Words make you think a thought. Music makes you feel a feeling. A song makes you feel a thought.

Songs (of the popular culture persuasion) I currently cannot stop listening to:

Blink-182 “Dammit”

Spoon “Got Nuffin”

The Temper Trap “Sweet Disposition”

Foo Fighters “Best of You”

Gnarls Barkley “Crazy”

Lily Allen “Absolutely Nothing”

I’ve also got a few Tool and Nine Inch Nails songs thrown in the mix, but I figured six songs was enough. Hope you enjoy them as much as I am right now.

I’d rather walk alone than chase you around.

National Poetry Month is coming to a close. Today is Poem in Your Pocket Day, select a poem, carry it around and share it throughout your day! Here’s my poem:

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in
my heart) I am never without it (anywhere
I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

I fear

No fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

–E.E. Cummings

Never betray the way you’ve always known it is.

Sometimes I just want to be the “hot girl”. Not the nice, smart, funny, quirky girl. Ya know, just once? Then again, on second thought, let’s dismantle the first two sentences I just wrote:

Sometimes I just want to be the “hot girl”.

There’s only one word that describes this kind of girl: hot. This suggests there’s nothing else to her–just her looks–society has deemed her “hot” and nothing else. She’s more concerned about her make up (and probably her hair) then perhaps, her education, what she could be doing with her life, the lives of those around her, the world around her–just a general lack of worldliness and self-awareness. Hmm…does that really sounds like something I would like to be?

Then again, if society has deemed her “hot” perhaps beforehand she had had aspirations to be something more? And then she got branded and it’s was all over. Now I think I’m just giving her too much credit. Hah. These girls are this way because they want to be and it’s easy for them (among many other things. And I’m sure there’s much more to her than being hot, you know, like being…something…).

Not the nice, smart, funny, quirky girl.

Right off the bat, we have four (4) adjectives, and they’re all good ones I’d say, by any standards. I don’t know of any girl who wouldn’t want to be considered nice, smart, funny or even quirky (although, that one may be considered iffy). Those are all great things to be; they make one multidimensional, which is also a great thing. This is the kind of girl that has layers and I’m sure there’s more to her than just those four adjectives.

So why not just be the “nice, smart, funny, quirky, attractive” girl.  I mean, I don’t consider myself hideous, so why not at least consider myself attractive or pretty? Cute, maybe? Something along those lines. It really shouldn’t be this difficult.

Personally, I’ve never felt comfortable referring to myself as someone who is “hot” or “sexy” or even “beautiful” for that matter. And if you have ever heard me refer to myself as such, it was most certainly a joke. Or, sarcasm.

Why worry about being hot when I can just be myself? Sheesh.

Seen in…North County?

That’s right, it’s back! But now that I’m no longer in San Francisco, it’s no longer “Seen in the City” (or was it Scene in the City?). Anyway, welcome to the first edition of: Nuttiness in NoCo!

First up, seen today as I was walking to class on the San Marcos Palomar campus: A dumbass San Diego bro (of sorts–you know what I’m talking about–those “pretty boys” who think they’re the shit) on his long board wearing a black t- shirt that said, “Hate is not a Crime” and nothing else. Is this some sort of joke?! Is that supposed to be funny? Am I missing something? Please, take your arrogant ass back home and burn that shirt. Thank you.

And I’ve saved the best for last: While running errands on my break today, I saw my first ever Vista tranny! That’s right, a real, live cross-dresser in North County; on the corner of Melrose and Bobier! It made me all nostalgic for San Francisco. He was amazing. Huge black wig with some low lights, black skirt, gaudy shirt, manly legs. It was just too good to be true. I wish I had had my camera and hadn’t been cruising at 55mph. There’s always next time!

Thank you and goodnight.

He knew he was wrong, but he knew it too late.

Now that the link has finally been enabled, I think this is worth sharing. It’s one of my favorites for the obvious reasons. Watch as Fiona Apples tries not to laugh and smile…This song, and and more so the video make me happy. Especially as of late.

“And last night’s phrases, sick with lack of basis, are still writhing on my floor. And it doesn’t seem fair, that your wicked words should work in holding me down.”

Learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck.

I’ve been digging this band a lot lately. I think it has something to do with the banjo. Plus there are the lyrics; and we all know how much a love lyrical poetry. I’ve been stuck on this song in particular as of late. I think this is mostly because I feel like I’m hitting a wall again and I’m trying so hard to get over it and not sabotage myself. I only have 5 weeks left, damn it! I will hold on hope and I won’t let myself choke. I can’t give up (even though I feel like banging my head on my keyboard).

Here’s a little extra somethin’ somethin’. It’s Mumford and Sons first US single. Enjoy!

Beecause I should be doing homework instead…

So, I’m allergic to bees. I happened to find this out one Summer whilst sunbathing on a beach in Carlsbad. I got stung near my armpit and the next thing I know I’m having heart palpitations.  Of course I didn’t really do anything about it…I had my boyfriend at the time pull the stinger out and then once I felt normal again, I went for a swim thinking the cool water would feel good on my arm. Unfortunately, the next morning my arm was swollen and purple and in pain. Off to the doctor I went (where I got a lecture for not appearing in his office sooner) for a shot and some antibiotics.

The next summer, whilst laying on a beach in Oceanside, I again got stung. Knowing full well what would happen, we left the beach and went home where I convinced my parents that my heart wasn’t in any danger and I was just going to wait it out. So I waited until my leg was more like a purple tree trunk and then proceeded to go to Urgent Care. Same routine–shot and some meds. Apparently I’m not allowed to have a “Bee Sting Kit” (as my dad calls it) because my reactions are different every time and generally localized severe allergic ones–so it’s not really that big of a deal.

On my way home from school today, I’m flying down the 78 with my windows down, singing along to whatever happened to be playing on my iPod when I drove through a swarm of bees–what they were doing in the middle of the 78, I will never know. I thought I had gotten through the swarm without any hitchhikers, but I was wrong. A few minutes later a bee buzzed by my head and then flew down to my legs. I immediately started freaking out and swatting at it while swerving all over my lane–I temporarily forgot I was even driving. I gained enough composure to see the bee fly up my dress which is when I frantically started mashing up the skirt of my dress in an effort to kill the thing before it stung anywhere near my delicate lady parts; all while driving. I practically had the entire skirt of my dress in a wad at my side. I pulled into my driveway, turned off the engine and just sat there unsure of what to do next. I thought to myself,

” What if the thing is still alive in there somewhere? If it is, it’s probably pretty pissed and I’m going to end up in Urgent Care again. Maybe if I slowly unravel my dress? Maybe I should try and slip this dress off and just run to the door in my undies? Ugh, sick, there are probably bee guts all over. Jeez. I really don’t want any swollen limbs. Or worse, a swollen vagina! I’m leaving for San Francisco tomorrow, this is not happening.”

After a few more minutes of contemplation, I slowly and carefully unraveled my dress, only to find there was absolutely nothing there! No bee, no bee guts. What the f?! Oh well, better than getting stung or having to wash bee guts off of my dress.  But now I keep getting the sensation that there is a phantom bee crawling on me. Even as I write this, I feel like it’s crawling on my arms, legs or back. Paranoia.

Poor bee, I probably traumatized it.

**UPDATE: After further inspection in my truck, I found the bee. Dead, near the gas/brake pedals on the floor. I either stomped on it or gave it a heart attack. Either way, RIP little bee.

Aw, shucks.

So I have this friend and she’s gorgeous, and not only is she beautiful on the outside, but she’s also a big sweetheart. When we’re hanging out we make quite a timid, shy pair. I think this is mostly my fault. Regardless of the fact that I’ve known her for a few years now and that she’s such a sweet person, I find her completely intimidating. She’s tall, I’m short. She’s thin, I’m curvy. She’s well kept and put together and I’m…well, not.  And she totally accepts me just the way I am and I her, and yet, I’m still intimidated.

All of my friends are beautiful, but she is the only one I feel inadequate around. I haven’t figured out why it’s like this. Beautiful people have always intimidated me; I never feel comfortable around them. Maybe this is because I’ve never felt like I was or could be one of them? And now that I’m older and I’m out of that whole high school class system, you’d think I wouldn’t be so intimidated…but I still am. It’s kind of pathetic actually, the more I think about it anyway.

So this friend recently asked me to be a bridesmaid and I wholeheartedly accepted. Because of this little arrangement, we’ve been hanging out more, and the more we hang out, the more we both open up and the less intimidated I’ve become, which is fantastic (I’m finally comfortable eating in front her!). I’ve come to realize the older I get, the more comfortable I become in my own skin. While this friendship has been a (worthwhile) challenge for me, I’ve come to realize that I am just as beautiful as this friend, just in a different way (at least that’s what I’m telling myself).

Really though, I enjoy getting older. I feel as though I only get better with age–smarter, funnier, prettier. It’s a win-win situation for me so far. And this particular ladies friendship has done nothing but help. 25 is bound to be an amazing year for me. I can feel it and I’m excited.

Everyone is beautiful in their own way; sometimes it’s just a matter of realizing it.