Just so you know, in case you were wondering...

When I'm having a bad day/hour/week, Tori is usually the only thing that can pull me out of it (and when it's not Tori it's Ani...but tonight, tonight it's Tori). I don't know exactly what it is, probably it's a combination of things: lyrics, music, and the fact that I can sing my heart out to every single one of her songs. The music holds me and rocks me back and forth, smoothing my hair, telling me everything will be okay...and belting out the lyrics only reinforces that feeling. (And if the music is loud enough I get to pretend that I'm good singer as well, which also helps me feel better.) I love that some of her lyrics make absolutely no sense in real life, so that way each time I can decide what I need for them to mean to me at that point. I love that some of her lyrics speak words for exact feelings I have felt but had no idea how to put those emotions into words. Remember that post about me being a crazy cat lady? Well, this here is just exhibit A...ya'll are lucky that I didn't post some video clips with accompanying lyrics.

On a TOTALLY unrelated note: Casey and I watched OPB last night. We watched a story about Giant Panda's and the effort that is being made at the San Diego Zoo to keep them from extinction. Goodness sakes people, those baby pandas are a-dor-able! Holy smokes. It's hard to remember that they're actually bears and could be dangerous. I mean, if I saw one in the wild I would want to cuddle it...and it would probably want to cuddle me too, to death. Anyhow, I felt very mature and oldish sitting there watching OPB, except for then I switched to Modern Family promptly at 9pm and felt much more myself.

...

Just a list of things...

• I did my laundry, didn't have any fabric softener. Now I have some and I kinda wanna start all over so all my clothes are soft and cuddly
• I love my new cupcake earrings, minus the one downside of the constant reminder that I want a cupcake
• I love my birthday, and every year I get sad when it's over and try to hang on to remnants for as long as possible
• I really love thunder and lightning, this afternoon there was like one lightning and one thunder and it made me want more
• I have now been in a relationship for a whole year. One year, and it just keeps getting better. I never thought I would be in this place and I love it
• I get to meet my newest niece this weekend, I have looked at the pictures of her a million times I can't wait to hold her, kiss her pretty little face and smell her sweet baby breath
• I love my adolescent psychology class, I look forward to Thursday night all week, and not just so that I can watch 30 Rock and the Office anymore

as a final thought, here is a picture of me adoring a cupcake. Don't mind my crazy hair, I showered and then took a nap while it dried, but I think the cupcake more than makes up for it.

Internets, I need help!

Last week for 'Writing and the 19th Century' we read Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself" (I loved it. Loved.) Our first assignment after reading this was to write our own inspired by his. We took our "shitty first drafts" into class on Monday and got into Peer groups, we read our writing to each other and were supposed to give constructive criticism so that what we wrote could get better. I am not trying to toot my own horn, because I know that I need some help, but my peer group couldn't find anything to critique so I'm hoping you on the internets can. Here is what I have so far (it is supposed to be 4-6 pages long, right now it's only 3) sorry it's longish, but if you have time please read it and help me. I'll owe you for life.

Song of Myself

I’m the best parts of you
I’m even the worst
everything I am was once parts of you
everything I’ll be will come from you
I’ll change these things
make them my own
I’m clearly yours, but becoming more my own
more and more everyday

Those people on the streets, in their cars, just trying to live their lives
the ones with the crazy hair, too long, too unnatural, too bright, too dark
the ones with their pants that are too tight, too baggy, hung too low
the ones with the bad habits, smoking, drinking, experimenting
the ones you turned your nose up at, the comments under your breath, don’t think I didn’t hear them
I did.
Sometimes now I am one of them. Judging myself is fruitless, I’ll see where this goes
see how I feel at the end.
at the end I’ll be left with the pieces that make me whole
the parts that distinguish me from you, them

I believe in my right to choose, in their right to choose. My body,
their bodies…who can tell us what is right.
religion, god, the president, parents, teachers
what do they imagine they know that I can’t learn on my own
why do they imagine that telling me who to be is better than being
who I am

I watch the seasons pass and I feel in myself the changes
they’ve brought
I used to believe whatever was said
yet, I wasn’t naïve, I trusted who I was told to trust
I was young, I was spring
the tears I spilled, learning the lessons some would wish me to un-learn

Just because they say they’re right doesn’t mean they are
Why was that so hard to understand?
yet, their archaic opinions they force fed me are a part of my structure
bricks in the foundation that help hold me together
the judgments hard to break
harder still to form my own opinions
the internal struggle was worth the end result
to discover that
just because he loves him or she loves her doesn’t make them evil
there are worse things in love than finding it with the same sex.
having this drink, or smoking that doesn’t mean they are all addicts
and if they are it doesn’t mean they should be written off.
wearing that shirt with those shoes while walking that walk doesn’t make her a slut,
what you wear does send a message, be aware of what you’re saying.
she doesn’t go to church, he doesn’t believe in god, there isn’t only one way to believe,
a prayer means nothing if you don’t care who’s listening, does nothing if you do nothing for yourself.
he is a man, it doesn’t make him right, I don’t have to be who says,
a patriarchal relationship will never work in this feminists world.
waiting for marriage doesn’t make your marriage more pure,
less so if that’s all you got married for. What’s left after the virginity’s gone?
birth control won’t influence or encourage people to have sex, but a lack of communication might,
even scare tactics can be forms of communication.

I wander
and along the way I find pieces of songs, smells, sounds
that speak to me
the words I couldn’t find, didn’t know I needed until I heard them
smells that take me home, far away, make me feel the remnants of my past and hopes for the future
the sounds that echo back to me the things I have yet to learn or had accidentally forgotten
I am easily distracted
watching, waiting, listening for the next big thing
that could change my mind, open my eyes
make me mad enough to finally speak up
make me care enough to use the voice I keep hidden

I’m aware of my contradictions
I judge you for judging. I become the person I struggle against.
only certain people see certain parts of me
hoping to eliminate, diminish the judgments made on me.

I am a homebody content to sit night after night reading, writing, knitting into the dark
I am the girl wearing those heels walking that walk, calling attention to herself early into the morning
I am confident and sure of who I am as a woman, I am proud of where I’m going
I am scared and worried that I’ll never be who I thought I’d be, never get to where I thought I’d end up
I am a performer shining, spinning, and smiling for all those in attendance
I am shy and will not share my thoughts, feelings unless you ask me to, force me to speak up
I am a feminist who someday wishes for the day when I can stay at home and raise my children

In this world where being a man seems to give men advantages
what does it mean to be a girl? I have found
I am the one they’ll want to tell their secrets to
I’m smaller and softer, more approachable
it’ll come as a surprise when I open my mouth and know what I mean
I have to be more alert, more aware, quicker on my feet
I am allowed to be me, emotional, strong, moody
I can pretty
I can be smart
I can be nice
I’ve learned it’s not hard to be all three, when you find others who are as well
hold onto them, often nice is forgotten or never learned

I’ve learned that some women have learned
the only way to get ahead
in a man’s world is to act more like a man
rough and tough
a man gets called a leader, a woman called a bitch
where’s the fairness in that?
I’ve learned life isn’t fair, I’ve been learning that since youth
when told to be more of a bitch
I revolted against the idea
I can be a leader and a woman
a girl who can still be heard

I’ve learned to value family and all the forms it can take
the family I was born into, who keep me through time
they’ve seen me ugly, screaming and hitting, throwing and running
they’ve seen me weak, crying and broken, dramatic and bent
they make me laugh, they feel like home, they feel like pieces of me
the family I’ve made over the years, my collection of friends
they know me as an adult, they share the memories of growing up
memories made from falling in love and falling apart
stories drunkenly put together in tandem the next day
pictures and memories of trips and just sitting and sharing the confusion of everyday life

I am a little bit of all the people I’ve ever met
I take who they are
and make them little parts of me
their ideas shape my ideas
my beliefs are versions of their beliefs
twisted and shifted to fit with me

I’m moving forward with an idea of who I am
aware that tomorrow it might shift
I might hear something that makes me stop and think, write a second draft of something I thought
I knew

Excuse me for a minute

There are some really annoying people in this world. Sometimes I might be one of them, but most of the time I'm just judging them. Never in my life have I judged someone more annoying than the guy in my new night class. In a prime example of his annoyingness, tonight he plugged his laptop into an outlet on the ceiling that is there for the overhead monitor. Which means his cord was hanging down into the isle creating an awesome opportunity for tripping. This is a night class which meets once a week, meaning I get to deal with his antics for hours on end which just about pushes me to the limits. However, since I can see my professor (who is awesome and kickass - I kinda wanna be her) getting annoyed along with most of the other people in my class it helps me feel a little better. Some of the other things he does to make me want to scream include, but are not limited to:

• tapping his fingers loudly on the desk. over, and over, and over, and over, and over
• making loud gasping sounds for no reason at random times during the lecture
• talking loudly at his neighbor...the neighbor keeps looking straight ahead...mr. annoying just kept on talking at him
• supplying his opinion (which I think is apparent at this point everyone would be better without) ALL the time...at one point my professor even said "what does that have to do with anything?" yet, even that didn't defer him from speaking up.
• sprawling out across a few chairs, throwing his lanky leg up on top of the desk to his left

I realized I am often easily annoyed. Still, I dare anyone to come to that class with me and NOT want to punch him in the face repeatedly while screaming at him to just "shut up already!!!"

Dear Guys at the gym,

Is it your intent to look like this:

Cause if it is, you might want to seriously reconsider. Maybe you don't have a full length mirror at your house so all you can ever see is your upper body, which is sufficiently strong and muscular. Maybe you think since your upper body is so fit that means your lower body is too. Well, you're wrong. You're all out proportion, and it's not attractive.

Sorry.

Sincerely,

All the girls at the gym

Intro 101

Intro to what? I'm not sure yet...but it's bound to only deserve a 101 class level.

Last quarter I did a ton of reading, some of it I really loved, some of it I suffered through, and some of it I quit halfway through and just took really good notes in class. This quarter I am going to be doing a ton of writing, and since it's impossible to quit halfway through writing something and still turn it in for a grade I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to do all of it. I've been playing with the idea of posting some of my writing from class on here for my friends to enjoy, or critique, or laugh at behind my back....you know, whatever, and today Shannon actually told me I should do it as well...I didn't even prompt her or pay her afterwards.

So, for better or worse I am going to be posting some of the things I've written for Poetry 213 and Writing 399-Writing and the 19th Century (I know, you can't wait for that stuff huh?)

First up...the first poem I turned in for poetry...the rules were this:

take one line from the poem the person to you left wrote

make that line into the first line of your poem

the poem should be 16 lines long

each line should have the same number of syllables

and now ladies and gentlemen......

the finished product:

Little they know I’m a dustbowl pearl
stuck here alone in this dustbowl world.
Watching from my shell the world pass by
dreaming of the day I jump and run.

From here I’ll race up the mountain side
tumble my hair long down my back,
flail my limbs, gathering up flowers.
Run wild through the trees calling my name.

Then, to slip into the cool river
wriggle my toes deep in the mud bank,
slither along the moss covered rocks.
Cool, clear water refreshing my body.

Someday I’ll run away from this place.
I’ll be everything they say I can’t,
I’ll be happy and free, I’ll dance and sing.
For now, I can live, stuck here alone.