My Eyes Are Important, Stop Abusing Them

Song of the Day: Sunrise by Norah Jones

Second to last day, peeps. ALMOST THERE.

I went to the eye doctor today. You know what I really don't enjoy? The machine that blasts air into your eyes. I refuse to believe that in this day and age, they can't find a more comfortable method of testing the pressure in a person's eyes. Then the doctor shined an uncomfortably bright light into my eyes, MULTIPLE TIMES. From MANY ANGLES. Aren't they always telling you NOT to do that??

Zach and Matt (of YouTube fame) are doing a thing in Seattle tomorrow. It turns out I have other plans, but if I didn't I'm still not sure whether I would go. I still sort of feel like an outsider when I hang out with Kayley at things like that. The awkward non-famous kid. I would love to meet them (not because they're famous, but because they seem like genuinely interesting people), but I feel like it might be strange because I know about them and they don't know about me. Of course the only way to change that would be to meet them. I also don't want to seem like I'm using my friendship with Kayley to push my way into that particular ring of friends. I DON'T LIKE TALKING TO NEW PEOPLE.

That's a lie. I do like it. I'm just bad at it. I'm no good at starting conversations. Then I get grouped in with the Awkwards or the Borings and life is bad.

The Sounders are 1 game away from their 3rd US Open Cup Championship! WHUDDUP.

Alllllrighty, I'm getting boring. Until the morrow, then.

I wanna know the absolute quiet of an orchard / And I wanna know how many stars are really in the sky.

"Anxious-Excited, Definitely."

Song of the Day: Adult Female by Hank Green

So here's something weird-but-not-really-all-that-weird-when-you-actually-think-about-it. Different instruments sound like different very abstract ideas. So strongly that you don't even think about it when you hear them, you just go straight to feeling it. And I wonder if everyone hears/feels the same things upon hearing them, or if it's a bit subjective. Personally, these are my feelings on the following:

Harmonicas sound like wandering and loneliness; not always a bad loneliness. They just sound like the lazy sort of wail that is generally most permissible when one is by oneself. I really love harmonicas.

Acoustic guitar sounds like the truth.

Banjos sound like home. Not in the specific sense--my home could certainly never be associated with banjos--but more in the sense that a banjo can make a place sound and feel like home.

Pianos sound either relaxed and slightly mischievous (if it's jazz) or, if it makes any sense, the embodiment of hope, whether it's hopefulness or hopelessness. The poignancy of all things hope-related.

Innit funny that I can't decide what cellos sound like?

I was hoping it would stay cloudy today, I'm in a cloudy mood. I put on my flannel and everything. Speaking of vaguely related topics, I'm going to stop blogging and go pack. I'm hoping I'll get through my clothes this afternoon; sort between the ones to keep and the ones to donate, then pack all the ones I won't need over the coming week. WEEK. Nuts.

I'm listening to Hank Green and The Blues Brothers to keep sentimentality to a minimum. I think I'll end up writing an emotionally charged song later that, when I go back and play it, will probably be awful. Welp. That's my plan for the afternoon/evening.

I'd be interested in other thoughts on the instrument thing, either agreements, criticisms or additions. Yipes, my brain is everywhere.

A wanna be a church mouse / I wanna be a lighthouse. -Leah Houghton

Cool Aunt Syndrome Strikes Again

Song of the Day: The General Specific by Band of Horses

So I drove a boat last night. In the dark. It was exciting.

Today was my grandma's birthday party at my uncle's house. While the general consensus is that my aunt Susie is insane (aunt Alice is awesome), their house is still the best place for gatherings. Actually I should amend that: Walter's place is best in the summer, Alice's is best for winter (Thanksgiving and Christmas). Walter's is on the other side of the water, kinda out in the sticks a little bit. They have a bit of land and a nice open deck that's awesome for barbeques.

So today's gathering was really awesome. It felt like more people were there than usual; a while back, there was this period of time where every family get-together felt really bare and it was kind of depressing. I'm toward the end of my generation's wave (there are two boys younger than I am). For a long time there was just always a gaggle of girls around my sister's age (I was JUST young enough for them to not want me around)--I say "gaggle" because 4 of those girls belonged to my uncle's group of 7 kids, 2 others were my dad's sister's kids, and there was my sister. I feel like I need to draw out a chart. Bottom line: lots of kids, mostly girls.

So eventually most of these girls went off to college and then a few of them got married. So they were off doing their own things. Suddenly a bunch of them showed up today and it was awesome to see all of them, plus their kids (the "next generation" is now up to three). Jack is only just over a year old but he's very quiet and I was never asked to hold him, so in my book he's right as rain.

What the hell was my original point? Oh right, the pleasantness of a big family gathering. I got some questions about college (which is starting to stress and annoy me) but it wasn't too in-depth, and it was nice to hear everyone catching up and getting along. I think my favorite thing was when I was sitting by the chips (which I generally do until someone comes over and talks to me) and my cousin came over and said, "Hey, we're going to the same school this year, right?" Now, this is the cousin who has said maybe a couple of obligatory "Hellos" to me in the last 8 years or so. He and his brother sort of took to hiding upstairs whenever company showed up. He turned 18 yesterday. It's so weird because he and his brother will always be about 10 and 8 to me, in khakis and plaid shirts. But here they are, growing up very nicely and, it must be said, very well dressed. And then to top it all off, Sam SPOKE to me! I guess it was just nice to see that the boys had grown out of the Hiding phase and were socializing like normal family members, making comfortable conversation. It was very worth their being pricks as children and hermits as young teenagers.

Then my uncle got out the spud gun. He and "The Boyfriends" (cousin Anna's boyfriend Louis and Steph's boyfriend) shot a few potatoes into the trees behind the house and the distance was pretty impressive. And the sound was AWESOME.

So what have we learned today, everyone? Every now and then, Emma enjoys a picturesque family scene. Chatting aunts, beautiful cousins with beautiful children (as long as the children are behaving, which they were), going from the kitchen to the back yard with potato salad and dodging said children, everyone cringing when Aunt Susie says things and knowing we can groan about it together on the ferry ride home. It's strange, considering my total lack of interest in a family of my own, how much I enjoy observing the growth of the ones close to me. I hope one day I'll be able to show up to these things with interesting stories. For the foreseeable future I'll have to stick to anecdotes exemplifying just how poor I am (unless I get a minimum-wage job for 10-15 hours a week--fingers crossed!).

ramblerambleramble

You are the burden of my generation / I sure do love you / But let's get that straight. -That Was Your Mother, Paul Simon

Good Day To Be A Sounder

Song of the Day: Seattle by Perry Como

2-6. Holy cow. The score was 4-0 Sounders at the end of the first half. And then every time the Crew got a goal, the Sounders went, "Nope" and scored another one. Actually I take that back, one was an own goal.

While I'm (generally) a pretty gracious loser (unless something horribly unfair happened), I'm a pretty awful winner. I've noticed it mostly in board games/video games. I yell a lot during the actual game and then flip victorious shit if I win. I think I'm like the annoying kid in elementary school who was insanely obnoxious when they won, but if they lost they were all, "Calm down, it's just a game." I probably would have been a lot meaner to Michael but the Crew was really just torn asunder and I didn't think he needed the full monty of trash talk. I still pelted him a few times though. Sorry! Bros?

It was very cool that Cunningham set the score record though. Kinda sucks that he has to associate that with such a bad game. I do feel bad about that.

Welp, I'm headed to Blake Island for a picnic/barbeque dinner with Steph and Max. Still sporting my jersey like a dork.

I really love how Keller kicks the ball. He just MEANS it every time, like "Get the HELL out here!" It amuses me. I also love how the TV network doesn't bother censoring or even being careful during games. I know there's only so much they can do since it's live, but during the last two games I've watched I could CLEARLY hear a line of a song in which the ECS enthusiastically screams, "WE DON'T HEAR A FUCKIN' THING!" That, too, amuses me.

My hands are shaking and I'm not sure why. Maybe I shouldn't drink coffee past noon.

Take 'em all, take 'em all / Put 'em up against the wall and shoot 'em / Short and tall, watch 'em fall / Come on boys, take them all.

Spaceship

Song of the Day: Whatever Norway's EuroVision song was

All right. Short bloggerooni today. Because it is 1:30 a.m., but I didn't come this far to miss a day.

I invented a new game tonight. Actually I invented it last Thursday on the way home from "Stonehenge," but it really took shape tonight. It's simple: find a road with no streetlights, make sure it's going to be straight for a decent amount of time, and see how long you're willing to leave the headlights off. Also, make sure there are no cops. I sort of sprung the game on Abbie and Brett. I said, "Hey, want to see what it's like to be in a space ship?" And then I killed the headlights. They freaked out and threatened my life, but before long they were asking me to do it again whenever we got to straight backroads. We went to Beth's and then drove around in the dark listening to (and in some cases laughing at) EuroVision songs. I love them both lots and am very thankful that Skype exists because Brett flies out tomorrow and Abbie leaves in a week.

In other news, I went cello shopping today. I have two on trial and I pretty much need to reach a decision by next Friday. I went SLIGHTLY over the limit set by my dad although today he seemed to be willing to be flexible. I think if I offer to give up Christmas gifts in return for going over budget, he might oblige. Either way, I might actually be able to display my full capabilities on a decent instrument, which is exciting.

Sounders vs. Crew tomorrow, so I'd better rest up. Good day.

I got two hands on the sunshine / I got one foot in the grave / I got 25 cents in my wallet / And I'm feeling mighty lucky today. -Lucky Today, Cloud Cult

Do The Thinking For Me

Song of the Day: Flathead by The Fratellis

I have nothing of note to report today and didn't feel like my usual faux-philosophical rambling, so I found a survey (the likes of which used to haunt MySpace and occasionally still find their way onto Facebook) to fill out today. Happy freakin' birthday to you, right?

Who were you with last night?

Tumblr.

What woke you up this morning?

A call from work (which I ignored, which turned out to be a good decision because they left a message saying not to come in for my paycheck today).

Where are you?

Earth.

Is tomorrow going to be a good day?

Hopefully! I'm going cello shopping =]

Did you kiss or hug anyone today?

Nope.

When's the last time you cried?

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2.

The PAST

Ever thrown up in public?

Probably as a baby, but other than that, no. Unless school counts. That sucked.

Passed out because of alcohol?

Nopity no.

What's on your mind RIGHT NOW?

The fact that I'm a huge straight-edge.

The FUTURE

Would you take a bullet for anyone?

I'd attempt to. But they're pretty fast.

Where would you like to live?

Seattle. Or rather, the surrounding suburbs. Greenwood would be awesome.

What kind of house would you like?

Smallish. Me-ish.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

Happy. Adventuresome. The crazy woman with a banjo.

Where do you see yourself in years?

Could you be more specific?

Who was the last person that left you a comment?

Blog? YouTube? If blog, then Abbie.

Are you good friends with this person?

Duh.

How often do you log in to facebook?

Daily.

IN GENERAL

Do you like candy necklaces?:

Love 'em.

When's the last time you fell or ran into something?

Ha. When's the last time I DIDN'T?

Do you still go trick or treating?

No, too old. Boo.

What was the last thing you ate?

A brownie.

Are you a fast typer?

Fast enough.

About how many people have you driven with?

I'm not sure what this means.

What are you doing this weekend?

Cello shopping tomorrow, watching the Sounders/Crew game on Saturday (unfortunately not in person), probably visiting my grandma on Sunday.

Whats your favorite type of soda?

I don't like soda. YEAH I SAID IT.

Have you ever moved?

Twice.

Have you ever won an award?

Yup. Won the Director's Award in orchestra, senior year. For leadership/enthusiasm/hard work/dedication. It even came with a little bitty scholarship.

How many times have you eaten sushi?

Zero, and I intend to keep it that way.

What do you want to do right now?

Play Quidditch. I'll probably end up practicing cello instead.

Are you listening to music right now?

No, strangely enough. I hear a lawn mower though, that's semi-rhythmic.

Are you with someone right now?

foreveralone.jpg

Whats a word or phrase that you love?

"Always," because it's ironically relative/subjective. It's a very pleasantly stretchy sort of word. Plus it reminds me of both Harry Potter and The Hunger Games.

How long until your birthday?

3 months and 3 weeks exactly.

When were you the saddest in your whole life?

Yikes. Probably when Andrew died, the summer after sixth grade. A church full of quietly crying twelve-year-olds was probably one of the more awful things I've seen.

What time is it now?

3:05 p.m.

Do you think anyone will repost to this?

No, because this is not 2006.

What makes you pissed off?

Arrogance, disrespect, injustice.

Have you ever had a song written about you?

Not to the best of my knowledge.

What song makes you cry?

The one that comes closest is "End of an Era" by Oliver Boyd & The Remembralls, but it really goes past crying and just sort of makes me gag on my emotions. So I don't listen to it.

What songs makes you happy?

All the ones that don't make me sad.

What do you like to listen to before you go to bed?

Lullabies.

Do you have a job??

Do you?? So accusatory. I guess I don't anymore.

What does Your CD player have in it right now?

Good lord, I haven't used a CD player in ages. The one in my car always has my Harmed Brothers CD in it though. The one album I truly never tire of. *grammargrammargrammar*

If you were a crayon what color would you be?

I like to think I'd be some shade of red or green.

What makes you happy?

Good friends, good music, accomplishments, fireworks, blankets (and forts thereof), road trips, wind, thunder, books, bicycles, shared victories, Disney, Disneyland, animals, dancing, the Green brothers, Christmas, snow, and the smell of rosin. Oh, and Hugh Jackman.*

Height?

5'0".

Hair?

What about it?

Piercings?

3. One in each earlobe and left cartilage.

Tattoos?

Treble clef/peace sign on my arm, giraffe on my shoulder, runes just under my collarbone.

What are you wearing?

Shame on you.

What taste is in your mouth?

Toothpaste, I guess.

Do you have a bad habit?

Doesn't everyone?

*Scrubs? Anyone?

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine / I keep my eyes wide open all the time. -I Walk The Line, Johnny Cash

The Middle of the Beginning of...the Beginning?

Song of the Day: Symphony No. 2 by Johannes Brahms

I had my last piano lesson today. It struck me that I haven't had to deal with many "lasts" since high school ended. There was Harry Potter, but that was a different sort of ending. That didn't require speaking on my part. When it's the last time I'm likely to see someone, I'm actually really no good with goodbyes. With my piano teacher I managed a "Thank you so much," but in most cases it's even less. When I'm faced with the chance/opportunity/whatever to tell people how I actually feel I back the hell out. "Hi, my name is Emma and I'm emotionally unavailable."

THE POINT is that it made me realize that there will be a lot of lasts headed my way in the next few weeks. I'm picking up my last paycheck tomorrow, I'll eventually be spending my last night in my bed at home (assuming I never have to move back home because I'm so poor, knock on wood). The one I'm most worried about is my last cello lesson. My teacher and I have become so close and she probably knows me better than anyone in my family, even without my having to tell her things. She's improved my confidence so much. Whenever I'm not giving 100% she says, "No kinda." She's worked really hard to help me show how much I love my music, which is one of my biggest hurdles (again with the emotional unavailability). But I'm doing my best to apply the "no kinda" attitude to life outside of music, too. Maybe I should get her a card; I can express myself much better *read "honestly"* in writing than verbally. My friends generally get no spoken affirmation of how much I love them, and then it all comes spilling out in Christmas and birthday cards xD

Welp, my blackberry cobbler is ready to exit the oven. This has been a post.

So we'll go walkin' but nobody's talkin' / 'Cause everything just seems clear. -Track 03, The Harmed Brothers (The CD was homemade and the tracks weren't named)

Really Obscure "Matter" Joke To Follow

Song of the Day: Baby (You've Got What It Takes) by Michael Buble

Sometimes I get to the end of a day and feel like I've really accomplished things. Then I remember that Elijah Wood was Frodo when he was 18 years old and I sort of give up.

Not actually, but perspective is important. Take today, for example. I called my eye doctor, Skyped with my best friend who has been out of the country and therefore out of contact for a couple of weeks, reserved a U-Haul truck for moving day, and currently have brownies in the oven for my dad's work picnic tomorrow. Those are all things that needed to be done for MY life to go more smoothly, even if they don't affect more than one or two people around me. So does that make them important?

Sometimes I make myself dizzy trying to figure out whether I and the things I do are important in a big picture kind of way. By getting things done that seem important to me, I keep my life running and make one less crazy person in the world. So that's important.

Cosmically, nothing we do matters. We have no current contact with life outside of Earth's atmosphere. And very few people's actions have global repercussions. So what defines a person as "important?" For clarification, I'm not an existentialist. Not really. I mean, in a really big-picture way, we don't matter. But in smaller big pictures, we do. If an action of mine has an effect on anyone other than myself, it immediately takes on more importance. There's this weird web of importance where the people who matter to me don't matter at all to anyone else, and some people who matter to me matter to another person, and people important to a guy somewhere else don't mean shit to me. Then people like John and Hank come along and say, "Yeah, you DO matter. And you're awesome."

This is in no way where I meant for this post to go. I'm glad only two people read this, because if it were public everyone would completely lost faith in my sanity. I appreciate that you forgive my psychotic rambling >.<

Up, down, strange charm, top, bottom / If you don't know what a quark is, it don't matter--you still got 'em. -Strange Charm, Hank Green

House Pride

Song of the Day: Cotton by The Mountain Goats

I could very easily freak out about potential financial aid disaster, but I think I'll wait on that until it becomes a for-sure disaster. In the meantime, let's talk about Hogwarts!

People keep flipping shit on Tumblr and Twitter about which house the Pottermore Sorting Hat will put them into. I honestly think there is pride in every house. And honestly, if you know what house you WANT to be in, you probably identify most with that house anyway and will probably end up in it. If not, maybe you'll find that you're a bit braver or smarter or whatever than you thought. For no reason whatsoever besides my own amusement and thought-disentanglement, I thought I'd put together a run-down of my thoughts on the four Houses.

Ravenclaw: So obviously we have the book smarts in this house. But I think it has to do with the quest for knowledge as well, not just already being a know-it-all. Luna is a very interesting example of this. While she may believe in things without solid proof, in doing so she is displaying open-mindedness and a willingness to accept new ideas. She has a ton of knowledge; people don't know what she's talking about half the time. Then there's the fact that the heirloom of Ravenclaw, the diadem, was lost/hidden. It's a ready-made mystery to be solved. So why wasn't Hermione, with her insatiable thirst for knowledge, placed in Ravenclaw? Well the Sorting Hat did consider it, Hermione says so herself. But I think it also saw her potential for courage and knew she would have a home in Gryffindor. Plus, let's give the Sorting Hat some credit. It has seen quite a lot of history, and may have more than a couple tricks up its metaphorical sleeve. Did it ACTUALLY know Harry would need Hermione so much? Maybe not. But it did know she was more than a girl with her nose in a book.

Slytherin: Slytherin has always gotten a bad rap. I think it's a square/rectangle situation, where all bad wizards were once Slytherins, but not all Slytherins are bad. Because the traits found in Slytherins like cunning and ambition are pretty necessary to the life of a "successful" Death Eater, but aren't synonymous with "evil." When Phinneas Nigellus told Harry, "Given the choice, Slytherins always choose to save our own necks," that made me think that Slytherins are about survival, and sometimes that takes a coldness that is perceived as evil. And there were always people like Tom Riddle and Malfoy running the joint, so of course everyone was manipulated into following them. The examples of Slytherins we are given in the books are pretty horrid, but they're not the only ones. Then there's Snape, who changes personalities twenty times. Sullen? Sure. Bitter? Obviously. Dumb to think the Dark Arts would impress a Gryffindor? Clearly. But he wasn't a BAD person. He could have given in to his bitterness and let Harry die in his first year, but he saved him. He always had the capacity to love, and that's what Dumbledore said Voldemort could never do. That's another thing: Dumbledore trusted him. And while there was a chunk of time where we questioned the wisdom of that decision, it turned out to be the right one all along. So while Snape may have been a jerk, he was not evil. Lily and Dumbledore knew that. There is an exception to every rule.

Hufflepuff: I often battle with myself over whether I'm a Hufflepuff or a Gryffindor. In the next section I'll go over why I always settle on Gryffindor. Something I've noticed about Hufflepuffs is that, while they are the hipster's house of choice, they are not necessarily stuck-up the way the other houses can be (some of them get uppity about that and the irony runs rampant, but that's not always the case). When people are unsure of which house they belong to you can always hear a Hufflepuff piping up to say "There's room with us!" Hufflepuffs are NOT spares. They are fiercely loyal and hard-working. In "The Sorting Hat's New Song" (book 5) the Hat talks about how 3 of the founders preferred students with certain traits, but Hufflepuff said, "I'll teach the lot, and treat them just the same." Really the only example of Hufflepuff we have (that we actually get to know a little) is Cedric Diggory. During Harry's third year, when he falls off his broom because of the dementors, Hufflepuff wins. But Cedric tries to get a rematch because it was unfair to have the Snitch caught after Harry fell. Pretty admirable move, in my book. Plus during the TwiWizard Tournament, he gets help from Harry and then returns the favor. Granted, not quite as directly as many of us would have liked, but he did still feel the need to help Harry out after getting advice from him. I think there were enough positives to cancel out his terrible taste in women, which Harry shared. In case it wasn't clear, I thoroughly dislike Cho Chang.

Gryffindor: I'm obviously biased, but I'll try to be fair on this one (see? Shit like that is so Hufflepuff). So obviously, bravery is the neon sign over Gryffindor tower. But we see that bravery manifest itself very differently in all the characters. We see how Harry's friends follow him into incredibly dangerous situations because they know it's the right thing to do. Fred and George see a major problem in the school in the fifth book; they stand against it, do a little damage, and then decide to strike out on their own. I'm fairly certain the Hogwarts dropout rate is pretty damn low. They would have been severely punished if they'd been caught, but it was worth that risk for them. Then we have Neville. Neville motherfucking Longbottom. As Dumbledore says, "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends." So much truth. And later, Neville joins the D.A. and starts to see that he's worth something. Once he has that, there ain't a damn snake that can stand in his way. Now with us Muggles choosing our houses, Gryffindors tend to be a bit uppity about it. Although I think after a while, people started choosing other houses just because they WEREN'T Gryffindor (damn hipsters), but that may have been partly due to the fact that people seemed to be favoring Gryffindor just because it was Harry's house (or Ron's or Hermione's). I don't think Gryffindors are the heroes all the time, there are certainly douchebags (Seamus Finnegan, at least temporarily, was definitely one). But I think the bravery stems from a very strong sense of what is right.

I think that's part of what sets Slytherin apart; Gryffindor has that sense of what is right, Hufflepuff is all up into justice, Ravenclaw--while practical--seem to have a good sense of right and wrong. Those three houses are always portrayed as friends and they get along. Then Slytherin comes along with the mindset, "What will help ME?" It becomes less about what is necessarily "right" and more about staying alive and in the game. Voldemort even calls out his supporters about it, scolding them for telling everyone he had bewitched them, then coming back and telling Voldemort they were just waiting for him to come back. I think Max Dettweiller from The Sound of Music would be a Slytherin. He's not necessarily a bad guy, but I remember when I was younger I asked my mom whose side he was on, and she said, "Whichever side wins."

Okay. So why I consider myself a Gryffindor. I am not all that brave, to be honest. But look at The Lion King. Simba says, "I just wanted to be brave like you," and Mufasa replies, "I'm only brave when I have to be." He explains that being brave doesn't mean going looking for trouble (baba ba ba ba ba bahhh). Courage isn't getting up in the morning and thinking, "I'm going to be brave today!" *pokes sleeping bear* It means not running away from problems when they arise and fighting only when necessary. We see that with Neville, too; he doesn't swagger around doing heroic shit, but when the time comes he stands up for himself and/or beheads a gorram snake. So I guess that's why I'm a Gryffindor. I'm not always brave, but I know that I can be. Besides, I'm not smart enough for Ravenclaw or cunning enough for Slytherin. So...roar.

I think this is long enough. I've said my piece. Have a pleasant evening regardless of your House.

And never did they dream that they / Might someday be divided / For were there such friends anywhere / As Slytherin and Gryffindor? / Unless it was the second pair / Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

Beauty is Bullshit. And Not.

Song of the Day: Folsom Prison Blues by Johnny Cash

The other day, out of curiosity, I searched "beautiful" on Tumblr and the results were both fascinating and horrifying. Landscapes, dramatic storms, flowers, Emma Watson, Lindsay Lohan, 6-inch high heels covered in metal studs, beaches, Miley Cyrus, animals, their best friends, themselves. Beauty is so incredibly subjective. For example, Angelina Jolie is generally considered to be unbelievably beautiful. I think she's lovely, but honestly I think it's the fact that she looks slightly strange that hooks people in. It's her eyes. And when she accentuates them with dramatic makeup, she takes on a sort of exotic look and it translates to "beautiful." I personally think she looks much more beautiful when she sports a softer look.

That's just one example. But what we consider beautiful affects the way we behave. That difference is what makes one person have no problem with clear-cutting trees while another chains themselves to one in order to save them. It's what makes someone throw paint on a woman wearing fur.

Somehow that leads me back to yesterday's post; I love the countryside so much, but I don't think I could live that far away from people. Even in a small town. One of the things I love so much about where I live now is that I could make a day trip out of anything I want: city, mountains, forest, ocean, country. I don't think I could be removed from all of that. I don't even know my head from my ass if I can't locate the water.

I don't know where I'm going with this. As usual, I don't have a point. Or if I do, I can't articulate it. This is why I can't do "Thoughts from Places" style videos.

I think this is why I don't normally blog every day. I don't always have things to say. So when I try to say them anyway it just comes out all "herpa derp herp the derpa von herpington." I should probably go do things with my life; a phrase which here means, "play cello until I get frustrated and go for a walk at some point."

This short and disjointed post brought to you by the number 21 and the letter E.

Though I'd like to look down on the Earth from above / I would miss all the places and people I love / So although I might like it for one afternoon / I don't want to live on the moon. -Ernie and Aaron Neville (just a Sesame Street kind of day I guess)

A Lot of Moving

Song of the Day: Down to the River to Pray by RedDog

We (Bahia and the Lore) performed today at the Island County Fair. It turned out to be quite fun. The acts before us were all from a local dance school, and they were really fun to watch. The audience response was enthusiastic and supportive for every single act, which was really nice to see and created a great community atmosphere. It was kinda funny because the fairgrounds are pretty small, so in between our songs (many of which are pretty mellow) we could hear the petrified screams of tweens on the rides. We had a good performance though; despite the heat, our energy was up and we all played well (I even rocked my solos). Afterward we went to Coupeville (a cute little beach town on the sound) for lunch with Bahia and Maria and their respective mothers, and it was surprisingly pleasant. I thought it might be strange and/or boring to be the only young-ish person there. Luckily I wasn't just peppered with questions about college.

The drive out and back was really lovely. I love driving. I can think about things, or they can just go away for a while. It was nice driving through rural-ish Washington and listening to bluegrass. Very comforting.

While I was waiting for the ferry this morning I saw an old couple (probably in their seventies, maybe eighties) walking to a restaurant and they were holding hands. It was somehow reassuring to see a couple that had been together for so long and hadn't started to hate each other.

I may go to Portland next week to visit Lucas. It would be both a good and a bad thing. Good because I miss him quite a lot and Portland is cool, but bad because that will mean I don't have hours this week. And my official last day is Saturday. Right now I'm not on the schedule at all because my numbers were bad (here's my question: how am I supposed to fix that if I don't work AT ALL?), but my manager is supposed to call me tomorrow and I'm going to ask for a shift on Tuesday, maybe a closing shift on Wednesday too. If he doesn't give me anything on Thursday or Friday, I'll start the process of wheedling my parents into letting me leave them with one car for those two days. But I gotta make sure I'm home for that game on Saturday ;)

Yesterday my mom was commenting on the fact that I don't talk to her and said, "I hope there's someone you DO talk to. It's not good to keep things bottled up, you know." Okay. 1. There is no WAY I would want to confide in her after seeing the way she treats my dad when he tries to talk about anything. She acts like it's SUCH a chore to listen to him. She'll just walk out of the room. Guess what, bitch? You married the guy. You could at least pretend to have a little respect for him. 2. Yeah, there ARE people I talk to. People who don't roll their eyes at me constantly and then wonder why I won't open up. 3. I disagree. Sometimes things get bottled up and then they go away and everything's fine. Problem solved. MOTHER GET OUT OF MY BLOG. I AM DETERMINED TO BE CONTENT TODAY.

I want to go dancing. I wish Emily were home. Even though I never end up getting asked much and dance pretty poorly when I do, a night out with her is always a fun one. And I love it even if I'm terrible at it. God, I'm in an abusive relationship with dance xD

I need to go write a song called "Nomad Mountain Outlaws." I saw that on a sign at a viewpoint on Eastern Washington and can't get it out of my head.

Love sings a song as she sails through the sky / The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes / And everyone knows it whenever she flies / And also when she comes down. -The Ballad of Love and Hate, The Avett Brothers

Things and Stuff

Song of the Day: You Send Me by Sam Cooke

I'm really not looking forward to packing up my room. The last 14 years of my life are in this room (technically I was in the bigger room for a while, but my sister and I switched and the IMPORTANT years were in this room). I am also a pack rat. I just have so much stuff. Stuff I don't need, but can't seem to get rid of. I still have my baby blanket for no reason. It's not like I ever use it.

One of the biggest issues will be my stuffed animals. For a while, I was INSANE over my stuffed animals. At the moment they're being stored in the basement. But I know that when I have to take them out and get rid of them, I'll have a specific reason why I should keep each one. There are a few that I simply won't be able to get rid of (the leopard my grandpa gave me, Lady from Lady & the Tramp who I still insist has healing powers, the lion that's as big as I am). It's going to be awful to get rid of the others, but I know I'll have to. I used to play with them and in doing so I gave them personalities. So it feels like they have emotions and will be hurt if I donate them. TOY STORY 3, GUYS. Maybe I'll just stash them somewhere and give them to my sister's kids one birthday at a time.

Then there's the stuff on my walls. Some of it I can get rid of, some of it I can take with me. Some things I'd like to put somewhere other than my walls, but where? If I'm honest with myself I won't scrapbook it. I only just have enough patience to put all my ticket stubs into a journal. But I have drawings my friends made me, signed playbills from musicals, photobooth reels, blah blah blah. Ok, this is the extent to which I keep stuff: Summer of 2008 I worked at a daycamp. After camp one day the other leaders in my group and I were prepping for a craft the next day, and one guy was goofing off making a little box growl and snap at us. We drew some teeth on it and glued empty water balloons to the top to look like eyes. That was the extent of the box monster's life. THE DAMN THING IS SITTING ON MY SHELF. I just keep everything, like I'll forget about it if I don't. And the thing is, I kind of think I WOULD forget if I didn't keep all this stuff.

I think I just need to close my eyes and throw it away. I get too attached to a lot of things, because I idealize and romanticize everything (except, ironically, romance itself). I think I've made this place too permanent, which is making the realization of its temporariness suck all the more.

I seriously remember where I got every single thing in this room. How am I supposed to just let go of that?

You know what else I should throw out? Sentimental Emma. She writes annoying posts. Literary Emma is now going to go read "The Warlock" by Michael Scott, and Polite Emma bids you a pleasant evening.

Well all these times, they come and go / Alone don't seem so long / Over ten years have gone by / We can't rewind / We're locked in time. -Do You Remember, Jack Johnson

Rocks

Song of the Day: You're Not There by Eddplant

My butt is so tired. (I bet THAT got your attention). But for good reason! Allow me to start at the beginning of this tale.

Today started out like any mundane Thursday with a trip to the doctor's office, where they unexpectedly stole my blood. It's funny how I'll willingly get tattoos, and then you put me in a doctor's office and I'm all, "BLUH, needles!" I don't actually have a problem with needles (like queasiness or fainting), I just find them unpleasant. But tolerable. ANYWAY. I was slated to hang out with Kayley afterward, and on the way to her house I saw a tweet from her saying she wanted to do some quintessentially "American" things before she leaves for England.

So she got in my car and I mentioned that. We looked to twitter for ideas (most of it was pretty unhelpful, although my favorite suggestion from her followers was "salute things") but eventually settled on finding a "World's Largest" thing near enough to drive to. She looked it up on her iPad and found nothing, but in searching for landmarks she found out that there is a replica of Stonehenge in Washington. She turned to me and said, "It's on the river. That's a four-hour drive." I thought for a second and replied, "I have nowhere to be tonight." So at about 1:30 p.m. we set out for I-5.

It was actually a really lovely trip. I-90 through the mountains is always beautiful (I actually prefer being a passenger for that so I can look at the rivers, but oh well) and there was only a bit of Eastern Washington that lived up to the stereotype of being "dead." Seriously, the hills were drained of color. But THEN we got into some gorgeous farming country with patchwork fields bright green, and there were white wind turbines on top of the hills against the intensely blue sky. Living in a place with so many trees, I don't often see that much of the sky, and it was wonderful. Kayley's Twitter followers got to see some of my finer quotations from the trip xD

We finally made it to the Columbia River Gorge and Stonehenge. Basically the story behind why it exists is this guy went to England and saw the real thing during WWI. At the time the theory behind it was less calendrical and more human-sacrifice-y. He saw parallels between that and the war, so he came back to the States and built a replica of Stonehenge as a war memorial to fallen soldiers. It's pretty cool. The view on the Gorge is STUNNING, especially in the evening (we ended up being there around 6). The Henge sits right on a cliff-ish type deal, Below it is a small vineyard or some such thing, and then the river. There were some rock outcroppings that made excellent spots to stand and yell things like, "I'm king of the world!"

Besides a sore tailbone from a combined 8 hours of sitting in the driver's seat, this trip pretty much didn't do anything negative for me. There was something beautiful and liberating about deciding to go somewhere and just going there. Just because we could. Gas prices be damned. It also reminded me that I really like being with Kayley one-on-one (not that I remembered it unpleasantly, we just don't very often). When it's just us, just Padfoot and Prongs, we fall back into being buds and it doesn't feel like we rarely get to see each other. We were able to make jokes and car-dance and just be goofy, and we were on an even keel again. We also listened to a lot of Ed from Chameleon Circuit's solo music and I'm really inspired to write songs now, except that I'm shit at songwriting. I gotta get some tragedy up in my life or something (but not actually).

I also tried the most simultaneously horrific and beautiful sandwich in the history of creation. Kayley got some footage today and that was part of it, and I can't imagine she'd leave it out when she edits it together. I'm actually pretty excited to see the final product xD

So yeah. Excellent day all around, and I have a sore tailbone and inner elbow to prove it. And even though it is now past midnight this is Thursday's post. Now I have to go never spend money ever again to make up for filling up the tank today.

I have seen all I need / to roam free within these streets / Climbing up walls that are never too tall / feeds my soul. -Serendipity, Greg Holden

Quelf

Song of the Day: Do You Love Me by The Blues Brothers

Well, after hearing about it from le interwebs so darn much, I finally played Quelf tonight. There was only one card/challenge that I opted out of, so yay me. I was probably slightly more reserved than I might normally be because while I was familiar with my sister, her boyfriend, and Steph's high school friend (also named Stephanie), their friend Neil was there and I had never met him. But he was super cool and it didn't take long to be comfortable around him. I think Quelf would make a good ice-breaker game (except that it takes forever); it forces you to be ridiculous and you have to interact with all the other players. It's a good time.

I've noticed that I'm linguistically impressionable. Like if I'm around someone and I like the way they talk, I subconsciously start picking that up. It only takes one episode of "Firefly" for me to start talking like a cowboy.

I feel like I should say more, but not much else happened to me today. And to say any more would be boring and rambly. So methinks I shall leave it here. Consider the short post a Thursday Treat. Especially because I will potentially have some things to say about Western medicine come tomorrow afternoon. Plus I'm slated to have an adventure, which is a very exciting prospect!

I guess I'm just a lucky so and so. -Just A Lucky So and So, Louis Armstrong

Comb Your Hair, Pretend You're Sober

Song of the Day: You Can Call Me Al by Paul Simon

I love days like today. I actually went outside and acted like a citizen. I woke up pretty late (oops) and went to lunch with my sister. Now, I'm a little person, but normally I can eat pretty well. For some reason, I couldn't even conquer a turkey melt. It was DELICIOUS, but way too much food. I didn't even end up having dinner because I was still so full from it.

Anyway, we took a walk around Green Lake (not realizing just how warm it was until we were about half way around) and then I dropped her off before taking mine and my dad's ballots to a local ballot box (that's where the "being a citizen" bit comes in). I then came home, learned Hank Green's "Shake-a-Booty" dance, filmed it and sent him the clip to use in the music video. But was my day over? NAY.

Abbie and I decided to try out a new frozen yogurt joint in town. We definitely weren't the only ones with that idea. But I can see why. You get to choose what size cup you want (big or bigger) and then there are a zillion levers in the wall and you can get your own, so you get exactly as much as you want and you can combine it any way you choose. Then there's a topping bar (aside from fruit, they have cookie dough bits and freaking cereal. Cinnamon Toast Crunch, for crying out loud!!). There's a scale attached to the cash register so you plunk the finished product down on that, then they charge you by the weight of it. And the price was pretty decent. I got mango yogurt with strawberries and a few Peachie-Os. Muy tasty.

We ended up playing a bit of a game we have. The rules are simple: she tells me when and where to turn. It's fun because we get to see bits of our town that we haven't seen, and always find ourselves saying, "Oh, we're HERE? I know where we are NOW!" I took us through a super creepy neighborhood with absolutely NO lights anywhere. We managed to avoid picking up ghosts though, so...go team. Eventually we just drove to Seattle, across it and right back out again. Basically we drove around it. But it's nice, just to drive. Sometimes we talk, other times we don't need to so much. One of the big things I'm going to miss when I'm at school is driving.

There is one high heel in my room. It's been here for ages and I haven't the foggiest idea where it came from. I have never owned a high-heeled shoe. Can't walk in them. I nearly went to prom in Chucks.

So that was my day. Not too shabby, in my opinion.

Also, 4-1 today? Gotta love my boys in green.

I got marbles in my mouth / A thousand words I wanna say but it's impossible to spit 'em out / I can barely make a sound. -Do You Love Me, Guster

Oh, Youtube

Song of the Day: The Captain by Guster

This Saturday, the 20th, is going to be my one-year YouTube-iversary. That's super weird. I'm still the awkward new kid. I've uploaded 36 videos over this past year.

Sometimes I feel like I have things to say, but then I sit down in front of the camera and nothing happens. Some of the people I watch are primarily there to be funny (like Hayley Hoover and Michael Buckley), and they do a wonderful job. People like John and Hank and Rosianna manage to not only update us on their lives (which they somehow made us care about) but they also seem to have a point every time. That's what keeps people coming back and watching their videos. The videos ends and we're left with something to think about. I feel like that's something that my videos are missing, that crucial element that makes them more than just a girl ranting about her first world problems.

I don't like to upload videos just for the sake of doing so, and I so often lack creative ideas for them. I'm hoping that school (both the classes and just being around people) will kickstart my brain and I'll be able to make some decent quality videos. It's interesting that my most-viewed video (that wasn't pimped by Kayley or a response to someone else) was a short one in which I basically said, "Don't let other people's opinions shape yours. Take pride in your personality." At the time I was a little hesitant about posting it because it felt cheesy and overdone. But I think things like that don't really get old as long as you mean it. Which I did.

One thing I really love about putting content out there is starting to recognize usernames. When I see comments from the same person consistently, it reminds me that someone is loyal and trusts the quality enough to watch everything I post. That makes me feel like I'm talking to more than just a camera, which is a good feeling.

I don't remember why I started vlogging. I know I wanted to do it since I was 14, but when I initially asked for a decent camera my mom said no because she believes the internet is made of stalkers and rapists. They're definitely out there, but they will generally only get you if you're a dumbass. So when I got my Mac, the built-in iSight was there and I just thought, why the hell not? And I'm glad I did it. There are now people I speak (or rather, type) to that I otherwise wouldn't, people I want to meet that I wouldn't have had any idea existed. It's a very unique community, no matter what level of fame you claim/aspire to.

I feel like I should do something cool for my one-year video. As usual, I lack ideas. Ho hum.

There's certain rules you should obey / Like don't ever FTBA / And now I come to think of it / Let's take the worldsuck down a bit. -Nerdfighteria Island, Hank Green

Squid Are Angry, So...Cuttlefish of Disappointment?

Song of the Day: Shake-A-Booty by Hank Green

I wish I'd known the song Shake-A-Booty when I'd posted that entry about dancing the other day. The lyrics would have been PERFECT. Ah well. C'est la vie.

That being said, that is one of the most fun songs I've ever heard. I'm really stoked to move out so that I can play songs like that in the main part of the house without being questioned about it xD

I know I said I would write a happy post today, but I really need to talk about a friend of mine. And this is probably one of the most privately public places that I can do so.

So this girl was pretty awesome in high school (we became friends when I was a junior and she was a sophomore). We bonded over being cellos together in Chamber Orchestra and our mutual love of Disney and Harry Potter. She was always opinionated, but rarely disrespectful. She gave the respect that she demanded from others, and I admired that about her. She was confident and ambitious and a good leader; in sectionals she didn't take over, but she didn't hesitate to make suggestions and she shut us up when we weren't listening to the section leader. She adored books and knew she wanted to work in publishing. The only truly negative thing I would say about her was that she was a little clingy when it came to her boyfriend.

And then he dumped her.

That was pretty much where it started. I heard through the grapevine that she had taken up smoking weed as a coping mechanism. I didn't berate her for it because I knew she was incredibly upset and figured it would be a phase because I knew her to be strong enough to eventually deal with it on her own. But she didn't stop. And I didn't really realize how bad it was until I started following her tumblr. I found out that her life revolves around weed now, and she smokes normal cigarettes too. She parties all the time, getting drunk and sleeping around. And she tried cocaine the other night.

I don't know what to do. We haven't talked lately, but I feel like we were close enough at one point for me to be able to say something to her. But would she listen? Would she even be sober enough to hear me? It's such a 180 from how she used to be. The girl I know is strong. She respects herself and makes smart decisions; she knows what she wants and works for it. The girl I know is a Ravenclaw, but the one I see now doesn't even have a place at Hogwarts.

When I hear other people say, "I wanted to say something, but I just couldn't," I always think, "No, you could have. You just didn't want to. How hard is it to SAY something?" Truth is, it's hard. It's really fucking hard. Every time she signs on to Skype I want to message her and tell her this stuff. I want to say, "I love Nicole and I'd like it if she came back." I don't know what the result would be, if we would end up fighting or if we could talk about it. I honestly think she isn't over her ex-boyfriend yet and hasn't let herself deal with it. She's just such an electric kind of girl and now that she's started doing harder stuff, I'm really afraid of how much could get fucked up. I know she's better than this, but I'm worried that no one around her is reminding her of that. I really hope that when school starts it will slap some sense into her before something really bad happens. Because right now I'm struggling between deciding whether say something to her is my responsibility or completely meddlesome and out of line.

Okay. That's all. Look, a cute cat to counter this downer post!

That's Sebastian, my special favorite of our two new cats. Not the best picture, I know, but he wasn't holding still very well. He's a very handsome boy.

Weary

Tell me you will hold me

When wrong, will you scold me

When lost, will you find me?

But they told me

A man should be faithful

And walk when not able

And fight 'til the end, but I'm only human.

-Will You Be There, Michael Jackson

There Arose Such A Clatter

Song of the Day: Gone by Lauren Fairweather

All I have at the moment are negative thoughts, and I do NOT want to post ANOTHER negative post. If anyone got all their information about me from my blog, they would probably think I was an incredibly angsty and unpleasant person. Which is why I generally keep this blog on the hush-hush.

My numbers at work sucked so I don't have any hours this week. Exactly how am I supposed to get them back up if I'm not at work? Basically my job makes me feel like I'm not worth shit. I know that isn't true.

None of my go-to Hug Providers are home. And the mutual comfort of a hug would be really nice.

My parents are watching Order of the Phoenix on TV; I was there when they started, and there wasn't much else on they wanted to see. I don't even want to watch it because I'm not in the mood to watch Sirius die. Also I'm reminded of why people say this is the worst film. I generally say POA is the worst because they completely fail to explain the relevance of the Marauders and Daniel can't act yet and the entire set changes, but this one is pretty bad too. Harry doesn't need to go spend Christmas visiting Mr. Weasley in the hospital, he can go straight to Occlumency. WHAT. I don't know. I'm grumpy and annoying right now. I'm cutting myself off.

Moonlight Serenade will now forever remind me of Doctor Who.

I really wish I were old enough to legally have a nice stiff drink.

Edit: Also, they never explain thestrals. OH ONLY NEVILLE, LUNA AND HARRY CAN SEE THEM. KOOL. I mean siriusly.

I can't let myself keep adding things wrong with it, the list will never end xD

Last edit: OKAY last thing: I really love that Dumbledore calls Voldemort "Tom." I always have. It's so simple, but SO powerful. Every time he calls him that, it reminds Voldemort that he is human. By using that name, Dumbledore is saying that Voldemort, deep down, is a mortal man like anyone else, and that he has seen him as such. It takes everything Voldemort takes pride in and just waves it away. Whenever I watch the movies I have to remind myself that I love Dumbledore, because Michael Gambon has a way of making me forget that. OKAY SERIOUSLY DONE NOW. NOX.

Thinking so much my crowded head became sore / Fell back into the place I was before / Reasons long enough to not let show / I follow through this once because I said so. -Laughter, Josh Rouse

Journals

Song of the Day: Shake Your Tailfeather by The Blues Brothers feat. Ray Charles

Kayley posted a video today showing a bunch of different journals she had and what she used them for. I have a very similar collection of journals that aren't actually journals, and thought it would be fun to go through them, which I haven't done in some time. I'll probably make this into a video response at some point, too. Who knows.

1. "Literature." This is a purple journal that my sister gave me. It has a twin green one in which I started writing a story (the idea was kinda cool, I may revisit it to see if I can actually make it go somewhere). Anyway, this purple journal holds quotes from books. It only had one in it because I thought of the idea and promptly forgot about it, but I spent a few minutes today writing in some of the ones I underlined from "The Great Gatsby." I'm hoping I'll be better about adding to it than I have been in the past.

2. "Music." This is a lovely little journal I found that has pages that look age-colored and are very faintly patterned with sheet music. At one point I had used it to jot down notes about the quartet I was in (set lists, music to acquire, etc.), but I took out those few pages and have decided to put down both quotations about music and good lines from songs. I feel like it will fill up quickly.

3. "Friends." This is a little purple journal where I write down cool things my friends say. My personal favorite: "I'll miss you like the horizon misses the sun in the dead of night." The friend who said that is probably the only person I know who could say that without a) sounding like he's joking or b) having too much read into it. Sometimes I feel like he's a character from a John Green novel.

4. "The Little Leather Journal." This one is probably my favorite. I've written about it before. This holds every thought that can't go in other places. Notes to people that they don't need to see but that I need to write. Snatches of songs that I can't write all the way through. Lists of things I like that all start with the same letter (I've only done A and B so far). And sometimes I just take a line from a song and decorate it.

That's the only page of it I'll ever show anyone. Don't you feel SPECIAL and INCLUDED?

5. "Green." Looks-wise, this is the crown jewel of my collection. Green leather stamped with the image of a forest. There's a silver leaf on the front right and a little leather strap wraps around it to keep it closed. I need to take a picture, words can't do it justice.

There's really not much in it. A map I sketched to go along with a story I was writing. I think I decided at one point that it would be for things that had to do with my stories. I just bought it because it was too beautiful to leave on the shelf.

That's it for the most part. I have a few old notebooks where I wrote down funny quotations/inside jokes that my friends said in middle and high school. And when I go back through them I can remember perfectly how each one originated. I also have a Harry Potter one like Kayley's (her mom made them for us for Christmas) and it started out as a "Why 2011 is/was Awesome" log but I stopped at one point. Things didn't necessarily get less awesome, although the timing of when I stopped writing in it was kind of ironic xD I may start it up again, because there are going to be awesome things happening and I want to record them.

There's a meteor shower tonight. I'm heading down to the beach and hopefully the view there will be okay. Plus Brett is coming because he's finally home! Haven't seen him since June, so that will be exciting. I'll put up with the shit he gives me about beating me to college because at some point, when he least suspects it, I will smack him down with the fact that his House's heirloom is a pretty tiara, and mine is a badass sword.

I'm pretty sure Bob Dylan is the only person who will ever get away with sounding like Bob Dylan.

A song will lift as the mainsail shifts / and the boat drifts out to the shoreline / And the sun will respect every face on the deck / The hour that the ship comes in. -When The Ship Comes In, Bob Dylan

Roses, Gatsby and Centerpieces

Song of the Day: Another Saturday Night by Sam Cooke

I'm in a Doo Wop mood today. It's just so FUN. And very refreshing/comforting after hearing something on the radio that consists mostly of the words "bitch," "hoe" and "smack." For clarification, I only ever hear those songs against my will. Whenever my coworkers have shit like that playing in the stockroom, I just belt out "Earth Angel" to counter it. Now THAT is a good song.

Sam freakin' Cooke. My ear are nommin'.

I'm not a fan of roses. Is that weird? I have nothing against them, they're lovely. I like the ones that are more than one color. But I like others way better. Lilacs win for smell. Holy cow. And sunflowers are awesome. They're just all...sunny (she finished lamely). Apparently a distant relative of mine (Luther Burbank) used to splice genes to make new plant varieties. We visited a place near Burbank, CA where they had a garden of his experiments. There were lots of roses. That's my one claim to pseudo-fame: Burbank, CA is named after my, like, fifth cousin four times removed or something. From ages ago. YEAH. When we were there I got this candy made from the juice of prickly pear cacti. So tasty.

I'm pausing this post to go to the library with my sister. PAUSE.

I had an "El Cubano" sandwich for lunch. I have no idea what was supposed to make it Cuban, but it was super delicious. Welcome to my exciting life.

At the library, Steph and I were talking about how possessive I get over my books. I have trouble with libraries because after I read a book I love, I want to keep it. Yeah I could return it and go buy a copy, but then it's not the one I read first. It's a bit stupid and sentimental. Plus, sometimes I like to underline passages I like. It's funny how rarely I do that. I think most of the books I read tend to be exciting, so I'm just focused on the story. But slower stories make me think more about the words. I've underlined the hell out of The Great Gatsby. And I didn't get very far into The Odyssey yet but I've done the same in that one.

Oh god, I hear wedding talk in the living room. My sister is Maid of Honor for her best friend's wedding, I think it'll be next summer. I know I'll be MoH at hers eventually, but I'm hoping she'll get a lot of the logistical help from her other bridesmaids. Give me my dress, tell me what needs to be done. Don't ask for my opinion on what looks better as a centerpiece between plum and royal purple. I can't do the piecing together bit. I can be shown a finished idea and offer an opinion. But good heavens, I am so not the person to consult about dresses and place settings and centerpieces or any of the stuff I hear Steph having to deal with. Luckily I think Steph knows that.

Once I was at Pike Place Market and this group of guys was singing this song. It was really excellent. I've seen them before, and every time I have to make whoever I'm with stop so we can listen to them.

This is just as random and pointless as last night's post. But at least then I had the excuse of being deliriously tired. The moral of the story is: I should live in a malt shop. Fin.

When this old world starts getting me down / and people are just too much for me to face / I climb way up to the top of the stairs / and all my cares just drift right into space. -Up On The Roof, The Drifters

Stay Awake

Song of the Day: Track 08 by The Harmed Brothers (If I had to guess, I'd wager it was called "Walk Home With Me")

Whoa buddy. I am so sleepy. But it is daytime and I do not sleep during the day. Despite resembling a slow loris in perhaps every other way, I am not nocturnal. I shall struggle through my sandpaper eyelids. Sandpaper Eyelids. That would be a good band name. Or a My Chemical Romance song. "Oi'm LUH-king at yo thro, SANDPAYPER EYELEDDS."

I just came up with a really good analogy. So sometimes you'll see a couple that have really similar interests and love all the same things, but it doesn't work out. And people are going, "You're practically the same person, how could you NOT be together?" Similar--even nearly identical--interests are not the same as similar personalities. It's like when you're doing a jigsaw puzzle, and trying to put the sky together. Two pieces can be exactly the same color and it's super frustrating that they don't fit together. They may be the same color, but they are different shapes. They're cut out differently. That may be a terrible analogy. But I'm about as aware as my mother right now (who just had eye surgery and is hopped up on Vicodin). Haha she just said, "I don't know how people do this all the time; like, boxers, getting beat up all the time. It sucks."

I got a ring made out of a guitar string. It's pretty cool, except if I'm not careful there's a pokey end that catches on things. Namely, my favorite jeans which now have a little row of loosened threads that look like teeny arches. Ever really look at jeans? There are a zillion shades of blue that make up medium wash jeans. It's wild.

I left my Sour Patch Watermelon Slices at Abbie's house. It makes me sad. They are so effing delicious.

Can you imagine if people were like animals? If all people were dogs, they would be slightly wary of new people for about ten seconds, and then trust them forever. Everyone would look at everyone else like they were the best people in the world. If everyone were like cats nothing would get done because we would all be waiting for everyone else to do it and wondering why our ears weren't being scratched. Personally, I don't care for having my ears scratched. Although one of my friends does greet me with a friendly little scratch on top of my head, and I don't mind that as much.

My sister and I were talking about how she resented me for a long time because she had to start making her own lunch in second grade, but my mom made mine for me all the way through elementary school. I had no idea. I told her Mom made up for it by never letting me have Gushers. Isn't it funny how packed lunches and lunch at home are in no way similar, unless you have a sandwich for both? Like, I wouldn't go into my kitchen at noon and make a sandwich, then grab a pack of Gushers and a little bowl full of Bugles. Maybe if I had Gushers and Bugles I would. But I don't, so the point is moot.

You know what are delicious? Caramel Bugles. Seriously. Once before orchestra my friend Nicole brought a bag of them, and one of the other cellos ran and got milk from the vending machine, which we poured into the bag and used plastic forks to eat it like cereal. SO good. Except there were four of us and two forks, so one of us would have to take a bite while the other was chewing. Lots of Swine Flu jokes. I miss orchestra.

There's this specific kind of bird whose chirp I associate with mornings (spring and summer mornings, to be specific) and it's always weird to hear them in the evening. It's not like that's unusual, I can hear them every evening. But for whatever reason I'm like, "What you doin'? It ain't morning."

The Court Jester is an excellent film. Pretty much saying that purely for Michael's benefit, because Abbie already knows it's true.

I think my dad likes having real cats. I think he's a cat person in the first place, but our old cat sort of ruined cats for both of us. She was hardly even a cat. She looked like Yoda and a diseased ring-tailed lemur had a horrible, horrible child. I like the new cats though. Sebastian is my special favorite.

I hate riots. Nothing like a good, "You know what will help our situation? Doing everything in our power to alienate the only ones who could help!" I get the anger. I get the frustration. But no is EVER going to want to hear what you have to say after you've burned down a city. You just screwed your entire side into the ground. I think they make no distinction between "riot" and "revolution." I do. To me, a riot is when frustrated people go around haphazardly burning and pillaging with no regard to who is being hurt. Revolution is when truly downtrodden people decide to stand up to oppressor and make it clear that they will take no more mistreatment. So basically it's a worthiness of cause distinction for me. And to me, the London (I guess it's beyond just London now, isn't it?) riots do not display a worthy cause.

What is post. I'm not going to go proofread this, because if I see what I've written I'll never post it. So sleepy. Sun only just setting. Can't waste daytime. Will read book if possible. Sentence.

Stay awake, don't rest your head / Don't lie down upon your bed / While the moon drifts in the skies / Stay awake, don't close your eyes. -Stay Awake, "Mary Poppins" (even though I'm listening to Harry Connick, Jr.'s version)

The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing

Song of the Day: Kansas Wind by The Harmed Brothers

You know what I really love about music? It's full of secret languages. Some are more literal than others; you have to learn to read notes on a page (for the more classically inclined) and translate that into an action. You have to learn what a conductor is trying to tell you with different movements of his or her hands. I remember on Mr. Rogers he went to see a choir and was talking about how those movements were like a secret language that the musicians could understand. I loved that he described it that way.

Music is also how we say things we don't actually want to say. You can write a song and when you share it, you can say it's from a fictional perspective and people have no choice but to believe you. And what happens in a musical when something important happens? They SING AND DANCE. They go, "This is too IMPORTANT and too BIG to just talk about! I MUST MUSIC ABOUT IT!" Music tells us how to feel when we watch TV shows or movies. Would Gandalf's death be awful without the music? Of course, the actors show us that. But that score is what puts the audience over the edge and lets them fully feel the weight of the loss. When you put a baby to sleep, you don't set it down and say, "Well, 'night then. Love you lots and I look forward to raising you and stuff." You sing a lullaby because that baby doesn't understand the words yet, but it understands that you love it enough to sing it to sleep.

It also does this weird thing where it controls our nervous systems. If you look around an area where music is playing, you will see a lot of head-nodding and foot-jiggling. But for some reason, usually the only people actually up and dancing are the toddlers. They get up and spin and jump around because the music tells them it's okay, and no one has yet suggested to them that dancing in public is embarrassing. They don't have a concept of what it means to be embarrassed (which is why they also do annoying shit like screaming for no particular reason). On so many occasions I've wanted to dance so much, but no one else was dancing so I felt like I couldn't. And that's a sucky feeling because dancing ROCKS. Music invades your ears, takes over your brain and says, "I think moving would be a really excellent thing to do now." Then your body goes, "Yeah, you know what? You're right." And OH, the endorphins!

Seriously though, who ISN'T happy when they're dancing? Sometimes when I'm in a bad mood I'll force myself to dance because I know it'll make me feel better. But barring really bad moods, there are very few times when I don't feel like dancing. It's the best way to fully enjoy music (obviously there are exceptions; no one's going to dance to an aria from Pagliacci) because you're letting the music fill you up and then it just sort of spills back out again. That was supposed to be a cool analogy but it just ended up sounding sort of gross.

Point (if I do, in fact, have one): Music says the things we can't say, and dancing is how you listen and say something back.

An example: The people in the following video are doing it right. They are clearly fun people. And this is the perfect way to start a wedding. Before weddings people are generally nervous and jittery. What better way to get simultaneously relaxed and pumped than to dance? That ensured that the ceremony began with everyone smiling and feeling good and made sure that any little problems remained little, as they should. A wedding is announcing to the world that two awesome people have decided to be awesome together, so I am of the opinion that the event should reflect the personalities of the couple involved. It's like they thought, "What's the best way to express just how we're feeling today? BUST A MOVE." I wonder if I can convince my sister to do something like this when she gets married.

Heaven, I'm in heaven / And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak / And I seem to find the happiness I seek / When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek. -Cheek to Cheek, Fred Astaire

Get Your Own Damn Shoes

Song of the Day: Allemande from Suite #3 in C Major by J.S. Bach

I think I've finally pinpointed what it is that I so dislike about my current job: it makes me everything I try so hard not to be. Did that sentence make ANY sense?

For one, it makes me fake and phony. I'm supposed to make fast friends with everyone who walks through the door, regardless of how they treat me. Anywhere outside of work, I would not take orders or waste time on someone who acted like I was a robot built to cater to their every whim. But once I'm inside that store, that's exactly what I'm being paid (I use "paid" very loosely) to do. And I'd sure as hell better do it with a smile, too. Which is difficult because a) I can't smile knowing that I'm playing the part of Cheesy Salesperson and b) I'm already predisposed to dislike these people because they are spending around $100 on a pair of shoes. I mean...really? The ONLY reason I have a pair of my store's shoes is because I got them for free. No way could I afford them normally.

It also makes me grumpy by extension. Dealing with the rude dumbasses all day (note: some customers are very nice and respectful, and I appreciate those ones) puts me in such a bad mood. "I have Plantar Fasciitis, so the ball of my foot hurts." "No. That is not Plantar Fasciitis, you twit." I don't expect everyone to know what PF is, but I DO expect the people who claim to have to know what it is and to have been diagnosed by a doctor rather than going, "My foot hurts. Must be that problem I've heard about on TV!" That's like thinking you have lung cancer because you coughed. Take a minute to do some research so you don't waste my time here. Like Pink says, I was fine before you walked into my life. Store, rather.

My biggest problem is the bit about being fake. I have to act like nothing makes me happier than getting these people a zillion pairs of shoes while they take a year to make up their damn mind. And it's amazing how simple it is to make it better. A "thank you" or an "I appreciate you bringing all these" does so much to let me know you don't think I was created for the sole purpose of serving you. Hey, I'm a human being. Imagine that! I always love when people start ragging on me for a problem they had with an order or something and I want to yell, "HEY. Did you maybe consider asking if I'm the person who can help you with that? Maybe checking to see if I handled the order and am therefore to blame? No. You stormed right in here, expecting me to drop everything for you and help you with a problem that had nothing to do with me. The best way I can help you is to find someone who can actually resolve the situation." It would be SO easy to walk up and say, "Hi, I have a question. *briefly describe problem* Are you the right person to talk to about that?" Because when they go on a tirade to me and then I finally get a word in to tell them I need to go get a full-timer's assistance, they get pissed and feel like their time is being wasted. It's all about prevention, people.

Speaking of tirades, I'll end mine here. Happy post tomorrow.

I'm not here for your entertainment / You don't really wanna mess with me tonight / Just stop and take a second / I was fine before you walked into my life. -U + Ur Hand, P!nk

I Can't Hug Every Suicidal Cat

Song of the Day: Call and Answer by Barenaked Ladies

Welp, I've only missed one day of BEDA so far so I might as well attempt to keep up with the rest of it.

I just wrote three paragraphs on why people write and then deleted it. It didn't feel like I was contributing anything, and that is a very unpleasant(ly familiar) thought. The only reason people do anything is to feel like they've made a difference one way or another. If we matter to ourselves, we feel like we matter to other people. We've got this weird idea that if we're not doing huge monumental things, we don't "matter." Well guess what? If you know someone, you matter.

I know it's a touchy subject, but this is sort of why suicide makes my brain go in circles. One of my best friends was considering it at one point, even attempted it (I didn't find out until after the fact). And when I did find out, it was so hard not to be angry. I know she was sad and that some things in her head were severely wrong (and that's exactly what kept me from being angry), but what I couldn't understand was that she forgot that she mattered to people. Wherever her mind was, it wasn't remembering me or her parents or her little sister, and how all of us would have been permanently fucked up had she succeeded. I know that's why people tend to say suicide is a selfish act; and it is, for someone in a healthy mental state. Thing is, someone who wants to kill themselves is not, for whatever reason, healthy.

It's so disgustingly selfish for me to sit here and think about how it would have affected ME if she had died, and I have no defense for that. But I won't pretend I wouldn't be irrevocably broken if someone I loved that much wanted to leave me. Because that's what it was...some part of her was saying, "You want to get out of here, and the people who love you aren't enough." It was lying, but it was saying it just the same.

The thing was, I had no idea. None at all. It's made me paranoid ever since. Not just with her behavior, but with everyone's. I can't be genuinely or intentionally mean to people because the voice in the back of my head is saying, "Don't be the tipping point."

Maybe what frustrated me was that I couldn't have done anything for her even if I'd known. I was already there for her, I already told her I loved her. I know my presence wasn't the problem, in fact she told me it's part of what kept her even a little bit sane. Okay, so that's one. What about the others? I can't find all of the sad people and tell them it will be okay. And why do I feel like it falls to me in the first place? ("I can't hug every cat!") I can't fully empathize. I've barely even been depressed; at least not severely and not for a prolonged period of time. Just a time when there was no area between Laughing and Sad. Just the two. And the laughter happened less.

I'm all for sadness and anger and all that, because without those you can't appreciate happiness. But, when all is said and done, I just really want everyone to be okay.

You are not alone in this / As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand / hold your hand / ... / But I can't move the mountains for you. -Timshel, Mumford & Sons