A list of 13.

Because my birthday is on the 13th (Febz). I was going to do a list of 21 to match my age but I thought that was a bit much...not that I couldn't list 21 things...anyways



1. Anything J.Crew
2. Anything from the home section at Anthropologie because although their clothes are great, it is unnecessarily expensive which makes me not like it. However their home department is to die for
3. A beautiful and quirky metal tea set, pot for making it and the matching little tea cups
4. An assortment of exotic teas...I'm not a fan of the fruity stuff.
5. Suede vans in the "Sycamore" color: http://shop.vans.com/catalog/Vans/en_US/product/women/authentics_eras/suede-authentic.html#
6. External, PORTABLE hard drive
7. Any steampunk jewelry (try etsy)
8. Gift certificate to LUSH
9. Ballet flats with something sparkly or feminine on them
10. Dustin O'Halloran CDs
11. The new Alkaline Trio CD because it should be out before my birthday
12. Kat Von D Lipstick in "Hellbent"
13. Eating Animals by Johnathan Safran Foer (Haven't read it yet and want it so badly!)



That is a damn good list. I MIGHT buy some of these soon so you should check with me first...hah.

Snap ya fingas.

Today's "what just happened?" moment.

A frantic and emotional Facebook chat message lingers on the browser I didn't know was open.
I find it. Too late to respond. The person is off. So I message this person because I'm alarmed and I naturally worry very easily.
Like I said, it's emotional, upset, and venting.
Which I'm fine with.

But it's strange when people I barely know, although I do like this person from what I do know, turn to me for a meaningful and helpful conversation about something very upsetting. And I say what seems to me to be very simplistic positive notes, practically stating what seems obvious...just some happy thoughts...I am complimented with amazement. I mean...it was a nice exchange.

But after it was said and done, I just thought..."Whatjusthappenedjustthenrightnow?"
I'm used to people in my life turning to me for advice, a shoulder (or just the entire body really) to cry on, talking to me about issues, and depending on me for an assortment of things. But to come from someone I've only met twice. Well there's a whole new level. I don't know what energy I exude that makes people think this is what I'm for. I'm definitely NOT complaining. I enjoy it. I love being there for people...anybody. Even mean and nasty people because I don't have the heart to turn people away.

But seriously, what just happened?

I have high standards.

It's a terrible thing sometimes but I'm terribly attached to them.
I'm not holier than thou. I don't stare in disdain when I disapprove. But I will disapprove.
I'll keep it to myself. But I won't lie if you ask.
Please don't ask if you're going to get mad when you don't hear what you like.
When you feel compelled to ask, you know that you know it is bad. Whatever it is.
If you felt it was okay, you wouldn't be searching for justification.

Respecting someone's choices is different from agreeing with them.
I usually respect. I usually disagree.

I have high standards, but that doesn't grant me perfection. Don't treat me like I'm perfect.
If you only knew.

I have high standards for myself, for those I love, and for those with whom I choose to associate.
I realize this makes things difficult. It makes friends believe that I think I am better than them. It makes guys think I'm ready to judge them and shut them down
Worse it makes friends believe that I am better than.
Worse still, it turns me into some pinnacle of high morals.
Please.
I really don't know what I do to make people feel this way. Just because I choose to live my life a certain way, does not mean that I condemn anything different than that. I don't condemn. That is not my job. I don't care for it and frankly, it's not my problem. Even for those whom I love and care about, I can only say so much out of pure concern and worry, but any more than that is out of my hands and outside my concern.

Yes. I have a high level of self respect. Yes I have high expectations for people because I want people I love to be as amazing as I know they are, and to live a life I think they deserve. Not one filled with stupid alcohol and drug habits. Not one spent with people who bring them down and treat them like shit.

Yes I have standards for the man I want to be with. And don't tell me those standards are silly hopes or out of reach musings. If I can do it, so can someone else. If I can hold certain values for my body and life, and have important passions and ambitions in my life, I don't see why someone else can't.

I appreciate that people respect me for all these things. But I am not the iron fist behind the warm heart.

I don't really know where all this came from. Nothing in particular sparked this. Perhaps it's a love interest that has me confused and unsure. Perhaps it's me worrying whether I'll ever find someone I can accept fully. Friends are easier in this respect. You don't have to give yourself to them. And it's not to say that I can't accept the "good" and the "bad." I can. I know I can. I have. I did and then it all ran away from me in fear of "tainting me." Bullshit.

What I worry about is that person not feeling comfortable or right being with someone who doesn't have all that many stereotypical "bads" - seeing me as something too good to reckon with. Which by the way is absolutely ridiculous. I am not THAT. Please believe it.

So anyway. There's that.

I know I want to write.

But I'm not quite sure what I want to say.

I could talk about how I really like someone but my uncertainty in how he feels leaves me stuck in motion. I could talk about how I want to just be like...yo, I like you. Am I crazy or are you feeling the same thing? But then I run the risk of it all being in my head and him being a person I can't avoid seeing...someone I'd be forced to see over and over again and I'd feel like a retard every time I said hi.

Or I could talk about how my trip to Georgia was both absolutely lovely and depressing as hell all at the same time. I love going there and I always have fun and I'm always happy there, but I always have to leave there. I want to move there. I don't want to wait until graduation but transferring to SCAD means probably paying more money and causing a headache in all the transferring credits business.

I could talk about how the next three weeks of school are going to be hell. No, I don't want to talk about that.

I could talk about how my new best friends are the sweetest coolest girls I know and how I look forward to seeing them every day. I hope for one awesome San Diego trip to their homes over winter break to meet their families and just have a ridiculous amount of fun.

I could talk about how I love my old best friends but don't really feel connected to them much anymore...except for maybe one whom I actually see. Is it bad that this doesn't bother or upset me? I feel bad that I'm missed more that I am missing others.

I could talk about how much I love hanging out more with not only Shandise and Kailee, but also Nadin and Razan. :)

I could talk about how my sisters are the most ridiculous and entertaining drunks...EVER.

I could talk about how my 21st birthday is going to be fucking amazing.

That's the type of post you get when I'm procrastinating and wanting to update my life on this blog succinctly and lazily.

Oh well.

It's frustrating.

It's frustrating when I can't tell whether or not someone is gay.

Especially when I think I like him.

Although I have never ever been so inclined to have one of these moments, let alone state it, I have a feeling this is one of those "fml" moments everyone keeps talking about.

Now I know I have always chosen guys I can't have but this time I have gone too fucking far.

Too far Dana. TOO FAR.

Can't base what I'm gonna be off of what everybody isn't.

No one to receive.

I was released from my imprisonment
Eighteen years sentence of rattling the gates and gnawing at cold metal
Chiding the guards to let me out

Candy bar for the keys in your pocket fat sir?

Efforts didn't last long. I settled
made friends with my surroundings
They always left. Got out early.

Bailed out, just doing probation now.

They never shared their secrets
All the visits they paid me shoved betrayal scented shit down my throat
I disguised my gagging face--well.

These four walls are telling me more than you. I want to know how

I went to sleep with thoughts confining
Drowned in a buzz of distraction, distractions bought my freedom
the undefined term was up and my undefined being was out
The dialogue stops because I have no one to talk to
The subject is tired and I'm on the outside
I'm on the outside walking with the dust settled on the empty homeland
Nothing keeping me in here, no escape to work for, no stressful endurance to muster up
No feelings here, only a single dimensional straight walk filled with tasks to complete
To keep me distracted from the desire for an invigoration of sorts
What about turning? Left, right--back.
Back is better than the barren outside.
But I'm on the outside walking with the dust settled on the empty homeland.

A change of place.

I keep telling myself I need to relocate. But I also kinda think location is what I'm blaming a bigger issue on.

Last week a moment hit when I realized that I hadn't genuinely liked or had a crush on anyone in 3 years.

3 years.

That's absurdity.

And it's not that I haven't found anyone attractive or cool. It isn't as though I'm realizing I'm asexual or something. Although, the thought crossed my mind and deeply frightened me. I then proceeded to find many examples to disprove that theory.

The point is that I haven't found anyone that has seriously and attentively piqued my interest. And I can't for the life of me understand why. Instinctively, I think that it's because I just haven't met anyone, that my "selection" (sorry for the terribly stupid word choice but you get my point) is tired out, pretty much non existent, and proving hopeless. For the most part, school has very few guys and the guys that are there are usually either gay or stereotypically the rich spoiled jocky douchey type. And I'm not a party girl so there really is no forum for me to meet anyone. So that's a no.

Other forms of my social life usually tend to lack guys unless they're my friends' boyfriends and I'm not THAT girl. So that's a no.

My family doesn't have long time child hood friends, people my age that I grew up with. My mother doesn't socialize much anymore. My sister's friends are all girls with husbands so those are the only guys I meet in that circle. So that's a no.

I feel as though I need to live somewhere else to refresh my surroundings.

But I can't tell if it's because of that or if it's simply my inability to accept that certain options are a real possibility. Maybe the longer this takes, the higher my standards get. Dangerously high standards.

What's silly is that I'm not even looking for a relationship. I don't have time for one. At all. The thought of dividing my time even more scares the shit out of me. I just want my heart to do that fluttery thing again when I see him at school or my mouth to do that awkward stuttery thing when I talk to him. I just want someone to immaturely think about, blush about, and talk about with my friends. I can't remember what the hell any of that feels anymore because it's been so damn long since I've felt ANYTHING for a guy.

I want to hold my breath everytime I get a text message and wonder if it's him. I want to do all that stupid shit such as thinking of a reason to see him or call him. Stuff that both people know is planned but don't care about calling out the underlying flirtation.

Flirtation.

FUCK.

I don't even know what that is anymore.

I want to go to the place where that's not true.

I need a new place--whether it be literal or figurative, I just don't know.

But something better change before that part of my heart permanently remains in the state of icy stone.

Oof.

No time in the world ladies and gents. Absolutely no time for anything but school and sleep.

But I thought I'd take a moment to share.

New Muse CD is the bees' knees.

I want to reconcile the violence in your heart.
I want recognize your beauty's not just a mask.
I want to exorcise the demons from your past.
I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires of your heart.

This song is my favesiez.

New Pearl Jam, Jay-Z, and YACHT is also fabulous. Also stuck in a Tom Waits addiction. His voice makes me all nice and bluesy/jazzy happy inside.

I'M 82!!!!!

Papa bear. Baby bear.

My father is being checked into the hospital as I type these words and I'm sure you're wondering, "Why the fuck aren't you there you terrible terrible daughter?"

Well atleast that's what I'm wondering.

I was told not to come.

I don't understand why the baby of the family (who is no longer a baby my friends) has to be protected from all the badness and all the sadness.

Yet, when it comes time to really BE THERE, like taking my mother to have her surgery and radiation treatments and changing her bandaids, after we find out that everything should be okay--sure that's when I come in. Their intention is to protect but all they do is isolate me--whether it's away from the bad news or dealing with the aftermath.

Oof. I'm tired.

The search for peace worsens the problem.

So I haven't written in this thing very consistently lately, mostly because I don't even have time to sleep. I wrote a short essay/op-ed type assignment for my peace and conflict in the Middle East class and thought I would share. I won't elaborate on it because well--I have no time.

When the British and French ruled over this region after the fall of the Ottoman Empire, the transition into independent states created religious extremism in order to fill the void of expression that authoritarian rule created. As we see today, that extremism on both the Jewish and the Muslim side is clear and only building in strength. However, the attempt at fixing the major issues is only exacerbating that vacuum and contributing to the build of religious extremism as a means for political outlet.

As the perpetual search for peace continues, mainly between Israel and Palestine, nations involved in putting forth these plans for peace want to take religion out of the picture and ignore it as the central problem. That is the biggest and most ignorant mistake. When you take something away, something must fill that space. Removing religion from the plans for peace, from the ideas of shared dialogue, removes something that will only be filled by more religious extremism.

Michael Melchior states in an opinions piese in the Jerusalem Post that “when we look at the successes and failures in the pursuit of peace in the Middle East, we can see that there has been a failure to integrate religion and interreligious dialogue. The repeated attempts to ignore religion's critical role in the search for peace have been wrong. Today, almost no conflicts exist in which religion does not constitute a central component.”

Although it is a highly political issue of two people wanting the same land, to deny religion’s place in it would be self destructive to each nation if not just plain stupid. “Because religion was excluded from the solution, it became an ever-growing part of the problem. It was filled by extremist elements who tried to turn the conflict into a religious one - a conflict between ‘my God’ and ‘your God’ where there can be no compromise and no solution,” said Melchior.

This brings us back to the concept that Juan Cole discusses in the introduction to his book, Engaging the Muslim World. There is this feeling set in the hearts of Israelis and Palestinians (especially in the context of extremists) as though it is set in stone: “us and them,” a mental state of me against you. With the way the media constructs images, especially in the United States, we are often led to believe that the extreme ones are the Muslims because that is what we see—all day, everyday. Without denying the existence of Muslim extremists, I bring to the light that the “us vs. them,” or in the context of religion as I have discussed it, “my God” and “your God,” Israeli extremism is just as crucial.

According to a New York Times news story by Ethan Bronner, after the withdrawal of Jews from Gaza and four West Bank settlements, a group of religious Jews that believe they have a divine right to this land, illegally settled in these abandoned regions. Behind their slogan, “Never forgive! Never forget,” many of them are armed, refusing to leave that land and furious about Israel’s withdrawal from the region in 2005. The founder of Havat Gilad, the name of this settlement, vows that “they’ll have to kill us to get us out of here.” The settlement claims that their nation has forgotten the drive for Zionism altogether and that they must carry that goal themselves.

Aside from the plethora of violent acts against Palestinians including cutting off all major supplies for weeks, if not months, at a time, this religious extremism, just as Islamic extremism, creates a religious political outlet. It also creates clear resistance to any all peace processes because those processes choose to not address the crucial nature religion has in the entire ordeal.

Things to complain about.

1. School is taking away all hours for work so I'm broke
2. Spent all the money I had saved for my tattoo on books and art supplies
3. I have a lot of debt that wasn't there 2 months ago
4. Alopecia is relapsing a bit
5. I'm at school from 8 am to 10 pm pretty much everyday
6. The only days I'm not, I'm at work or doing homework
7. I haven't had time to read leisurely books in weeks
8. I commute and use gas like a bitch. (See #1)
9. My best friend is finally in town and I have no time to really see her
10. My sister and father make the house a mess and I clean until midnight before doing homework
11. I miss my mother and she needs to come back now
12. I have a stupid large ass fine at the library (see #1)
13. I spent 8 hours in the newsroom yesterday and will do the same on Sunday

But I don't give a shit.

I couldn't be happier with life than I am right now.

I never complain about these things. It takes everything for me to stop myself from going on and on about how wonderful all my classes are and how fun the newsroom is at midnight when everyone is laughing out of delirium and begging the managing editor to go get us stuff from the local liquor store.

It takes all my efforts to maintain my giggling excitement when I see the page spreads actually coming together in final form.

I catch myself smiling and utterly fascinated at the end of a lecture in my Peace and Conflict in the Middle East class.

I don't even feel the hours go by in my graphic design classes as I practice calligraphy while my professor plays ancient Buddhist monk music, or as I sketch all the possibilities for my logo design project.

I embarrassingly laugh at myself in my graphic deign history class when I realize that I said "Whoaaa...." aloud after hearing something just ridiculously interesting about ancient type and design.

I have the most lighthearted and laughable time with my best friends. And despite the annoyance, I feel warm and relieved when I come home to a house with my dorky cynical father and my even dorkier analytic sister.

I don't think I've ever felt this passionately immersed in something before.

And it makes me think, I was so wrong when I thought I knew what I wanted--when I thought I was so right. It's probably one of the most important things I've learned.

Don't push something aside because you've spent your entire life stuck to one thing or to one idea of who you are going to be in life. Don't stick with something because it was "the plan." Sometimes the plan is shit. Or sometimes the plan isn't as good as you thought and definitely isn't the right one for you.

I underestimated my love for art. I underestimated how much I could apply it to life and my future. But I pushed it aside because the plan was to be THE WRITER. To be THE JOURNALIST. Art is a pastime, not a realistic plan for life and a career. That's what I believed, that my love for art was secondary to something I was better at and to something that was more applicable. And although I still plan to author published novels and poems, nothing gets me more excited than design.

In retrospect, it's almost terrifying how wrong you can be about yourself--your OWN self. What's even stranger is how everyone else knew it about you all the while.

Social (and Sexual) Politics.

Don't play the game.
Everyone loses and/or looks like a fool.

Many times people believe they are pulling the ropes of social encounters and predicaments in their favor, acting in such a way and doing such things to control a situation in their favor.

Those poor little fucks.

Today my sister spent a good half hour (this is excluding the last time the topic of attending this get together was discussed) debating on whether or not to attend a dinner at one of her best friend's house. Why? Because SHE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED would be there--this old fart of a lady who acts and tries to look like a 25 year old who gossips and sticks her nose in other people's business...A LOT. She also happens to be her husband's aunt and she also happens to have recently pushed a lot of my sister's WRONG buttons (i.e. starting drama using her personal life).

Anyways...I listened to a half hour of this incessant debating, this list of maneuvers in social politics.

"I refuse to go. She's going to open up stories and topics with me. I don't need any more drama."

"Shit. Now all the other girls are going. It's going to look obvious if I'm the only one who doesn't come. She's gonna know why I'm not there. I have to go. I don't need her talking and starting drama about why I'm not there."

(this one's my favorite): "I should go. By going, I'm showing her I don't know or don't care what she says. I'll be calling her bluff--confronting her on her bullshit by showing that I can see her, be respectful and not give in to her need for drama."

AHHHHHHHHH FUCK PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE NONSENSE.

If someone is a shit talker, they're a shit talker and will be so regardless of your political maneuvers. Drama and gossiping can only dent the structure of your life if you let it--if you're the type of person that takes bullshit seriously. Which, by the way, is an oximoron. Bullshit is bullshit and is not to be taken seriously. HINT: if it's coming out of the bull's ass (AKA a shit talker's mouth), that means it's bullshit. Hate to state the obvious folks.

Do what you want. If you want to go...here's a thought...GO! If you don't, then don't. Because no matter what you do, a bull will remain a bull and yes, it will continue to unload mounds of shit. If she wants to talk, she'll find something to talk about regardless of your actions. You can't control it. Trying to play this game is only giving into what she wants.

I use this case in point because it's easier to explain things that way, but it applies in so many situations.

A classic is in a more specified region of social politics: SEXUAL POLITICS.

Everything from when the guy should call to what do you wear to the social gathering where your recently entitled EX is going to be as well. It's like...god dammit people, why can't you just do as you please and stop thinking you can control, evaluate or sway a situation by passive aggressive actions, gestures, or comments. If you have a thought or inclination, just say or do. None of this shake your hand with one of mine but hold a knife behind my back in the other. Better yet, none of this behavior that "you don't care" when you clearly do.

It's really quite fucking annoying.
Two easy steps: 1. Be Nice 2. Be Honest.

Yes. It's that simple.

Everything is happy.

The only exception being my skin of course.

School started and you wouldn't believe how happy I am with all my classes and all my professors (one of them has brownie Thursdays. SHE'S MY FAVORITE. She's also one of the sweetest ladies I have ever met).

I love my new major. I love my position on the newspaper. I'm proud of my work. I'm being productive and I'm completely interested in and excited for the rest of my semester.

But for some fucking reason, I want take off my shitty skin and grow a new one...GOD I envy lizards for being able to do that. I need a facial or something. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I feel like my face is freaking out for no good fucking reason. Maybe I got used to the weather and air quality in Georgia and now my skin quality falls apart in dry fiery/ashy chaos. Or maybe it's because I've been sleeping less. Or maybe because of all the fasting. Or maybe it didn't like my sister's hair product in Georgia and is continuing to rebel even though I haven't used it in a 2 weeks. AHHHH. I'm tempted to call my dermatologist but I can't afford it. Maybe I should revamp by skincare regimen. I'm thinking the Bobbi Brown line. All natural oils and plenty of hydration. Can't afford that either.

FUCK. I'm not in junior high anymore so why is my skin thinking it is?
Thank the lord for bangs.

Somewhere someone.

...is feeling the same way you are.

Humans are rather unoriginal.
In fact, I highly doubt the concept of originality really exists.
The personal is really nonexistent.
Secrets are only what they are in your own mind. Because anything you're hiding, most people know, most people experience, and most people can presume about you. Yet we keep hiding it all. Yet we continue to not discuss things. Yet we think each and everyone of us is an individual with all these unique and personal thoughts and secrets.

"Anyhow, he asked himself, what is an intimate secret? Is that where we hide what’s most mysterious, most singular, most original about a human being? Are her intimate secrets what make Chantal the unique being he loves? No. What people keep secret is the most common, the most ordinary, the most prevalent thing, the same thing everybody has: the body and its needs, its maladies, its manias---constipation, for instance, or menstruation. We ashamedly conceal these intimate matters not because they are so personal but because, on the contrary, they are so lamentably impersonal."

On the rare occasion that a person has personal information that is rare and limited to very few human beings (relatively of course, 500,000 as opposed to 1 billion), it's likely they want to share it with the world--have someone to talk to, express it online, divulge it to your world's audience in a blog. We often find that it's even easiest to tell the most emotionally intimate information to the newest of strangers. But we wouldn't dare say something we know all humans deal with such as a sex drive. No no no, that would be far too intimate whereas discussing your grandfather's recent passing and how you feel about that is not.

I notice that we keep secretive the most common of things simply out of shame. We are ashamed of the things we cannot control--the things that are there against are will. We are ashamed of all the things that seem to make us so pathetically identical to the entirety of the human race.

Going going.

back back, to Cali Cali.

TODAY!

I've been in the dirty south for approximately three weeks now, and I have enjoyed every minute of it. I have been here so long that I have developed an entirely new and comfortable routine. (I'm a woman of routine with occasional spontaneity.) However, I really really miss my old routine. I miss reading in my bed at night. I miss commuting in my car. I miss my car. I miss having ALL my clothes. I miss being annoyed by my sister. I miss making corny jokes with my daddy. I miss having to go to work and school (which will get old soon, I realize, but nevertheless...). I miss old town orange and the movie theater across from my work where I miss catching the occasional solitary movie going experience after a day's work.

I can't wait to get back to see my dad who is in poor health. I can't wait to have a girl's night with the sister (which means renting some cheeesy sci fi movie and watching it in the room downstairs). I can't wait to CLEAN OUT MY CLOSET and ORGANIZE MY ROOM. I have not been able to channel my bouts of OCD so my untouched room is waiting for me. I can't wait for my Panther newspaper meetings to start. I can't wait to show all the editors how art direction is going to take place this semester. I can't wait to start looking through all the textbooks that emptied a good chunk of my savings.

Ahhh, California--home--how I've missed thee.

But oh my, Georgia, how I will miss you. My niece and nephew. My sister. (I have two) Conversations on the deck while listening to the night time buzz of insects and frogs in the forest around us. The sporadic summer storms of unbelievably gorgeous lightning, thunder, and sheets of rain. My sister's amazing black and sage tea (PERFECTION). The aforementioned good looking fellow. Outings in the city, passing by my possible future graduate school.

Like I said, it's strange having your heart in two places.

But for now, I'm ready to return to my humble abode.

So true!

It's what I say after every time I read horoscopes or anything dealing with astrology. Now you may make fun, but I don't care. I'm not an idiot. I realize there is a bogus element to it, choosing just the right words and phrasing that can really allow horoscopes and predictions to apply to anyone at anytime. Many will say, it's just a matter of subjectivity. BUT, sometimes these things are just way too fucking accurate and it makes me think, "Even if this isn't real or fact, there's this level of accomplishment it reaches in pointing out interesting things in YOUR reality."

It's like interpreting a poem. It isn't saying specifically to you something about you and your life. But we often read it that way. The word choice and thoughts it presents are just the right things to make you think of how it applies to you--vague yet easily subjective. Does that invalidate the legitimacy and value of the poem? No. That is, for the most part, how I see astrology with varying moments of belief in some validity in the ideas that the alignments of space and time do create certain personalities and...happenings.


"The hands on the dial of a clock turn in a circle. The zodiac, as drawn by an astrologer, also resembles a dial. A horoscope is a clock. Whether we believe in the predictions of astrology or not, a horoscope is a metaphor of life that conceals great wisdom.

How does an astrologer draw your horoscope? He makes a circle, an image of the heavenly sphere, and divides it into twelve parts representing the individual signs: the ram, the bull, twins, and so on. Into this zodiac circle he then places symbols representing the sun, moon, and seven planets exactly where these stars stood at the moment of your birth. It is as if he took a clock dial regularly divided into twelve hours and added nine more numbers, irregularly distributed. Nine hands turn on the dial: they are the sun, moon, and planets as they move through the universe in the course of your life. Each planet-hand is constantly forming ever-new relationships with the planet numbers, the fixed signs of your horoscope.

The unrepeatable configuration of the stars at the moment of your birth forms the permanent theme of your life, its algebraic definition, the thumbprint of your personality; the stars immobilized on your horoscope form angles with respect to one another whose dimensions, expressed in degrees, have various meanings (negative, positive, neutral) : imagine that your amorous Venus is in conflict with your aggressive Mars; that the sun, representing your social personality, is strengthened by a conjunction with energetic, adventurous Uranus; that your sexuality symbolized by Luna is connected with dreamy Neptune; and so on. But in the course of their motion the hands of the moving stars will touch the fixed points of the horoscope and put into play (weaken, support, threaten) various elements of your life's theme. And that's life: it does not resemble a picaresque novel in which from one chapter to the next the hero is continually being surprised by new events that have no common denominator. It resembles a composition that musicians call a theme with variations.

Uranus strides across the sky relatively slowly. It takes seven years for it to traverse a single sign. Let's assume that today it is in a dramatic relation to the immovable sun of your horoscope (for example, at a ninety-degree angle): you are experiencing a difficult period; in twenty one years this situation will repeat itself (Uranus will then make an angle of 180 degrees with your sun, which has an equally unfortunate significance), but the similarity will be deceptive, because by the time your sun is attacked by Uranus, Saturn will be in such a harmonious relationship with your Venus that the storm will merely tiptoe past you. It is as if you had a new bout of the same disease, except that now you would find yourself in a fabulous hospital where instead of impatient nurses you would be cared for by angels.

Supposedly, astrology teaches us fatalism: you won't escape your fate! But in my view, astrology (please understand, astrology as a metaphor of life) says something far more subtle: you won't escape your life's theme! From this it follows, for example, that it is sheer illusion to want to start all over again, to begin "a new life" that does not resemble the preceding one, to begin, so to speak, from zero. Your life will always be built from the same materials, the same bricks, the same problems, and what will seem to you at first "a new life" will soon turn out to be just a variation of your old existence.

A horoscope resembles a clock, and a clock is a school of finality: as soon as a hand completes its circle and returns to its starting point, one phase is finished. Nine hands turn with varying speed on the horoscope dial and constantly some phase comes to an end and another begins. When someone is young, he is not capable of conceiving of time as a circle, but thinks of it as a road leading forward to ever-new horizons; he does not yet sense that his life contains just a single theme; he will come to realize it only when his life begins to enact its first variations."

And so I decided, out of boredom, to check my astrological compatibility with a rather fine looking sweet man I have come to know. This is not fact. It is a thematic evaluation that is very close and very accurate to MY reality that I take into consideration the next time I happen to spend some time with this fellow.

Love Compatibility of Aquarius with Virgo

This is a relationship that begins with a mental attraction and stays there. You are driven by originality and invention, offering new ideas and insight into everything you do. Your Virgo, on the other hand, is driven by accuracy and precision, focusing more on small details than the big picture. You may seem odd and quirky to your down-to-earth Virgo. He or she will most probably seem too practical and you may tire of the criticism, however well-intended it may be. This relationship will work if you learn to accept each other's vastly different approach to life.

So as long as a guy isn't a complete creeper, I could see myself not being turned off by the cheesy line, "So what's your sign?"

Simpleton.

Sometimes the most mundane or "normal" of days can be the more enjoyable ones. I've been in a funk for the past couple of days and I kept thinking, "Geez I need a night of fun. I need to have some crazy fun to just jolt me out of this weird bluesy haze."

And today I woke up at a respectable hour, had some coffee, went to TJ Maxx to return something, walked around the mall, and came back to my sister's house. I had the whole house to myself for a few hours and did nothing but work on InDesign and post stuff on facebook. Such a simple, productive, errand running type of day yet I feel so much better this evening. I watched an episode of Gilmore Girls, had a glass of tea and I am ready to finish off a book that has taken a while to get through.

Such a light, quiet, and simple day has cleared my head. I'm glad I can enjoy the end of my vacation here away from the dark clouds that were hanging over my head.

I think I'm ready for that novel and a few episodes of Friends.
Cheers to a peaceful and happy night.

Late night. Soon to sleep tight.

It's strange when your heart is in two places.
It's really a muscle that should not be stretched.

What color am I today?

I'm blue.

Some old pictures.

I was digging through my photobucket and found some extremely old pictures I wanted to share.


rajeed doin' her thing



OH GOD, freshmen year? disneyland with the ladies


Christmas night with the besties a few years back. down town disney



One of our many walking trips to the target center near her house. This was at pizza hut


Huntington pier


some ben templesmith art <3 onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v461/copprboom/21.jpg?t=1250221527">


mmmmmmmmmmm




When I first "cut" my hair. It was a big time in my life. Had a full head of hair for the first time in 6 years



Both of these ladies birthday weekend at the beach. Bonfire nights :)



One of out most famous best friend pictures


My twin driving around in california adventure



wedding. I thoroughly enjoyed my look that evening.


Just for you rajee. I miss benny!



Same wedding. Cute picture with the sister


MOMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Me and d-money at the irvine spectrum. My classic thumbs up pose.

:)

An inconvenient fact.

I am terrible at reading signs.

When they are not there, I fabricate.
When they are there, they go right over my shy little head.

Good luck and apologies to any man that ever meets me.

Besides food.

If I could marry something not human, I would marry fall clothing. And at this point in time I would marry J. CREW's fall line. Sweet baby jesus.


















1. Toothpick cords BUT in the color on the right

2. Ruffles!!!

3. Boyfriend blazer
























4. perfect bluuueee coat
























5. light pink wool pencil skirt
























6. Cardigan with closure detail ( <3 onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.jcrew.com/erez4/erez?src=images/eiec/17/17191/17191_BL8278.tif&tmp=prdDtIm">























7. Ahhhh the ruffled shooooeee
























8. Heeled oxfords
























9. silky two toned scarf
























10. Solid knee highs
























11. Patent leather burgundy skinny belt


And of course a bunch of their basic knitted tees and sweaters. And their headbands are just too adorable to even delve into at this point. I'm also dead set on finally buying one of their fleece lined cotton hoodies. Too comfy. Too adorable.

Haven't felt a shopping surge like this in a while.

I want to shank the bitch.

I am not your liaison. I am not your personal messenger. I am not your friend anymore so...DO IT ON YOUR OWN BITCH.

ah goodness me, I just got verbally bitch slapped by the shadiness that is female behavior and now I want to walk up to her house and give her a good ole bitch slappin'.

I have realized that, for the most part, I hate the people that make up my gender. I love BEING a woman but I hate dealing with them. Most of them are shit talking, conniving, manipulative, passive aggressive little pains in the ass. Most of them are MEAN and stressful and make things 10x more complicated and drama filled than they need to be. I'm the opposite. I'm blatantly honest and I get told that sometimes telling the truth isn't always good, WHICH is bullshit. I don't meddle in your business and I get silent and awkward when people start talkin' shit. I only break that silence to try and defend the one who is being talked about just for a change of pace and then I get bitched at.

It's so hard to find coooool girls. Laid back. Relaxed. Fun to go shopping with but not obsessed with the money. Trustworthy to talk to instead of constantly fearing she'll use it against you. Cracking JOKES while we hang out instead of cracking DOWN on some other girl. Now you would think that I would have a shit load of guy friends because of this, but guys have their own problems that I won't get into and some of which tends to be more my fault. SO, I just don't have that many friends because the minute i start having to deal with unimportant stupid bullshit (which there is a ton of in Orange County, doesn't make my life any easier) I don't even bother. I've let go of long time best friends because of it; I've began distancing myself from new ones because of it. And although I have few friends, they are the coolest girls and guy (singular) that I know. And I'm not saying shit doesn't come up, but it's usually important or simple to work through. It's not the bullshit you get in other places, like rumors starting or shitty betrayals.

So the next time I'm listening to a guilty pleasure rap song and I hear women being referred to as bitches and hoes, I don't fill up with feminist anger and vehemence. I fill up with the acceptance that although that is offensive to me, I see that many many many women ARE in fact bitches and hoes.

I wish God's creation machine came with a label portion. Gender: Female, Label: Bitch. Ahh good I won't waste my time with that one.

I'm in search of...

Gender: Female, Label: FUCKIN' CHILL

and

Gender: Male, Label: THE OPPOSITE OF DOUCHE BAG.

My taste in people is rare and difficult to find. But my faith in people is strong.

Finishing books.

I started a few at the same time and I just knocked down the last one of the group...the easiest and most exciting one to get through, I must say. That is because it was a Carol Goodman. A page turner with substance. An addictive read with rich characters, deep betrayals, and historical, literary, and other intellectual reference. I love her. I love her books. I love her metaphors. I LOVE her ridiculously thorough skills at parallels. I love page turners that don't have you hiding the cover ashamed by the young adult name splattered on the front (hahah...stiiilllll love it).

Ahhh...okay I had to get that out of my system. I was just so satisfied with that book.

I guess for that portion you can say my title was quite literal but I have planned an entry with a bit more substance and a bit less self indulgence. In that sense the title has more metaphorical reasoning.


I'm not one for ideas of fate. Things that are meant to be. Destiny. Or as Kundera puts them, "fortuities" -- things that seem to fall into place because they're supposed to.

And I discuss this in the context of finding someone or falling in love because it seems to be the easiest but this concept is just as crucial in anything else. Health. Career. A car accident on the freeway.

Sometimes things happen in such a way that we can only think, "Well it must be!" We force ourselves into this romanticized state of believing that all the stars aligned and the forces of the earth exerted in such a manner for this particular series of events to happen in this exact manner, just for me, just for the sake that this was my destiny. Or if you choose to think this concept is not self centered, that this happened to fulfill the exact destinies of all humans.

As tempting and wonderful as these thoughts are and as delightful is the place these thoughts take you to--it's a crock of shit.


"We all reject out of hand the idea that the love of our life may be something light or weightless; we presume our love is what must be, that without it our life would no longer be the same; we feel that Beethoven himself, gloomy and awe-inspiring, is playing the "Es muss sein!" ("It must be!") to our own great love.

Tomas often thought of Tereza's remark about his friend Z. and came to the conclusion that the love story of his life is exemplified not "Es muss sein!" (It must be so), but rather "Es konnte auch anders sein" (It could just as well be otherwise)."


Now before I explain, don't judge this observation incorrectly. I'm not a pessimist. I love romance in every sense of the word. I love whimsical thoughts and moments. Astrology, as bogus as a large part of me thinks it to be, still fascinates and interests the hell out of me. I read into silly signs and I enjoy practically unreal and light as a feather musings. BUT, above it all is a solid sense of reality.

All that nonsense is for my own personal entertainment, an inside joke between me and my imagination. But when I come down from that whimsical high, I see that it is my own will that is going to get me to this--whatever this may be. If I meet a wonderful guy, I'm not going to say if it's meant to be, it'll happen. I know it takes doing something. And if it doesn't work, I won't leave it to bad luck or even the comfortable acceptance that it wasn't supposed to happen and that's why it didn't. That's denying what life is. That's sitting back and not doing anything because you think this cosmic concept of destiny will set the course of your life. It's an excuse for laziness, fear, and denial of the real reasons.

I'm a proud and faithful believer in something "up above," a monotheist, a Muslim. Now the most important part of that sentence is the word believer. I don't care from what part of the world you come. I don't care what you call yourself and I don't care what name you give to what you believe in. (Well, I do because I love to discuss religion and I find different philosophies on faith interesting but in the context of this post, I don't.) The whole point is believing there's something more than what we know exists on this earth, a source of all life, a source of everything. I call that God, or if you prefer Arabic, Allah. Now, along those beliefs, there is a part of me that refers to God when things seem to happen too perfectly, or things seem to happen too terribly to just be bad luck. I do believe things happen for a reason. But I don't believe that reason is fate or something predestined. I think of it as a nightmare is to the concept of dreams--it's your subconscious screaming at you to listen to it, observe, think and act. Just apply that awareness to real time. That's as extensive as my realistic romanticism goes.

I can't stand it when people let it go any further than that and waste their life because they believe whatever their lives are going to go though is already set--it allows you to not take any responsibility for how your life goes because you believe it was set by something else, against your own will, that you were born into this course and destiny or fate or Jesus (or whatever you believe) is taking the wheel (damn I hate you Carrie Underwood but I couldn't resist). It allows someone else to take the fall for your actions, regardless of whether they be positive, negative, or even a lack there of, WHICH I can't fucking understand or tolerate (I smell a strong hit at Christianity in the air....)

It's like finishing a book. What you have easily started wont finish itself. It takes time. It takes commitment. It takes the will and action to say, "I'm going to sit down and get through this and after I put forth that effort to get where I know I need to get to, I'll be satisfied with closing this loose end whether it was a great book or something merely mediocre."

Pieces of a puzzle fit each other perfectly but they only come together if someone makes them so.

Just as you take my hand
Just as you write my number down
Just as the drinks arrive
Just as they play your favourite song
As your bad mood disappears
No longer wound up like a spring
Before you've had too much
Come back in focus again

The walls abandon shape
They've got a Cheshire cat grin
All blurring into one
This place is on a mission
Before the night owl
Before the animal noises
Closed circuit cameras
Before you're comatose

Before you run away from me
Before you're lost between the notes
The beat goes round and round
The beat goes round and round
I never really got there
I just pretended that I had
What's the point of instruments
Words are a sawed off shotgun

Come on and let it out
Come on and let it out
Come on and let it out
Come on and let it out

Before you run away from me
Before you're lost between the notes
Just as you take the mic
Just as you dance, dance, dance

Jigsaw falling into place
There is nothing to explain
Regard each other as you pass
She looks back, you look back
Not just once
Not just twice
Wish away the nightmare
Wish away the nightmare
You've got a light you can feel it on your back
A light you can feel it on your back
Jigsaw falling into place

On my mind.

Bjork


My cuddle buddy.


Current addiction.



Concert next Saturday.


La mia vacazione alla sud sporca. [My vacation to the dirty south.]

Rediscovering Beirut.

The music. Not the city.

Although I would love to go to Beirut...but first I would go to the homeland: Syrian feasting and adventures followed by a train ride to the other homeland. Turkish delights. Turkish coffee. And a summer love with a gorgeous Turkish man.

Ahh I smell unrealistic day dreaming romanticism in the air....

It's the instrumentals of the music I tell you! See what it does to me!

Feedback.

I can't decide whether it's a good thing or bad thing. I know it's always good to hear critiques and opinions on what you create because you never know what will come out of it--both good and bad, critical and enlightening.

But I think sometimes I rely on it too much. I can't be totally satisfied with some things I make until I've heard what people think. I'll always be unsure of it. I either need reassurance that it is great or thoughts on how I can make it better.

At the same time, in certain instances, I believe in unobstructed, raw work--whatever just happens to come out of the creator. Of course an artist can never be detached from his or her surrounding; an artist can never be completely isolated. An artist only exists and IS because of the surroundings, because of what has created him or her.

See? I always go back and forth. In one instance I should have confidence in my work. But in another, I want--no need--to hear what people think. I never want to be caught in a position of being stuck in my own world of thinking I'm always amazing without question because, well I've known people like that and I can't stand it. But I also hate self deprecation, the tortured artist; it's annoying as tits.

I'm getting nowhere with this.

Stop.

Reevaluate.

I've never ever in my life thought in the context of polar opposites, so I ask myself, why am I doing it now? I always take a little of both, mesh the extremes in one colossal mixing bowl.

It isn't a matter of depending on opinions or shutting out opinions.

It's a matter of writing down, drawing, or putting together whatever it is that comes my way, letting the people and the public see it as they may, receive what they think and continue making, improving, changing on your own terms of thought, regardless of whether or not that thought is entirely your own or modified by what you have heard. A balance of being in your internal world but connected and open to the external world.

It's one of my favorite visuals of life: a never ending continuum of one existence within another. Like in Horton Hears a Who where Horton carries around the entirety of Whoville in a little spec and its the connection between the two (the mayor whom everyone thinks has gone mad, and the giant elephant carrying the town around on his trunk) that keeps both worlds going, keeps them both curious, interested, and able to see themselves in the presence of something else.

TANGENT: This is also a visual that reminds me of one of my favorite Eddie Izzard bits. It's on mad cow disease. "We found they went mad. Because they were fed cows! They're supposed to eat grass. Yeah remember that? Cow eat grass? But they were fed cows. One cow was fed to another cow and that cow was fed to another cow, that cow was fed to another cow, and just like the Russian doll thing. Instead of a herd of cows, you had ONE HUGE ZEPPELIN COW... WHO WAS MAAD! And then that farmer filled that cow with helium and took it to market on a string....just to show off." Haha.....gets me every damn time.

You can only keep your sanity by letting both exist and finding your own healthy and successful balance between the two. And it's not to say that there aren't people who have been successful and renowned geniuses of math, science, art, literature, etc. by choosing to do completely what they think and shut out the external opinions, or the other way around. I just think getting anywhere in those extremes is very rare these days.

Now, I think I'm going to watch clips of Horton Hears a Who on youtube.

Overs.

I have so many thoughts in my head and absolutely no time to write them all down. It's still a month before school starts and I'm already neck deep in the things I have to do for the Panther re-design. What the hell have I gotten myself into? The only thing keeping me up is the fact that every bit of it excites me.

I have so many blog subjects rolling around in my head....divorce, disappearance of friendship, amongst other stuff I've observed while people watching lately. Until I get that all sorted out, enjoy the lyrics from one of my all time favorite songs.



Why don't we stop fooling ourselves?
The game is over, over, over

No good times, no bad times
There's no times at all
Just The New York Times
Sitting on the windowsill
Near the flowers

We might as well be apart
It hardly matters
We sleep separately
And drop a smile passing in the hall
But there's no laughs left
'Cause we laughed them all
And we laughed them all
In a very short time

Time
Is tapping on my forehead
Hanging from my mirror
Rattling the teacups
And I wonder
How long can I delay?
We're just a habit
Like Saccharin

And I'm habitually feelin' kinda blue

But each time I try on
The thought of leaving you
I stop
I stop and think it over

Some things just pop into my head for no good reason.

cough cough
hack hack
being sick is just a pain in my back
literally

An old subject.

My timing is off
But sometimes that's how it all works
Believe it or not
We don't have a choice in matters of the heart
Just gotta be brave enough
To love and let yourself - be loved

-Eels

--------------------------------------

"So do you have a boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Have you ever been in a serious relationship?"

"Nope."

"You've never had any sort of relationship?"

"Nope."

"Wow, really?"

"Yup."

[silence, while a smirk cracks my facial expression]

"I've never even had my first kiss."

"What!? Hah, that's bullshit. No you're totally lying."

"No. No I'm not. I swear, I never have."

"How old are you?"

"20."

"No way...hahah that's crazy. So why do you think that is?

--------------------------------------

People never believe the truth about me

When I hang out with friends, they often talk about mutual friends who have issues of being with people--people who are messing up current relationships or are with the wrong person all because they're afraid of letting it all out on the line or of losing control--and I'm thinking...I feel as though they're talking about me. They're going off about how terrible the things this friend is doing and all I can do is stand there quietly too ashamed to say I understand, too vulnerable to the opposition I get when I finally defend the girl because I get what she feels. And it isn't because I have been in relationships and have done that--it's because I haven't been in a relationship and fear doing that. I fear being afraid. It's a fucking stupid conundrum.

Or maybe I'm just afraid of even getting to that point. I don't want to appear weak. I don't want to show I'm falling for someone when I don't know if they're falling with me

I'm not afraid of letting someone in. I am 100% ready for all of that. I want someone to show every bit of myself to and I am very confident and comfortable with becoming close to someone. I'm not afraid of that if I know what I'm doing is for and with the right person--right meaning both right at the time and/or right for life.

What I am afraid of is being mistaken, of doing all those wonderful things with someone who just wanted to fool around with me or just wanted to be friends or is just a friendly guy that never really had any interest in me.

I'm afraid of looking stupid.
Of looking weak.
Of being pitied.
Of not having the upper hand.

But I never show it.

I just come off as the shy girl or the girl that wasn't interested. Thus, my current predicament in life: never having anything with a guy.

All of this is strange to admit because I don't know how people will take it. I don't want guys to think there's gotta be something off or wrong if that's the truth. She's never had a damn thing before. What's the weird catch with this chick?

I don't think that's the case and I kinda resent that line of thought. I think that should/could be true of girls who HAVE been with many. I don't know why people seem to be scared or uninterested when it comes to me. They should be scared of the girls that can't seem to make something they have work.

I think I would be an awesome girlfriend. Maybe I just need to be better at getting people to see that or believe that.

In a way, I'm actually really thankful it's been this way for me. The idea of my happiness lying in the hands of someone else scares and disgusts me. I think that not being involved in something all these years has made me into someone that knows how to be happy on my own with what I DO have, instead of being happy only with the one thing I don't have.

The one thing I am glad about is that I can confidently say I haven't given up and I don't ever want to give up despite all these discouraging thoughts--despite my current extremely "inexperienced" (for lack of a better word. I really hate how that sounds.) position in life/love.

--------------------------------------

HE is an ART

you need this wrench

i'm bad at this...the tool is complicated

you need to wrench it tighter. you're not doing it right.

i told you i'm bad at this

no, pound the H in. it's sticking out. and look at the R. it just needs a small tweak. the E is slightly off, see? where the hell is the T? what did you do with the T? it's not even there. you're not even trying. at least you've got the A right...it could use a little more.

i can't i can't do it.

just try it again.

it doesn't make a difference. i can't fix it. i can't wrench it. i can't affect it. see? look how it just sits, just as it was. not changed at all. it's just the same as it has always been. just the same as it has always been.

but it was just hanging in the balance. i saw it myself. it was succumbing, falling, bending with your hard work.

oh that? that's temporary, an initial response. happens all the time. i thought it was a sign of success the first time too. but you have poor experience in my line of work. it's just normal. not a sign of anything. it's steady now. look--fully balanced.

try to keep that imbalance next time. you can't just sit back and let your hard work go back to where it started. push it over, make it fall for you. you have the tools. it's easy.

i can't. i push. i pull. i pound. i try. nothing happens. it's fruitless. no reward for my efforts. only punishments. i told you. i'm bad at this.

oh--well....you're doing it wrong. look there's another one. never been wrenched or tweaked before. as good as new. knows nothing of what to expect. easy to fall. simple to break. try this. take this wrench. it's better. turn it into something beautiful.

but i'm afraid. nervous it won't work. these tools don't make for beautiful things when in my hands. they don't make for beautiful things. my hands. i can't. they don't make. no it won't be art of any sort. at all. i told you i'm bad at this. i can't remind myself of that. again and again.

oh--well...