To ten million fireflies I'm weird because I hate goodbyes...

I haven't posted a legit entry on here for over a month. Oh dear, oh dear. I've been working +/- full time and at night I'm either busy with friends, invested in something from Netflix (most dangerous invention ever) or passed out in my bed. So, ironically, the thing that's got me thinking the most (working with kids) is keeping me from getting those thoughts down on virtual paper. Not necessarily a bad thing; the kids are one of the few things keeping me sane this summer. Actually, leaving them is going to make the summer ending really hard. I mean, maybe I'll be back next summer and maybe I'll see some/most of them, but there are no guarantees on any of that. And really I just wanna stick around and watch them grow up and see them every day forever and ever. But that seems on the edge of living vicariously through a bunch of kids that I barely know, and really I should be finding my own life, so yeah

     Anyhow. Childhood. Going away. Way too quickly. It didn't really hit me until I was sitting in a movie theater watching Toy Story 3. Funny, I never cry at movies, even if they're really, truly heartbreaking.  But I shed a few tears and would've been flat out bawling if the guy behind me had silenced his phone, or maybe even if he'd just selected a ringtone that wasn't "Who Let the Dogs Out" (By the way...Baha Men==>Bahaman? Mind was recently blown). I was relieved that I had such an obnoxious person behind me that made me roflmao during a very emotional part of the movie; I would've been totally embarrassed  if I'd been weeping at an animated picture about a bunch of toys. I remember not even liking Toy Story when it first came out (I think more than anything them getting chased by that dog scared me...I guess liked the series by the time I was around 11 and saw the second one. I thought Jessie was pretty cool). But I really wasn't that invested in any of the characters before this, and, again, as emotionally driven as I usually am, I never cry at movies. So why was I crying?

     I mean, I'd been spending all day with kids for a few weeks at that point and they'd been saying how sad it was.So maybe I was just expecting to be sad. But I think more than anything I could relate to Andy's character a lot. When I was a kid he was a kid in the first two movies, so I guess I've sort of grown up with him. And maybe I didn't cry at Water because I've never been widowed or sent to a widow's ashram as a result. But I have gone away to college and left lots of stuff behind. And I've been made to give away my toys, and worse, I've lost one that I really cared about.

I got Push Push when I was...I want to say 4...from my cousin as a Christmas gift. I immediately forgot about all the barbie dolls and accompanying accessories I had received, embraced the baby harp seal, and exclaimed "I love it!". I didn't really know what seals were, mind you, but this was the cutest, most cuddly thing I'd seen in my whole 4 years of existence. I started to play with her, making that sounds that I'd imagined a seal would say, which turned out to be something like, "puuuush! puuuush!", hence the gorgeous name. And from that day on we were inseparable. Push Push went to pre-school with me every day, and with me to my babysitter's. Obviously she was soon not white and fluffy, but I learned that adolescent harp seals are a more mottled gray, so I just played it off as my little girl growing up. I freaked out if I left her at my grandmother's or at a friend's house. My best friend had a similar seal named Sealy, and I was really excited for Push Push to have a friend.

 And I didn’t stop with just one friend for her. The next year we were going to send my cousin’s son a stuffed seal as a present in gratitude for my seal. But on the car ride home from Toys R Us I became attached to it, and my mom eventually gave in and I ended up with a second seal, Softy (Which would come in handy like 8 years later…keep that in mind). And then, over the years, I acquired upwards of 20 seal toys, figurines, books (some on tape), pictures, and whatnot. When I had to make a ceramic animal in middle school art class—a harbor seal. Even when I had to map a species for 12^th grade ecology—the Galapagos Fur Seal, which is threatened due to global warming (their fur means they need relatively cold water—relatively since they live on the equator and all) (I’m refraining from a rant about the seal fur trade, but I needed to throw a “save the seals!” in there somewhere). In fact, Woofy Seal, my former open-relationship companion on Facebook, who is 3 ft long, accompanied me on an ecology field trip to the Jersey shore (No, we didn’t pump our fists and party with Snooki; rather we counted blades of dune grass), in our crammed minivan, after my teacher explicitly said not to make the car look like a slumber party. Teacher may not have appreciated it, but I’m sure Woofy loved learning about aquatic ecosystems.

But, yeah, those grungy little plush animals with oversized eyes and blood-stained, ripped blankies and cowboys that say “You’re my favorite deputy!” can mean a lot. Even the less significant toys meant a lot to me—I remember the little cliques I had my Polly Pockets form (since 10 year old girls think in terms of cliques and all), and the personalities I gave the paper dolls I cut out of American Girl magazine (weird since they were real people with real personalities living out there somewhere). I have no clue what movie the plastic figure of the little girl in a canoe I got in a Burger King meal is from, but I remember how she always played the lost little orphan that another toy would take in. Kids put a lot of thought into these things, and it sucks that something they paid so much attention to often gets stuffed in a bag and kicked to the curb.

I mean, sometimes you have to get rid of things and it’s nice to give things you don’t use often to other people, but more thought/care should really go into something like that when toys can mean so much; sure, they’re cute and cuddly or shiny and fast, but I like to view them as mementos of a time when everything was new and exciting, when being asked what you’re going to be when you grow up is a fun question. A more innocent time, when death was something that happened to animated Disney parents and the ants that were crawling onto your sandwich and not to people you knew and when someone having a crush on you just meant they wanted to hold your hand at lunch (hell, a time when sex was completely nonexistent in your mind, and if it did exist it was just a word you giggled at because you knew it was naughty, even if you had no idea what it meant). To a simpler time, when a good day meant you got ice cream after dinner and your favorite episode of Rugrats was on and when school was about what you could learn in the here and now, and not what you (c/w/sh)ould do in the future. 

When you're always around people who have lost sight of that time, you're likely to forget it, too and get caught up in the rat race (I was gonna abandon that cliche but I just quoted Owl City on my Tumblr...actually "Fireflies" is what inspired me to sit down and write this tonight...so I'm a pretty cliched person. I wanna hate the song but I love it) I just wish that when approaching the issue of "growing up", people would make more of a distinction between moving on to a new stage of your life and completely abandoning the things and ideas you valued for upwards of a decade of your life. Being with kids and the stuffed animals that they insist have their own pillow and blanket at naptime and Legos that they fight over and silly bandz that they fling at their siblings has reminded me of the things I used to love and probably still would if it were okay for a 20 year old to enthuse over American Girl dolls and aspire to act in a production of "Annie" (I guess I could be Miss Hannigan, but...) and watch 9 episodes of The Land Before Time in a row (oh wait, I just did that one yesterday...I sure love having friends who aren't too "cool" for Little Foot and Ducky). Anyways, I'm overjoyed that in a few weeks most of my interactions will once again be with people my own age, but this jaunt down memory lane has definitely restored some of my faith in this world/in people. Sure, finding genuinely good people is always possible, but I think it's way easier to find them in a group of children.

I got misty eyes as they said farewell
But I'll know where several are
If my dreams get real bizarre
Because I saved a few and I keep them in a jar

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake when I'm asleep
Because everything is never as it seems

Sorry for the saccharine attack. If this entry gave you a toothache, beware of the upcoming sequel to this, about best friends.

Facebook Fan Pages: Obnoxious or All in Good Fun?

I'm not quite a notorious fanner/liker, but I'm pretty bad, I'll admit. But sometimes I can't help myself. Yes, there are some dumb ones and some with spelling and grammar so horrific that I can't bring myself to fan them (a frequent conflict for me: If I come across a fan page that describes my life perfectly, but misuses your/you're, do I still fan it? Often, I'm tempted to remake the page with the correct usage so all those who care about grammar as much as I do would join my forces, but that'd feel like plagarism. Surely I'm overthinking this). Anyways, usually I really like Fanpages. The pop culture references, if not clever, are still pretty fun and the ones about life's little idiosyncrasies are really cute; it's nice to know other people do the silly things that I do and notice the silly little things I notice. The ones about people's texting and Facebooking habits might be my favorites; I like knowing that when not using face-to-face communication, the person I'm talking to might be doing the same equally quirky things as I'm doing.

Anyways, I'm not sure if this should go on Tumblr or on here, but I'll post it here and maybe this time it'll import to Tumblr correctly:

If I could sum up my life in 10 Facebook Fan Pages:

1. Saying: 'I'm a fan of that on faacebook [sic]' in real life.
2. Throwing your phone away from you after sending a risky text
3. My email address is stupid because i made it when i was 11.
4. YES. my status is from a song. its a subtle message to you. take a hint.
5. I Hate Stinkbugs (For anyone in Pennsylvania, or any other place unfortunate to have them)
6. I Hate it When You're Nice to the Weird Kid, and Then They Stalk Your Life (Seriously, story of my life)
7. Wawa at 3 in the Morning (Another one for you Philly types)
8. Meowing at a cat when it meows at you (Rainbow Flower and I have some great conversations. Yes, I have a cat named Rainbow Flower. We've been over this, right?)
9. Nobody can ever guess my nationality correctly... (My other FB friends who are fans of this are mixed race, too)
10. 11:12...Damn (Happens all too often)


And while we're on the topic of wishes, for good measure, one that doesn't describe my life, but is a perfect combination of pop culture, childhood nostalgia, meta-commentary on Facebook trends under the guise of a facebook trend itsself [Most fan pages seem to be one of these]:

I could really use a wish right now...LOL jk i'm timmy turner

 (If you read my last entry, surely you understand)

The counselors at the Girl Scout Camp, they say they're mighty fine, but when you go to meet them, they look like Frankenstein!

Hello, readers! To all my STL readers, I miss you like whoa and you all should come to Pennsylvania and play Yeah Dude with me right now.

So thus far, epic RENT night aside, my summer’s consisted of looking up animal hybrids on Wikipedia (check out the puma/leopard mix, the dwarf pumapard), checking my FormSpring which you all should ask me questions on, playing Treasure Isle on Facebook extensively and listening to more 4 Non Blondes than anyone should in a lifetime (Seriously, the “What’s Up” video is on demand and I’ve listened to it more than is healthy…it’s probably a good thing that I wasn’t the age I am now in the 90s, cause I’d be trying to emulate them like whoa.)

Anyways…it’s hard to believe I used to value sitting at home alone and learning about phantom big cats and whatnot more than anything in the world, cause I really can’t take much more of it right about now. Sure one day I’ll be able to wow someone with my knowledge of ligers and beefalo (which have apparently stunted buffalo conservation efforts like whoa), but it’s really not productive at all, and loses the fun value quite quickly.

But, yeah, even when I did genuinely enjoy sitting around doing nothing all the time, the highlight of the summer months was still the few weeks I'd go away to Girl Scout camp. For a total couch potato/only child, it was great to be around a big group of really awesome people spending time outside and doing really fun things...like the time I was in the travelers group (probably the best week at camp I had) when we went to the Delaware Water Gap (and they talked about the Shawnee tribe until shawnee didn't sound like a word anymore) and to Camelback Beach (I'm not a big water slide person, but I sure love wave pools...it's like being at the beach without the jellyfish and with a shitton of chemicals) on the 4th of July and spent the entire day imitating our British counselor's accents, because we thought they were the coolest ever (and we all felt really bad when we made "Ringo" (a girl scout camp counselor never reveals her real name...unless she does or you force it out of her...I got in trouble for telling people a counselor's name once) lost her belly button ring because we begged her to take it out and show us how it worked). (I'm on a roll with the run-ons and parentheticals today)...and the next year with my "Theater of the Mountains" group we went to see 42nd Street in town and it was...well, obviously a small town theater production (but hey, I just went and saw RENT at the Media theater and it was surprisingly awesome), but pretty fun.

I just tried to write a paragraph about how great camp was and ended up writing about how great not being at camp was. I promise we had fun on the campgrounds, too...we canoed (I was never a big canoing fan; your shoes got too muddy...I could deal with being grimy and having dirty clothes, but wet shoes are the one thing I really can't put up with for some reason), and funyaked (it's a little yellow floaty thing that you sat in the middle of, fwiw) (you could step into the funyak without getting completely soaked and for some reason the kayaking motion is much more fun than the canoeing one and you don't have to deal with sharing a boat with a slow paddler (though this one time I had to deal with a clingy campmate who made it her goal to link our funyaks together)).

And if you were willing to hike up a humungo hill you'd get to ride horses, which was really fun even though everyone there knew way more about horses than I did and this one time I steered the horse too hard and the scary barn leader yelled at me...and then the horse tried to buck me off and she ran over and was like "Wow, you handle that horse so well!" and affirmed that statement after the thing decided to step on my foot as I was demounting it. 


Speaking of crazy animal experiences, there was the summer when the bears ran rampant. Over the counselors' radios, we'd hear them talk about "Code B's" all over camp, but they wouldn't tell us what a Code B was...we quickly hypothesized that we were dealing with a Code B(ear), and everyone got really excited, though I was a bit skeptic. This next story starts with something totally out of character for me...I'd joined Roadrunners, and we woke up at ungodly hours to go for runs (yeah, I know...I was with the lagging group in the back in case you hadn't assumed that). I was walking back to my tent with someone else in my unit when I stopped dead in my tracks...there was nobody else around...except for a baby bear eating a big rubber band. I calmly tapped my friend on the shoulder and was like, "Hey, what's that?". "What's what?" "The bear!" and she looked up and freaked...quietly freaked, since being loud around a baby bear...I mean the baby prolly couldn't do much, but where there's a baby animal there's a crazy mother (I got attacked by a mother goose last year, so I know). So we stood there until it ran away and then went to our counselor who reported it and everyone in the camp found out and there was a hoopla and everyone thought I was really cool. It was a triumph of sorts, I suppose. And then one time was one either inside or just outside the mess hall and they had to chase it away and we all watched from a distance and by then they couldn't pretend there weren't bear around it was really exciting. Who needs danger perception, anyway?

And all the nights we'd stay up singing (This one time a counselor came to our tent to give us our nightly option of a "handshake, hug, or ET touch" [we always took all 3] and we ended up singing "Thank You" by Dido with her so now that song reminds me of camp) and playing truth or dare and the "nervous game" (and somehow I got the repuation of being the prudish one...in a group of 12 year olds, mind you) and gossiping about other campers (During the travelers unit we ended up splitting up into 2 cliques...which were like the city people and the surburban ones, which seems really awful now, but at the time it was fun...I mean, everyone was in one and it's not like we were outright excluding everyone and the cool, urban kids liked me just fine even though I was from suburbia (which was good because I was with most of them in Theater of the Mountains so it would've been bad if they had recognized me as that girl from the rival clique) so its okay...right? Okay, fine...but I'm sure you weren't a nice person when you were 12, either)

But my favorite part of camp was also my least favorite, because it was the last night of each session, when we would have a campfire/singalong/talent show. We'd do the same skits every year (except when I was in the acting one, when we decided we needed a good skit so we did a good one, though I forget what it was...we also did a modern version of Cinderella which I narrated and when we raised/took down the flag some of the girls did a step routine...I meanwhile stood by the flag lamely and gave all the orders). But anyways...usually the skits were the Magic Blanket skit (in which people would through things over a blanket and they'd come back double in size until a skeptic spit on it and then got hit with a bucket of water) and the "and then I heard a knock, a knock, a knock, and I thought it was Cecilia, Cecilia, Cecilia!" one and "If I were not a camper, I wonder what I'd be, If I were not a camper, *insert counselors name here* is what I'd be! *Insert something the counselor said here*"...or, conversely, "A birdwatcher's what I'd be! Hark, a lark, sitting in the park! *Crack an egg over head, pretend it's bird shit, hilarity ensues*"

So we'd sing some silly songs...they were the songs that I'd sing all through the school years to get funny looks from people, so it was pretty sweet to go to camp and burst out in a silly song and simply have those around me join in ("Baby shark, do do do do do do do"..."There's a hole in the bucket, dear Eliza, dear Eliza!"..."Oh I had a little chickie and it wouldn't lay an egg so I rubbed hot water up and down its legs! Oh, the little chickie hollered and the little chickie begged...and the little Chickie laid a hard-boiled egg!" and the "Just a boy and a girl in a little canoe..." song which ended with a girl paddling a canoe and the boy that she kicked out of the boat swimming all around...in the same misandric vein, the song that started with a girl sitting 'neath the lilacs and playing a guitar and then she meets a guy smoking a cigar and she dies and he becomes a douchebag and then he is killed by her tombstone and the moral of this song, according to the counselors, was "never tell lies", but we always sang "never trust guys!" 


Oh, girl scout camp...

If you're still with me after that last paragraph, then thanks for putting up with my ramblings...so after alternating between silly skits and silly songs we'd calm down and sing some more solemn songs, like "On My Honor" which was full of sappy, heartwarming Girl Scout-y values, "Red Balloon" and "Spider's Web", which was one of my favorites:





My other favorite was "Linger", which IIRC I got up and attempted to sing at my high school's last meeting for worship before graduation and prolly embarrassed myself like whoa...but anyways, there are lots of versions of it, I believe, but ours went:


I want to linger
A little longer
A little longer here with you
it's such a perfect night, 
it doesn't seem quite right
that it should be my last with you
and come September
we'll all remember
and as the years go by
I'll think of you and sigh
this is goodnight and not goodbye

And everyone would get all sappy and sentimental and give big hugs and we'd link hands and sing Taps and there would be a phantom trumpet playing it from the activities lodge (I don't know who the player was, still) And then the next day would be come, and it would be over...until the next year.


The last year I went things sort of fell apart, at least with my group of friends...drama, people getting in trouble for cigarettes and stuff, a giant foodfight, and then I didn't go back because everyone decided not to go back, either...Sad, sad...but at least it was fun for the time being! And it's so aweosme to meet someone else who went to Girl Scout camp and to compare experiences and campfire songs. So...if you're reading this and went to camp...what songs did you sing?

P.S. Go here for lots of great camp songs!

P.P.S. Sorry for the wonky fonts...I don't know what happened.

You touched my hand, I played it cool...

Hmmm, classes are over; I don't know how I feel about it. In every one we rushed through the last few weeks of the syllabus and then the professors were like "kthxbai" and now everything seems so incomplete, inside and out of class.

It's not an end, because I'll come back to school and things won't necessarily be the way they are now (and I hate it when things change while you're away and you're not around to contribute/control it/watch it happen…gah, I’m like the only one not sticking around. I wish I were around for all the group bonding that's going to be happening), but likely they will be very similar (except for people going abroad and graduating, which makes me sad).

It's not a beginning of something new, because I'll go home and things will be exactly how I left them, which is partly comforting and partly confining.

Just a disruption from what's been the norm, and I'm sure going back to school after the summer will be equally as disruptive, just like it was last summer. I feel like I have 2 very separate lives, and whenever I have to switch from one to the other, it’s so jarring, even if I wouldn’t trade either life for anything.


Ends of summers, ends of semesters, ends of everything...they always seem so rushed/sudden, which sucks because I look at beginnings of these things as infinite, like I have all the time in the world, and then all of a sudden it's like "nope, sorry". And then I turn into this sappy sad-sack. Like at the end of each semester I start to miss not only the beginning of the semester when everything was new and excitng, but the ends of semesters past, for some reason. And since nobody wants to hang around with a blubbering sentimentalist I guess I’ll save all that for here, when people can click the little X on the top of their browser at any time if I get obnoxious.


Last Spring, I spent reading week...lo and behold, reading! But I wasn't reading for, say, my optional Psych final (which I only really took because I was sticking around for a Fleetwood Mac concert anyway)...I think I was scrambling to finish as many books in the Tales of the City series (one of the things that got me excited for going back to school last fall was being able to finish the series. STFU) and this book from Nylon on female musicians and their style. And a few days I wandered around campus by myself and climbed/sat in/under trees and listened to cheesy 70s pop music (I don't know why I associate springtime with the songs from VH1's 40 Most Sensational Soft Rock Songs...I think that song about there being a warm wind blowing and stars out and really wanting to see someone tonight has something to do with it. Oh, and that "Summer Breeze" song...I think the artists behind those 2 songs were related, actually...ANYWAYS)

If you'd like to humor me, or need new fodder for making fun of me, here you go:

I'd Really Love to See You Tonight by England Dan & John Ford Coley @ Yahoo! Video

What was I talking about before I revealed my awful taste in music? Oh, right...I'd love to repeat the whole wandering by myself and listening to England Dan and John Ford Coley, except (a) I kind of don't appreciate solitude the way I did a year ago, and (b) (more importantly) I think my iPod, Angel, is lost forever. Maybe next year, with a new iPod (I hate how every Birthday/Christmas present I’ve gotten recently has been a replacement for something I’ve lost or broken…this is why I shouldn’t have nice things), I can finally try to relive it, but it'll be with a different iPod (and not my beloved Angel the 30 GB video model), and probably a new musical guilty pleasure.


Just goes to show that you can never really recreate a moment. Which sometimes is great, when you're back in a place/situation/what have you and you'd love to start over there, and recreate yourself and your life in that setting, but other times sucks, when dealing with a perfect moment that you'd love to get back. How sad is it that listening to bad music while sitting in a tree is considered one of the more perfect moments of my life?


Anyways, now I'm thinking of yet another Fleetwood Mac song...I first heard "Seven Wonders" about this time last year...I'd just gotten back home for summer break, and the night before I'd seen FM in St. Louis, as referenced above. I was on a Stevie kick and was wishing that I could've stayed in that concert venue forever and ever with the diehard classic rock fans and the middle-aged ladies in lacy black dresses carrying tambourines. I went to my room and unpacked my bags and looked around my room and had no idea what to do with myself, so I put the Stevie channel of Last.FM radio on and this came on. I'd heard of the song, but had never actually heard it. I thought it was a gorgeous song, and even though it wasn't written by Stevie (she got songwriting credit just because she changed a line from “You touched my hand, all the way down the line” down to “all the way down to Emmeline” after mishearing it. Wut.) it had "her" written all over it:



Fleetwood Mac - Seven Wonders @ Yahoo! Video

Summer 2009 has been the best summer of my life so far (whenever I get sad about leaving school now I think back to how much fun it was), and that song makes me think of it. I listened to the song on the flight to Italy (along with “Babooshka” by Kate Bush…but I don’t think that song was at all indicative of my life then or now. And the video’s just plain creepy)

Kate Bush - Babooshka @ Yahoo! Video

But, yeah, "Seven Wonders" sort of captured what I thought of Capri as I ran down a steep and winding path to get as close to the clear-blue water as possible. I remember thinking that there couldn’t possibly be a place prettier than this, and I have yet to find one. So now the song makes me think of lots of near-perfect moments of the past year, in all sorts of contexts, moments I’ve yet to top, moments I’d love to get back, but if I don’t, at least I have the memories of those certain places at certain times and under certain circumstances. And if I never live to match the beauty of any given situation again (which I probably will…I mean I really do have all the time in the world as far as I’m concerned), at least I’ll know that such moments are possible, and I guess that’s comforting.


Oh, and I like how when I tag/label these posts I can use the same tags for pretty much every one. Sort of defeats the purpose of the labels, and shows how damn repetitive I am.

When you build your house, call me home

Remember how I was gonna inflict lots of Stevie Nicks on you? Yeah, I checked and it's been like 3 months since I last did that...I've always had mixed feelings about this song; it's beautiful and haunting, but maybe too haunting and sad (especially if Don Henley's right in saying that it was about Stevie aborting their child).

But it's kind of gorgeous and sometimes you need to listen to something that chilling...the sense of loss in the song is so powerful, regardless of what one interprets it to be about losing:




The extended ("Cleaning Lady") version is all the better; brings a really strong sense of yearning to the song. And one of my favorite things about Stevie are the rambling lines towards the ends of her songs that. It takes forever to pick up on all of them, but by the time you do, you're officially in love with the song.

"I wanna be a star...I don't wanna be a cleaning lady"

Wait a minute baby
Stay with me a while
Said you'd give me light
But you never told me about the fire

Ooooh...
Ooh hoo...
Ooh hoo...

Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
But now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
When you build your house
Then call me home...

Ooh hoo...
Hoo hoo...
Ooh hoo...

And he was just like a great dark wing
Within the wings of a storm
I think I had met my match
He was singing
And undoing...And undoing...the laces
Undoing the laces...

Drowing in the sea of love
It's where everyone would love to drown
And now its gone
It doesn't matter what for
No sorrow for sorrow
You can have no more

Said Sara, you're the poet in my heart
Never change...never stop
But now it's gone
It doen't matter what for
But when you build your house
Oh then, call me home...

Hold on
The night is coming
And the starling flew for days
I'd stay home at night...all the time
I'd go anywhere...anywhere...anywhere
Ask me and (undoing) I'm there...yeah
Ask me and (undoing) I'm there...'cause I care
(The laces....the laces)
I care...

...In the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
But now it's gone
They say it doesn't matter anymore
If you build your house
Then please call me...home

Sara...you're the poet in my heart
Never change...and don't you ever stop
Now it's gone
No..it doesn't matter anymore
When you build your house
I'll come by...

Oh, dreaming...
And the wind became...crazy
And he reached her gently
Dreaming and the wind became....crazy
And there the heartbeat...
When it never really died

Dreaming (Ooh)...never really died (Ooh why)
Would you swallow all your pride (Ooh)
Could you speak a little louder (Ooh why)
Dreaming (Ooh)...
All I ever wanted (Ooh why)
Was to know that you are(Ooh) dreaming (Ooh why)
But there's a heartbeat and it never really dies (Ooh)
Never really died (Ooh why)
No, it never really died (Ooh why)
Never really died (Ooh why)
Could you speak a little louder (Ooh)
Swallow all your pride (Ooh why)
...(Ooh why)
Never change (Ooh why)..never change (Ooh)
And the wind (Ooh why) became...
It became (Ooh why) crazy...(Ooh why)
(Ooh why) And listen for that (Ooh why) crazy wind
Because it will make you (Ooh why) dream a while
And (Ooh why) there's a heartbeat
(Smile for my darling)
Well it never really died
Dreaming...and the wind became (Ooh why)
(Smile for my Sara)
Became crazy...(Ooh why)
(Smile for my Sara).......

Remember me to the one who lives there...

Random thoughts before I doze off:
  

• I hope my bulletpoints aren't pink when I publish this...in the textbox they've chosen to take the shade of fuschia I set as my default text color and I can't change them back. I kind of want to just change the default back to black or something. I already have a pink computer to make me feel sillily girly. Since the drag show I went to on Saturday night, where I dressed up as a(n emo) guy and had the look down but couldn't get the mannerisms for the like of me, I've been really conscious of how gender-typed  I am (maybe the color pink shouldn't be considered girly, though...it's a color. I find it pretty. Why are colors gendered?). I don't think being one of those people who constantly deconstructs the gender of everything would be very becoming on me (and constantly intellectualizing everything is an awful way to live), but sometimes I want to do exactly that.Even if I've been known to snark on people that look at things that way. I mean, I'd love to just "be" and not have to worry about social constructs and blah blah, but once you're conscious of that sort of thing it's hard. Reason why ignorance might be bliss #34628
• Is it possible for things to happen at the wrong time? Like, does "too little too late" (or, conversely [and I'm finding equally as problematic] "too much too soon") hold any real weight? I've started wondering if there's actually something to the notion of destiny, but I tend to apply it only when a positive force enters my life, but then I turn around and respond to bad things with "whatthefuckpeopleareintrinsciallystupidandmakebadchoicesontheirowngrumblegrumble". If I'm going to start believing in something as implausable as fate, I'd better start believing in it fully. And I guess you do learn important lessons from bad stuff...though I wish I could learn those lessons and apply them now, in a current (or past) situation instead of for later, in some undeterminable time and place with who knows who or what.
• In high school I thought the notion of "community" was utter BS (mainly because I didn't feel fully a part of the community there...probably because of my own social ineptitude), but now that I'm in college I'm a part of so many great communities and it's super! Every time I go to Quaker meeting or have a rehearsal for my kids theater group or sing Disney and 80s songs all the way back to my dorm from a party with my lovely queer family, I just love the idea of a close-knit community more and more! The only problem lies in them being horribly exclusionary, and I know being outgoing and welcoming people in isn't my strong suit.
• I can't belive I hadn't seen The Graduate before tonight...I mean, I love the 60s and 60s music and everything that went into that movie. Everything about it was so disorienting...the soundtrack, the way it was filmed with shaky camera work and weird tracking shots...the way the narrative arc was totally weird. I mean, he started his affair with Mrs. Robinson like 10 minutes into the movie with no real set-up to it. (Oh, sorry if I spoiled the movie there for you, y'know?) And by "disorienting", I mean "awesome!"

Still the wanting comes in waves...

WANT. I shall wear with my snuggie, and when I get them, Necky and Tiddy Bear

Anyways, some random things that annoy me in life:

-Having no idea who you are, yet every idea of what you want...it's very problematic. Like, you think that you'll be able to figure out yourself by getting what you want but you can't get what you want unless you have some sense of self. Whatev. I'm sure it's the struggle of every 19 year old.

-When the book you want to check out of the library is checked out and won't be returned for a month (FWIW, it's No One Belongs Here More Than You by Miranda July). Then realizing what a hypocrite you are for thinking that when you've had the same books out since September. It's really the last part that bothers me. But I still want the book and all...

-Power outages when you're about to write a paper that's due in like 2 hours so that you have to trek to the other side of campus before you can write it. Still, better than power outages when you're in the process of writing a paper. And if I hadn't spilled my latte this morning so that I had to go back and get a new one, that's what would've happened. Maybe someone is watching out for me somewhere.

-Speaking of both ordering food and getting library books...this one is taken from High Fidelity, which I just finished reading...Okay I was going to quote it but I can't find the right page and eventually I'll need to get off and do my enviro reading...anyways, when you see something appetizing in a bakery display case and you don't know what it is and it's called an "ooey gooey square" and you want one but you don't want to request it by such a stupid name. Hornby used a different (and more humorous) example in the book, but that's been my predicament through my whole college career. I guess one day I'll just go in and ask to try "one of those things".

-Trying to intellectualize things that can't be intellectualized in my mind, like love and happiness and the meaning of life. Though thinking would likely provide some good solutions, some things just require feeling and not thinking. Even if I once got a fortune cookie that read "Life is a tragedy for those who feel and a comedy for those who think". That was the worst fortune ever, worse than the one I got (and gave to one of my dolls cause I was eating chinese with them like a good only child does in her free time) that said I'd encounter a strange party sometime soon. And not funny like any one of gotten that sounds great with "in bed" added to the end.

(But really, I can't wait til the world can stop thinking and just be.)

-Nostalgia (I like the Portuguese term "saudades" more, really). Part of me loves being disgustingly sappy and sentimental (Reason why I'm a perfect Cancerian #639), but really...Ow ow owwww. This is why feeling insted of thinking is sometimes bad.

-Otherism, or rather, the "other" accepting/embracing it. I mean, nobody should be expected to assimilate to the mainstream, but there's a point where way too many divisions are created. And building communities based off of a division that the core has made to describe the periphery seems off. And were I to completely embrace all of the ways in which I'm "other" I'd end up closing myself off from society completely in a little community of one. Though I do appreciate community building, so this could just be an ephemeral "it bothers me".

-Lighter note? It bothers me when I'm accessing the shared music folder of someone else on my school's wifi network and the songs are all mistagged and there's nothing you can do about it. But I should just count my blessings that I can listen to Avril Lavigne and Sum 41 without having to contaminate my own iTunes library (sorry if I'm blatantly referring to your library and you're reading this)

-Oh, and the fact that no matter what I do, the above video remains big enough to cover the sidebar of my blog. Gah.

Okay, that's all for now, folks.