Saturday, December 31, 2011
Well, this year FLEW.
It seems like just yesterday I was complaining about my life falling apart, from the confines of my school library (cause, of course, my computer had to get a virus right in the middle of my life ending, right?).
I gotta say, aside from all that shit, this year has been good to me & I'm thankful for it.
It was certainly "The Year of the DisasterCrush", wasn't it?
Sometimes, I still can't even believe that guy even happened to me.
Anyway, I don't want to spend the last minutes of this year by talking about him.
Good things happened this year, even if I didn't take the time to talk about them like I did with every little negativity.
I got all A's this semester & I'd like to think, I'm starting to get the hang of myself.
All in all, 2011 has been a good year, but right now this hot chocolate is calling my name.
Maybe I'll do an actual overview of the year next time.
Thank you to anyone who stands by me through this blog.
I'll talk to you next year...
Friday, December 16, 2011
As you may or may not be able to tell, I'm black.
As you should be very able to tell, I'm extremely proud of being black.
Yes, I grew up in a predominately white area of upstate New York, with mostly white friends, but I've always felt lucky to be of color & I've never let anyone make me think otherwise.
To preface this little story here, let me say that I'm not the least bit proud of myself for what I did.
In the same breath, this is something I've never talked about, I refuse to hold it against myself, & I'm bored as hell in this fucking school library.
Justin never really knew who I was, so I don't feel odd at all using his real name.
I met Justin through YouTube in 2006 when we were both 15.
YouTube was a brand new site with very few videos, let alone people with accounts, & I honestly don't even remember how I ended up meeting Justin.
All I remember is writing message after message, after message, after message back & forth with this kid.
Messages weren't sent instantaneously, so after writing him something, I'd wait about 10-15 mins for the little white envelope in the corner to turn yellow with a little "1" next to it.
I didn't know how to write messages back then, so I signed all of them.
...You know, like,
"Your friend, Mariah...".
Justin lived in Ohio in a small town similar to mine & we would trade stories for hours on how bored we've been our entire lives.
He was a hardcore metalhead/skateboarder who played guitar, went to shows, & started learning Finnish just because he loved Children of Bodom so much.
In other words, he was the perfect guy to my 15 year old heart.
At some point, I guess our YouTube messaging got a little tiring, so Justin taught me how to make a MySpace page.
His was all decked out with "666" in the URL, a custom background &...pictures of Justin himself.
Now, for the kids out there, you have to understand that before free social networking sites like MySpace & Facebook, it was likely you would never see the the face of the person you happened to be chit-chatting with for months.
I never thought I'd see what Justin looked like, & to be honest, I kind of found comfort in not knowing.
He could like anyone from Ryan Gosling to Jake Gyllenhaal to Pee Wee Herman.
He was already my friend, I didn't really care what he looked like.
Of course, he turned out to be a fucking stunner.
He looked half Italian or Native American or something with long brown hair & dark brown eyes.
He was tall for his age & had perfect teeth.
Just my luck, right?
Me, being completely uncomfortable with myself at the time, never uploaded pics of myself to my MySpace & lied about my age to make more friends.
Justin often asked me to put pictures of myself up, just so he could see who he was talking to & I guess because of the times, he had every right to know.
I always just shrugged him off & said I'll put some up one day, knowing damn well I never would.
Corny as it may sound, words cannot express how much I appreciated Justin as a friend.
He was my best friend.
I didn't have any real friends at school when I was 15 & no one EVER came over to my house.
So, when Justin told me to get a screen name on AIM, I happily obliged & I knew I could come home every day after school & talk to Justin until it got late.
We would talk about everything from school, to porn, to emo kids & the more I got to know Justin, the more I loved him.
One night, I was talking to Justin on AIM.
I don't even remember what he was talking about except for the fact I was agreeing with him.
Then out of nowhere he added:
"Yeah. & I hate black people, too."
I remember being shocked & annoyed, but I don't think it took me long to respond.
Me: Why do you hate black people?
Justin: Are you black?
Justin: Okay. Good.
He then went on to give me a list of complete bullshit reasons for why he didn't like black people, all of which I rebutted & I think it started to scare him that we may actually not see eye to eye on something, so he changed the subject but our friendship never really recovered after that night.
So, why did I lie?
Curiosity & insecurity.
I hated myself for lying, but I wanted so badly to know his reasoning behind his statement, I didn't care.
I didn't just completely shame myself, I lied to the only friend I had about something he should've known.
He "hated" black people, yet one of his best friends, the girl he talked to every single day & into the night, was black.
& to this day, he still has no idea.
Justin's justification for not being called a racist was that he "didn't want to hang black people".
The fact he would even think to say something like that set something off inside of me & I later found old pictures of lynchings that his friends would post on his MySpace as a "joke".
I don't know if it was his buddies that put all the misinformation in his head, or if he was just simply raised that way by his parents.
The next day, he IM'd me & apologized for "being a dick".
In an effort so save our friendship, I didn't accept his apology, but I asked him to change the subject & never talk about it again.
So he didn't.
We talked for a few more months after that, but I don't recall what any of our conversations were about, & the next summer, I made another MySpace without him knowing.
This one actually had pictures of me on it & my true age.
I added my old account as a friend, so if Justin ever got bored one day & decided to sift through my 600+ friends, maybe he'd find me & put the pieces together.
Probably not, though.
At the height of my little cyber-relationship with Justin, I imagined myself being with him one day.
I wanted to somehow become prettier & acquire more band t-shirts & transfer to his high school in Ohio & blow his fucking mind.
In my more realistic moments, I would wonder how everything between us would one day end.
Justin was in a different state, he'd never seen me before & we only talked online.
I knew that one day, I would have no idea what happened to Justin & I imagined myself walking around under a raincloud of depression without him.
It's been 4 years since the last time Justin & I spoke to each other, & I'm pretty sure it was just him wishing me a happy 16th birthday & me saying "thank you".
It's strange to think, he's out of high school, 20 years old somewhere, doing...something with his life.
It's rare that he even crosses my mind these days & if I ever cross his, I wonder what he thinks about all that time we spent talking to each other?
I still don't think it was a waste & I hope he doesn't either.
Justin's morals were way off, but he still made me laugh on some of the worst days of my life.
He knew me solely through my personality & liked me anyway.
I hope Justin is more educated these days as I certainly am.
I hope he's alright.
& I hope he's happy, wherever he's at.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Yeah, not sweating Xmas this year, as usual.
I don't have the money & I've been cutting into my savings to get shit for my best friend & mom, but my savings account isn't exactly self-healing, if you know what I mean.
I asked my mom for a book & my best friend for a heated blanket, & that'll be just fine for me.
I will never be a Christmas person.
So, it's the last week of school & all my finals are in-class & pretty much over with now (with the exception of my History class).
I got through this semester, even though it was, by far, the hardest one I've ever delt with.
I'm ready to be completely done, have a nice break & have a much better, much, much easier semester next year.
If you haven't noticed, I'm in sort of an upbeat mood...well, upbeat for me, anyway.
I've been really proud of myself, lately & that's an awesome feeling.
Even though I've had my family on my case about all sorts of absolutely ridiculous shit, I've been taking care of the things I feel neccesary.
I didn't fail anything this semester (to my knowledge).
Even though I was on some seriously thin ice with my History class, I went to my professor's office one morning to sit & talk with him about how in the fuck I could possibly pass his class.
In the end, I got a lucky break from him, & all has been pretty awesome since then.
Other than school, I'm looking forward to getting my ass in gear in other ways before next semester.
Stoked about finally dying my hair for the first time in 7 years (holy shit).
Hopefully, it won't look terrible & I won't start next semester looking crazier than I need to.
Oh, by the way, I'm losing my fucking eyesight & I'm gonna have to go get glasses early next year.
I used to fake my eye exams as a kid because I wanted to wear glasses so badly.
When I was in 6th grade, it actually worked & I got a pair of glasses, then lost them about a month later.
I literally haven't seen those glasses since 2002.
Even my Sign Language teacher noticed I can't see very well, so I guess that's something else to add to the new "changes".
Onto, the boy situation...you knew it was coming.
I'm starting to realize, I think the reason I put all of my emotions & bullshit I feel for guys on this site is because no one in my real life actually listens when I talk about guys.
My best friend has been in a relationship with her boyfriend for 4 years & sometimes I think she finds it sort of funny in a condescending way that I have no luck with boys whatsoever.
When I talk to her about guys (i.e. Poetry Boy & DisasterCrush), she just laughs at me.
Same thing with my mom.
I tell my mom just about everything, but when it comes to guys, she sorta just tunes me out like I'm speaking nonsense.
That's where you come in.
As I've said before, I write in my actual diary quite a bit & even though I can use the guys' real names in my diary & around my friends, it's just not as satisfying as making myself vulnerable by putting my cryptic bullshit online for the world to see.
It's hard to stay completely silent about something (or someone) you feel passionately about.
I tell you everything about boys, because it makes me feel better...like, I actually told someone who gives a shit.
Maybe the last two semesters were just as trying as this one, but because I had two gorgeous boys to distract the shit out of me, I didn't really notice.
This upcoming semester, I'm gonna keep the postive energy flowing, but I'm not anticipating anything anymore.
It just doesn't work that way.
For now, I'm focusing on resting my mind & becoming a better me.
I'll find my groove one day.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
I'm not even gonna apologize for being gone so long again.
I do that every single time & I've been stressed as fuck.
I missed writing on here & I've been thinking about it every single day, but I've been so exhausted, I just couldn't bring myself to sit & get all my thoughts together.
I still love this place more than life itself.
So, Thanksgiving just passed...
I had a nice 4.5 days with the house to myself.
I felt like a 20 year old for the first time in 7 months.
I told myself I'd clean my room up & try to exercise every day as I have been, but in the end, all I did was eat, sleep & dance to The Saturdays.
In other words: I've had a nice little vacay & I'm glad I'm recharged enough to put more effort back into the things I love...like reading magazines...& eating.
I feel like I'm always talking about changing & how I'm constantly trying to make progress on myself for this reason or that reason.
I feel like I say a lot of the same shit over & over on this site, & that's probably because I do.
I was in my ASL (that's American Sign Language, dude) class the other day & in that class is one of the prettiest fucking girls I've ever seen.
We'll call her...Queens
...She's from Queens, NY.
I met her a couple days after I had a major meltdown about not having any friends, in my ASL & I was blown away by not just how gorgeous she was but how friendly she came off.
People in my college don't normally talk to one another in class in less we have to & if someone is super friendly like Queens, it's kind of unnerving.
Basically she's latina or "Spanish" as she told me, she's teeny-tiny maybe 4'9", long black hair, brown eyes & the whitest teeth on the planet.
She immediately engaged me in conversation telling me all about how she moved up from Queens with her boyfriend & lives with him & his mom.
We had the most random conversation right infront of my deaf ASL teacher that went something along the lines of:
Queens: I'm Spanish. What are you?
Queens: Oh My God, if you lived where I'm from, everyone would think you're Dominican. Your hair & everything.
Queens: Do you have a lot of friends?
Me: ...No. You?
After that, we traded identical stories about our lack of friends & hatred of parties & I literally believed I'd found someone that could be my new best friend.
Fast forward to...two days later:
Queens didn't sit near me but sat with another girl instead & started talking to her like she had been talking to me 2 days earlier.
& ever since that first day of talking to Queens, she has gone from my potential BFF/girl-crush to an utter & complete WTF?
First off, she came in one day with snakebite piercings, the only piercing she had before that (to my knowledge) was her nose & the snakebites totally & completely took away from her natural beauty.
Then recently, she decided she wanted to dred her hair up
Her long, perfect black hair is now in tons of messy, unkempt-looking tangles with weird beads mixed in.
What I'm getting to here is, the other day, homegirl didn't show up to class & when someone couldn't remember who "Queens" was by name, the only way one of my classmates could decribe her was by saying she was "small" & " pretty".
When she said that, I found myself agreeing & saying "Yeah, she is really pretty", then a couple other people in the class joined in & agreed that she is, in fact....yup, you guessed it, "pretty".
So it kind of got me thinkin', I wonder how people describe me if I'm not there?
I'm not even gonna play that "I don't care what people think about me" act, because it's bullshit.
I figured, the first thing people will say is, well, that I'm black.
That alone would probably refresh someone's memory enough, because I'm usually the only black woman or person in my class.
I was hoping my weight, or "top heavy" frame wouldn't come next, but who knows?
Does my style set me apart from everyone else in a way that could be remembered?
My supreme knowledge & understanding of the world around me?
Get the fuck outta here.
After graduating high school, a nice surprise was finding out most people, even people I didn't really know back then, remembered me as a good writer or at least someone who loved to read & write.
As introverted about my writing as I've always been, I'm not sure how they picked up on my skill, but it meant the world that I was remembered that way.
If you don't want to hear about the same two boys I've been infatuated with & haven't stopped talking about since starting at this school, now is the time to stop reading.
Thanks for sticking around.
At this point, Poetry Boy is long gone.
Haven't heard from him in 11 months, but I know he's alright & that's what matters.
I'd be surprised if he remembers anything about last Fall semester, let alone me.
Sooo, let's just talk about DisasterCrush.
I fucked up a lot in front of this kid, not because I'm a fuck-up, but just because his presence made me so goddamn nervous.
The first time I talked to this kid (I'm sure you remember that post), he started asking me question after question, & at one point he asked me something & I couldn't understand what he said, so instead of asking him to repeat it, I completely ignored the fact he asked me anything & started asking him questions of my own.
Like, what the fuck-shit, right?
Then there was the time I was with my friend & I saw him walking toward us.
He & I made eye contact for the longest time & even though I kept trying to carry my conversation, he kept staring at me to say "hi" & we ended up passing each other without saying anything.
It's shit like that that makes me wonder what I look like in his memory, if I ever happen to cross his mind.
Of course, I remember every little thing about him because I had a crush on him but because he was never into me, I wonder how I look in his head.
& I wonder how the way I looked then compares to how I look now?
Does DistasterCrush remember anything from that conversation we had in our advisor's office, or the times I'd see him around campus & avoid eye contact, or the last thing he ever said to me?
Of course, he doesn't.
But we have this god-forsaken social network binding us together as "friends" now, so I wonder what comes to mind when he sees my name on his computer.
I hope it's good things.
I already told you, the dude flew the coop a while ago & he's probably never coming back, much like Poetry Boy.
& now I'm thinking that, one day, when my next potiental suitor comes along, I'll be such a mess from sitting around wondering what my face & my body & my mind look like inside of DisasterCrush's memory, I'll forget that I'm now leaving my mark on someone else's.
I guess I have to just keep trying.
Keeping up with the postive changes, not worrying about the negative past.
I don't know.
I'm tired & I'm getting nauseous from the ice cream I ate at that shitty Twilight movie I took my cousin to tonight.
The moral of this painfully long post is: Living in the past has gotten me nowhere but stuck inside my own head.
Sometimes it's healthy to look back on lessons learned, but when it starts to impede my future, that can never be a positive thing.
Friday, November 11, 2011
& we haven't spoken in 2 weeks.
Just got out of my Short Story class where I gave a pretty disasterous presentation on absolutely nada.
Now I'm home watching an Immortal Technique interview (surprise), eating Chinese food & drinking coffee.
Gotta love New York.
This whole 11.11.11. thing has me all nervous & shit.
"It only happens once every 1 thousand years...."
Technically, it'll happen twice today...there's two 11 o'clocks, homie.
Clearly, I'll be sitting right here when the first one passes.
There it goes...
I've been insanely stressed out with school lately.
On the first day of school, my English professor addressed the class by saying: "Don't expect to have a perfect semester because there is no such thing. This will not be a perfect semester for you".
I was all: "Yeah-yeah, Whore. Just teach".
The bitch jinxed me.
This has been a...really-not-so-great semester for me.
I had to withdraw from my math class & I was lucky it didn't fuck up my financial aid because I'd never withdrawn from a class prior to this one.
Now my History class is not working out, so I went to see my psycho professor yesterday & he basically told me I'm screwed.
It's one of those things where all I have to do is sit down & give some major thought to what it is that I need to do, but I can't take that time out because it stresses me out to even think about having to think about this situation.
...& I'm getting fucking tired of my mom telling me to just leave school & work for a while.
What parent says that?
My biggest fear is leaving school & never going back because I get caught up in working too many hours & living for the sole purpose of getting a paycheck.
I love school more than I love most things.
The last thing I want to do is be away from school, working in some shitty fast-food joint with the other people that got stuck.
I know what I'm good at & there are a lot of things I can do with this skill if I can just get past this obstacle of taking ridiculous classes like Statistics & First Aid.
Did I tell you, my advisor wanted to put me in a Geology class?
Since when do English majors need to know about rocks?
Sometimes I feel like I'm the only person who knows what they want to do with their life but I just can't get there like everyone else.
I guess the upside of all this stress, is that this semester hasn't had it's own Poetry Boy or DisasterCrush...then again, that could be the downside too.
Now that I think about it, that's probably one of the main reasons I haven't been on here as much anymore.
I mean, what else do I talk about other than guys?
Ever since leaving my math class with South, there hasn't been anyone worth talking about.
I've been in talks with my friend about heading down to Brooklyn or Harlem before Thanksgiving or Christmas to hang out, but we'll see.
If you can't find an attractive man in NYC, chances are you're asexual.
I just want to get out of here, is all.
Even if I have to come right back, I just want to get gone for a few days.
I just bought Always Running by Luis J. Rodriguez, a teen-fiction novel that caught my eye & this month's Cosmo, so I'm gonna go lay on the couch & get some reading time in.
I'll be talking to you sooner than later.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
You were never really my friend.
I learned about you while at a funeral...that should've been a sign.
All I wanted to do was pay my respects to my peer who lost his life.
I joined the page made in his memory & that's when the shit started.
Shawn, the sexy high schooler that served as my biggest Jr. High crush, started sending me virtual Long Island Ice Teas & margaritas .
That chick at my school with the really pretty hair accepted my request after denying my Myspace request only a few weeks earlier.
Then Alex, the older girl I'd always wanted to hang out with, fucking cyber-hugged me.
Everything was mad chill at the jump off, then you started to change on me.
You convinced me to start adding people I 'd never even talked to before, telling me it would be fun to just skim through the hundreds of thousands of pictures they had of themselves.
You acted like it was totally normal to stare at photos of people, that it wouldn't completely obliterate my teenage self-esteem (or lack there of).
...You know you were dead-wrong for that.
I've befriended a lot of professional liars, but you Facebook, you are by far the worst.
In less than 4 years, you've gone from the friend that helped me spy on parties full of drunk white-girls, keg stands & bong hits, to the make-shift, paranoid bastard-husband you want to smother in their sleep.
As soon as I check in with you you everyday, all you can ask me is "What's on your mind?".
I'm fucking looking at you, am I not?
Then when I try to tell you what's on my mind, you demand to know who I'm with.
You know I'm by myself, fool.
I look at this chick's photo, you ask if I like it.
I check out that dude's video, you ask if I like it.
I update my own status & you ask if I like it.
Of course I like my status...you think I don't love myself or something?
Look, what I'm trying to get at is, you played me.
I feel like a fraud when I'm with you & all I want to do is come clean about all the dishonesty I've been portraying:
- No, I still don't chill with half of the very few friends I have on Facebook & that's because we were never friends in the first place. I most likely added you becuase I was either jealous of you at some point or, in the guys case, I probably had a crush on you.
-If I didn't still have jealousy issues or rabid crushes, my Facebook would be long gone.
- Sometimes I'll "like" random posts because I just want the person who posted it to talk to me. Sorry, I really don't care that you're eating a fucking sandwich...
- Yes, the majority of my profile pictures are taken by me, in my living room, with my web cam. That's because, my phone's camera sucks, my digital camera sucks, I don't own a laptop, & I don't have anyone else to take pictures for me.
- Yes, all of my pics are from the should shoulders up. That's because, again, I'm the one taking the pics, I'm not exactly a supermodel & my right boob is bigger than my left.
- It does hurt me when people I actually do know delete me as a friend. It's an unnecessary move that takes very little thought, but I'm not about to cry about it.
- I can totally tell when your status isn't written by you, but stolen off a site like Tumblr or We Heart It. Original.
- There are people on Facebook I'd love to be friends with, but I know my request will be denied, so I don't even try.
- In rare cases, Facebook has enabled me to have some great conversations with people I'd probably be to shy to talk to in person. But, more often then not, Facebook usually makes me hate my life & that's why I contemplate deactivation every single day.
- I don't hate anyone on Facebook, in fact, I truly love quite of few of my friends.
- There are questions you're asked in the "info" section that I just didn't answer. There is a reason for that.
- I'm tired of keeping my Facebook for people who never really cared in the first place.
- None of these are complaints, I'm only speaking from the heart.
- If this post makes me lose friends on Facebook, so be it. Now you finally know...
There we have it.
I'm not breaking off this 4 year realtionship, but...we need space.
I'm over the drama that someone's status or overly photoshopped profile pic can create in my life.
All I want to do is live everyday & not have to worry about telling you what's going on. (Forget posting pics of what's going on.)
You've been good to me, you've been awful to me.
I'm not going to stress over you anymore, so you count me out of this circus.
I'll be just fine without you.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Well, you'd probably think I'd been gone for so long because I was off working on that little "song challenge" of mine.
I knocked out 2 & a half songs in...I don't know, almost 2 weeks.
It was a decent idea, but, for whatever reason, I can't commit to it just yet.
Anyway, I dropped that horrible fucking math class I was ranting about.
I went to class on Friday, sat next to this fine-ass fool named Brandon, watched South flirt with that whore for about 10 minutes & as soon as the teacher told us to take out our rulers & graph paper, I grabbed my shit & bolted.
I headed straight to my advisor & gave him every reason I had to not continue the class & he gave me a card with a list of dates when it'll be safe for me to withdraw.
My days are kind of vacant now & I most likely won't be seeing South...or Brandon anymore, but fuck it.
I have to do what's best for me & me only.
I thought I had a lot to say tonight, but I'm stupid-tired.
I overslept & missed my 8a.m. History class, then I had a huge Sign Lanuage test out of nowhere, then I had to go to the mall & turn in some applications, then I had to go grocery shopping...then, I babysat my next door neighbor's son.
Did I mention I was wearing 4 inch heels throughout all of this?
Yeah, pretty fucking stoked to be in my pajamas right now.
I had to stop by my car insurance office yesterday & instead of getting my usual older-woman agent, I got this crazy nice dude that resembled Patrick Stump of Fall Out Boy.
Definitely made my day...& reminded me to pick up Patrick's solo album that came out today.
I love that guy.
I'm gonna hit it.
I spent way too much money on clothes at the mall yesterday for no good reason, so I'm gonna go through my room & give the majority of my old clothes to the city mission.
I have A LOT of clothes to go through tomorrow &, of course, my awesome History class to look forward to at 8.
I'll try to check in with something slightly more interesting next time.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Normally, I say that around finals, but I got a lot of improving to do as of now.
Going to my advisor last week, really didn't help me at all.
He thought I was in there to start planning out my schedule for next semester, so that's what we did for the majority of the time until I told him straight-up, I need to drop my History class.
He basically gave me a list of reasons why I can't drop it & when I told him how shitty the professor is, he told me his History majors usually love him.
...I'm an English major.
Soooo, looks like I'm pretty stuck with these God-forsaken classes I chose this semester.
I was thinking about dropping my English class earlier this semester but now it's been going quite well for me, I'm just hoping my math & history are soon to follow.
...The other class I'm taking is American Sign Language & I started learning that in 5th grade, so it's cake.
Anyway, I guess the main reason I decided to stop by was because I've been thinking about doing a little 30-day challenge.
Well, currently, it's looking more like a 10 day challenge, but I'd like to get it up to at least 20-days.
Basically, I thought I'd make a playlist of 10, 20 or 30 songs on my iPod & everyday, I'd pick a song & write something heavily inspired by it (be it a poem, haiku, short story, whatevs).
Yes, this is more of an English-geek kind of challege, but I've been finding myself in sort of a creative rut until I randomly wrote a poem based off an old Dance Gavin Dance song.
The main issue I had here was, I made a list of 10 songs that related perfectly to my current situation...& then, later that day, my whole situation changed.
So, I don't know if making a playlist is really the best idea, maybe I just need to choose the song based on how I'm feeling that day.
I just need to get my wheels turning again.
Feeling stagnant in the only thing I do well, is making me lose my mind.
Other than that, school has been hectic as shit.
I'm tired & I'm tired of being tired.
Hopefully, my little self-challenge comes to fruition.
This semester is really rough, but I'm trying.
Guess I gotta try a little bit harder.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Quick, harmless fact:
As well as I do in English (straight A's since the 1st grade, muthafucka), that's how horribly I do in math (straight D's & F's since...birth).
It's like my brain shuts off when someone brings numbers into a conversation & I can't switch it back on.
I don't believe in ADD, by the way.
If you truly have a passion to do something, your brain won't stop you from doing it.
It's when your mind knows you don't give a fuck that it peaces out on you.
So, I went to my advisor the other day & told him about my little issue that I'm having with this math class I'm taking.
Basically, I don't understand shit.
He took me down to this little room where there's a math tutor who stays there all day to help students with their assignments.
Pretty awesome, huh?
So, I took my little behind down there today, so the dude could help me with this project I had due...in less than an hour.
Basically the project entailed me "buying" a house anywhere in the world (I chose Brooklyn, NY) & figuring up all the intrest, loans, down payments, insurance, etc.
All that bullshit.
I walked in that little study room like a ray of fucking sunshine & left like a raincloud.
First off, as soon as I sat down at the table, I noticed everyone in the room, including the cute guy next to me, was doing pre-calculus.
I sat down with my little sheet & proceeded to raise my hand every 3 seconds so the tutor could help me with, you know, every single problem.
At one point, the guy next to me called the tutor over to help him, & the shit he was doing confused the fucking tutor.
They stayed on that one problem for at least 15 minutes until they finally figured it out.
Then the guy looked at me, leaned back in his chair, & started stretching.
He was all:
"That's some Delta shit. That means it's a fraction, on top of a fraction, on top of a fraction. That took a whole fucking page."
If he hadn't have been kind of sexy, I would've punched him right in his stomach.
Thanks for making me feel like a dumbass because I can't figure out what 2+2 is, nevermind the fact I don't even know where I put my calculator.
On the real, though, he was kind of inspiring.
He was maybe a couple years older than me & obviously very bright.
He wasn't bragging to me about the math he was doing.
In fact, he was talking to himself more than anything the whole time we were in there.
I was really impressed with him, I have to say, & it made me want to work harder in math & try to understand things on a better level.
Well, I got to math, handed in my project & proceeded to, once again, shut the fuck down.
I. Just. Can't. Do. It. With. Math.
The whole time the teacher was talking about the metric system, I was thinking about how amazing Calle 13 is & how sexy Immortal Technique is & what I was going to do when I got home & ways to convince Shia LaBeouf to marry me.
In my mind, the only thing I was born to do is write.
Why the fuck do I need to know the metric system or how to be a loan-shark?
I don't care & I refuse to.
Obviously, I've been trying to get my assignments in & I care that they're done well, but when it comes to class...nope.
Guess that's just the way things are.
This may be the last math class I ever have to take in my academic career, so I'm looking forward to it being over & done with.
Been seeing a lot of people I used to know, both from high school & college, who have just given up on the whole school thing & decided to see the world.
Can't say the jealousy isn't there, but I don't have the money & I've been through enough just trying to get into a college, I don't need to go through all of that again after I'm done playing Magellan (shouts to my History nerds!).
Anyway, I'm gonna hit the sack.
I have an online math quiz due at midnight, but Immortal Technique interviews, the pen & paper, & sleep are currently calling my name.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
In the school library as usual...
Currenly rocking the amazing music of the afore pictured men (that's Calle 13, if you ain't know).
For whatever reason, I've fallen back in love with this group & I've been listening to them NONSTOP for the past month or so.
No shit. I woke up at 4 a.m. this morning just to listen to 'Sin Coro' on repeat.
If Residente doesn't have the sexiest voice on the planet, I can't imagine who does.
Anyway, about the fool I was crushing on in my math class:
Looks like I took just a little bit too long to get my game up.
I really don't think he's deserving of his own alias just yet, but to make things a little bit easier, we'll call him...South.
Homeboy carries a lanyard that has "North Carolina" written all over it.
I've spent the majority of this semester trying to figure out what race this kid is.
Obviously, it doesn't matter what the fuck he is, but if you saw him, you'd understand why I'm so curious.
The man is beautiful.
A really, truly handsome guy.
My best guess?
His mom's latin & his father is white.
That's the only way he could get the world's whitest last name & still be as brown & beautiful as he is.
Yesterday, some hoe walked up to him & started a conversation about our math class that somehow really sparked his interest.
When we all went into class, I sat in the back like the punk I am, & they sat next to each other up front.
The motherfuckers talked throughout the entire class, then left early together.
Up until then, I'd never seen South smile, let alone laugh, but he definitely did a lot of that yesterday.
Now don't get me wrong, I know I don't own this guy.
He's a free man & can flirt with whatever girl he wants, but...fuck.
That was supposed to be mine one day.
I'd gotten up early yesterday to do my hair & makeup.
When I first started college, I told myself I would never show up to school looking like a scrub (i.e. no sweat pants, pajamas, wearing sandals if my feet don't look right, shorts if I haven't shaved my legs).
However, the girl South was talking to yesterday was not only wearing sweats, her hair was a mess & her eyeliner was running.
I don't mean to put this whore down, she is a pretty girl.
I'm just saying, though.
I suddenly felt so self-conscious sitting there with all my makeup & tight jeans & shine-spray in my hair.
I'm slightly more dressed down today in a t-shirt, shorts (yes, I shaved my legs), & less-makeup.
I gotta say, I feel a lot more comfortable than I did yesterday.
I didn't do it to get South's attention.
Nah, fuck that.
That ship has sailed.
I didn't feel like going through the motions of my normal routine today & I was too busy shaking my ass to The Saturdays while getting dressed (I almost fell twice).
Sometimes, I just can't figure how I'm always on the wrong-end of things as far as boys go.
I texted my friend out of frustration when South was talking to his new buddy yesterday, but of course, I got ignored.
So, that's probably one of the main reasons you're hearing about this.
Other than that, I'm waiting for Thursday to roll around so I can talk to my advisor about getting out of this God-forsaken history class I'm in.
None of my classes are going right so far, this semester, but I gotta keep my head up.
At least the whole South situation didn't blow up as badly as DisasterCrush or anything like that.
There's some positivity.
I'll let you go for today.
'Baile De Los Pobres' is just begging to be blasted right now.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
In an earlier post, I stated that my goal in life was to go in music journalism & hopefully work within the rock/metal scene.
Yeah, well...I been thinkin'.
I've been mulling over what it is that I really want to do for the rest of my life & I'm starting to see that music journalism probably isn't my calling.
First & foremost, I took a journalism class last semester & it SUCKED.
Absolutely horrible. It made me hate the art of journalism with a passion.
Secondly, I think the main reason I decided to become a music journalist when I was in high school was, duh, to chill with bands.
I had this really skewed idea of what a music journalist really does:
They get press passes to talk to bands for a certain amount of time.
They don't get to choose what member of the band they interview, regardless of how little one of the members may know about...well, anything.
They ask standard questions that the musician has already been asked 300x that day.
Then they throw in a few goofy questions to differentiate themselves from other journalists, before getting kicked out of the tour bus or backstage area where they will soon be forgotten for good.
I've met a lot of bands.
Amongst some of the more well-known are: Stone Sour, Killswitch Engage, Lamb of God, Shadows Fall, Otep, Unearth, The Veronicas...the list goes on & on.
I remember being at a Good Charlotte/New Found Glory show in 2003 right before my 12th birthday.
As the G.C. guys got off-stage, I yelled Chris Wilson, their current drummer's, name & he turned, smiled & waved at me.
I can't tell you how much that little wave meant to me at the time.
More than everything.
Then, that same night, a couple girls & I saw Chad Gilbert from NFG on the side of the stage, standing maybe 10 feet away from us.
He was talking to some chick in an incredibly short mini-skirt & when we yelled his name, he sort of half-assed waved without even looking at us.
I can't tell you how annoyed I was by that.
Pretty fucking annoyed.
More than annoyed.
Sure, in retrospect, I was just an 11 year old fangirl, but I felt like we, as the fans, deserved just a little bit more respect.
Now don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Chad Gilbert for some stupid little incident 8 years ago.
That would be silly.
I give him the benefit of the doubt & maybe the stripper he was talking to was actually a tour manager or something.
He was simply preoccupied & I can see that much more clearly now.
The reason I brought that night up, was because it just shows how much musicians, especially these boys in bands, have always meant to me.
I've had experiences with guys in bands being totally different from the first time I talk to them to the second.
Some get friendlier, some become bigger assholes.
I've known an entire band of married men who tried just about anything to get my friend to sleep with at least one of them.
When she repeatedly said 'no', one of the guys resorted to purposely spilling his drink on her & loudly talking shit about her all night.
I've known a couple bands to be some of the nicest, most geniune groups of people I've ever met. (What's up, Killswitch & Chimaira?)
...& I've met some serious, serious dicks.
Take the lead singer of a band I like to call, JizzVomit.
I see homeboy chillin' by an Unearth-merch table during an Unearth/Slayer show.
His band is pretty local & to this day, still remains pretty unknown.
A couple years earlier, though, they scored an opening slot at Ozzfest & because I had the Ozzfest dvd from that year, I recognized him immediately.
Me: Hey. You're name is Sean, right? You play in JizzVomit?
Him: *makes eye contact for a millisecond before nodding* ...Yeah.
Me: You guys were on Ozzfest a couple years back &...
Him: *turns away from me as if to say "Fuck Off"*
So I did.
Then, this motherfucker had the nerve to stand right behind me during Slayer with his little buddy & talk THE ENTIRE TIME.
No shit, he was talking about how he was nervous about getting blood drawn at the doctor's the next day.
&, yes, his real name is Sean.
I'm probably happier working on this post than he's ever been in that shitty band, so that's the way it's gotta be.
I've learned a lot from these "Boys in Bands".
If you're a fan, stranded in the middle of nowhere like I am, it's not very likely you'll ever become best buds with a band.
They're not gonna take you on tour with them.
They won't ask you to do merch for them.
They won't come visit you unless it's at a nearby venue & they have a show there.
&, Ladies, let that whole "I'm gonna find me a musician" dream go.
If there is one thing I've learned, it's that a lot, not all but a lot, of these dudes live double lives on the road.
A lot of them have no respect for women, be it a small-town groupie or the woman they married.
They. Don't. Care.
I've learned to stop looking up to these guys, because, at the end of the day, they're just guys.
Being in a well-known band doesn't make you God or anything close to the sort.
They're just dudes who either know how to work hard or got lucky.
Don't let anyone act like they got shit on you just because they know how to play guitar.
So, will I be spending the rest of my life working with these boys?
Some aspects of it still sound interesting, but the cons are definitely there, just like any other profession.
Nothing is ruled out as of yet.
I'm just trying to see all of these past few years interacting with bands, in a new light.
I'm currently watching a very well-conducted Immortal Technique interview & it's shit like this that makes me want to stay on the path I've been on for the last 5 years.
It's rare to get to interview someone like Immortal Technique in any genre, but maybe having that one good conversation could make all the other ones worth it.
Then again, maybe not...
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
The life & times of an English major.
Was definitely having blog withdrawl today, for whatever reason.
Maybe it was because I didn't know what the fuck was going on in my English class. My professor is a cellphone nazi & because I forgot to put my watch on this morning, I had to guess what time it was for 50 mins.
Never in my life have I been subjected to such a shitty English class.
That may sound kind of silly to anyone else, but I'm a hardcore English nerd.
I can't remember the last time I didn't ace an English class.
Now I'm in this bullshit short story class & none of the stories speak to me, therefore, I have no interest in the fucking class.
I had to leave class early last week because I had...cramps.
Like murderous fucking cramps.
Not only did the professor mark me off as if I wasn't there at all that day, she acts like she has something against me now.
I realy can't be bothered.
I think I'm gonna go see my advisor tomorrow about dropping the class.
Other than that, all's been pretty quiet on the Western Front.
I'm beyond sick of waking up at 6 three days a week & 7 two days a week.
I'm tired of driving to a different city every morning.
I'm tired of being tired.
...& this is just the beginning.
Looking foreward to Thanksgiving when I'll get some time off & alone.
Until then, I guess I gotta keep on keepin' on.
Time for bed.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
I had never even heard of the Twin Towers before then.
I think a lot of people would like to take this day to sit & dwell on all of the horrible things that happened 10 years ago today, but that's just not the route I'm taking.
My heart goes out to every single person affected by the attacks & you best believe it affected me & my life, but I don't think taking time out to feel shitty about a shitty situation makes anything any better.
If anything, we should all feel fortunate to still be alive...& we should feel that way every day, not just one day of the year.
God bless everyone who lost their life that day.
That's all I'ma say about that.
Anyway, this semester, so far, is much different from the last two.
Not in a bad way, but definitely not in a good way.
I have wayyy too much work in all of my classes & there are very few cute boys in any of them.
There is, however, one guy in my math class who resembles Poetry Boy almost to a T.
It's too early to tell...well, anything about him other than the way he looks, but if he turns out cool, he might get his own alias & more spots on this site.
On the subject of my ex-almost-flames, Poetry Boy & DisasterCrush1, I think it's safe to start calling DisasterCrush1, DisasterCrush.
Let's face it, DisasterCrush2 was beyond a disaster & he fell out of my life almost as quickly as he crashed in.
I haven't given much thought to Poetry Boy in a long time.
I used to feel really down about the fact he moved back to where he was from, hours away from here, but when he moved, it's like he became another person.
Maybe he just went back to being who he was.
Then, who the fuck did I know? Ugh.
I guess, it's good knowing that he's alright.
Same goes for DisasterCrush.
Let's just say, he's not from New York...or North America & he went back to his country over the summer.
I don't know if he's ever coming back, but it won't really matter.
I spend a lot of time waiting for him to delete me from his friends on Facebook.
Who doesn't delete someone they barely knew, even after moving to another fucking continent?
This guy apparently.
On top of that, he's too nice of a guy to do something like that &, again let's face it, I never really mattered that much to him in the first place.
I can accept that now (without crying).
Recently realized DisasterCrush looks a lot like Fabrizio Moretti of The Strokes.
Maybe that helps you get a better idea.
Anyway, I'm listening to an hour-long Oveous Maximus set & I gotta get up early tomorrow, so I better get going.
No one ever "stays" at the college I go to.
People come & go with every semester.
Some poeple have been there for years & years on end.
& some, like DisasterCrush & Poetry Boy, spend 4 months there & are never heard from again.
Maybe this isn't the best place to find anyone but yourself.
I guess college isn't always about the opposite sex, but shit, that's all you ever think about while you're there.
My brother called tonight & asked me if I've been out lately, hanging with friends or anything & i can't tell you how tired I am of my relatives asking me that question.
I'm in a one-horse town & I DON'T PARTY.
Everyone I used to know likes to drink & drug & watch Jersey Shore & fuck each other.
I just can't do any of that.
The only person my age I know who felt the same way was Poetry Boy.
I guess it's rare to be an adult when you become an adult.
The reason I decided to post tonight was because I'm slowly starting to let go of the two people that have almost dominated this site.
It's been a full year since I started classes with Poetry Boy & over 6 months since DisasterCrush.
Now they're both gone & I'm still constantly talking about them.
It's nice to have some sort of dream to hold on to when you're bored or lonely & that's kind of the purpose they served to me.
Those times have passed & I need to start looking forward to the future.
What the future is, I have no idea, but I know it has nothing to do with this 22 page "short" story I'm reading for homework tonight.
I better get my ass in the bed.
I bought City & Colour's new album, "Little Hell", last night & I passed out in the halfway through it.
Here's to the even more amazing second half.
Goodnight. <3 br="br">3>
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
I was going through one of my old yearbooks from 2001-2002, 2 days ago & I started Facebooking random people that I haven't seen since then.
Yes, this is the same school I attended with RichKid & no, this is not about him again.
...He's seems kind of gay these days, anyway.
I didn't add the people I looked up, I just kind of wondered whatever happened to a few of them, especially the class of '02 (there were only 8 seniors that year).
It was kind of sad & kind of amazing.
One girl I remember very well, was AMAZING at art when she was in 12th grade.
This girl could draw like you wouldn't believe & the entire art room in our school was COVERED wall-to-wall with the portaits she was always drawing.
I found out, she's a veterinarian now.
Some of the others are parents, some are married, one moved to Italy...
I also realized, I've had a crush on the same guy for 10 years now.
Let's call him..."Senior".
Senior & I are friends on Facebook but we don't talk...mainly because we're 6 years apart & that's probably a little weird, for him at least.
I don't even know why he accepted my friend request 3 years ago.
I remember, in 6th grade, I'd always try to take the computer next to him if he just so happened to be in the computer room at the same time.
Senior was in 12th grade when I was in 6th, but even looking back at my yearbooks as an "adult", this kid didn't look 17.
You know how when you're a kid, high schoolers look like grown folks, then you get older & you realize they were just kids themselves?
Yeah, this dude is nothing like that.
He looked like a grown-ass man in high school, complete with a tall, strong stature, facial hair & tattoos.
Now, that it's been nearly 10 years since I've actually seen this dude in person, I gotta say, he grew up quite nicely.
He's just as handsome as he's always been, he graduated from college, & he joined the Navy.
...Senior did alright for himself & that's always good to see with anyone.
It got me thinking about how I used to be when I went to that school.
I know we've already talked about it in my RichKid post, but sometimes it still really bothers me.
I have no idea how I've changed so much in so little time.
I guess that's adolesence: You shouldn't be the same person at 20 you were at 11.
...I was such a loser.
Not like the nerd-that-gets-thrown-in-the-garbage-can-for-being-too-smart kind of loser.
No, far from that.
I was a genuinely, lost kid who didn't know how to behave myself for the life of me.
Maybe it was because my mom was working all the time or maybe I just need to be on some kind of chill pill, but I get so embarassed by myself in retrospect, sometimes I can't even stand to look back.
How did I even have friends back then?
I know the remedy for this: Learn from your mistakes.
All that I should be taking away from those 2 years is how to make myself better...right?
If I ever ended up talking to Senior, or anyone else from that school that I'm not already in contact with, I'd feel ridiculous trying to explain who I am.
I don't look the same, talk the same, or act the same but...What if they actually remembered me?
That thought bums me way the hell out.
If I could go back & change everything I fucked up in the school, I wouldn't even know where to begin.
Maybe I'd stop talking so much.
Stop wearing sweatpants under my kilt.
Try not to bring up Good Charlotte as much.
Do my homework.
Brush my hair.
As far as Senior goes, he was just a passing thought within this stupid delimma.
Even if I did have the chance to go back, I pray to God there's no way 17 year old Senior could ever develop a crush on 11 year old me.
Ugh, can I get an "Amen"?
I guess, I just feel like I'm finally starting to like myself & I wish the all the people who knew me back when & still remain friends with each other, could understand that I'm not that person anymore.
I'm not about to beg to be anyone's friend, but some vindication would be greatly appreciated.
I don't know where this is going or if I'm even making any sense.
I was just thinking about that school & Senior & the way thinks used to be, & it all seems so far away now.
Almost like a really vivid daydream.
Because of those years, however, I still feel very cautious & self-aware every second of every day.
Like I'm always about to fuck up, or annoy someone or look like I don't care about my appearance.
...Maybe that's why I like makeup so much.
I never want to look back at another point of my life & feel the way I do about those years.
It's a horrible feeling.
Alas, I'm not in 5th or 6th grade anymore.
I'm 20 years old in college with a whole slew of new assholes to introduce the real me to on a daily basis.
Maybe that's the silver lining in all of this mess.
The new semester was supposed to start back up today, but thanks to the lovely Irene, class were cancelled until 12.
Lucky for me, my last class was supposed to end at 12.
Unlucky for me, I got up at 6...& I'm still awake.
I don't even remember my first day of school last semester.
It feels less like a year ago & more like 3 years ago.
I remember it being insanely hot outside & everyone was outside.
No shit. It was like no one had classes to go to.
Everybody was playing frisbee or smoking cigarettes or laying out in the middle of the goddamn campus trying to catch a tan.
It's strange to think that I met Poetry Boy a year ago.
That feels more like a couple months ago.
It's strange that I haven't seen him since Dec. 18th, even though I feel like I was just in class with him yesterday.
It's kind of creepy how fast life starts moving once you get out of high school.
Anyway, I'm exhausted so my thoughts probably aren't making much sense to anyone who isn't.
That was a disclaimer & it probably should've been stated before everything else, but fuck it.
_ _ _ _ _ _
I wrote all of that yesterday, then took a nap & forgot I even wrote it.
Sooo...here we are.
It's the first day of school & I've already had my fair share of shitty moments.
1. The dude at Starbucks seriously fucked up my order (how hard is it to give me a fucking pack of brown sugar?).
2. Then, at the end of my first class, someone had to tell me that the sticker was still on my new jeans.
You know, the long-ass, hot pink sticker that has my size written on it in HUGE WHITE LETTERS.
Well, I guess I'm not gigantic, but it still sucked.
Thank God, the chick who told me was all cool & whispered it to me...it made me feel like I was in the Secret Service or some shit.
...& Thank God I was standing right next to a garbage can, so I could discreetly peel it off my jeans & toss it.
So, so far, so...decent.
I'm on a 2 hour break now & since I obviously have no homework yet & I don't want to lose my parking spot, looks like I'm stuck here in the library for a while.
I'd normally give you an update on the boy situation, but when I showed up to school today, there was a fog so thick on the campus, you could only see about 4 feet in front of you.
That makes it hella difficult to check out guys.
Now, it's beautiful & I'm kind of wishing I was outside, but I'm gonna fight that urge.
Let me go, before I start rambling again.
I'll catch up with you later...
Friday, August 19, 2011
Disclaimer: I typed this shit up long before my little Tupac post below, even though it sounds a bit similar.
I just wanted to pay some homage to another one of my favorite musicians.
Hopefully, I'll be able to do these a more often, just to give the world a heads up on the best shit out there.
I've had this story sort of stewing around in my head for the last...7 years or so.
For those who do not know, Amos Lee is an incredible folky/blues singer-songwriter based out of Philly who's been one of my favorite artists since the very first time I heard his voice.
When I was 14 in 2005, my mom took me down to NYC to see the Radio City Music Hall Christmas Show (...fuck you, those Rockettes are bad bitches).
While I was there, I of course had to hit up the Virgin Megastore for as much shit as my mom could possibly afford me.
If you ever had the chance to go to the Virgin Megastore in Times Square (that's now supposedly a Forever 21...lame), you know that it was 3 stories of pure entertainment.
CDs, DVDs, vinyl, t-Shirts, books, & magazines from every country imaginable.
Anything & everything a 14 girl could ever want was in that damn store.
However, once I started looking around, I guess I got a little overwhelmed & I started picking up the most random shit like a mad woman.
No shit, my arms were FULL of stuff that I didn't even really want.
I remember holding a jacket that said 'Brasil' on it even though I knew nothing about Brasil, a CD of traditional Italian music (I was on a weird Italian kick, back then), & a Bob Marley box set even though I'd never thought to listen to Bob Marley.
I don't know what I was thinking.
I remember being really sweaty, walking very briskly & being extremely flustered trying to grab every little thing I saw.
Once I'd murdered the first two levels of the store, I made my way up to the 3rd floor, arms still completely full of Brazilian, Italian, & Jamacian nonsense.
I somehow managed to free one of my arms long enough to start going through the CD racks.
In the middle of Mission: Put My Mom in Debt Forver, a song came on.
Obviously music had been playing the whole time I'd been in the store, but I didn't pay attention to any of it.
I was on a mission, remember?
Well, I paid attention to this song.
I literally stopped dead in my tracks, & froze like a deer in headlights.
It was the most beautiful song I'd ever heard & I couldn't imagine whose voice it could possibly be coming out of those speakers.
You ever see those strange shots they do in music videos where the singer will be moving at normal pace but the entire city around them is flying by at 1000 miles an hour?
That's what it felt like.
I was in Times Square, paralyzed by a song that I felt like only I could hear.
I asked my mom to ask a store worker what the name of the song was & who it was by & when she came back holding Amos Lee's Supply & Demand album, I literally laid everything I'd been holding in my death grip on the floor & walked away from it with ease.
The only thing I bought in the store that day was Amos Lee's album.
Later on, we went to the Hard Rock Cafe & I bought a little blue teddy bear & named him Amos (shouts to my bear!).
It was freezing on the ride home & I remember putting Amos's CD in my little Walkman & refusing to listen to that one song I'd heard in Virgin.
The reason for this was simple: I didn't want to lose the feeling it gave me...ever.
So I listened to the entire album over & over & fell in love with every song.
At one point, I decided to give in & allow myself to only listen to the FIRST line of the song, then I had to change it & save it for when I got home, where I could fully enjoy it in the quiet confines of my bedroom.
He sung the first line, I got chills, broke into an uncontrollable smile & felt my whole life getting better & better.
I feel like I could go on all day about Amos Lee...because I could.
I wasn't an avid blues or folk listener before listening to Amos, in fact, I was a complete raging metalhead, but when someone puts their heart & soul into their music, there's no mistaking it & there is no escaping it.
You will feel it whether you choose to acknowledge it or not.
I finally got to see Amos live last November & it was one of the best shows I've ever seen.
Between songs he had this crazy self-effacing attitude (he even apologized to the owners of the theatre for not filling every single seat), then he would sing & the entire mood of the room would change.
Like every bad vibe had just been thrown out.
I often feel like I seem a little dramatic when I talk about musicians, like Amos Lee, like they're some sort of saviors or something.
It's not like that.
It's the fact I can still listen to that same song I heard in a now non-exsistent music store almost 7 years ago, & I'll still get that little pain in my chest when I hear the first line.
That's what it all comes down to & that's why I always speak so passionately of my favorite artists.
I was in Woodstock, NY not too long ago & Amos' new song "Flower" came on while I was eating in an outdoor restaurant.
I, of course, got all excited & wondered if anyone else had picked up on the song for the first time, right then & there like I did in NYC.
I truly believe one song, one artist or one album can change your life.
The name of the song is "Careless", by the way.
Amos Lee's music will always have a special place in my heart.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
I'm just sitting here chilling & listening to "Changes" by 2Pac on repeat.
Everytime I hear this song, I think back to the first time I ever heard it.
It was when I was in 6th grade & I had my radio on blast while I was taking a bath.
That song came on & blew my fucking mind.
I think there will always be songs you hear early on in your life, that when you listen to them years later, you still get the feeling they first gave you 15+ years ago.
This is definately one of them for me.
As soon as that chorus comes in, I can still see myself in the bath in the old house I moved out of 9 years ago.
I can still remember what time of day it was & how the room was illuminated by sunlight.
& I can still feel everything that song made me feel the first time it graced my 11 year old ears.
Tupac Shakur has an immortal soul that forver lives through his music.
Friday, August 5, 2011
I guess almost a month flew by without me posting.
I had a little somethin'-somethin' going on that was stressing me out a bit, & it ended up working out just fine.
So, I'm back.
I was out running errands all day yesterday, even though it was 300 degrees & I was wearing a black sweatshirt (don't ask).
One place I went was to Barnes & Noble to pick up Jason Myers latest novel, Dead End .
For those who do not know, Jason Myers is my favorite author.
Even though he's labeled as "teen fiction" & I stopped reading that recycled shit when I was 13, this dude has a way of writing stories like no one I've ever come across before.
I told myself last night, I'd read the first chapter, then watch a movie & hit that sack.
That turned into me reading the first 6 chapters, watching a movie & hitting the sack.
I love everything about Mr. Myers' writing & I hope to be half as good one day.
Read Exit Here if you haven't already.
Another one of my pit-stops was, of course, my college.
I can't escape that fucking place.
Although I've been chilling harder than hard all Summer, I've still been taking next semester into serious thought a lot lately.
I'm too shy for my own good, especially when it comes to attractive guys, & that's something that I'm always promising myself to work on...but I never do.
Maybe it's just the way I am & the way I'm supposed to be, but that can't be true if I'm always unhappy with the end results, right?
I did really well in school last semester & I've had a few little accomplishments this Summer, so I guess maybe I thought when school starts back up again, I'll be ready to take on the world...or at least one of it's men.
Leaving the financial aid office yesterday, I saw one of the most gorgeous guys...like, ever.
A) Walk up to him & introduce myself, like a strong confident woman?
B) Fake a slip n' fall at his feet so he'd help me up?
C) Ask him if he had the time, just to break the ice?
I saw him coming with a group of his friends & once his head began to turn in my direction, I looked away as quickly as possible, refusing to look back at him just in case he...I don't know... saw me?
I'd wisely left the house wearing, yes, my black sweatshirt, torn up boyfriend-jeans & a pair of sneakers I've had since I was in 10th grade which have multi-colored gummy bears printed all over them.
In other words, I looked like fucking hell & a half.
I was hoping the guy didn't see my sweaty, gummy bear-covered ass at all & then I wondered why I always leave the house looking like a crazy person if I don't want anyone to think anything of me.
Still haven't figured that one out.
Anyway, this lucky girl has school 5 days a week next semester.
That's 5 days a week to make new friends.
5 Days a week to meet new people.
& 5 days a week to get my heart broken.
It's always something with me, isn't it?
I'm not making any plans to find a new best friend or fall in love, because you can't plan that kind of shit out.
Hope is what I got, so we'll see.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
No, not me, stupid.
The infamous Jonny Craig.
As much as I hate posting video after video, I think it was more than neccesary in this case.
I was going through my drafts yesterday & I found an old draft about Jonny Craig that I ended up not posting because I was just too...over his bullshit fucking antics to care.
Every post I write about Jonny Craig, I say the same thing: I don't care about his self-serving personality & all the terrible things he does in his life. The only thing I care about is this man's voice.
Anyone who listens to Jonny Craig, Emarosa or Dance Gavin Dance knows about his huge "Mac Book Scam" that happened earlier this year & ended with Jonny getting shipped off to rehab & ultimately kicked out of Emarosa.
I don't know what this dude's problem is.
Better yet, I don't know what my problem is.
I should probably feel horribly disrespected by the same musician I tell everyone I adore.
I only listened to Emarosa after Jonny joined the band & now that he's gone, I can't say I still have any interest toward them.
I stopped listening to Dance Gavin Dance after they kicked Jonny out & started listening again now that they've rehired him.
I stayed up & downloaded his solo album at midnight the day it came out...then I went out the next week & bought the physical copy.
I've been the best supporter I could possibly be to this man & it's like all he does is spit in my face.
Jonny keeps claiming to be clean since he got out of rehab in February & I hope it's true.
I can't explain how excited I am about this acoustic EP.
It's really all I've ever wanted from him.
This video has restored my faith in Jonny & his amazing gift.
His voice means more to me than anyone could ever imagine.
I just want him to be good for once...
Sunday, July 17, 2011
This video has become my life in the last 24 hours.
Rafael Casal (the handsome fool telling the stories) is one of my favorite poets/spoken word artists of all time & these stories are exactly why I need to move downstate to The City.
I've been really busy these past few days.
My nephews came in on Monday & just left on Friday (I think...).
Yeah, still nowhere near ready to be a parent.
I have to go to my college tomorrow & ask them what the fuck it is that they've been asking me for, for the past month.
They keep sending me notifications, telling me to send them the info they requested but they never requested anything & the letters don't say what it is that they want.
I wish I had more to talk about but I really don't.
I'm developing a strange crush on someone I REALLY shouldn't have a crush on, but that's a whole nother baseball game & I'm in no position to pitch.
Since my nephews have been here & they get up at, like, 4 o'clock in the morning, I've been going to bed around 10 & waking up around 8...which is crazy shit for me.
Still watching Immortal Technique interviews like they're going out of style.
Currently reading 4 books at once because I couldn't commit to just one, for some reason.
Currently waiting for 10 o'clock so I can pass the fuck out.
I'm gonna work on some drafts so maybe next time, I might actually have something interesting to talk about.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Let's get one thing straight: The person I portray myself to be on this blog is who I really am.
These are my real thoughts, real opinions & real words.
Sometimes I think this is the only "public" place I can actually be myself.
I've been trying really hard this summer to change for the better, as best I can.
Anyone who reads this blog most likely knows me better than anyone who knows me in real life & I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that this does not mean my constant stories, shit-talk, & rants are going to become few & far between.
I'm just starting to realize what a hard time I have keeping people I love in my life.
It's like an impossible task.
Take The "Friend" from the previous post for example.
I loved that girl with all my heart & I told her that every day.
I even forgave her for what she did to me with Kristian.
But come Senior year, she started hanging out with a whole new gang of Sophomores & Juniors & began completely ignoring me.
She moved back to her hometown 4 hours away shortly after we graduated high school & though we're still in contact with eachother, I have no idea who she is anymore.
I remember taking a wallk with her at about 1 o'clock in the morning back when we were 16 & she asked me: "Do you think we'll still be friends in 10 years?"
I, of course, said yes, adding that she better still be my friend after all the shit we'd gotten into that summer.
The "Friend" personally kicked every friend I'd had before her out of my life.
She even got into a physical fight with the only friend I'd had throughout junior high.
She fucked every guy I liked.
She made friends with everyone I dreamed of being friends with.
In the in end, all I had was The "Friend".
So when she decided to stop hanging out with me & start haning out with the underclassmen, I was left with no one.
Now that I'm 20 years old, out of high school & a full-time college student, I find that not only has the drama-level dropped substantially, but so has my tolerance for it.
I'm learning that there are very few people I can trust to tell me the truth...epecially as far as chicks go.
I'm not a normal 20 year old girl & that's a fact I've learned to live with.
I don't get drunk.
I don't smoke weed.
I don't "hook up".
I don't party.
My idea of fun is a good book or a creative idea to write on.
I don't require a lot of attention.
However, I do enjoy having true friends that I can chill & shoot the shit with.
I'm slowly starting to discover that even that may be too much to ask for.
I've spent the majority of this summer vacation by myself (I got out of school in early May) & despite what people promised me about hanging out, none of them have come through.
In fact, I made a good friend this semester & the minute school ended, she stopped talking to me.
I really don't understand what everyone's problem is.
If I'm that dull or that uncool, don't get involved with me.
Look, I'm dancing around the fucking issue.
Someone I've called a friend for 8 years continues to tell me they want to hang out but then they switch it up & say they're too busy with work to chill.
They're a workaholic with bills to pay, so I totally believe it.
Then when I get on Facebook, every night is a fucking party with them.
They go out & get drunk, they chill with their friends at their place (I still have never been to their place) & they go out on road trips contantly.
I just don't get what the lies are all about.
If you don't want to see me anymore, that's fine.
Why tell me the opposite?
I was depending on this friend to help me with something I've been struggling with but now it's clear that I'm going to have to figure it out myself.
I'm just tired of it...& I'm too fucking old for it.
I don't know what I'm getting at here.
I'm starting to believe that come next semester, I'm going to be leery about making new friends.
Maybe I just need myself, after all.
This summer is giving me a chance to catch up with myself & become who I really am.
I guess that's the most important thing after all.
Bitches are toxic.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
I was up reading some old diary entries last night when I came across a name I'd long since forgotten:
Yes, that's his real name & no I don't feel strange about using it.
It all began during the second semester of 11th grade when Kristian, this football-player-lookin' Latino boy, randomly showed up in my English class, fresh from Florida.
I really don't know what it was about Kristian that first caught my attention.
He was a husky guy with curly black hair, & he always had this pissed-off attitude toward the teacher that cracked everyone up.
One thing I know for sure, though, is that I fell in love with this boy's smile.
To this day, I can't place what made Kristian's smile so incredible, but I found myself talking to him & forming a friendship just to see him smile every day.
At the time, I was best friends with a girl...we'll call her The "Friend".
The "Friend" was my life.
I would text this girl all though class, she would come over to my house after school & then after she went home, we'd talk on the phone or MySpace all night.
At some point, I confided in The "Friend" that I'd developed a crush on Kristian.
It had become more than just his smile.
He proved his writing skills when he read a poem he wrote that stunned the entire class.
Even when this dude was being a dick, you couldn't hate him because he had an intelligent way of doing everything.
The "Friend" thought it was the cutest thing ever that I had a crush on Kristian.
She was one of those girls that had no inhibitions & believed very strongly in going after whoever you want, no matter what you think they may think of you.
The "Friend" was also a whore.
She kept urging me to tell Kristian that I liked him or ask him to hang out with me after school, but, you know me, I figured I could inch my way slowly into his heart just by talking to him & making him smile.
No such luck.
During the 15 minute break we got every day at school, I was headed to my next class when I noticed Kristian & The "Friend" up against a wall with their hands all over each other...in front of my fucking classroom.
I looked at them, they both looked at me, & then I turned on my heel & walked back in the opposite direction.
I was expecting for The "Friend" to maybe chase after me & apologize or at least text me & explain herself but she never did.
After that day, it became a routine for The "Friend" & Kristian to be making out outside of my classroom every day during break.
She would leave him all kinds of cutesy comments on his MySpace, giving him pet names, making him #1 in her "Top 8" & me #2, & mentioning that while she was leaving him a comment, they were also currently talking on the phone.
They apparently slept on the phone together every night...you know, the little trick where neither person hangs up & you listen to each other's breathing/snoring over the phone all night?
Yeah, they did that shit.
The "Friend" would tell me about how they'd hang out after school, smoke weed in the woods behind the school, then go back inside high as fuck & laugh their asses off at everything.
I honestly believed that this bitch was so stupid, she completely forgot about my confession to her & because she was my only friend, I didn't want to lose her by acting betrayed by her selfish actions.
As Junior year started to wind down, Kristian announced that he'd be moving back to Florida in a week or so & wouldn't be there for the last few weeks of 11th grade or any of 12th.
Kristian's last day of school was ironically the day we didn't have English so I figured that the last time I'd seen him would be the last time I'd ever see him again.
Irony struck again when I got called into the main office & when I got to the top of the stairs leading to the office, Kristian was just walking out.
He told me he was leaving & I tried to say "I know" like I didn't give a fuck.
However, when he asked for a hug goodbye, I automatically started crying when he wrapped his arms around me.
I guess I was more mad than anything.
Mad that everything had gone so wrong.
Mad that nothing had gotten fixed.
Mad that he was leaving for good & I would be stuck with The "Friend", who had hurt me so badly, I had a hard time even looking at her.
As soon as Kristian realized I was crying, he was like:
"I know why you're crying."
I told him he didn't know shit about why I was crying & he would never know.
And he responded with:
"No, trust me. I know."
And I could tell the bastard fucking knew.
Then he walked away like they do on Law & Order after they drop one of their corny-ass lines.
So The "Friend" not only remembered how I felt about Kristian but told him about it & they still went on doing everything that they were doing.
It bothered me to think I sat in class with Kristian every day & fuddy-buddied around with him even though he was not only fucking my best friend but fully-aware I had a crush on him.
It bothered me even more that after all I'd done for The "Friend" she'd done this to me in return.
Like I said, though, Kristian was smart.
The "Friend", not so much.
17 year old girls are no joke.
They are amongst the most evil people on Earth & are not to be trusted with anything.
I did see Kristian again a couple years after that day, but we won't say where...
In the wise words of 3OH!3:
Don't Trust A Hoe. Never Trust A Hoe.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Okay, so I just spent about 30 mintutes trying to find a video to add above this post because every fucking video I wanted had its embedding code disabled.
Decided to go with an Oveous Maximus poem...just cause he's always relevant in my life.
I can't get enough of Ove's poetry & I love how funny (& a little strange) he is.
So how's summer been going for me?
I haven't done shit in about 3 weeks.
No shit. Nothing.
I've had some very minor family drama going on, but that's something I'm not sure I need to be getting into on the internet.
It mainly invovles me & another family member & since my mom (a.k.a. the only person in my family I have a strong relationship with) doesn't want to talk about it, I've been struggling with it on my own.
Let me put it this way:
I hate when people don't come through with what they say they're going to do.
& I hate when people decide to finally make an effort after 20 years worth of opportunities has already gone by.
The nice thing about being an adult is, I get to make my own decisions about who comes in & out of my life.
Drama hunts women down like they got their period in a shark tank & I refuse to be another victim of it.
I fucking hate games.
So since my summer 2011 has been so unbelievably eventful, I've had a lot of time to think about what next semester is going to be like.
Ridiculously busy, obviously.
I have classes every single day & I'm considering dropping a class or three already.
My summer days so far have been filled with lethal amounts of Immortal Technique interviews, take-out & conflicted feelings.
I've been falling alseep around 5 a.m. every night (morning?) & waking up at 11 or 12 in the afternoon.
I don't know what my deal is.
I guess that's just the way summer vacay goes.
On the real though, I've been listening to a lot of The Saturdays.
Yup, the bubble-gum, picture-perfect girl group from the U.K.
Literally cannot stop listening to them.
...It's becoming a problem.
I'm slowly slipping out of my 6 year obsession with The Veronicas & I'm thinking maybe my heart is just trying to fill the void that they're leaving, but whatever.
The Saturdays are currently my head bitches & I'm not ashamed to say it.
On the subject of The Veronicas, however, I will hopefully be able to explain all unanswered questions in a post I've been working on for, I don't know, forever.
Every time I try to add to the post, I have to change something I said in the beginning because my feelings toward that band fluctuate so often.
I never had a hard time falling in love with those girls, it's just staying in love with them that has proved itself nearly impossible.
I'll try to crank that post out as soon as possible so everything I'm saying becomes a little more clear.
It's currently 1:20 a.m. & I'm listening to an Immortal Technique video interview with some hooker.
I keep flipping back & forth between that tab & this tab & let's just say, I'd rather be looking at this blindingly-white post box than watch this awkward, uninterested, fidgety woman interview one of the most amazing men on the planet.
I'm just listening his responses & then zoning out to the sound of my typing while she asks him questions.
Every time I flip back to the interview, she's standing closer to him.
This bitch literally has him pushed up against a counter.
I guess that's one way to get answers.
Anyway, I'm rambling.
Time for me to forget to wash my face & hit the sack.
Talk to you soon.