pistons fan. Seriously, I'm having withdrawal. Well, it's more like a relapse. Damn, he was fine. If I could turn back the hands of time...
You're right, you're right. Snap out of it, girl!
Now back to regularly scheduled programming--
Sweet child o'mine, Arnaz just walked onscreen shirtless again...and again! He's not even cute! But...my goodness. Why is my kind and benevolent God tormenting me this way?
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
EXPLETIVE. Lots and lots of EXPLETIVES.
Not a lot of things could get me to curse in a post title. But sadly, the Pistons just lost to the Celtics, being eliminated from the playoffs in six games. At home. I feel like I'm back in the 80s. Now, most of my friends/readers could probably care less about basketball, but y'all have to know by now that I take it very seriously. Ugh. I'm so annoyed right now I don't know what to do with myself. I feel deflated, betrayed. Are you happy, David Stern? You got what you wanted: a Lakers/Celtics NBA Finals. So you and the referees you paid off can just smoke a Cuban and watch those T-Mobile commercials with Dwayne Wade and Charles Barkley in them on your way to the Boston Garden. Hope you have a terrible time.
Seriously. I need some major cheering up right now. Six straight trips to the Eastern Conference Finals and only 1 championship to show for it?? I'm afraid that it will be like last time: we went like 16 years in a horrible slump after taking it all in the 1989 and 1990 seasons! Honest. Detroit had to watch the Bad Boys disintegrate. They had to suffer losing seasons. Not to mention the teal and burgundy horse uniform motif someone mistakenly thought was a good idea a couple years ago.
I won't be able to read the newspaper or check any of my links in the next few days, everything's Pistons themed and at this point I'm too heartbroken to bear it. But that's the beauty of being a true fan--you simply aren't allowed to give up. You always think, "Well, maybe next year." You have to. But for tonight at least, I'm going to sulk and rave about how we blew a 10 point lead and think about trading people and maybe cry a little. Ok, more like shed a glistening tear. Or two. I will not, however, be watching Sportscenter. I am just too fragile.
Even though we lost, we still had a hell of a season. Thanks, Pistons!
Seriously. I need some major cheering up right now. Six straight trips to the Eastern Conference Finals and only 1 championship to show for it?? I'm afraid that it will be like last time: we went like 16 years in a horrible slump after taking it all in the 1989 and 1990 seasons! Honest. Detroit had to watch the Bad Boys disintegrate. They had to suffer losing seasons. Not to mention the teal and burgundy horse uniform motif someone mistakenly thought was a good idea a couple years ago.
I won't be able to read the newspaper or check any of my links in the next few days, everything's Pistons themed and at this point I'm too heartbroken to bear it. But that's the beauty of being a true fan--you simply aren't allowed to give up. You always think, "Well, maybe next year." You have to. But for tonight at least, I'm going to sulk and rave about how we blew a 10 point lead and think about trading people and maybe cry a little. Ok, more like shed a glistening tear. Or two. I will not, however, be watching Sportscenter. I am just too fragile.
Even though we lost, we still had a hell of a season. Thanks, Pistons!
Very Sexy
Another post that is being written in a state of undress.
But for good (ish) reason: Yours truly just snagged Dream Job! I didn't want to jinx it before I got it and tell you where, but since I got it, I am proud to tell y'all, dear readers, that Lucky is now an employee of none other than Victoria's Secret! Could you just die!?!? I know I did. It's like working in heaven. 'Twas mean to be! I start training next week.
So, last night I was up watching television after the Lakers game (4-1, LAL, pray for the Pistons, y'all) and I started watching One on One reruns. Remember that show, with Kyla Pratt and Flex Alexander? The acting was as bad as I remember, the outfits just as horrible, but I seem to have developed a crush on Flex, and, sadly, Arnaz (Robert Ri'chard's character). I say sadly because RR is a horrendous actor, but looks mighty nice in those tacky t-shirts (or lack thereof, if you catch my drift). I couldn't find a picture, but holy shiz, what a bod. I nearly fell off the couch.
Anywhoodle, I'm getting ready for yet another interview, this time for an internship with a local news station. Yes, your girl is on her grind this time. No more sitting around, trying to find a job in the middle of June this summer! The only question is time; there aren't enough hours in a day should I get this internship. But if you're trying to cram in 2 internships and a job, that's a good problem to have, in my opinion.
Here is a not-so-good problem to have: I can't stop eating! Between the hours of 11pm and 2am, I remain posted in front of the fridge, feeling horribly guilty. I am terrified that I will wake up one morning weighing 300 pounds. I have no self-control. And it's not like the food is just so good. It's just...there. There for the eatin'. I need a plan. And a man. Just kidding on that last part. It just rhymed, ok?
BFF, love her though I do, does a lot. She's been catching me up on tales of her escapades in Buttcrack, Mississippi. That boyfriend of hers is no good. But of course I blame everything on him. Or maybe I'm just over arrogant (douchey) Southern boys and their ways. Whatever it is, BFF is a card. I love that girl. Lord knows she's listened a million times to my dating issues, so I'm happy to do the same. Most times people don't want advice, they just want someone to listen and add the occasional, "Yeah, girl" or "Ooh, no he didn't!" Which of course, is my specialty.
But for good (ish) reason: Yours truly just snagged Dream Job! I didn't want to jinx it before I got it and tell you where, but since I got it, I am proud to tell y'all, dear readers, that Lucky is now an employee of none other than Victoria's Secret! Could you just die!?!? I know I did. It's like working in heaven. 'Twas mean to be! I start training next week.
So, last night I was up watching television after the Lakers game (4-1, LAL, pray for the Pistons, y'all) and I started watching One on One reruns. Remember that show, with Kyla Pratt and Flex Alexander? The acting was as bad as I remember, the outfits just as horrible, but I seem to have developed a crush on Flex, and, sadly, Arnaz (Robert Ri'chard's character). I say sadly because RR is a horrendous actor, but looks mighty nice in those tacky t-shirts (or lack thereof, if you catch my drift). I couldn't find a picture, but holy shiz, what a bod. I nearly fell off the couch.
Anywhoodle, I'm getting ready for yet another interview, this time for an internship with a local news station. Yes, your girl is on her grind this time. No more sitting around, trying to find a job in the middle of June this summer! The only question is time; there aren't enough hours in a day should I get this internship. But if you're trying to cram in 2 internships and a job, that's a good problem to have, in my opinion.
Here is a not-so-good problem to have: I can't stop eating! Between the hours of 11pm and 2am, I remain posted in front of the fridge, feeling horribly guilty. I am terrified that I will wake up one morning weighing 300 pounds. I have no self-control. And it's not like the food is just so good. It's just...there. There for the eatin'. I need a plan. And a man. Just kidding on that last part. It just rhymed, ok?
BFF, love her though I do, does a lot. She's been catching me up on tales of her escapades in Buttcrack, Mississippi. That boyfriend of hers is no good. But of course I blame everything on him. Or maybe I'm just over arrogant (douchey) Southern boys and their ways. Whatever it is, BFF is a card. I love that girl. Lord knows she's listened a million times to my dating issues, so I'm happy to do the same. Most times people don't want advice, they just want someone to listen and add the occasional, "Yeah, girl" or "Ooh, no he didn't!" Which of course, is my specialty.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Listen and Learn
And now, for another music-related list! I present, in no particular order,
Ten Albums That Changed My Life*
1. John Mayer, "Room for Squares"
2. Michael Jackson, "Dangerous"
3. Various Artists, the mix CD I made in high school
4. Shakira, "Laundry Service"
5. Fall Out Boy, "From Under the Cork Tree"
6. Maroon 5, "Songs About Jane"
7. Michael Jackson, "Bad"
8. Michael Jackson, "Off the Wall"
9. Various Artists, the soundtrack to "Waiting to Exhale"
10. TLC, "Crazy Sexy Cool"
11. The Spice Girls, "Spice"
12. Amy Winehouse, "Back to Black"
13. Amy Winehouse, "Frank"
*or at least had an incredibly profound impact/represent significant moments in said life.
Ten Albums That Changed My Life*
1. John Mayer, "Room for Squares"
2. Michael Jackson, "Dangerous"
3. Various Artists, the mix CD I made in high school
4. Shakira, "Laundry Service"
5. Fall Out Boy, "From Under the Cork Tree"
6. Maroon 5, "Songs About Jane"
7. Michael Jackson, "Bad"
8. Michael Jackson, "Off the Wall"
9. Various Artists, the soundtrack to "Waiting to Exhale"
10. TLC, "Crazy Sexy Cool"
11. The Spice Girls, "Spice"
12. Amy Winehouse, "Back to Black"
13. Amy Winehouse, "Frank"
*or at least had an incredibly profound impact/represent significant moments in said life.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Easier Said than Done
I used to be one of those people who could simply "choose to be happy" or "get over it." The problem with that is that when you're sad you don't feel as if you have any choice in the matter in the first place. And as for getting over it, I don't mind pushing the memories away; I just am bothered that they come up at all. I feel like that's a different problem altogether, but I can't put my finger on it. Should I just be okay with this Band-Aid that is repeatedly pushing the unsavory recollection aside? Because they pop-up when I'm doing the dishes or looking for clothes, it's not just because I have "too much time on my hands." It has to be something else. I'm working on just acknowledging them, shrugging, and then saying, "Oh well. Good times."
Whew. The end of this LAL-SA game (93-91 LAL, 3-1 LA lead) has left me unsettled. I think there was a foul on that last play. It's not that I particularly wanted the Spurs to win, but this playoff officiating can be a little sketchy, and I'm not sure that that goes in our favor (and by "our" I mean the Pistons).
So for some reason, the car GPS system just does not like me. She was acting quite temperamental on the way to Taco Bell this evening. But she got it together in the end.
The interview for My Dream Job is tomorrow. Needless to say, I am slightly terrified. Just hiding it well, so as not to embrace this anxiety. I shall overcome! And by this I mean picking a really great CD to listen to on the way over. Speaking of which, the mix CDs I burned from my Itunes play all screwy in the CD player in my car. One song will work, the next one won't, and the one after that will take forever to start. Which is unbelievably annoying. A quick visit to Yahoo! Answers gave me helpful info, but it will be a tedious problem to rectify.
I feel quietly romantic. The funny thing is that I'm wearing sweats and watching "Inside the NBA." Maybe it's because "Wake Up Alone" is humming through the speakers. Perhaps it's because my toenails are a seductive shade of Spiced Cranberry. I like the word "seductive" more than "sexy." I think I'd rather be called seductive than sexy (although both compliments are welcome, of course). Calling someone sexy is the cheap and generic way out. To be seductive is to use your own magnetism to attract, enthrall, and utterly enchant. Why settle for being sexy when you can be seductive instead? The bar has been raised, people. That being said, though, I'm not quite sure "SeductiveBack" has the same ring to it.
Whew. The end of this LAL-SA game (93-91 LAL, 3-1 LA lead) has left me unsettled. I think there was a foul on that last play. It's not that I particularly wanted the Spurs to win, but this playoff officiating can be a little sketchy, and I'm not sure that that goes in our favor (and by "our" I mean the Pistons).
So for some reason, the car GPS system just does not like me. She was acting quite temperamental on the way to Taco Bell this evening. But she got it together in the end.
The interview for My Dream Job is tomorrow. Needless to say, I am slightly terrified. Just hiding it well, so as not to embrace this anxiety. I shall overcome! And by this I mean picking a really great CD to listen to on the way over. Speaking of which, the mix CDs I burned from my Itunes play all screwy in the CD player in my car. One song will work, the next one won't, and the one after that will take forever to start. Which is unbelievably annoying. A quick visit to Yahoo! Answers gave me helpful info, but it will be a tedious problem to rectify.
I feel quietly romantic. The funny thing is that I'm wearing sweats and watching "Inside the NBA." Maybe it's because "Wake Up Alone" is humming through the speakers. Perhaps it's because my toenails are a seductive shade of Spiced Cranberry. I like the word "seductive" more than "sexy." I think I'd rather be called seductive than sexy (although both compliments are welcome, of course). Calling someone sexy is the cheap and generic way out. To be seductive is to use your own magnetism to attract, enthrall, and utterly enchant. Why settle for being sexy when you can be seductive instead? The bar has been raised, people. That being said, though, I'm not quite sure "SeductiveBack" has the same ring to it.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Big Boobs and One Arm
Get it? Because it's my 100th post! And also because I can be childish :)
The century mark came quickly. Maybe it's because blogging doesn't feel like work or an obligation, but something I truly love to do. So, cheers (but make mine a virgin, please). And here's to a hundred more!
On account of it being Memorial Day, we decided to boost the American economy by spending the day at this outdoor mall my mom found. 'Twas a hot Midwestern day, but we had fun, the whole family did. Dad sat down and listened to the live band while we did our dirty work, though. We didn't really buy much (well, I didn't), but it was a successful endeavor nonetheless. Since the mall was outside, people brought their dogs on leashes to walk around with. How many cute doggies we saw! It made me think of Charley, Dash, and Precious, of course. On our way out, a dog on a leash nuzzled our legs, and his owner, a cute guy with a European accent, was super-nice to us and asked us if we had a dog and whatnot. I didn't get to ask him what country he was from, but you could totally tell he wasn't from these parts. He was too nice.
I've been extremely materialistic lately in the fact that I can't stop browsing for stuff to buy online. Clothes-makeup-shoe-jewelry lust is slowly taking me over! But I figure it's harmless because I have no money to spend on these things...Lordy, that barbecue sure smells good. Scratch what I said about not enjoying being home!
I finally talked to BFF, yesterday and today, which is like, a record for us! We're already making plans for her to come visit me next year, I absolutely cannot wait. I haven't seen her since our high school graduation, which feels so long ago! Anyway, she told me about her relationship biz and I told her about mine. She had some good, albeit vague, advice for a problem (and a recurring, unsettling dream) that I've been having. She said, "Get over it." Short and sweet. But we know how I am about even the best advice...I'm optimistic, though. It's going to be a long, good summer.
The century mark came quickly. Maybe it's because blogging doesn't feel like work or an obligation, but something I truly love to do. So, cheers (but make mine a virgin, please). And here's to a hundred more!
On account of it being Memorial Day, we decided to boost the American economy by spending the day at this outdoor mall my mom found. 'Twas a hot Midwestern day, but we had fun, the whole family did. Dad sat down and listened to the live band while we did our dirty work, though. We didn't really buy much (well, I didn't), but it was a successful endeavor nonetheless. Since the mall was outside, people brought their dogs on leashes to walk around with. How many cute doggies we saw! It made me think of Charley, Dash, and Precious, of course. On our way out, a dog on a leash nuzzled our legs, and his owner, a cute guy with a European accent, was super-nice to us and asked us if we had a dog and whatnot. I didn't get to ask him what country he was from, but you could totally tell he wasn't from these parts. He was too nice.
I've been extremely materialistic lately in the fact that I can't stop browsing for stuff to buy online. Clothes-makeup-shoe-jewelry lust is slowly taking me over! But I figure it's harmless because I have no money to spend on these things...Lordy, that barbecue sure smells good. Scratch what I said about not enjoying being home!
I finally talked to BFF, yesterday and today, which is like, a record for us! We're already making plans for her to come visit me next year, I absolutely cannot wait. I haven't seen her since our high school graduation, which feels so long ago! Anyway, she told me about her relationship biz and I told her about mine. She had some good, albeit vague, advice for a problem (and a recurring, unsettling dream) that I've been having. She said, "Get over it." Short and sweet. But we know how I am about even the best advice...I'm optimistic, though. It's going to be a long, good summer.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
On a Lazy Sunday Afternoon (Long Version)
Finally got together with Piston Fan (hometown friend) for dinner last night. Fun conversation, ugly game. But let's not go there.
In bed last night I sort of began to really let myself feel what I was ashamed or embarrassed to feel before. Listening to my Ipod, curled underneath the covers, I just let things play around in my head and come to the surface. But, ugh, I don't even want to talk about it anymore; it's gonna kill my buzz :)
This upcoming week should be a good one, hopefully I will have some fun things to share with y'all. But right now I feel slightly off-kilter, rusty, sluggish. Something fun should come up soon, I hope. I use the word "hope" a lot. Because it's what I do. I wish and pray and hope for things. Sometimes I get them, sometimes I don't, but I always hope.
[I had to come back and add more because I'm in a bad mood now and didn't want it to leak onto my 100th post]
Sometimes I really like being at home, and sometimes I absolutely hate it. Nobody can get on your nerves and utterly piss you off like your siblings. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I could have sworn that not only are you not my parent, but I'm grown (a grown-ass woman if you wanna get technical). And I also could have sworn that you didn't have such an attitude problem when I gave you a ride to the store earlier. Sigh. I hate writing bad stuff about siblings because I feel bad about it later, but I am extremely annoyed right now. Family gets on your nerves like no one else can. It's always over something stupid, but damn if you don't need to like, seriously blow off some steam over some minor sibling BS! Somebody tell me I'm not a bad person just because I want to kick my sister out of the house for a few hours and call it a day...
In bed last night I sort of began to really let myself feel what I was ashamed or embarrassed to feel before. Listening to my Ipod, curled underneath the covers, I just let things play around in my head and come to the surface. But, ugh, I don't even want to talk about it anymore; it's gonna kill my buzz :)
This upcoming week should be a good one, hopefully I will have some fun things to share with y'all. But right now I feel slightly off-kilter, rusty, sluggish. Something fun should come up soon, I hope. I use the word "hope" a lot. Because it's what I do. I wish and pray and hope for things. Sometimes I get them, sometimes I don't, but I always hope.
[I had to come back and add more because I'm in a bad mood now and didn't want it to leak onto my 100th post]
Sometimes I really like being at home, and sometimes I absolutely hate it. Nobody can get on your nerves and utterly piss you off like your siblings. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I could have sworn that not only are you not my parent, but I'm grown (a grown-ass woman if you wanna get technical). And I also could have sworn that you didn't have such an attitude problem when I gave you a ride to the store earlier. Sigh. I hate writing bad stuff about siblings because I feel bad about it later, but I am extremely annoyed right now. Family gets on your nerves like no one else can. It's always over something stupid, but damn if you don't need to like, seriously blow off some steam over some minor sibling BS! Somebody tell me I'm not a bad person just because I want to kick my sister out of the house for a few hours and call it a day...
Friday, May 23, 2008
Newsflash
I'm having an ugly day.
Not ugly as in, "bad things are occurring repeatedly," but more like, "I feel fat and all-around unattractive."
I had a good day, don't get me wrong. I'm just feeling rather rude in the face at the moment. Just thought I'd share.
Not ugly as in, "bad things are occurring repeatedly," but more like, "I feel fat and all-around unattractive."
I had a good day, don't get me wrong. I'm just feeling rather rude in the face at the moment. Just thought I'd share.
A List That Might Never be Complete
Things I Need to Do:
1. Clean room. It is an unholy mess.
2. Walk to CVS and buy a magazine. Preferably Glamour or Cosmo.
3. Do yoga. Must do at least 3 times a week and have only done it twice.
4. Flatiron hair. Edges are looking a little crispy.
5. Watch season finale of Grey's Anatomy and season opener of Kimora:LiFL. Missed former due to basketball game (Piston victory, so well worth the sacrifice).
6. Call BFF. Have not spoken to said BFF since coming home.
7. Schedule lunch with various hometown friends. Keep forgetting due to tiredness, being busy, and/or general life obligations, and am starting to feel slightly guilty as a result.
8. Drop off numerous job applications. Still in need of money.
One thing that's been crossed off is "find internship." Because now I have one! Yours truly is now an unpaid intern at an independent/underground record label. One of their groups has sold multi-platinum albums, and other artists are placing high on both the Heatseekers and Billboard charts. So that's cool. And I've got free swag already. Like I may have already mentioned, the genre of music is totally not my scene, but it's experience nonetheless. Before I wanted to be a sportswriter, I toyed with the idea of being a music manager. Maybe this internship will make me give it more serious thought. The Head PR Guy (nickname pending) was really chill, too, and everyone was wearing sweatshirts and jeans. I definitely was overdressed in my nice jeans, heels, blazer, and, Lord help me, silky leopard-print top. But better to be overdressed than under-dressed, right?
Check me out, I actually have an internship. Huh. Go me.
This evening we embarked on one of my favorite summer family traditions. After I got back from the internship and Middle Sister came back from practicing driving (help us, oh Lord), we piled in the car and went to the drive-thru A&W, where they bring the food to you to be eaten in your car. It's always the same, the three of us, jammed in the backseat, laughing and bickering, my parents up front, chatting and listening to the radio. While we eat, we come up with some dorky "conversation starter" games. This time, it was random trivia: "What Shakespeare play is 'The Lion King' based on?" or "What college did Oprah go to?" or "Who was the first black person to serve on the Supreme Court?" (my dad's question. Y'all know how old-school black people are!) We had a good time. My mother surprised me; when I asked, "What is Snoop Dogg's real name?" she answered, without hesitation, "Calvin Broadus," and popped a fry in her mouth like it was nothin'!
The best summers, to me, are those filled with drive-in movies, trips to Dairy Queen, family barbecues, good music, bathing suits, and cloudless sunny days that fade into lazy, purple-skied evenings. The best summers make you honestly and truly glad to be alive.
Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high
Your daddy's rich
And your momma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry
One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky
But till that morning
There's a'nothing can harm you
With daddy and momma standing by
Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high
Your daddy's rich
And your momma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry
"Summertime" by George Gershwin, from the musical Porgy and Bess
1. Clean room. It is an unholy mess.
2. Walk to CVS and buy a magazine. Preferably Glamour or Cosmo.
3. Do yoga. Must do at least 3 times a week and have only done it twice.
4. Flatiron hair. Edges are looking a little crispy.
5. Watch season finale of Grey's Anatomy and season opener of Kimora:LiFL. Missed former due to basketball game (Piston victory, so well worth the sacrifice).
6. Call BFF. Have not spoken to said BFF since coming home.
7. Schedule lunch with various hometown friends. Keep forgetting due to tiredness, being busy, and/or general life obligations, and am starting to feel slightly guilty as a result.
8. Drop off numerous job applications. Still in need of money.
One thing that's been crossed off is "find internship." Because now I have one! Yours truly is now an unpaid intern at an independent/underground record label. One of their groups has sold multi-platinum albums, and other artists are placing high on both the Heatseekers and Billboard charts. So that's cool. And I've got free swag already. Like I may have already mentioned, the genre of music is totally not my scene, but it's experience nonetheless. Before I wanted to be a sportswriter, I toyed with the idea of being a music manager. Maybe this internship will make me give it more serious thought. The Head PR Guy (nickname pending) was really chill, too, and everyone was wearing sweatshirts and jeans. I definitely was overdressed in my nice jeans, heels, blazer, and, Lord help me, silky leopard-print top. But better to be overdressed than under-dressed, right?
Check me out, I actually have an internship. Huh. Go me.
This evening we embarked on one of my favorite summer family traditions. After I got back from the internship and Middle Sister came back from practicing driving (help us, oh Lord), we piled in the car and went to the drive-thru A&W, where they bring the food to you to be eaten in your car. It's always the same, the three of us, jammed in the backseat, laughing and bickering, my parents up front, chatting and listening to the radio. While we eat, we come up with some dorky "conversation starter" games. This time, it was random trivia: "What Shakespeare play is 'The Lion King' based on?" or "What college did Oprah go to?" or "Who was the first black person to serve on the Supreme Court?" (my dad's question. Y'all know how old-school black people are!) We had a good time. My mother surprised me; when I asked, "What is Snoop Dogg's real name?" she answered, without hesitation, "Calvin Broadus," and popped a fry in her mouth like it was nothin'!
The best summers, to me, are those filled with drive-in movies, trips to Dairy Queen, family barbecues, good music, bathing suits, and cloudless sunny days that fade into lazy, purple-skied evenings. The best summers make you honestly and truly glad to be alive.
Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high
Your daddy's rich
And your momma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry
One of these mornings
You're going to rise up singing
Then you'll spread your wings
And you'll take to the sky
But till that morning
There's a'nothing can harm you
With daddy and momma standing by
Summertime,
And the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin'
And the cotton is high
Your daddy's rich
And your momma's good lookin'
So hush little baby
Don't you cry
"Summertime" by George Gershwin, from the musical Porgy and Bess
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Why Don't You Come on Over
There are exciting things in store for me, I hope. I don't want to say exactly what, but I hope and pray that things work out.
While studying myself in every reflective surface the mall had to offer, I came to the realization that I don't like the front of my hair. I wanted Rihanna, but Hairstylist J gave me Hillary, which is never a good thing. Luckily my hair will have grown out by the time I have to go back to school.
Also, the Eastern Conference Finals have started, y'all. The Pistons are taking on the Boston Celtics in a matchup NBA fans have been waiting for. These two teams had the two best regular-season records, and are now duking it out for a trip to the NBA Finals. I get shivers just thinking about it. The Celtics needed seven games to put away both the Atlanta Hawks in the first round and the Cleveland Cavaliers in the semis, and this series could go seven as well, both teams certainly are talented enough. Piston point guard Chauncey Billups is recovering from a hamstring injury, and his lack of rhythm could have cost the Pistons Game 1, but it's still early. It will be interesting to see how the matchup between Kevin Garnett and Rasheed Wallace will play out. Expect an aggressive, exciting series, folks!
My sister thought it would be funny to pull up Tex's Facebook page, which I'm proud to say I haven't been on in awhile (honest!). Since I was already on there, I perused a picture or two, and actually laughed out loud. He's so...pretty. And I waited for wayward emotions to bubble up, but none did. I'm over him! Well, of photos of him, anyway. I'm past my "I don't even want to look at your stinkin' face" stage. Does anyone else have that phase? It's not even an angry or sad thing, but for whatever reason, I get embarrassed looking at a picture of whoever the guy is. It is so odd.
About a week ago, I was in the car with Mom and Youngest Sister, and it had been raining. Suddenly, as we passed a traffic light, my mom exclaimed, "Look, it's a rainbow!" And there it was. I was puzzled. I mean, who actually sees rainbows, really, in the sky? Sure you see pictures and you know what they are theoretically speaking, but honestly, when's the last time you saw a glowing rainbow peeking through leftover gray rainclouds? I couldn't take my eyes off of it. Music continued to hum through my Ipod as I watched in silent awe. And when I first looked up and saw that stream of colors in the sky, I instantly thought, "Everything is going to be okay." Don't ask me why that thought popped up. I don't tend to question rainbows.
While studying myself in every reflective surface the mall had to offer, I came to the realization that I don't like the front of my hair. I wanted Rihanna, but Hairstylist J gave me Hillary, which is never a good thing. Luckily my hair will have grown out by the time I have to go back to school.
Also, the Eastern Conference Finals have started, y'all. The Pistons are taking on the Boston Celtics in a matchup NBA fans have been waiting for. These two teams had the two best regular-season records, and are now duking it out for a trip to the NBA Finals. I get shivers just thinking about it. The Celtics needed seven games to put away both the Atlanta Hawks in the first round and the Cleveland Cavaliers in the semis, and this series could go seven as well, both teams certainly are talented enough. Piston point guard Chauncey Billups is recovering from a hamstring injury, and his lack of rhythm could have cost the Pistons Game 1, but it's still early. It will be interesting to see how the matchup between Kevin Garnett and Rasheed Wallace will play out. Expect an aggressive, exciting series, folks!
My sister thought it would be funny to pull up Tex's Facebook page, which I'm proud to say I haven't been on in awhile (honest!). Since I was already on there, I perused a picture or two, and actually laughed out loud. He's so...pretty. And I waited for wayward emotions to bubble up, but none did. I'm over him! Well, of photos of him, anyway. I'm past my "I don't even want to look at your stinkin' face" stage. Does anyone else have that phase? It's not even an angry or sad thing, but for whatever reason, I get embarrassed looking at a picture of whoever the guy is. It is so odd.
About a week ago, I was in the car with Mom and Youngest Sister, and it had been raining. Suddenly, as we passed a traffic light, my mom exclaimed, "Look, it's a rainbow!" And there it was. I was puzzled. I mean, who actually sees rainbows, really, in the sky? Sure you see pictures and you know what they are theoretically speaking, but honestly, when's the last time you saw a glowing rainbow peeking through leftover gray rainclouds? I couldn't take my eyes off of it. Music continued to hum through my Ipod as I watched in silent awe. And when I first looked up and saw that stream of colors in the sky, I instantly thought, "Everything is going to be okay." Don't ask me why that thought popped up. I don't tend to question rainbows.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Bored and Musing
I feel like a bump on a log. I didn't get the job I interviewed for yesterday, so that sucked a little. And in my head, I had already spent my first paycheck. So it's back to the drawing board. I have a few possible gigs lined up, though, so 'tis not a major setback, just a slight disappointment. Now I'm sitting, bored, perched on a kitchen stool eating Italian-style lasagna. Speaking of which, even though I told my mom specifically that I was on a diet, she made some fettuchini-alfredo-chicken concoction for dinner. Nothing but cream, cheese, and shame. And you know what pissed me off the most? It was damn good.
While listening to my "Upbeat" playlist, I've gathered that the clean version of Lil' Wayne's "Lollipop" is just useless.
I did do my yoga today. I took a few days off because I got my hair done (the ever-constant struggle of a black woman), so today I got back on track. Yoga usually makes me zone out, or zen out, as the case may be, and sometimes it makes all my thoughts bubble to the surface. Today it was the latter. But because I was in such a calm state, recollections that would usually trouble me just sort of floated around and didn't do anything. If that makes sense at all...
Might be back later. Until then, keep it funky.
While listening to my "Upbeat" playlist, I've gathered that the clean version of Lil' Wayne's "Lollipop" is just useless.
I did do my yoga today. I took a few days off because I got my hair done (the ever-constant struggle of a black woman), so today I got back on track. Yoga usually makes me zone out, or zen out, as the case may be, and sometimes it makes all my thoughts bubble to the surface. Today it was the latter. But because I was in such a calm state, recollections that would usually trouble me just sort of floated around and didn't do anything. If that makes sense at all...
Might be back later. Until then, keep it funky.
Monday, May 19, 2008
"I Heard Love is Blind"-Amy W.
I think my interview went ok. The GPS system in my car suddenly went all "Poor Satellite Reception" on me, which could have been a disaster for my directionally-challenged being, but luckily (hence my name), I knew where I was going for once. So onward, ho! Windows down, sunglasses on, Kanye West blasting. At that moment, life was good. Hopefully I get the job, but even if I don't, at least the ride to the interview was fun, right?
Afterwards, I went to the library to peruse the aisles (a pastime of mine), and ending up getting books by Pearl Cleage and Sophie Kinsella. I had like $17 late fees on my card, though. Undeterred, I rifled through my wallet and was like, "Well, I got eight on it." I checked out my books and kept on movin'. Except I guess our little transaction took awhile because the lady behind me kept on sighing exaggeratedly. All it took from me was a quick snap of the head with a side-eye and she shut right up. If I'da made a full turn on her ass, it would have been over. For real. I hate pushy people. I'm impatient, but I'm not rude. But even she couldn't rain on my parade today; I was in a happy mood and had on my good pumps (black patent leather, round-toe slingbacks by Jessica Simpson. Very nice. Motown Lover and Cali Girl helped me pick 'em out).
Fast forward to now. Whoever invented sweatpants should be given a Nobel Peace Prize. I'm about to find something good on TV, check my email, and relax. There's a game on tonight. And since I woke up early, I'm gonna sleep gooooooood tonight. I can't wait. I'll probably even have good dreams, too.
Afterwards, I went to the library to peruse the aisles (a pastime of mine), and ending up getting books by Pearl Cleage and Sophie Kinsella. I had like $17 late fees on my card, though. Undeterred, I rifled through my wallet and was like, "Well, I got eight on it." I checked out my books and kept on movin'. Except I guess our little transaction took awhile because the lady behind me kept on sighing exaggeratedly. All it took from me was a quick snap of the head with a side-eye and she shut right up. If I'da made a full turn on her ass, it would have been over. For real. I hate pushy people. I'm impatient, but I'm not rude. But even she couldn't rain on my parade today; I was in a happy mood and had on my good pumps (black patent leather, round-toe slingbacks by Jessica Simpson. Very nice. Motown Lover and Cali Girl helped me pick 'em out).
Fast forward to now. Whoever invented sweatpants should be given a Nobel Peace Prize. I'm about to find something good on TV, check my email, and relax. There's a game on tonight. And since I woke up early, I'm gonna sleep gooooooood tonight. I can't wait. I'll probably even have good dreams, too.
"Buy You a Drank"-T-Pain
[So y'all will know what I'm listening to as I write (title explanation)]
Last night I had a dream about Beyonce. Y'all know I don't even like her like that, but this morning I woke up humming "Get Me Bodied." I also had a dream that I got a C in Spanish; in the words of Top Chef, I nearly had a stroke. When I woke up to check my transcripts online, though, I remembered that there's a hold on my account, thus making it impossible to check my grades. If I, heaven forbid, have any Cs, heads will roll. I've been having funky dreams lately, but they've been strangely un-fulfilling. Like, I wake up before me and dream dude kiss, or before Chris Brown gets onstage, or whatever. And I'm like, hello?! If I can't kiss in my own dreams, well, just when the hell can I?
The dedicated among you might notice that it is a tad early in the day for me to be awake, and you are absolutely right. I got up at 11am today (okay, 11:05) for my interview, but when I called to confirm the time, the meeting had been pushed to 3:30pm. Which was boss because I took a shower, ate cereal, and watched The View in my nice underwear and Chanel studs (y'all know which ones). It was extremely decadent, and I enjoyed every prancing minute of it.
"Kimora:LiFL" was excellent, as usual. She's trying to go green. Fabulously, of course. Let this be a lesson! If the queen of opulence can take steps to decrease her carbon footprint, so can we. I was an eco-Nazi this weekend, yelling "Lights off!" or "Dishwasher!" to family members making various infractions. It was fun. "The Game" season finale wasn't bad. Matter fact, I'm about to make a sandwich and go watch it on YouTube..."Gossip Girl" and "One Tree Hill" tonight! Go Monday TV.
Nothing too serious today so far, as you can see. Hopefully it stays that way. I painted my toenails gold while watching "Ocean's 13" over the weekend, and now I don't think I like them. They aren't sparkly enough. And that will just not do. Because at this point in my life, things like sparkly toenails and lacy underwear are just requisites.
Last night I had a dream about Beyonce. Y'all know I don't even like her like that, but this morning I woke up humming "Get Me Bodied." I also had a dream that I got a C in Spanish; in the words of Top Chef, I nearly had a stroke. When I woke up to check my transcripts online, though, I remembered that there's a hold on my account, thus making it impossible to check my grades. If I, heaven forbid, have any Cs, heads will roll. I've been having funky dreams lately, but they've been strangely un-fulfilling. Like, I wake up before me and dream dude kiss, or before Chris Brown gets onstage, or whatever. And I'm like, hello?! If I can't kiss in my own dreams, well, just when the hell can I?
The dedicated among you might notice that it is a tad early in the day for me to be awake, and you are absolutely right. I got up at 11am today (okay, 11:05) for my interview, but when I called to confirm the time, the meeting had been pushed to 3:30pm. Which was boss because I took a shower, ate cereal, and watched The View in my nice underwear and Chanel studs (y'all know which ones). It was extremely decadent, and I enjoyed every prancing minute of it.
"Kimora:LiFL" was excellent, as usual. She's trying to go green. Fabulously, of course. Let this be a lesson! If the queen of opulence can take steps to decrease her carbon footprint, so can we. I was an eco-Nazi this weekend, yelling "Lights off!" or "Dishwasher!" to family members making various infractions. It was fun. "The Game" season finale wasn't bad. Matter fact, I'm about to make a sandwich and go watch it on YouTube..."Gossip Girl" and "One Tree Hill" tonight! Go Monday TV.
Nothing too serious today so far, as you can see. Hopefully it stays that way. I painted my toenails gold while watching "Ocean's 13" over the weekend, and now I don't think I like them. They aren't sparkly enough. And that will just not do. Because at this point in my life, things like sparkly toenails and lacy underwear are just requisites.
Sounds Like a Dreamboat
From This Fish Needs a Bicycle:
*For those unsure of how to identify a Douchebag in the wild, you can usually spot them by the sunglasses (aviators, natch) worn indoors, popped collars, overly-groomed hair and an overall attitude of faux-awesomeness. If he walks with a swagger, talks to your cleavage and has a strange fascination with his Blackberry and/or watch, you have found yourself a gen-u-ine D-bag.
Hahaha yes. I've been down that road before.
*For those unsure of how to identify a Douchebag in the wild, you can usually spot them by the sunglasses (aviators, natch) worn indoors, popped collars, overly-groomed hair and an overall attitude of faux-awesomeness. If he walks with a swagger, talks to your cleavage and has a strange fascination with his Blackberry and/or watch, you have found yourself a gen-u-ine D-bag.
Hahaha yes. I've been down that road before.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
I Have Returned To Civilization
Because yesterday, I got my hair done. After a few hours of power tools, magic potions, and a rerun of "Soul Food" on TV, I went from Don King to Kate Moss (honest. My new hair looks similar to hers). So praise the Lord for that.
I hate that I'm so forgetful. Like, during the day my mind is full of dozens of things to post about, and by the time I sit my butt down to write them, I've usually forgotten most of them.
Here's a starting point:
I couldn’t resist him
His eyes were like yours
His hair was exactly the shade of brown
He’s just not as tall, but I couldn’t tell
It was dark and I was lying down
You are everything – he means nothing to me
I can’t even remember his name
Why’re you so upset?
Baby, you weren’t there and I was thinking of you when I came
What do you expect?
You left me here alone; I drank so much and needed to touch
Don’t overreact – I pretended he was you
You wouldn’t want me to be lonely
How can I put it so you understand?
I didn’t let him hold my hand
But he looked like you; I guess he looked like you
No he wasn’t you
But you can still trust me, this ain’t infidelity
It’s not cheating; you were on my mind
Yes he looked like you
But I heard love is blind…
"I Heard Love is Blind" by (who else?) A-Dubs, the Beehived One herself.
This song reminds me that I used to have a "type" of guy, looks-wise. Tall, light, curly hair, athletic. Tex was it, the Runner was close, the Homeboy was nowhere near. I am actually so curious as to what the next one will look like (I'm watching the game right now, so at this particular moment I hope my next guy looks like Chauncey Billups...). On a slightly-deeper note, I think it also means that you take a little something from each experience, which shapes what you do and don't want in a relationship. I think that's cool, and that way, no fling ever has to be in vain.
I am, it has to be said, so bored right now. I mean, I could do laundry or unpack, but um, no. This game had better get interesting. Oh, never mind, I know what I'll do. I'm going to finish this game, catch up on last week's episode of "Grey's Anatomy," and convince Mom to make brownies for dinner (I mean, dessert). My sister rented "P.S. I Love You" yesterday, so perhaps I'll watch that, too.
I'm sorry, y'all, these words ain't flowing like I need them to be, so I'll bid you adieu right here. Hopefully my sparkling wit and way with words will come back by the time I post again. And if they don't, then, well, I never really had 'em it in the first place.
I remembered something to tell y'all. I need some books to peak my interest. When I was younger, I used to be an avid reader, I remember reading "To Kill A Mockingbird" and "Of Mice and Men" before I got to middle school (yes, I was that child). I seem to have tapered off. Part of it is because I'm so busy, and also because, well, when I was young I just picked up whatever was around the house and read it. Now, when I go down to the basement and peruse the dusty bookshelves, I've read everything! I want a book that's not really breezy, but not too highbrow. I like Pearl Cleage, Jennifer Weiner, and, well, JK Rowling. I hate John Steinbeck. I like a good story, not something that I have to sift through and analyze. I read "The Road" by Carson McCullers, (Oprah's Book Club) and I wanted to slit my wrists when I was finally done. So that will be my challenge this summer, to find a grown-up book, and by that I mean I won't be embarrassed to read it in public.
I hate that I'm so forgetful. Like, during the day my mind is full of dozens of things to post about, and by the time I sit my butt down to write them, I've usually forgotten most of them.
Here's a starting point:
I couldn’t resist him
His eyes were like yours
His hair was exactly the shade of brown
He’s just not as tall, but I couldn’t tell
It was dark and I was lying down
You are everything – he means nothing to me
I can’t even remember his name
Why’re you so upset?
Baby, you weren’t there and I was thinking of you when I came
What do you expect?
You left me here alone; I drank so much and needed to touch
Don’t overreact – I pretended he was you
You wouldn’t want me to be lonely
How can I put it so you understand?
I didn’t let him hold my hand
But he looked like you; I guess he looked like you
No he wasn’t you
But you can still trust me, this ain’t infidelity
It’s not cheating; you were on my mind
Yes he looked like you
But I heard love is blind…
"I Heard Love is Blind" by (who else?) A-Dubs, the Beehived One herself.
This song reminds me that I used to have a "type" of guy, looks-wise. Tall, light, curly hair, athletic. Tex was it, the Runner was close, the Homeboy was nowhere near. I am actually so curious as to what the next one will look like (I'm watching the game right now, so at this particular moment I hope my next guy looks like Chauncey Billups...). On a slightly-deeper note, I think it also means that you take a little something from each experience, which shapes what you do and don't want in a relationship. I think that's cool, and that way, no fling ever has to be in vain.
I am, it has to be said, so bored right now. I mean, I could do laundry or unpack, but um, no. This game had better get interesting. Oh, never mind, I know what I'll do. I'm going to finish this game, catch up on last week's episode of "Grey's Anatomy," and convince Mom to make brownies for dinner (I mean, dessert). My sister rented "P.S. I Love You" yesterday, so perhaps I'll watch that, too.
I'm sorry, y'all, these words ain't flowing like I need them to be, so I'll bid you adieu right here. Hopefully my sparkling wit and way with words will come back by the time I post again. And if they don't, then, well, I never really had 'em it in the first place.
I remembered something to tell y'all. I need some books to peak my interest. When I was younger, I used to be an avid reader, I remember reading "To Kill A Mockingbird" and "Of Mice and Men" before I got to middle school (yes, I was that child). I seem to have tapered off. Part of it is because I'm so busy, and also because, well, when I was young I just picked up whatever was around the house and read it. Now, when I go down to the basement and peruse the dusty bookshelves, I've read everything! I want a book that's not really breezy, but not too highbrow. I like Pearl Cleage, Jennifer Weiner, and, well, JK Rowling. I hate John Steinbeck. I like a good story, not something that I have to sift through and analyze. I read "The Road" by Carson McCullers, (Oprah's Book Club) and I wanted to slit my wrists when I was finally done. So that will be my challenge this summer, to find a grown-up book, and by that I mean I won't be embarrassed to read it in public.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Quickie...I swear
Before I go work out (take that!) just thought I'd share a bit...
At the mall with Mom and Middle Sister, Mom and I swing by Sephora (my playground). Amid the beauty of the black and white decor and shelves of beauty booty, I saw the display for the bath/body line "Carol's Daughter." Anyone who knows me knows that I absolutely adore CD. I let out a gasp and slapped my hands against my cheeks (so dramatic, I know. The saleslady chuckled at my reaction) as I half-walked, half-ran to the display. But, they didn't have the smaller tub of my favorite lotion, so I had to walk away empty-handed (my mom got stuff, though, which I may have to borrow), but not empty-spirited! Now I have something to save up for, should the fates smile down and bestow upon me a job.
Okay, it's halftime of the CLE-BOS Game 6 (42-33? CLE), and the pizza I had for dinner is doing a Chicago-style hustle in my stomach. It needs to be jogged, lunged, and crunched away before things get ugly.
At the mall with Mom and Middle Sister, Mom and I swing by Sephora (my playground). Amid the beauty of the black and white decor and shelves of beauty booty, I saw the display for the bath/body line "Carol's Daughter." Anyone who knows me knows that I absolutely adore CD. I let out a gasp and slapped my hands against my cheeks (so dramatic, I know. The saleslady chuckled at my reaction) as I half-walked, half-ran to the display. But, they didn't have the smaller tub of my favorite lotion, so I had to walk away empty-handed (my mom got stuff, though, which I may have to borrow), but not empty-spirited! Now I have something to save up for, should the fates smile down and bestow upon me a job.
Okay, it's halftime of the CLE-BOS Game 6 (42-33? CLE), and the pizza I had for dinner is doing a Chicago-style hustle in my stomach. It needs to be jogged, lunged, and crunched away before things get ugly.
Take Me Out to the Ball Game
It's been a few days...I really have been on that deadbeat skeez, so sorry, y'all!
I may have an internship with an underground record company. I have to go meet with them next week. The music style is a complete 180 from anything I've ever listened to, but it's experience, right? And, hopefully I will have a job soon, too, that my friend recommended I try. It's 9 bucks an hour, so hell yeah I hope I get it!
I persevered, y'all. I worked out good yesterday. Which is why I can barely move today. I want to do it again, but we may be going shopping when Mom gets home from work. And there's this pair of shoes that I really want. So "Legs and Glutes" on FitTV may just have to wait...
I downloaded Amy Winehouse's first album, "Frank,"** yesterday. Like "Back to Black," it's a damn good listen. I listened to it on repeat last night as I pored over magazines. I'm trying to find my style, as I try to every summer. Summer is that time when everybody tries to do some type of overhaul with this big ol' stretch of time, but I need some direction. When left to my own devices, things can go terribly awry. Like, I need someone to wake me up in the morning, otherwise I'll sleep 'til 3. The sad part is that I can find things to do that keep me awake at night. I was in bed at 1 last night, but due to aforementioned magazines and my Ipod, I didn't turn off the light until 3. Again, so ashamed was I.
**Best tracks so far: "I Heard Love is Blind," "Stronger Than Me," and "Take the Box." Honorary mention: "F Me Pumps." But really, the whole album's a smash.
I had a dream last night that I went on a date. We went to a little Italian joint, and I wore high heels and my black troublemaking shirt (which I didn't wear this year after I stopped talking to the Runner. Weird.) We ordered dessert to go (chocolate cheesecake. Yum-o), and made out on a couch. If a real-life date went like that one, that'd be pretty okay.
By the way, do people even go on "real" dates anymore? I think I like the idea of "outing" dates, anyway, that aren't just dinner (proponent though I am of eating). Like, me, him, and an afternoon baseball game would be so cute. Maybe that's 'cause I'm in my element at sporting events, and would be more comfortable there? Even though, he'd have to really like me to take me to a basketball game, because I am loud. That'd be a good indicator of our potential, though. If he's giving me the *side-eye* while I'm chanting "DE-FENSE, DE-FENSE!", we probably won't last very long.
I may have an internship with an underground record company. I have to go meet with them next week. The music style is a complete 180 from anything I've ever listened to, but it's experience, right? And, hopefully I will have a job soon, too, that my friend recommended I try. It's 9 bucks an hour, so hell yeah I hope I get it!
I persevered, y'all. I worked out good yesterday. Which is why I can barely move today. I want to do it again, but we may be going shopping when Mom gets home from work. And there's this pair of shoes that I really want. So "Legs and Glutes" on FitTV may just have to wait...
I downloaded Amy Winehouse's first album, "Frank,"** yesterday. Like "Back to Black," it's a damn good listen. I listened to it on repeat last night as I pored over magazines. I'm trying to find my style, as I try to every summer. Summer is that time when everybody tries to do some type of overhaul with this big ol' stretch of time, but I need some direction. When left to my own devices, things can go terribly awry. Like, I need someone to wake me up in the morning, otherwise I'll sleep 'til 3. The sad part is that I can find things to do that keep me awake at night. I was in bed at 1 last night, but due to aforementioned magazines and my Ipod, I didn't turn off the light until 3. Again, so ashamed was I.
**Best tracks so far: "I Heard Love is Blind," "Stronger Than Me," and "Take the Box." Honorary mention: "F Me Pumps." But really, the whole album's a smash.
I had a dream last night that I went on a date. We went to a little Italian joint, and I wore high heels and my black troublemaking shirt (which I didn't wear this year after I stopped talking to the Runner. Weird.) We ordered dessert to go (chocolate cheesecake. Yum-o), and made out on a couch. If a real-life date went like that one, that'd be pretty okay.
By the way, do people even go on "real" dates anymore? I think I like the idea of "outing" dates, anyway, that aren't just dinner (proponent though I am of eating). Like, me, him, and an afternoon baseball game would be so cute. Maybe that's 'cause I'm in my element at sporting events, and would be more comfortable there? Even though, he'd have to really like me to take me to a basketball game, because I am loud. That'd be a good indicator of our potential, though. If he's giving me the *side-eye* while I'm chanting "DE-FENSE, DE-FENSE!", we probably won't last very long.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
This Came Spilling Out
Note: This post is long. Scroll down and skip to the happier part, I say. The brave among you can start here, at the pensive part. But don't say I didn't warn you :)
Being at home makes me extremely reflective. Mostly because I just lounge around the house all day. I stay awake at night as a result, because I sleep in so late. As my head flops against my pillow, I find myself turning my jumbled thoughts and recollections into blog post ideas...how's that for dedication? Sometimes my siblings wear me out. I love my sister but sometimes secretly want to give her a good pinch. Mature, I know.
When it comes to finding someone to date, a complete stranger is ideal. Make sure none of your friends knows that motherfucker. I'm talking incog-negro. Go out and find someone interesting, not someone convenient. Trust me on this. If it's not people weighing in on the state of things, he or she will find your blog or something equally ridiculous that will probably not work well in your favor. Lines that should remain straight get blurry and the concept of "don't ask, don't tell" will be virtually ignored.
I could continue. But I won't. I'm slightly annoyed that I've written this much. I should have listened to my friends. In my defense, though, I rarely listen to anyone's boy advice. But like Maya Angelou said, "If someone shows you who they are, believe them." He did, but I didn't. Not only that, but I started to fall for him anyway.
But you put on quite a show
You really had me going
But now it’s time to go
Curtain’s finally closing
That was quite a show
Very entertaining
But it’s over now
"Take a Bow"-by Rihanna (quick shout-out to Top Chef! he loves this song)
Anyway. This isn't coming from anger, or hard feelings. Maybe a side-eye. Despite that, though, I still hate that I'm wasting an entire post on this. That's just who I am. I don't get over these things easily. I had this much of a hard time getting over Tex, too, and he never bought me cheesecake from Chik-fil-A. You don't get to make me feel bad about being who I am, a girl who is reckless with her feelings. You get to be a cool person in my life from here on out. "We" get to be a nice little memory. But that's it. The ship that had me "thinking about you in class" has sailed.
Oh! I just saw Lisa Leslie and Candace Parker on TV at the Lakers game (yes, I'm up watching basketball)! CP is like, my idol. She's one of the best college female basketball players (she can dunk, and she was the number 1 WNBA draft pick, y'all) around. And she's randomly gorgeous, which I don't usually care for in athletes. Let me explain. I think athletes should be buff and banged-up. Sports aren't be pretty, they are rough, grind-it-out, bloodbaths. In cheer practice, we looked like hell. But it was because we worked our asses off. I like roughed-up athletes almost more than too-pretty ones (I like that in general), because it means that they are truly putting their bodies on the line for what they do. It shows heart.
But I'm weird like that. I call every scar on my body a "battle wound," much to my mother's dismay. I want my body to be a testament to the fact that I didn't sit around my whole life, didn't get things handed to me (usually). I fall, I cry, I bleed, I eat a lot and can do the Crane pose in yoga. Don't get me wrong. I love fancy lotions, hand massages, and overpriced underwear (it's a vice). Those are my own little luxuries, stuff that makes me feel unequivocally like myself. And I love that.
I think I'm writing so much because being in front of this computer means that I am not in front of the refrigerator. There's a pair of shorts I've got my eye on, we can't have an untimely increase in the size I need, now can we? For real. I need a trainer, or at least a chicken to chase around my backyard like Rocky had. No, what I need is the will to drag my ass out of bed and onto the treadmill, let's be real. I've been watching "Stick It" all day, for inspiration:
But those stupid DIY workout plans bore me quickly. I need a physical person to come and whip me into shape. That might not work either, though, as I can't have her yelling at me or anything. And yes, it'd have to be a her. I don't do well with male figures of authority. Maybe it could be a gay guy. However, having a gay trainer might be a bit much even for me, a card-carrying member of the "princess among queens" club. I kind of want to take up a sport. Like soccer. That'd be sick if I came back to school a ripped soccer player. I dunno. I'll give it some thought. It sure is hard to get in shape. There's nothing around here but Dairy Queen and ANTM marathons.
Haha, I'm in a really good mood now. Don't ask me why. I'm gonna go with the flow, or maybe I should just go to bed happy?
Being at home makes me extremely reflective. Mostly because I just lounge around the house all day. I stay awake at night as a result, because I sleep in so late. As my head flops against my pillow, I find myself turning my jumbled thoughts and recollections into blog post ideas...how's that for dedication? Sometimes my siblings wear me out. I love my sister but sometimes secretly want to give her a good pinch. Mature, I know.
When it comes to finding someone to date, a complete stranger is ideal. Make sure none of your friends knows that motherfucker. I'm talking incog-negro. Go out and find someone interesting, not someone convenient. Trust me on this. If it's not people weighing in on the state of things, he or she will find your blog or something equally ridiculous that will probably not work well in your favor. Lines that should remain straight get blurry and the concept of "don't ask, don't tell" will be virtually ignored.
I could continue. But I won't. I'm slightly annoyed that I've written this much. I should have listened to my friends. In my defense, though, I rarely listen to anyone's boy advice. But like Maya Angelou said, "If someone shows you who they are, believe them." He did, but I didn't. Not only that, but I started to fall for him anyway.
But you put on quite a show
You really had me going
But now it’s time to go
Curtain’s finally closing
That was quite a show
Very entertaining
But it’s over now
"Take a Bow"-by Rihanna (quick shout-out to Top Chef! he loves this song)
Anyway. This isn't coming from anger, or hard feelings. Maybe a side-eye. Despite that, though, I still hate that I'm wasting an entire post on this. That's just who I am. I don't get over these things easily. I had this much of a hard time getting over Tex, too, and he never bought me cheesecake from Chik-fil-A. You don't get to make me feel bad about being who I am, a girl who is reckless with her feelings. You get to be a cool person in my life from here on out. "We" get to be a nice little memory. But that's it. The ship that had me "thinking about you in class" has sailed.
Oh! I just saw Lisa Leslie and Candace Parker on TV at the Lakers game (yes, I'm up watching basketball)! CP is like, my idol. She's one of the best college female basketball players (she can dunk, and she was the number 1 WNBA draft pick, y'all) around. And she's randomly gorgeous, which I don't usually care for in athletes. Let me explain. I think athletes should be buff and banged-up. Sports aren't be pretty, they are rough, grind-it-out, bloodbaths. In cheer practice, we looked like hell. But it was because we worked our asses off. I like roughed-up athletes almost more than too-pretty ones (I like that in general), because it means that they are truly putting their bodies on the line for what they do. It shows heart.
But I'm weird like that. I call every scar on my body a "battle wound," much to my mother's dismay. I want my body to be a testament to the fact that I didn't sit around my whole life, didn't get things handed to me (usually). I fall, I cry, I bleed, I eat a lot and can do the Crane pose in yoga. Don't get me wrong. I love fancy lotions, hand massages, and overpriced underwear (it's a vice). Those are my own little luxuries, stuff that makes me feel unequivocally like myself. And I love that.
I think I'm writing so much because being in front of this computer means that I am not in front of the refrigerator. There's a pair of shorts I've got my eye on, we can't have an untimely increase in the size I need, now can we? For real. I need a trainer, or at least a chicken to chase around my backyard like Rocky had. No, what I need is the will to drag my ass out of bed and onto the treadmill, let's be real. I've been watching "Stick It" all day, for inspiration:
But those stupid DIY workout plans bore me quickly. I need a physical person to come and whip me into shape. That might not work either, though, as I can't have her yelling at me or anything. And yes, it'd have to be a her. I don't do well with male figures of authority. Maybe it could be a gay guy. However, having a gay trainer might be a bit much even for me, a card-carrying member of the "princess among queens" club. I kind of want to take up a sport. Like soccer. That'd be sick if I came back to school a ripped soccer player. I dunno. I'll give it some thought. It sure is hard to get in shape. There's nothing around here but Dairy Queen and ANTM marathons.
Haha, I'm in a really good mood now. Don't ask me why. I'm gonna go with the flow, or maybe I should just go to bed happy?
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Where Can I Find Some Discipline?!
I really have no self-control. After working out this afternoon and eating a sensible (ish) dinner, I proceeded to watch the game on the couch next to a bag of Baked Lays, half of which is sitting rudely in my crunch-toned stomach.
I am so ashamed.
I am so ashamed.
Monday, May 12, 2008
It's Like I Never Left
Left home, that is.
I'm back to going to bed at 3, waking up at 2, and eating and doing random stuff in between. I feel like a deadbeat and I just got back! I've already eaten my weight in junk food, checked my email 90 times, played with Precious, and attempted to work out. When my butt was in the air as I did Downward-Facing Dog, it definitely screamed, "What in the HELL are you doing?!"
No! I'm watching "One Tree Hill" right now; if Skills and Deb hook up I will claw my eyes out! The plus side of being at home is all the TV I get to catch up on. The downside is, well, all the TV I get to catch up on, which means cementing my butt to the couch. "Gossip Girl" was super-good, too, fyi.
I normally like long drives, but I couldn't fall asleep at first. My head was full almost the whole time. I hate being alone with my thoughts sometimes. I had 10 hours to reflect on an entire school year, and it was a little disconcerting, a little heavy. When your mind wanders, sometimes there are places where you don't really want to be taken. But whatever. There's a difference between being "done" with something and being actually "over" it. It might take awhile for me to learn, but I am. Learning, that is.
Oh, "The Hills" is on. This is when I miss Roommate, SG, and CG, we usually watch it together, and if we don't, we definitely commiserate over it later...Speaking of, Roommate will need a new name! Maybe I'll just call her ex-Roommate? and save myself some trouble, LOL.
My stomach hurts from those junk food calisthenics. Heidi is at a business meeting wearing complete hooker shoes. I have regressed into summer mode, which means, well, a little scraggly, unfortunately. Ooh, the Pistons play tomorrow. If that doesn't inject a little fun into my day, nothing will...oh, my God! Kimora is on!! It is so damn good to be home.
OMG, Spencer is like Satan. He just, like, popped up like Lucifer in "Paradise Lost." And Usher is performing on the After-Show, which I might have to watch just for that, certainly not for those two annoyingly obnoxious co-hosts (the red-haired girl and the guy with the glasses). They are just too much for me to handle in my post-dinner stupor.
I'm back to going to bed at 3, waking up at 2, and eating and doing random stuff in between. I feel like a deadbeat and I just got back! I've already eaten my weight in junk food, checked my email 90 times, played with Precious, and attempted to work out. When my butt was in the air as I did Downward-Facing Dog, it definitely screamed, "What in the HELL are you doing?!"
No! I'm watching "One Tree Hill" right now; if Skills and Deb hook up I will claw my eyes out! The plus side of being at home is all the TV I get to catch up on. The downside is, well, all the TV I get to catch up on, which means cementing my butt to the couch. "Gossip Girl" was super-good, too, fyi.
I normally like long drives, but I couldn't fall asleep at first. My head was full almost the whole time. I hate being alone with my thoughts sometimes. I had 10 hours to reflect on an entire school year, and it was a little disconcerting, a little heavy. When your mind wanders, sometimes there are places where you don't really want to be taken. But whatever. There's a difference between being "done" with something and being actually "over" it. It might take awhile for me to learn, but I am. Learning, that is.
Oh, "The Hills" is on. This is when I miss Roommate, SG, and CG, we usually watch it together, and if we don't, we definitely commiserate over it later...Speaking of, Roommate will need a new name! Maybe I'll just call her ex-Roommate? and save myself some trouble, LOL.
My stomach hurts from those junk food calisthenics. Heidi is at a business meeting wearing complete hooker shoes. I have regressed into summer mode, which means, well, a little scraggly, unfortunately. Ooh, the Pistons play tomorrow. If that doesn't inject a little fun into my day, nothing will...oh, my God! Kimora is on!! It is so damn good to be home.
OMG, Spencer is like Satan. He just, like, popped up like Lucifer in "Paradise Lost." And Usher is performing on the After-Show, which I might have to watch just for that, certainly not for those two annoyingly obnoxious co-hosts (the red-haired girl and the guy with the glasses). They are just too much for me to handle in my post-dinner stupor.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Over and Done
Ugh. I hate moving. Right now I'm cleaning out my dorm to get ready to put stuff in storage so we can hit the road bright-n-early Sunday. My dad and sisters came to town today, they waited for me for like 2 hours because my phone went dead. I felt horrible; my dad was so over me...
Went to see my possible future digs for next year, and I am quite stoked. It's a townhouse near Cali Girl and Sistah Girl's crib. My room is huge, with a monster queen-sized bed. I hope this works out; I'd love to live there!
Helped Top Chef move out today, along with our friend Malpractice (he's a bio major, lol). We had the last of our many "deep" conversations that we'll have for awhile :( but it was a nice last hurrah. We talked about this year's ups and downs and next year's expectations. Which, by the way, I'm learning not to have any of. Not in a negative way, though, just a real way. I'm idealistic by nature, though, so it might take a little work. Anyway, I'm gonna miss everyone. But this summer is much-needed, yo. I left him and The Boy* a big "goodbye!!" sign (which better still be on the fridge, TC!) so they wouldn't forget me, the unofficial roommate, LOL.
*"The Boy" will henceforth be known on this blog as "The Homeboy" or simply, "Homey. "The Boy" will be too generic of a nickname to call every guy I talk to, right? But hey, is that how you spell "homey"? Or is it "homie"? Well, y'all know what I mean. Now that I think about it, I didn't say goodbye to him. If you're reading this, Homie, (and somehow missed the sign, lol), peace in the Middle East. It was fun. Don't be a stranger. You probably warrant a more proper goodbye, but I'm exhausted. So insert witty parting line here.
Crudddddddddd. I'm tired, but not sleepy. And still have a whole lotta crap to sift through. It might have to wait until tomorrow morning, I can barely keep my head up. Now if only I could only unearth my bed from this mess! I went to donate books and clothes, and ended up taking 2 nail polishes and a muffin tin. A little counter-productive...
Went to see my possible future digs for next year, and I am quite stoked. It's a townhouse near Cali Girl and Sistah Girl's crib. My room is huge, with a monster queen-sized bed. I hope this works out; I'd love to live there!
Helped Top Chef move out today, along with our friend Malpractice (he's a bio major, lol). We had the last of our many "deep" conversations that we'll have for awhile :( but it was a nice last hurrah. We talked about this year's ups and downs and next year's expectations. Which, by the way, I'm learning not to have any of. Not in a negative way, though, just a real way. I'm idealistic by nature, though, so it might take a little work. Anyway, I'm gonna miss everyone. But this summer is much-needed, yo. I left him and The Boy* a big "goodbye!!" sign (which better still be on the fridge, TC!) so they wouldn't forget me, the unofficial roommate, LOL.
*"The Boy" will henceforth be known on this blog as "The Homeboy" or simply, "Homey. "The Boy" will be too generic of a nickname to call every guy I talk to, right? But hey, is that how you spell "homey"? Or is it "homie"? Well, y'all know what I mean. Now that I think about it, I didn't say goodbye to him. If you're reading this, Homie, (and somehow missed the sign, lol), peace in the Middle East. It was fun. Don't be a stranger. You probably warrant a more proper goodbye, but I'm exhausted. So insert witty parting line here.
Crudddddddddd. I'm tired, but not sleepy. And still have a whole lotta crap to sift through. It might have to wait until tomorrow morning, I can barely keep my head up. Now if only I could only unearth my bed from this mess! I went to donate books and clothes, and ended up taking 2 nail polishes and a muffin tin. A little counter-productive...
Friday, May 9, 2008
Same Script, Different Results
I had to delete that post. I know I just got through talking about censorship and "being myself," but something about that post, frankly, painted me in a really bad light, and I didn't feel comfortable leaving it up.
If that makes me a hypocrite, then, well, so be it. To me, though, all it really means is that I won't indulge as much next time, therefore negating the need for such a telling morning-after story (well-written though it may have been :P).
I don't ever want to drink again
I just....ooh,
I just need a friend
"Rehab" by Amy Winehouse, my all-purpose buddy. But never partying pal. Homegirl gets, with the finger motion, DIRTY!!! (Inside joke)
If that makes me a hypocrite, then, well, so be it. To me, though, all it really means is that I won't indulge as much next time, therefore negating the need for such a telling morning-after story (well-written though it may have been :P).
I don't ever want to drink again
I just....ooh,
I just need a friend
"Rehab" by Amy Winehouse, my all-purpose buddy. But never partying pal. Homegirl gets, with the finger motion, DIRTY!!! (Inside joke)
Thursday, May 8, 2008
The world has been made right!!
Taking a break from packing, I stumbled across this photographic gem. Behold:
Yes, people, it is none other than Chris Brown and Rihanna all hugged up at KFC. *sigh* Now that is black love...watch, that's gonna be me and my man someday, looking all cute at Popeye's!!
Wow. Lawd, that sounded a little too country for my liking...Jesus take the wheel and get me back above the Mason-Dixon Line, STAT!
Also, when did Usher get sexy?
I keep forgetting that he's short. Tiny detail. Haha, I said "tiny."
You know you laughed.
Yes, people, it is none other than Chris Brown and Rihanna all hugged up at KFC. *sigh* Now that is black love...watch, that's gonna be me and my man someday, looking all cute at Popeye's!!
Wow. Lawd, that sounded a little too country for my liking...Jesus take the wheel and get me back above the Mason-Dixon Line, STAT!
Also, when did Usher get sexy?
I keep forgetting that he's short. Tiny detail. Haha, I said "tiny."
You know you laughed.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
I know this paper is not going to write itself...
It's getting down to the wire.
My Shakespeare paper is due tomorrow, and so far I have about, oh, 3 pages done out of 7-8. But I'm not worried yet. I saw my teacher today and she helped me organize my thoughts. So after this mini-break I'm taking, I will bust out a few more pages, then eat, then go visit Top Chef, write more, hopefully watch the Pistons Game 3 and finish this paper in a blaze of glory and fanfare. Jesus be a fence around my soul and let me get an A on this paper...
Even though I've been slightly insomnia-ridden lately, my mornings have been getting better. I'm moving on. I told Roommate and Sistah Girl that I might have to go on one of my infamous "sabbaticals." I take them once in awhile, when I need to clear my head (ok, it's usually post-guy of the moment). It consists of deep and meaningful conversations, slight soul-searching, music, uplifting words, and the like. More importantly, it does not consist of flirting, trolling Facebook for new cute boys, fantasizing about who'd be the better kisser among various celebrities, or commenting on the physiques of male passersby in any way. It's deep, y'all. It's detoxifying. It usually only lasts a week or so. It's also a running joke among my friends; to see how long I can last each time.
My sabbaticals are just a transitory period, of sorts, for me. They are "Lucky-time," to focus on no one but me and mine. And yes, I realize that the real meaning of a sabbatical is to completely disappear from sight for awhile, but I mean, come on. I'm not going into the nunnery. Although I do tend to imagine during this time, "maybe I'll just give my life over to my Lord and Saviour and become a missionary. No one expects missionaries to have boyfriends."
But that's just me being dramatic.
My Shakespeare paper is due tomorrow, and so far I have about, oh, 3 pages done out of 7-8. But I'm not worried yet. I saw my teacher today and she helped me organize my thoughts. So after this mini-break I'm taking, I will bust out a few more pages, then eat, then go visit Top Chef, write more, hopefully watch the Pistons Game 3 and finish this paper in a blaze of glory and fanfare. Jesus be a fence around my soul and let me get an A on this paper...
Even though I've been slightly insomnia-ridden lately, my mornings have been getting better. I'm moving on. I told Roommate and Sistah Girl that I might have to go on one of my infamous "sabbaticals." I take them once in awhile, when I need to clear my head (ok, it's usually post-guy of the moment). It consists of deep and meaningful conversations, slight soul-searching, music, uplifting words, and the like. More importantly, it does not consist of flirting, trolling Facebook for new cute boys, fantasizing about who'd be the better kisser among various celebrities, or commenting on the physiques of male passersby in any way. It's deep, y'all. It's detoxifying. It usually only lasts a week or so. It's also a running joke among my friends; to see how long I can last each time.
My sabbaticals are just a transitory period, of sorts, for me. They are "Lucky-time," to focus on no one but me and mine. And yes, I realize that the real meaning of a sabbatical is to completely disappear from sight for awhile, but I mean, come on. I'm not going into the nunnery. Although I do tend to imagine during this time, "maybe I'll just give my life over to my Lord and Saviour and become a missionary. No one expects missionaries to have boyfriends."
But that's just me being dramatic.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
So on and So Forth, A Very Personal Post
I will probably write more later, about more specific topics, when I don't have a Spanish final to study for and a paper to write.
I have to decide just what information, dear Internet, you will have the pleasure of reading. I have learned (key word) that many things must be handled delicately, and therefore, not posted on the online playground called the world wide web. I know that I sort of compromised my anonymity in telling people I know about this blog. In doing so, I had very little inkling of the repercussions. I didn't think people would read this blog, let alone that it would be a major character in my plotline.
Perhaps there is something to be said for anonymity, for having separated compartments of your life. This blog has bore witness to extremely significant parts of my life, and for the most part, I'm grateful that I will have a record of these carefree yet complicated musings later on down the road. However, a part of that record must also reflect how my actual life has been affected by the presence of this blog, and when that intersection has been either good or mortifying. I think it took a great amount of courage to continue to write this blog as a journal of sorts, knowing that people I know would have access to it. It took a greater amount of courage to continue to write in it, just as candidly, when that backfired. And a time or two, it did.
But I learned/decided not to apologize for what I write, because these frantic keystrokes signify my true, often uncensored feelings, which I firmly believe never require an apology. How I choose to act on them may leave something to be desired, but I am diametrically opposed to regretting something I've written if it was honestly how I felt at the time. I have seldom been afraid to publish my written work, which is why, I think, being a journalist fits me. It never dawned on me to feel apprehensive about people reading my writing, and I hope that it never does. However, I sometimes forget that sports fans reading my opinion about the NBA dress code is different than a guy I like stumbling across my feelings for him.
Is that where I censor myself, though? Is this when I tell no one but strangers about my blog? Who knows. But to worry about who's reading what would interrupt the purpose of this blog, which is to catalog my experiences in my own voice, in a private space for the world to see. Ironic, right? I have written many a post with tear-filled eyes, with shaking hands, or while bubbling with laughter. Nothing but pure, unadulterated manifestations of whatever chaos was going on in my head. That kind of purity, to me, is beautiful. It's a freedom that I can't promise to compromise depending on who reads what I've written.
The truth isn't always pretty. My truths rarely are. But they're mine. They're real. I'm offering you a glimpse into what can't always be shown, an attempt to understand parts of me that sometimes even I can't decipher. Which means that I fuck up sometimes. I play life by ear. I can be a mess sometimes, and I know it. So if there's something crazy in a post, take it with a grain of salt. Remember that this is my area to be, generally, a little delusional. My blank canvas. The first nasty step in untangling whatever mess I've gotten myself into. So don't fret, dear hearts. Just keep reading. With the help of things like this blog and those who I can really count on, I'll figure it out. I always do.
~Lucky
I have to decide just what information, dear Internet, you will have the pleasure of reading. I have learned (key word) that many things must be handled delicately, and therefore, not posted on the online playground called the world wide web. I know that I sort of compromised my anonymity in telling people I know about this blog. In doing so, I had very little inkling of the repercussions. I didn't think people would read this blog, let alone that it would be a major character in my plotline.
Perhaps there is something to be said for anonymity, for having separated compartments of your life. This blog has bore witness to extremely significant parts of my life, and for the most part, I'm grateful that I will have a record of these carefree yet complicated musings later on down the road. However, a part of that record must also reflect how my actual life has been affected by the presence of this blog, and when that intersection has been either good or mortifying. I think it took a great amount of courage to continue to write this blog as a journal of sorts, knowing that people I know would have access to it. It took a greater amount of courage to continue to write in it, just as candidly, when that backfired. And a time or two, it did.
But I learned/decided not to apologize for what I write, because these frantic keystrokes signify my true, often uncensored feelings, which I firmly believe never require an apology. How I choose to act on them may leave something to be desired, but I am diametrically opposed to regretting something I've written if it was honestly how I felt at the time. I have seldom been afraid to publish my written work, which is why, I think, being a journalist fits me. It never dawned on me to feel apprehensive about people reading my writing, and I hope that it never does. However, I sometimes forget that sports fans reading my opinion about the NBA dress code is different than a guy I like stumbling across my feelings for him.
Is that where I censor myself, though? Is this when I tell no one but strangers about my blog? Who knows. But to worry about who's reading what would interrupt the purpose of this blog, which is to catalog my experiences in my own voice, in a private space for the world to see. Ironic, right? I have written many a post with tear-filled eyes, with shaking hands, or while bubbling with laughter. Nothing but pure, unadulterated manifestations of whatever chaos was going on in my head. That kind of purity, to me, is beautiful. It's a freedom that I can't promise to compromise depending on who reads what I've written.
The truth isn't always pretty. My truths rarely are. But they're mine. They're real. I'm offering you a glimpse into what can't always be shown, an attempt to understand parts of me that sometimes even I can't decipher. Which means that I fuck up sometimes. I play life by ear. I can be a mess sometimes, and I know it. So if there's something crazy in a post, take it with a grain of salt. Remember that this is my area to be, generally, a little delusional. My blank canvas. The first nasty step in untangling whatever mess I've gotten myself into. So don't fret, dear hearts. Just keep reading. With the help of things like this blog and those who I can really count on, I'll figure it out. I always do.
~Lucky
To Accompany Streetlamp Musings
All I can ever be to you,
Is a darkness that we knew,
And this regret I got accustomed to,
Once it was so right,
When we were at our high,
Waiting for you in the hotel at night,
I knew I hadn't met my match,
But every moment we could snatch,
I don't know why I got so attached,
It's my responsibility,
And you don't owe nothing to me,
But to walk away I have no capacity
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey, in this blue shade
My tears dry on their own,
I don't understand,
Why do I stress a man,
When there's so many weirder things at hand,
We could-a never had it all,
We had to hit a wall,
So this is inevitable withdrawal,
Even if I stop wanting you,
A perspective pushes true,
I'll be some next man's other woman soon,
I can't play myself again,
Just be my own best friend,
Not fuck myself in the head with stupid men,
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey,
In this blue shade,
My tears dry on their own,
So we are history,
Your shadow covers me
The sky above,
A blaze
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey,
In this blue shade,
My tears dry on their own
I wish I could say no regrets,
And no emotional debts,
'Cause as we kiss goodbye the sun sets,
So we are history,
The shadow covers me,
The sky above a blaze that only lovers see,
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey,
In this blue shade,
My tears dry on their own,
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey,
My deep shade,
My tears dry on their own
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey,
My deep shade,
My tears dry
"Tears Dry On Their Own" by Amy Winehouse
Is a darkness that we knew,
And this regret I got accustomed to,
Once it was so right,
When we were at our high,
Waiting for you in the hotel at night,
I knew I hadn't met my match,
But every moment we could snatch,
I don't know why I got so attached,
It's my responsibility,
And you don't owe nothing to me,
But to walk away I have no capacity
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey, in this blue shade
My tears dry on their own,
I don't understand,
Why do I stress a man,
When there's so many weirder things at hand,
We could-a never had it all,
We had to hit a wall,
So this is inevitable withdrawal,
Even if I stop wanting you,
A perspective pushes true,
I'll be some next man's other woman soon,
I can't play myself again,
Just be my own best friend,
Not fuck myself in the head with stupid men,
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey,
In this blue shade,
My tears dry on their own,
So we are history,
Your shadow covers me
The sky above,
A blaze
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey,
In this blue shade,
My tears dry on their own
I wish I could say no regrets,
And no emotional debts,
'Cause as we kiss goodbye the sun sets,
So we are history,
The shadow covers me,
The sky above a blaze that only lovers see,
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey,
In this blue shade,
My tears dry on their own,
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey,
My deep shade,
My tears dry on their own
He walks away,
The sun goes down,
He takes the day but I'm grown,
And in your grey,
My deep shade,
My tears dry
"Tears Dry On Their Own" by Amy Winehouse
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Scorpio's Horoscope
Sunday, May 4th, 2008 -- A stubborn partner or one who is satisfied with his or her current situation can stand in the way of your happiness today. It's hard to break out of a current relationship pattern, especially if it's meeting some of your needs. Normally, stability is a positive attribute and something you seek. Now, however, it can get in the way of reaching the next step. Don't worry if your breakthrough doesn't happen yet; things will change when the time is right.
Well slap me down and call me Tammy.
Online horror-scopes are extremely addicting, especially when there is other work to be done.
Well slap me down and call me Tammy.
Online horror-scopes are extremely addicting, especially when there is other work to be done.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Lay Your Body Down!
Al Horford is half-Dominican! They just showed his mom (the Atlanta-Boston game is on) and she is, like, foreign! She's so cute. Aaand, of course I had to swing by Satan's online playground (wikipedia) and guess where Al went to high school?!?
MICHIGAN!!! Some butt-crack place called Grand Ledge, Mich., but our souls are one! And he turned down the dreaded Ohio State (ew) to go become a University of Florida Gator (the boy's got class)!
I want him.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Desperation is Unseemly
...although I shun to use the word "desperate." It reeks of, well, desperation.
It's a battle of wills. Who's going to make eye contact first? Who's going to say hello first? Who's going to go out on a limb and start the conversation? At this point, I just need some punctuation in this situation other than a question mark. A period, comma, an ellipses? But not a question mark.
He asked me once if it was possible to tell the truth to everyone but yourself. I responded, "Absolutely." Ironic foreshadowing. I had a dream that he told me everything that he hated about me. That was freaky. He's a few choice words but he's not really an asshole to that degree.
I'm not sad or anything right now, don't get me wrong. I'm just not particularly happy. If anything I am tired. Drained, even. I remember feeling like this awhile ago, where I was dragging along, waiting for something to happen. I kind of snapped out of it when I started talking to The Boy, but as the school year comes to a close, I think I have progressed, regressed, and come full circle all in one.
One thing I really, really, really have come to count on is the comforting presence that good friends offer. Guy friends, girlfriends, guy problems, girl problems, gossip, school crap, whatever. Good friends can make you forget your problems, and not 'cause they'll get you drunk. As soon as I walk in the door, somebody will say or do something crazy and pretty soon we'll be talking about something totally different. And when we get into dissecting the issue at hand, they will sometimes sit you down and give you at advisory slap in the face. However, back to what I was saying, all the advice in the world is no good if you're too proud to admit that you fucked up. Because if you could see what everyone else could, you would have fixed the situation in the first place. Pride is a sucky bedfellow.
On the bright side, the Pistons won! They ended the series 4-2 with a blowout road victory against the 76ers, 100-77. Next up we have the third-seeded Orlando Magic, who recently disposed of the Toronto Raptors in five. It will be interesting to see how the Pistons fare against Dwight Howard and Hedo Turkgolu. Flip Saunders will have to choose who he wants Tayshaun Prince to guard, Prince being the best defender the Pistons have. If Rasheed Wallace can contain Howard, the Pistons should be fine. Still, expect the series to go deep. Game 1 is Saturday at probably 8pm. We know where I'll be!
Hopefully I'll be watching the game with my dad, who's coming down here to help me move out. Ugh, that reminds me, I need a place to live for next year. I want someplace close to school, with my own room and a big bed (anything but a twin. We know my affinity for big beds). And wireless internet. That's honestly all I need.
KISSING. You'll have to excuse me. It's on the brain. I've gone without for the past few days. Er, no, weeks. Which, I mean, I should be used to, I guess? But still.
It's a battle of wills. Who's going to make eye contact first? Who's going to say hello first? Who's going to go out on a limb and start the conversation? At this point, I just need some punctuation in this situation other than a question mark. A period, comma, an ellipses? But not a question mark.
He asked me once if it was possible to tell the truth to everyone but yourself. I responded, "Absolutely." Ironic foreshadowing. I had a dream that he told me everything that he hated about me. That was freaky. He's a few choice words but he's not really an asshole to that degree.
I'm not sad or anything right now, don't get me wrong. I'm just not particularly happy. If anything I am tired. Drained, even. I remember feeling like this awhile ago, where I was dragging along, waiting for something to happen. I kind of snapped out of it when I started talking to The Boy, but as the school year comes to a close, I think I have progressed, regressed, and come full circle all in one.
One thing I really, really, really have come to count on is the comforting presence that good friends offer. Guy friends, girlfriends, guy problems, girl problems, gossip, school crap, whatever. Good friends can make you forget your problems, and not 'cause they'll get you drunk. As soon as I walk in the door, somebody will say or do something crazy and pretty soon we'll be talking about something totally different. And when we get into dissecting the issue at hand, they will sometimes sit you down and give you at advisory slap in the face. However, back to what I was saying, all the advice in the world is no good if you're too proud to admit that you fucked up. Because if you could see what everyone else could, you would have fixed the situation in the first place. Pride is a sucky bedfellow.
On the bright side, the Pistons won! They ended the series 4-2 with a blowout road victory against the 76ers, 100-77. Next up we have the third-seeded Orlando Magic, who recently disposed of the Toronto Raptors in five. It will be interesting to see how the Pistons fare against Dwight Howard and Hedo Turkgolu. Flip Saunders will have to choose who he wants Tayshaun Prince to guard, Prince being the best defender the Pistons have. If Rasheed Wallace can contain Howard, the Pistons should be fine. Still, expect the series to go deep. Game 1 is Saturday at probably 8pm. We know where I'll be!
Hopefully I'll be watching the game with my dad, who's coming down here to help me move out. Ugh, that reminds me, I need a place to live for next year. I want someplace close to school, with my own room and a big bed (anything but a twin. We know my affinity for big beds). And wireless internet. That's honestly all I need.
KISSING. You'll have to excuse me. It's on the brain. I've gone without for the past few days. Er, no, weeks. Which, I mean, I should be used to, I guess? But still.
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