"was it you who spoke the words that things would happen but not to me"
There are different types of books- non-fiction, fiction, literary, popular, kids, teen, adult- but the the dividing lines for me tend to bridge some of these gaps. There are good books, books that I nearly can't make it through because they don't capture my interest, and books that capture me completely. These are the books that I can't put down. The books that I don't want to end, but I can't stop reading. The books that I have to remind myself to eat while reading. The ones that my fingers itch to re-open. The ones that I re-read again and again. The ones that leave the pit in my stomach, to the point wherre I am physically hungry for the story.
These rare few aren't even always literary masterpieces. The writting might not always be the most eloquent or noteworthy. But that doesn't mean they aren't either. Dostovesky made me fall in love with a murderer. McEwan made me hope for a romance based on what was basically a one night stand. Rowling made magic real. Dessen used flaws to show the perfect. Collins made a horrific world that I still wanted to belong to. I wanted to be Hermione and Katniss and Macy and Anna and Liesel. And I fell in love with Peeta, Etienne, Wes, Raskolnikov, Razmuikhin, Jacob, Robbie, and Arthur. I wanted to be in their worlds, no matter how messed up they were.
This is why I want ot write. If I can't actually go to Panem, Hogwarts, Narnia, or a French boarding school, then I want ot create my own worlds. I can guaruntee they won't be as beautifully detailed as McEwan or as psycholoogical as Dostovesky- and not for lack of trying- but they will probably be more of the YA persuassion. Hopefully I won't ever sink to a Stephanie Meyers level either though. If nothing else I want to write these stories for me. To get them out of my head, but not lost. I realize that this is the most likely senario. It is the most practical. But that isn't really my scene either.
The stories never leave my head. They distract me and send me into wild daydreams. They are based off of every book, song, movie, and real life I've ever experienced. I could probably name at least one song that directly inspired a story in my head. Or multiple. I had to stop doing homework one day to begin a story inspired by Ryan Adams "Come Pick Me Up" because it was distracting me from what I was actually trying ot accomplish. These stories transport me, but that is because I know where they lead. I know the world they are in and the characters that populate them. I know the characters better than myself and yet they still surprise me. But what I want to know is if they would have the power to take other people somewhere else. If they could be a sanctuary and escape. If they could make the decript beautiful and the flawed perfect.
That's all I want. And it is too much to ask.
"more words than I have ever heard and I feel so alive"
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Winter Winds
I went for a walk in the rain today. I had somewhere to go, but I took my time on the way back. Even with my hood up the tips of my hair was dripping and the front of my pants were soaked. I love to walk through the cemetery and I've always wanted to take pictures of the crumbling stones and trees that stand like pillars holding up the canopy over the path. Today, in the rain, I did. I almost wanted to spin around and dance in it once I was sufficiently drenched before I realized that even in the rain there would be plenty of witnesses to my madness.
I've walked down this path in sunshine, in mist, at night, with friends, in heels, and today in the pouring rain. I remember the first Sunday I realized the trees looked like the architecture of an ancient building and that night in my reading discovered that Charles Baudelaire had once seen the same thing I had. He had seen living pillars. He had felt words that were dim and confused. But his words, even when translated into a different language, did not seem dim or confused. I saw the image perfectly. I wanted to write my own to make someone else see. But I didn't try. I knew it wouldn't go quite right.
The winds remind me of home. I didn't realize they were absent until I heard them in the oak outside my window one afternoon. I always used to complain about the constant bluster, but now it delights me when my hair is picked up and tossed around by the breeze. I miss falling asleep to the white noise of a wind storm.
I haven't been home in three months and I won't for another three. And even then it may not be for long. I get to see family soon and I've never been one to turn down the chance to see somewhere new, but I kind of want to go home. Either way I wouldn't see my dad and by going to California I get to see my brother and his family. I won't have to deal with dreary Idaho March either. But I kind of envy my friend who is going back to Idaho to see his family for the first time in three months also. I miss my dog. And my bed. And being home.
I've walked down this path in sunshine, in mist, at night, with friends, in heels, and today in the pouring rain. I remember the first Sunday I realized the trees looked like the architecture of an ancient building and that night in my reading discovered that Charles Baudelaire had once seen the same thing I had. He had seen living pillars. He had felt words that were dim and confused. But his words, even when translated into a different language, did not seem dim or confused. I saw the image perfectly. I wanted to write my own to make someone else see. But I didn't try. I knew it wouldn't go quite right.
The winds remind me of home. I didn't realize they were absent until I heard them in the oak outside my window one afternoon. I always used to complain about the constant bluster, but now it delights me when my hair is picked up and tossed around by the breeze. I miss falling asleep to the white noise of a wind storm.
I haven't been home in three months and I won't for another three. And even then it may not be for long. I get to see family soon and I've never been one to turn down the chance to see somewhere new, but I kind of want to go home. Either way I wouldn't see my dad and by going to California I get to see my brother and his family. I won't have to deal with dreary Idaho March either. But I kind of envy my friend who is going back to Idaho to see his family for the first time in three months also. I miss my dog. And my bed. And being home.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Waiting on Some Beautiful Boy
A couple summers ago I played a game with my best friend while we were on a trip together with her little sister and another friend. It started out simply enough: name two people and make the other pick which is better looking. It sounds shallow, but we were coming from somewhere filled with people we didn't know and we noticed that, although our opinions about extremes tended to match up, the middle got a little fuzzy.
For the last several years I've had a fairly solid idea of what is likely to make a guy attractive to me (i.e. slender but athletic build, striking cheekbones, a solid jaw, elegant dishevelment, etc). Also, I am very stingy with deeming someone good looking; they have to be pretty fine and a little non-traditional to earn my recognition. My friend is a little less reluctant.
Over the course of the game, it changed, out of necessity. It became: name two people and decide who is more attractive and who is more good looking. Most people would probably say that these are the same. I once thought so too. But I realized during this game that they are fundamentally different. Good looks are traditional. They are measured by physical symmetry and social constructs more or less. There is, of course, always the bias of personal preference. Attractiveness is a different monster. Attractiveness is driven by personal preference and--whether consciously or not--factors in personality, humor, confidence, etc.
I noticed during the game that my answers for good looking and attractive often did not match up. But these were people I knew. I could factor in the more important stuff like personality. More recently, and more disturbingly, I've noticed some of my more material or fashion preference boundaries for guys being blurred.
In general these rules must be kept:
-No man should ever have hair long enough to pull back into a solid ponytail.
-No person (male or female) should ever wear socks with sandals, at least not outside their homes.
-Guys should not get their ears pierced.
-Sweatpants and leggings (without anything over them) cannot be pulled off and should be left at home.
-Jeans should not be worn beneath the butt.
-Facial hair should be used sparingly and should not take carefully planned shapes.
Basically all I really ask is that people put some effort into getting ready in the morning. Take a shower and put on some real clothes please. No offense intended to anyone. But unfortunately 2,3,4 seem to be popular on the UO campus.
The really horrifying point, and the main point, is that my strictness on these rules has waned. Okay, not on all of them. I still scoff every time I see socks and sandals. But I noticed the other day that I found a guy attractive that had his hair in a ponytail. Mind you it was a very small ponytail, but the realization was a tad upsetting. It also should be said that I found this man highly attractive when he had not only a normal haircut, but a fabulous one, because with his face he could pull off anything. But like I said, this is not okay. I have standards. I have also become more lax with the general presence of facial hair as long as it follows the rules. Scruff is okay. Mountain man or sculpted, not okay. And the dirty, almost greasy look? Not as gross as it used to be.
I want to know what this all means. Does it mean that as long as you are decently good looking and confident you can get away with more? When does horrifying become refreshingly bold? I still don't prefer any of these things and I am resistant to the idea that my standards are slipping. But. Sigh. I suppose I'll figure it out eventually. Until then I'll be "waiting on some beautiful boy to save [me]."
For the last several years I've had a fairly solid idea of what is likely to make a guy attractive to me (i.e. slender but athletic build, striking cheekbones, a solid jaw, elegant dishevelment, etc). Also, I am very stingy with deeming someone good looking; they have to be pretty fine and a little non-traditional to earn my recognition. My friend is a little less reluctant.
Over the course of the game, it changed, out of necessity. It became: name two people and decide who is more attractive and who is more good looking. Most people would probably say that these are the same. I once thought so too. But I realized during this game that they are fundamentally different. Good looks are traditional. They are measured by physical symmetry and social constructs more or less. There is, of course, always the bias of personal preference. Attractiveness is a different monster. Attractiveness is driven by personal preference and--whether consciously or not--factors in personality, humor, confidence, etc.
I noticed during the game that my answers for good looking and attractive often did not match up. But these were people I knew. I could factor in the more important stuff like personality. More recently, and more disturbingly, I've noticed some of my more material or fashion preference boundaries for guys being blurred.
In general these rules must be kept:
-No man should ever have hair long enough to pull back into a solid ponytail.
-No person (male or female) should ever wear socks with sandals, at least not outside their homes.
-Guys should not get their ears pierced.
-Sweatpants and leggings (without anything over them) cannot be pulled off and should be left at home.
-Jeans should not be worn beneath the butt.
-Facial hair should be used sparingly and should not take carefully planned shapes.
Basically all I really ask is that people put some effort into getting ready in the morning. Take a shower and put on some real clothes please. No offense intended to anyone. But unfortunately 2,3,4 seem to be popular on the UO campus.
The really horrifying point, and the main point, is that my strictness on these rules has waned. Okay, not on all of them. I still scoff every time I see socks and sandals. But I noticed the other day that I found a guy attractive that had his hair in a ponytail. Mind you it was a very small ponytail, but the realization was a tad upsetting. It also should be said that I found this man highly attractive when he had not only a normal haircut, but a fabulous one, because with his face he could pull off anything. But like I said, this is not okay. I have standards. I have also become more lax with the general presence of facial hair as long as it follows the rules. Scruff is okay. Mountain man or sculpted, not okay. And the dirty, almost greasy look? Not as gross as it used to be.
I want to know what this all means. Does it mean that as long as you are decently good looking and confident you can get away with more? When does horrifying become refreshingly bold? I still don't prefer any of these things and I am resistant to the idea that my standards are slipping. But. Sigh. I suppose I'll figure it out eventually. Until then I'll be "waiting on some beautiful boy to save [me]."
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Because you're everywhere to me
In honor of 2/12: 212 things I love.
(I know, I know, I said this would be more about writing than silly things like this,but....this sounded like more fun). In no particular order:
EDITS:
84. I don't really love this anymore becasue I didn't get the job. So...instead lets say fancy sodas.
118. I don't love April 12th anymore because well it isn't coming on April 12th. Grrr. Not cool, guys.
(I know, I know, I said this would be more about writing than silly things like this,but....this sounded like more fun). In no particular order:
- Jesse Spencer- Happy Jesse Spencer Day everyone!!!
- Pepper- Yep that's right, my dog. <3
- My parents- I can't even begin to express all of the love and gratitude I have for them.
- Jeff- my most excellent big brother who unknowingly taught me so much about good music and being cool.
- Rachel- who over time has been my cousin, best friend, and sister.
- Sary- My lovely sister-in-law and the first to introduce me to the Hunger Games, Markus Zusak, The Eyre Affair, and more.
- Adam- The cutest nephew in the world!!!
- Maddy- The best friend. The. There will never be another. We are two halves of the same strange person.
- Jeana- My delightful roommate. I don't know how this year would have gone (be going) without her and her acceptance of my oddness.
- Liz- My NHD buddy and one of the strongest people I know, for so many reasons. NC is too far.
- Whitni- Man, we are dorks. I love it! I love her adorable awkwardness.
- Natalie- I think we have about ten movie dates. And countless quotes from them.
- All of my friends- old or new. Thank you.
- Books.
- House- the show.
- House- the place.
- Sun Valley- my second home.
- Harry Potter- the books that made me love to read. The movies that made me willing to stay up until way after midnight even when I had school the next day. And the musicals that made me laugh.
- The Hunger Games- seriously, heads are going to role if the movies aren't the best thing ever put on screen.
- Markus Zusak's writing style.
- Arrested Development references- STEVE HOLT!
- Watching kids movies even though I am in college.
- Traveling.
- Songs that give me the chills or uncontrollable smiling. love.
- 80's music- in all of its cheesy, one-hit-wonder-y glory.
- Shoes- the code.
- Beautifully sad movies- that I forgive for being sad because they are just so beautiful.
- My crazy extended family.
- Sleeping- at night. I don't nap.
- Jeep Wranglers.
- My fake Raybans and real Sperrys
- Old dirt bike motorcycles.
- My Ducks.
- Study Breaks.
- Being too emotionally invested in fictional people's lives.
- Writing- that one moment when you finally find the right words.
- Daydreams.
- Guys who can pull off fitted jeans
- Plaid- the king of all patterns.
- Scholastic team- "the most nerdy fun you'll ever have."
- Scholastic team's mixed "drinks" at regionals.
- OK Go.
- Damian Kulash's skinny jeans- and his name.
- Hot showers.
- Shrimp and rice.
- Inside jokes.
- Jumping through the lounge window- just because it's open and way cooler than the door.
- Community.
- Castle.
- Crime and Punishment.
- Being able to say I love Crime and Punishment.
- Music.
- Peacoats.
- Concerts- Way worth standing for six hours.
- 2D- 3D is soooo over-rated and Avatar was boring.
- Midnight Premiers.
- The occasional giggle-fest.
- Those moments where you stop doing whatever it was you were doing, just to fully take in something else.
- Love at first listen songs.
- Will, Kit, Johnny, Nate, and Alex. <3
- Elegant dishevelment.
- Charmingly awkward things.
- Goofy, adorable smiles.
- On The Rocks
- Artsy fashion photography.
- Burrito lunch dates after lit.
- 4 lbs. buckets of Redvines.
- Thinking of a Very Potter Musical every time I think of Redvines.
- Draco Malfoy from the musicals.
- Dance parties.
- Rocking out in the car.
- Stefon.
- Powe-Carr Face.
- Twice baked potatoes.
- Idaho.
- Ewan McGregor's singing voice.
- That time before they posted the nutrition facts online.
- Crepes with Nutella.
- When bands like Phoenix sound good live.
- Blog creeping.
- William Moseley as Peeta- I kind of have my heart set on this one.
- Panda Express Orange Chicken- because Maddy said so.
- STRUVE!
- Getting called back for a second interview.
- Swooncore.
- Happy yet Ironic Misunderstoodism- aka songs that sound happy but aren't.
- Singing loudly to ABBA after quiet hours.
- Cheesy, cheesy songs.
- Scooby Doo- yeah, still.
- Cool old buildings.
- Big, dark framed glasses.
- Sun Valley Writers' Conference.
- That funny moment in the middle of a really tense scene.
- Making fun of "horror" movies.
- Predicting who will die next in said "horror" films.
- Broadway plays.
- When Sarah sings "On My Own."
- The List.
- Walking through old cemeteries.
- Stuff White People Like.
- Drawing on whiteboards.
- "You better!" day- funniest class ever!
- The balloon pit.
- Tandem bike rides- preferably with bubbles.
- Photos.
- Christmas lights.
- Hint fiction.
- Doing laundry- my most productive time.
- Italian Lemon Ices.
- Ninja band-aids.
- Joel McHale with Craig Ferguson.
- Individually wrapped novelty snacks.
- The Great Hunan.
- Frenemies.
- More or Less.
- Craigo's.
- P.F. Chang's waiters that look like celebrities.
- April 12th 2011.
- March 23rd 2012.
- Knowing way more than I should about celebrities.
- Glitter rain.
- Best friend duos- Holmes & Watson, House & Wilson, Shawn & Gus, etc.
- Great quotes.
- Wasting time- Hey, that's what this is!
- Snow on Christmas.
- Walks alone in the trees.
- That feeling I get right before I finish a really good book- when I can't put it down, but I don't want it to end.
- Taking pictures of trees.
- Guys with beautiful cheek bones.
- Song lyrics.
- Plaid flannel shirts.
- Jess's end of the world party!
- Flamel.
- What I Know.
- Infectious laughs.
- Lime green.
- Common Grounds smoothies.
- Pesto calzones.
- Warm weather.
- Pond swimming.
- Paddle boat flipping.
- Kyle Korver's socks.
- People asking what I just quoted when I didn't quote anything.
- Joe Brooks.
- Jon McLaughlin.
- Dave Barnes.
- The Script.
- A's.
- Masquerades.
- Costumes.
- Watching professional dancers.
- Silly interview questions.
- The Internet- I know, I know, but really.
- Tennis team bus rides.
- The Scholastic Team dance.
- Orange goal posts.
- Skinny jeans- mine. This is not a repeat.
- Accents- Especially British, Australian, and Irish.
- Discovering new artists.
- Beanies worn half off the head.
- Russian history.
- The French Revolution- so fun!
- Driving without a roof.
- Vespas.
- Ultimate Frisbee.
- Snow soccer.
- Tackle snow baseball- it's just too boring the other way.
- Getting dressed up.
- Feeling pretty.
- My ridiculously crazy dreams.
- Not knowing where I want to go in life- this one's a double-edged sword.
- Movie theaters.
- Non-flip-flop flip-flops.
- Converse Chucks.
- V-necks- on guys or me.
- Winning fair and square.
- Wandering the streets in European cities.
- Castles.
- Italian sodas.
- Cabin Bear.
- Blankie.
- My bed at home.
- Willow trees.
- Black and white photos.
- Jones soda.
- Austrian playgrounds.
- Atonement- book and movie.
- Brainspew.
- Sparky's Flaw.
- Duct tape.
- When the Universe taunts me- maybe a little masochistic...
- Ergo.
- Music videos.
- The Sexy Jobs list.
- Epic movies.
- MASH- effectively making life decisions since 4th grade.
- Rubber Ducks.
- Leap Year- especially after Maddy and I gave it to each other for Christmas.
- Calendars.
- Tennis.
- Andy Roddick.
- Roger Federer not winning.
- Connecting unrelated things and thinking it must be right.
- Being right.
- Angsty-ness. - Not Hamel.
- Listening to music loudly while in the shower.
- Making fun of Wyoming.
- Babysitting Cole and Carson Steffenson.
- Anastasia.
- People watching.
- The beautiful man in the sombrero and fake mustache.
- Room 212- that started it all.
EDITS:
84. I don't really love this anymore becasue I didn't get the job. So...instead lets say fancy sodas.
118. I don't love April 12th anymore because well it isn't coming on April 12th. Grrr. Not cool, guys.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Closing Time
(providing a glimpse into the way my mind works and what I was like as a child)
You may have noticed that all my titles are song lyrics. This isn't completely coincidental. But this post is actually about the song "Closing Time" by Semisonic. It came on my Pandora last night and with it came a lot of memories and disappointments.
This song came out in 1998. I was six. (yeah...) I don't know when I first heard it, but I liked the song, I knew the words. I still do. But now it disappoints me a little.
The song is clearly about a bar, "One last call for alcohol / So finish your whiskey or beer." The bar is closing and everyone has to leave and the singer knows "who [he] wants to take [him] home" Straight forward enough, right?
Apparently not.
Back when my age was still a single digit, this song had a much more imaginative and illogical meaning. "Closing time" didn't mean that it was time to close, it meant that "time" was literally closing. Mind you I never knew exactly what this entailed, but it looked somewhat like a spinning vortex that was shrinking. (I'm not kiding, this is literally what I pictured everytime I heard the song). Now, I wasn't totally delusional, this vortex was in a bar.
The people had to find a place where they would stay, as they could no longer travel back and forth between times. (I promise I'm not making this up). I think this came mostly from lyrics like "let you out into the world," "You don't have ot go home, but you can't stay here," and especially "Time for you to go out to the places you will be from," and "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
I was probably 15 before I realized what the song really meant and I still like my meaning better. Not only is time travel awesome, but leaving a bar is less than epic. Also it meant a lot more when knowing who you wanted to take you home meant for forever, not just for the night.
You may have noticed that all my titles are song lyrics. This isn't completely coincidental. But this post is actually about the song "Closing Time" by Semisonic. It came on my Pandora last night and with it came a lot of memories and disappointments.
This song came out in 1998. I was six. (yeah...) I don't know when I first heard it, but I liked the song, I knew the words. I still do. But now it disappoints me a little.
The song is clearly about a bar, "One last call for alcohol / So finish your whiskey or beer." The bar is closing and everyone has to leave and the singer knows "who [he] wants to take [him] home" Straight forward enough, right?
Apparently not.
Back when my age was still a single digit, this song had a much more imaginative and illogical meaning. "Closing time" didn't mean that it was time to close, it meant that "time" was literally closing. Mind you I never knew exactly what this entailed, but it looked somewhat like a spinning vortex that was shrinking. (I'm not kiding, this is literally what I pictured everytime I heard the song). Now, I wasn't totally delusional, this vortex was in a bar.
The people had to find a place where they would stay, as they could no longer travel back and forth between times. (I promise I'm not making this up). I think this came mostly from lyrics like "let you out into the world," "You don't have ot go home, but you can't stay here," and especially "Time for you to go out to the places you will be from," and "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."
I was probably 15 before I realized what the song really meant and I still like my meaning better. Not only is time travel awesome, but leaving a bar is less than epic. Also it meant a lot more when knowing who you wanted to take you home meant for forever, not just for the night.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
oh, it is love.
Things I love a little too much...
I have to be honest, there are too many of these things. When I love something, I tend to love it. It's a problem. I recognize that. And that's the first step, right?
I wouldn't normally write about stuff like this (I don't like admitting that I can be a tad obsessive), but I like to think of this post as a kudos to a few things I love. Also I am being anti-social and avoiding reading Robinson Crusoe...
In no particular order:
1) Parachute. Surprise, surprise, right? I bet none of you (all two) saw that one coming. But, sigh, I have to admit it. I remember vividly the first time I heard one of their songs (I won't bore you with the account). I stopped what I was doing and devoted my full attention to them. I remember seeing them in person, and running on the adrenaline for the next 24 hours. Their music never fails to put a smile on my face. It also doesn't hurt that they are quite cute and rather funny. My condition is worse as of late because their new album is looming closer and they have already released an amazing single.
I know. I have a problem.
2) OK Go. Especially Damien Kulash. I mean seriously, who else can pull off brightly colored skinny jeans or clashing paisley? Non one. They are famous for their music videos (which are brilliant). They are under appreciated for their music, ingenuity, and independence (they split from traditional labels). I love the idea of OK Go. And they are the only ones who could pull it off. Who plays hand bells at a concert?
I have to be honest, there are too many of these things. When I love something, I tend to love it. It's a problem. I recognize that. And that's the first step, right?
I wouldn't normally write about stuff like this (I don't like admitting that I can be a tad obsessive), but I like to think of this post as a kudos to a few things I love. Also I am being anti-social and avoiding reading Robinson Crusoe...
In no particular order:
1) Parachute. Surprise, surprise, right? I bet none of you (all two) saw that one coming. But, sigh, I have to admit it. I remember vividly the first time I heard one of their songs (I won't bore you with the account). I stopped what I was doing and devoted my full attention to them. I remember seeing them in person, and running on the adrenaline for the next 24 hours. Their music never fails to put a smile on my face. It also doesn't hurt that they are quite cute and rather funny. My condition is worse as of late because their new album is looming closer and they have already released an amazing single.
I know. I have a problem.
2) OK Go. Especially Damien Kulash. I mean seriously, who else can pull off brightly colored skinny jeans or clashing paisley? Non one. They are famous for their music videos (which are brilliant). They are under appreciated for their music, ingenuity, and independence (they split from traditional labels). I love the idea of OK Go. And they are the only ones who could pull it off. Who plays hand bells at a concert?
I'm starting to feel like that guy on Weekend Update who says "I love it!" Also I feel like this entry has a lot of parentheses.
3) House. I realized that I have been watching this show since its second season. It is in the middle of its seventh. I am pretty sure I've seen every episode at least once. I am too emotionally invested in most of the characters. Yes, I have cried while watching it. More than once.
4) The Hunger Games series. Thank you Sary. What can I say, I love distopia. I love the brutality and fierceness. I love the dandelion. The movies better be awesome; they have the potential. Also, I love making other people read these books and watching them fall in love too.
Honorable mentions:
Music) Jon McLaughlin and Joe Brooks. Jon McLaughlin's piano is incredible. Seriously, watch him play. It's crazy. And Joe Brooks is just delightful. I'm not as obsessive about these two, but I would venture that I still love them as much or more than the average person likes their favorite band.
TV) Community. Just started watching it this year and it is great. And everyone is right, Modern Warfare (the paintball episode) is incredible.
Books) Too many to list. Atonement by Ian McEwan. Markus Zusak's books. Crime and Punishment by Dostovesky. And of course Harry Potter. Harry Potter should probably go into the category of "love too much" but it would need it's own post. It was the original "love too much" and still holds a huge place in my heart. Except for that epilogue. That can go.
There are too many other things as well. And people. I promise not to waste your blog reading time and my blog space with stuff like this too often.
Friday, January 14, 2011
all will be well...
...you can ask me how, but only time will tell.
Not many people say they are thankful for their hair. They either don't think about it or don't mention it. Mentioning it would be equivalent to a giant sign that read "I'm a vain, self-centered person". Something about this sign reminds me of Joel McHale's character on Community, who I love, but really no one should say they are thankful for their hair. Well, I am.
I found out last night, or maybe just more fully understood, that one of my friends is losing her hair. She is sick and has no real solution for her rapidly disappearing hair.
There is a picture of us on my desk. Both freshly out of a pond, wearing light blue swimsuits, blonde hair, blue eyes. Despite those basics we don't actually look that similar. I've always been jealous of her naturally slim figure and huge blue eyes. (My eyes all but disappear when I smile). But the point is, the two of us were always the smart blondes. We always had that in common. That's who we were in jr. high before she moved away. And I thought we would always be part of this group.
I've never dyed my hair. I now feel guilty for every day I've complained about a bad hair day. And every time I've panicked because I've just cut off five inches of hair. Five inches sounds like it might be freak-out worthy, but it really isn't for me. I'm about the only one who notices my hair is now higher on my back. I want there to be something I can do for her. Hair might be material, but I don't know what I'd do without mine. It's like a security blanket.
"All will be well, even though sometimes this is hard to tell and the fight is just as frustrating as hell"
I listened to this song last night (and coincidentally, just began playing again) as I thought about my friend and I couldn't seem to fall asleep. She is an amazing and strong person, one of the most brilliant I know, with more confidence than I can shake a stick at. She will be fine. But she deserves better.
Not many people say they are thankful for their hair. They either don't think about it or don't mention it. Mentioning it would be equivalent to a giant sign that read "I'm a vain, self-centered person". Something about this sign reminds me of Joel McHale's character on Community, who I love, but really no one should say they are thankful for their hair. Well, I am.
I found out last night, or maybe just more fully understood, that one of my friends is losing her hair. She is sick and has no real solution for her rapidly disappearing hair.
There is a picture of us on my desk. Both freshly out of a pond, wearing light blue swimsuits, blonde hair, blue eyes. Despite those basics we don't actually look that similar. I've always been jealous of her naturally slim figure and huge blue eyes. (My eyes all but disappear when I smile). But the point is, the two of us were always the smart blondes. We always had that in common. That's who we were in jr. high before she moved away. And I thought we would always be part of this group.
I've never dyed my hair. I now feel guilty for every day I've complained about a bad hair day. And every time I've panicked because I've just cut off five inches of hair. Five inches sounds like it might be freak-out worthy, but it really isn't for me. I'm about the only one who notices my hair is now higher on my back. I want there to be something I can do for her. Hair might be material, but I don't know what I'd do without mine. It's like a security blanket.
"All will be well, even though sometimes this is hard to tell and the fight is just as frustrating as hell"
I listened to this song last night (and coincidentally, just began playing again) as I thought about my friend and I couldn't seem to fall asleep. She is an amazing and strong person, one of the most brilliant I know, with more confidence than I can shake a stick at. She will be fine. But she deserves better.
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