3.7.09 : Falling In Love, All Over Again

[Block to Writer's Block: Jack]
Soundtrack:
Consequence – The Notwist
What New York Used To Be – The Kills
Glow – UNKLE
Right Round – Flo Rida
The Sun Ain’t Shining No More – The Asteroids Galaxy Tour

[ - Earlier text exchange -
J: How was NYU?
K: Interesting. People were one-dimensional so far, but teachers were nice and one of them was really fucking cool. I've already made a piece that I love. Far better than the class, though, was the neighborhood. It was magnificent. I explored today for an hour and I wasn't even with a friend. Can't wait to hang out there on Saturdays now]

Yeah, I loved it.
Oh my god the NEIGHBORHOOD. You know those adorable little bookshops you read about in the old classics and in modern magazines where vintage is synonymous with cool? Okay, no, you don’t, but I do. At least, now I do. I’ve been IN one of them.
I think it was called Mark’s Bookshop. Apparently I’m getting worse and worse at remembering names, but I sure as hell remember where it was and what it looked like. Obviously I was unable to resist the pull (the last time I went to a bookstore that wasn’t Barnes & Noble was in Aspen, Colorado, 200…6?), so the natural impulse was to walk in, whereupon I saw a stack of The Onion newspapers before I’d so much as opened the second door. Instant credibility!
Ahhhhh, the smell, the setup. Sprawling rows of books in totally uncoordinated sizes oozed with a downtown charm that made Barnes & Noble seem as despicably chain-store-y as McDonald’s. It was, well, magnificent. (I haven’t outgrown that word since Juno. Although I guess my overuse is kinda blasphemous considering she was talking about sex.)
Anyway, I digress. Ty’s been trying to get me to read Lord of the Rings so we can do a roleplay on it (for all you sickos out there who don’t understand the beauty of the art, that’s not some synonym for cybersex. Some of us actually enjoy writing in our spare time). He even read the greater portion of the first chapter of the Hobbit to me over the phone, which was–well–<insert a word of accolade that does NOT start with an m and end with a t. What’s wrong with my mental thesaurus today?!> (This is the part where I stop sounding like I’m talking to Jack. Jack, if you’re reading this, which you most likely are not, I’m sorry–NO! Bad! Don’t you dare even THINK ‘don’t apologize’!) I figured I should reward such effort with, well, some kind of result. So I looked for the books. Tolkien. Not Ziegesar. Mark was bound to have it.
Horror of horrors! It didn’t. Or at least, I couldn’t find it. It went from, like, Till-something to Tolstoy. Straight to Tolstoy. Nevertheless, I had to resist the urge to make a purchase–not having read “War and Peace” let alone “Anna Karenina” is arguably even more blasphemous than using an adjective originally intended for sex to describe everything that is pleasurable in life. But it was too high up and I was too lazy to clamber clumsily on top of the stool (even though it was, like, right in front of me) in my polka-dotted black skirt and Henri Mendel graffiti boots, so I managed to walk away. Watchmen, however, was considerably more difficult to resist. I am not a comic/manga person–never have been–but after seeing that movie, I simply can’t pass it up. However, the scrooge within prevailed and I managed to leave it under the “Urban – NYC” category (which, by the way, makes no sense to me–what was it doing there?)

Scrooge or no scrooge, I still didn’t manage to walk out of there empty-handed; the March 2009 edition and consequently my first copy of Nylon magazine (cover: Kristen Stewart) accompanied me, and is now spread before me on my desk. For all of you Twihaters who will instantly condemn her for being involved with the franchise, I suggest you read the comments, in which I’ll post an excerpt from the article (I think she says ‘fucking’ even more than I do). Okay, so at $3.99, it had a hefty recession price, but fo’ serious this shit is beautiful. It makes my prized Teen Vogue/Allure subscription seem like Chiclets. And it also provided resistance power when I walked past two Starbucks in, what, three consecutive minutes? So technically I saved a buck and prevented excess calorie consumption.
Literature is good for the soul.

-Later-

I wrote that much about a bookstore? No wonder I never get any blogging done.
The remainder of my day went downhill from there, sadly, and I’m too exhausted to go into detail. I discovered heaven in Kmart, sat outside for an hour and slept outside for another while John Liu announced he was running for City Controller (in addition to seething in silence as Falun Gong staged another pointless, illegal protest that made me want to get on my tiny American feet and hurl profanity-laced sentences brimming with intimidatingly advanced vocabulary at their poorly educated faces), received the April issue of Teen Vogue, went out to dinner, had a lemon lollipop, procrastinated, and had an intriguing conversation with the subject of this blog whom I am now leaving the computer to call.

I love run-on sentences.

- End of Day 7 –

P.S. The weather today (upwards of 60 degrees) made me

Magnificently

Happy

MULTITALENT: A Thousand Things

“I just wanted to let people see some of the things I’ve seen. The book contains images I’ve taken all over the world.”
“The way a live performance is to the studio performance; so is Polaroid Instant to the Digital Format. I only get one shot of the subject.”

http://www.athousandthingsbook.com/
A Thousand Things – A book of polaroids by Jason Mraz

Break out of the box!… or at least climb on top of it and use it as a launch pad.
Singer-songwriter Jason Mraz (the man behind 08’s “I’m Yours”) adds “avid and now published photographer” to his resume. I must admit it looks good next to “Grammy nominee”.

PREVIEW:

You know, if anyone mysteriously feels the urge to get me this, you won’t hear me complaining.

Decode

Sorry for the hiatus! Life’s been throwing numerous curveballs (and way too many homework assignments/collaterals) in my direction, leaving very little time for my blogging hobby. I’ll make up for it, I promise!

But enough about my life- fickle teenage worries pale in comparison to THIS.
This music video.

I swear, elementary-school cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die-style, that the second you watch this video ALL YOUR DOUBTS; I repeat, ALL YOUR DOUBTS (translates to: every doubt you ever had) about the Twilight movie will evaporate into the thin, cold, NYC air (or wherever you’re reading this from).

http://www.mtv.com/videos/paramore/294491/decode.jhtml#id=1518071

So WATCH, for Chrissake (Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger). If you have crappy internet, wait till it loads, THEN watch. And DON’T x it out because the first half is all stuff we’ve seen in the trailers. The real shit is in the second half.

If your eyes don’t have multiple orgasms you still lack faith in the film after this video, by all means, let me know. I need to expand my one-sided way of thinking.

What Would It Be Like To Lose Control

My sister recommended this book to me.

It’s called Bloom, by Elizabeth Scott; a counterpart to Sloppy Firsts [see earlier posts]. I shouldn’t be surprised, really. Something’s always connected us in a way that we might be connected were we really sisters by blood- so much so that shouldn’t come as a shock that we managed to stumble upon the same kind of book that we both really needed to read at the same time.

I knew the second I read the back cover that once I picked it up I wouldn’t put it down. I didn’t. I flipped open the page at 11 and now it’s 1 a.m. and I did not stop for a second. Except for that one spot where I turned the book over, looked up at my ceiling the color of orange sherbet, and said, “something big is going to happen on the next page and I’m not sure I want to know what it is.”
Regardless, I kept reading.

Unlike Sloppy Firsts, it did not bring on a set of realizations. Maybe because my life is less of a mess, in terms of how much I’m fooling myself with every passing day. Maybe because I’m trying harder to stay true to myself and still get somewhere.
But all the same it’s not enough. It might never be enough.
Because we’re human.

Humans, oh, we waste so much time trying to be something we aren’t. And every one of those wasted seconds is a second you could’ve spent being free. Being you. The world is a very large place, even if high school isn’t. There is a space on this earth for everyone, for every kind of person from every kind of background. You. Me. Him. Her.
But no matter how many times we hear it- “believe in yourself. be yourself.” I don’t know if any of us actually listen.

I have to be honest- I don’t.
I’m calculating. Manipulative. Most of my actions are the result of careful thought, a pick-one-option-out-of-ten-possible-ones that has gone on for so long it is involuntary and no one ever notices, most notably myself. I can tell myself a lie as easily as I can fabricate a story about why I don’t have my homework. But the difference is, the story about my homework dies the second my lips stop moving, whereas the lies I tell myself always manage to catch up to me.
Even when I try so hard to let go, to just be for a minute, it doesn’t seem to work. I’m still trying for something. It’s as if it’s too late for me. I want and I wish and I yearn but I can’t seem to let go anymore. And everytime my exterior starts to fall a little bit someone picks it up, someone notices and calls out my attitude, asks about my day, wonders if I got enough sleep or am being intentionally bitchy or was somehow offended- does anyone ever consider that maybe I’m just a little bit tired?

My mind works so constantly that sometimes my head hurts. I’ll be standing in the line to return books at the library and my brain will be going at hundreds of thousands of miles an hour and I can’t have ONE MOMENT of peace where all the thoughts will stop going and just shut up! I grit my teeth and beg myself to stop fucking thinking for even the barest of seconds, to give me some sort of relief, but I can’t. It never stops. Life never stops. The game never stops. It’s exhausting and I want to hit the brakes but I can’t find them. I want to let go, but my hands are glued onto the rope and even when I tug with all my strength it’s still not enough.

But I live to hope that perhaps, someday, it will be.

Maybe someday I’ll graduate surrounded by the right friends, not the wrong ones- the ones that everyone’s watching to see if you have. Maybe someday I’ll be able to close my eyes and shut down. Maybe someday I’ll be able to sleep without tossing and turning and dreaming of a day where my life will be better than it is. Maybe someday I’ll look into the eyes of my children and everything will make sense to me.
Maybe someday I’ll sing because I just realized music is the one haven I have where I don’t have to think. I only have to feel. Maybe someday we’ll realize perhaps it’s not that our parents don’t listen; only that we aren’t screaming loud enough. Maybe someday we’ll tell our parents what we really want even though we know they love us and thus can’t bear to disappoint them- because if they truly, honestly love us they will never stop us from forging our dreams to get better lives. What use is a better life when you feel empty when you wake up every morning? Why be right when you’d rather be wrong? Why is wrong defined as wrong when it feels so much more right than right?

No one ever said it was easy to let go- it’s not. But take it one step at a time. Sooner or later, I hope, there will come a time in your life when you’ll have reached your limit.
Sooner or later I hope we’ll all start living for ourselves.

We’re All Slaves to Society

I really shouldn’t be getting this up-close-and-personal this early in my blogging lifespan but fuck it; I just had an epiphany of sorts and it might be marginally beneficial to share it. And if it’s not? What-fucking-ever. At least I have the words saved somewhere.

I just finished a book called “Sloppy Firsts” by Megan McCafferty. I thought it might echo with my recent, angsty-teen mindset. It did. It went above and beyond the call of duty. And this is what I learned.

a) Making sure things with me and the one guy who’s ever really appreciated me for who I truly am are where they should be is more important than getting a conventionally “cool” boyfriend or hooking up with guys or being wanted by them
b) Getting a first kiss that really means something is worth more than getting it over with just so I don’t have to feel like a loser of a lip-virgin at parties
c) Actually doing my homework, not taking naps in Ms. Reilly’s geometry class, and bringing home the best grades possible to my dad is more important than hanging out and eating frozen yogurt and getting fat no matter how low the calories are [not dissing frozen yogurt btw; red mango = orgasmic.]
d) Making friends that will stay true is more important than making friends that will look good in pictures
e) Hanging out with my “sister” and really listening to her is more important than shopping for overpriced clothes that I don’t really love
f) Practicing my violin and not losing touch with the gift my mother gave me whether or not it takes me really far is more important than refreshing my Facebook to see if I got any more comments on my profile picture

My excuse for all of this was that I already have the friends-for-life; I don’t need any more. I don’t care if people like me for all the wrong reasons as long as I can have a good time. So maybe that makes sense. But maybe it’s not enough. Why not make more lifelong friends? Can you ever have “too many” true friends? Hell no. And in allowing myself to think otherwise, I might lose the true friends that I already have. And then what the fuck would I be waking up for?

I go to high school every day worrying about how I act, how I look, and who I’m with at all times just to come home and wonder why I’m alive. I’ve always known that it’s not worth it but I thought it was worth trying for a while. Well, it’s been a month of proverbial PMS, and I was right. It’s not. And fuck trying.

This is who I am. Either you’re comfortable with it, or you’re not.

Now the only thing that remains is seeing whether I have the strength to follow up.