tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26689181000040845132024-03-05T10:40:04.740-08:00perks of being beeA legal adult that hates fake plants and loves the smell of airportsperks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-37242609302712443082010-03-17T11:09:00.000-07:002010-03-17T11:48:01.171-07:00The Mean Reds<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As Holly Golightly would put it:</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">England is </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">alright</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, but darling, </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">something you must understand</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> is that a girl just can't possibly</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">survive on countryside alone. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sure, give me London,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Manchester even. But Norwich!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh its just all too gruesome! </span></span></div><div><div><div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">To be perfectly honest,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'll never get used to anything. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Anybody that does, </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">might as well be dead.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But Norwich is different. It's not</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">so much about getting use to as</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">it is about standing. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It brings out the mean reds</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">in an instant but even worst,</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">theres no Tiffany's</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">to run to. </span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, 'bookman old style', 'palatino linotype', 'book antiqua', palatino, 'trebuchet ms', helvetica, garamond, sans-serif, arial, verdana, 'avante garde', 'century gothic', 'comic sans ms', times, 'times new roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div></div></div></div></div>perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-63265727473953659932010-03-15T12:11:00.000-07:002010-03-15T12:25:22.323-07:00JGLIf it hadn't been for<div><div>the english kid</div><div>behind the portuguese</div><div>scrab<span><span></span></span>ble box</div><div><br /><div>I would have settled for</div><div>the friend of the russian</div><div>clowns</div><div><br /></div></div></div><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WzX9jHB3LfA&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WzX9jHB3LfA&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-30800026702801005162010-03-08T08:18:00.000-08:002010-03-08T08:26:36.917-08:00Glauber Rocha<div><br /></div>Your films make me hate<div><br /></div><div>but at least you have cute poses</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnq0i8wlJdOWxxlBslSZW3u0nRe3mV3-3l3RST6bA6bvgTNJWrULCA5koOE3DP3KbSQhYPIFKQsP6JgX2WapncVvQlB0z0hDBL2irBzMD61j9WDm3fOa1QVAvmRpnD7wjavGwGJOvpiU/s1600-h/glauber+rocha+1-1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnq0i8wlJdOWxxlBslSZW3u0nRe3mV3-3l3RST6bA6bvgTNJWrULCA5koOE3DP3KbSQhYPIFKQsP6JgX2WapncVvQlB0z0hDBL2irBzMD61j9WDm3fOa1QVAvmRpnD7wjavGwGJOvpiU/s320/glauber+rocha+1-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446300049238444418" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOz77-tUYG-GC3Iop43TdlD1qqDnPO5O3tVtUmSo8f-m5vuNvAaT-8rb6l1GNWKlXgqY4kodMzQ3NMGBaNu4aB7Lhs5jKK8VVcvSzfWAOqoypv4Yy29U49w-9OWbqXO-uXJk2zudaTvHc/s1600-h/0908522.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOz77-tUYG-GC3Iop43TdlD1qqDnPO5O3tVtUmSo8f-m5vuNvAaT-8rb6l1GNWKlXgqY4kodMzQ3NMGBaNu4aB7Lhs5jKK8VVcvSzfWAOqoypv4Yy29U49w-9OWbqXO-uXJk2zudaTvHc/s320/0908522.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446299692767511970" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PBa3P0D_dKDOxmtQsOl8rTXsYf6KqDtJbJWRbm_mRBIdeZolEiFRHJO2wEOC497UIMUpW06_IxI85a12C-9-F9jOIaeQxMfbs4tD-hqRFfq796_IeWE13u_6XxYCP5CAUZNNWgNny7Y/s1600-h/GlauberRocha+2.GIF.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 203px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PBa3P0D_dKDOxmtQsOl8rTXsYf6KqDtJbJWRbm_mRBIdeZolEiFRHJO2wEOC497UIMUpW06_IxI85a12C-9-F9jOIaeQxMfbs4tD-hqRFfq796_IeWE13u_6XxYCP5CAUZNNWgNny7Y/s320/GlauberRocha+2.GIF.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446299686948421682" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinWUCfNtPeyllyCK1ovchqHDgYQ0nUtOiS2mORniPhOPrtFPttq1GzBx8oYn1_GtLDHh4Zi2fGioMpvjNWkGHBJau3O76aGGxCP6lfTyjhenSa0r_hoUddvdX9-PiZj5czAqTNTXjFYBk/s1600-h/glauber21.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinWUCfNtPeyllyCK1ovchqHDgYQ0nUtOiS2mORniPhOPrtFPttq1GzBx8oYn1_GtLDHh4Zi2fGioMpvjNWkGHBJau3O76aGGxCP6lfTyjhenSa0r_hoUddvdX9-PiZj5czAqTNTXjFYBk/s320/glauber21.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446299682824620178" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9nVMwomGxd2_UGlTLL2JW1EIBvdoFW9SF8YyhLwyRp7H52BSQ0SeclKaN3BAhba4FkgIIRCVMPSg6Yk5P7KPeF09IrXBSKorIfS5xBQb77-HqIU0r9GqoDUN20xvX0TCYn9MkWdSsHI/s1600-h/glauber_rocha_3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9nVMwomGxd2_UGlTLL2JW1EIBvdoFW9SF8YyhLwyRp7H52BSQ0SeclKaN3BAhba4FkgIIRCVMPSg6Yk5P7KPeF09IrXBSKorIfS5xBQb77-HqIU0r9GqoDUN20xvX0TCYn9MkWdSsHI/s320/glauber_rocha_3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446299676648314130" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9EXH7n6cJYUC9kVIMYX-qvaDBxJPM0BMoe-VZ6E2t0OcIe5rA1kFv6KhkfjP4JPrA9hm_HJ5SX3hLlw-DS0fU2EpTBLnqSQRHchf73DzlXh49aEUSAvn-MvIKyvoFHsxyoV6Yh900xiU/s1600-h/glauber+rocha+1-1.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;text-decoration: underline; "><br /></div></a>perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-41420261139087672792008-11-15T16:37:00.000-08:002008-11-15T16:44:05.772-08:00pity platterusually when i'm in self loathing mode, i try to name three things i like about myself but today is one of those days where everything i think is ugly and all i want to do is stay up late and watch cartoons. <div><br /></div><div>i want someone to watch cow and chicken with. i want chapstick, and i want to feel like i can change the world. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-82455724124613232412008-09-04T23:31:00.000-07:002008-09-04T23:44:16.879-07:00Laundry: When A Roommate Came AlongPark Merceds laundry rooms are the most scariest and memorable things on the planet. It looks like a scene out of saw but the machines looks like dorm room replicas, like the strange nostalgic days of back when i was a serial killer. <div>My body feels so achy and confused and I like thinking about my roommates because they remind me of cake, bad movies and dancing. They are all so sweet and so real. I had a lot of fun last year but i got to admit i was sort of disappointed that i was gipped out of the real "buddy buddy" roommate experience that I always envied about pals. But I finally can say "hold on let me call my roommates and see if they want to hang out too" or "let me call my roommates and see if I'm doing dinner together". Best of all, I have someone to go to Park Merced laundry room with. </div>perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-72355684878392498072008-09-01T02:04:00.000-07:002008-10-12T21:24:57.548-07:00pains and gainsHow could a phone conversation ever make me feel this...certain? I sit with cold toes wrapped in sock and boot, not sure what I'm so happy about but I think it has something to do with the end of my watery kate nash days. Its hard to translate mixed love signals with painful cuts and jags but at the end of the day, its nice knowing where I stand at the end of the fight. How am I suppose to know where anything will go? I don't even know when my next meal will be. I don't know what I want, but I know I like you. <div><br /></div><div>I have to admit however, it does bother me, when you tell me that I have small hands, it bothers me when you say the word cockroach, I hate you telling me I need to wear my retainer more often, and that what I eat isn't adequate. </div><div><br /></div><div>yes, thank-you, I know that I may seem small and meek, and would probably lose in a fight, and I'm not nearly as tough as I'd hope. I know I will never be a stand-up comic. I know getting scared of growing up seems silly and I don't read the newspaper as often as I should. I know I have nothing certain and my future seems bleek. </div><div><br /></div><div>Even after your constant reminders about how my life will blow, I still sit here in my Good-Will $5 robe, knowing that I like you, and I'm happy. </div>perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-19929682230199698352008-08-09T10:24:00.000-07:002008-11-26T13:11:07.501-08:00My decision to live fast and die young<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5j7_RGcm1gD-aGovUO2lthn9StdvLN7pp5RrJA4w9yae-VCl3BXI1jnk1AR1Tvz16zfZrn_roQrRNLi1LjT_6VekpnQp62WPCef1zTu_7AbROpIXLnvFuJPEtgGsXe8K4d8bWwSRDPmI/s1600-h/cherry-pie.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5j7_RGcm1gD-aGovUO2lthn9StdvLN7pp5RrJA4w9yae-VCl3BXI1jnk1AR1Tvz16zfZrn_roQrRNLi1LjT_6VekpnQp62WPCef1zTu_7AbROpIXLnvFuJPEtgGsXe8K4d8bWwSRDPmI/s200/cherry-pie.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232574213802826258" /></a><br />Next door Debbie popped in for a sec to talk about her garden and how now that she's in her 5o's she's watching all her friends die and visits her sister at a nursing home. <div><br /></div><div>I know I'm 19, but I still feel like my parents should ask me politely to go play on the computer or go watch T.V. in my room whenever something this depressing occurs. My mom would look at my dad and silently spell out "d-e-a-t-h" while my dad would make a face that says this ridiculous but his mouth says "lets go get ice cream in the kitchen". </div><div><br /></div><div>Then I wake up and realize I understand the effects of chemo, how a tumor builds inside, like a ball of hate waiting to explode while your lungs and liver cry until the brain signals that its ok, they can give it a rest, and they slowly fall asleep until you all shut off and your thoughts and soul and effects on others and things begin to fade away. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I sit here, eating my pasta and meatballs, listening to Debbie talk about her ripe age and all the death that surrounds it as if its as common as cherry pie and all I can think about is how I should go to Europe and live among artist and vagrants, when what I should be doing is stop hating myself for getting old and forgive myself for growing up. </div><div><br /></div><div>All I know is that I should live fast and die young before death equals cherry pie.</div>perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-11868551798372152222008-07-19T21:55:00.000-07:002008-07-19T22:04:06.960-07:00If you weren't here, I think I would've made you upSpending the summer wasting on ice cream, scam train fees, maracas, movies, celebrations and extremes. <div><br /></div><div>If you weren't here, I think I would've made you up</div><div>My mind and hands agree as they smell the familiarity of clean laundry and cats. Only ten, the night begins with me feeling endless and expandable. </div><div><br /></div><div>I want to stretch across horizons so I can touch every city in the world just once and never wonder. The pasadena film festival is tonight and I wonder if well go although my feet politely ask to reconsider this for a night of peace in front of a tv seeing as how they've trekked sand, up beat rockets, damp cloths and dancing affairs. They claim they are the sleepyheads from the Belle and Sebastian song and that makes me giggle.</div><div><br /></div><div>Feet arent allowed to feel. </div><div> </div>perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-49360244611695467362008-07-07T14:23:00.001-07:002008-07-07T15:00:14.375-07:00Bad Bugs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCCoYc9VgOBIwkYCCSBEx65l-EU9wwX-WDTUBPsx2dqZpINs3Ht8_ZDxKmw17yBXKuojsg7O5ao1FL6Ld5_eV4iYrfM3XdPQt5Ete8anHSRGSXJfvQSKVuEMW0nRwkd8nU7ghrfFsA14w/s1600-h/IMG_0455.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCCoYc9VgOBIwkYCCSBEx65l-EU9wwX-WDTUBPsx2dqZpINs3Ht8_ZDxKmw17yBXKuojsg7O5ao1FL6Ld5_eV4iYrfM3XdPQt5Ete8anHSRGSXJfvQSKVuEMW0nRwkd8nU7ghrfFsA14w/s320/IMG_0455.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220386442266722786" /></a>shoop shoop do di do do<div><br /></div><div>today i had a very bad experience with a bad bug.</div><div><br /></div><div>Twiddling thumbs in sociology class i looked down and to my horror I found a cockroach looking up at me. I couldn't speak or move but just stood up and started screaming and crying. </div><div><br /></div><div>My class looked at me and I ran out of the room shaky and embarrassed. </div><div><br /></div><div>I stood out there, trying to stop the tears and I couldn't help but wonder, why am I such a wimp? </div><div>I looked at the underwear picture of me and jill and I felt happy as I tried to forget the horrors of today. </div>perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-20614729147266730532008-06-22T18:01:00.000-07:002008-06-22T18:36:10.114-07:00san fran is calling me<span style="font-family: arial;font-size:78%;" >*<span style="font-size:100%;">ring ring*<br /><br />me: hello?<br />San francisco: hey its me<br />me: oh hi<br />san fran: i miss you<br />me: i miss you too<br />san fran: i wish you were here with me, it'd help to pass this long weekend<br />me: yeah id like that, its so hot here, i miss your foggy presence<br />san fran: haha thanks<br />me: no im really serious, the only thing that helps me now is ice cream and ice tea,<br />i never thought i'd say this, but i even miss your cool attitude.<br />san fran: even that?<br />me: that and more, i didnt remember home being a place of bigotry, i always saw you as overly politically correct at times...i mean...the whole olympics thing...but i kinda understand it now, especially after all of this strange Fred Phelps anti-gay stuff, i mean sheesh.<br />san fran: wow<br />me: yeah i just want to go home<br />san fran: we'll i'm not going anywhere<br />me: HAHA good one<br />san fran: yeah i know i know<br />me: its so small here too, i can't help but do the whole public transportation hating bit, and la mentality feels fake and plastic to me<br />san fran: yeah i hate that place it reminds me of everything sad in the world<br />me: i could understand why<br />san fran: so will i see you soon?<br />me: i have around two months left<br />san fran: alright<br />me: yeah...guess i'll talk to u then<br />san fran: sounds good<br />me: i'll miss you<br /><br />*phone tone*</span></span>perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-57211625062275385882008-05-20T01:54:00.001-07:002008-08-09T12:12:50.417-07:00find the kid with the glassesmy pics of baseball card filled toilets, polaroid's , and cute array of colors are neatly packed away. On the fourth floor my purple pants and nico t-shirts are awashing and i'm in my dorm bed listening to belle and sebastisan, stumble-uponing and diary doing. I will officially be out of college in less than a week. An apartment will be ready for me by the beginning of august, and this is where my dorm experience ends.<br /><br />I kind of really like it here though. Moldy bathrooms, the charming and almost nauseating dining center, small cramped rooms, and the infinite pile of homework. I like the fact it all kinda sucks. I like the cheap wine parties, the friends that are just waiting to be made and going from room to room discovering new and different opportunity. Everything feels new, I could be a<br />mailman, an astronaut and a rockstar all at once.<br /><br />Why does it all just end here? I want to be part of the big scheme of things, I want to be a small kid in a big world, with surrounding college kids for miles and no one else.<br /><br />I'm the girl with the glasses, sitting in room 301, whose best friends with the small brown boy and the hot guy from the forth floor. I just want to always want to be part of this life.<br /><br />But as neatly packed as my photobooth pics, I find direction in simple ways. With a one-way trip, fafsa worries disappear. Applications write themselves, papers finish up, excitement for summer can't help but dissolve some worries and slowly I ease into the world of what my future holds. Everything is coming together, and I start to notice, that even though it all seemed like an official mess, if I could pull back a little it's as simple as the puzzle that hangs on my wall, a picture of three boys, one with the glasses and two with out. Overhead it reads: Find the Kid with the Glasses, its funny how easy it makes it all look.perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-12750702379254605872008-05-20T01:52:00.000-07:002008-05-20T02:01:59.056-07:00424 Font DriveMy first deposit to my first home will go down this coming weekend. 424 Font Drive Sounds pleasant, doesn't it? <br /><br />well...<br />To me it sounds as scary as monsters<br />as surreal as a david lynch film<br />as removed as a used bandaid<br />as new as tags<br />and as real as flesh<br /><br />but most of all, it sounds like adulthood ringing at the door. <br /><br />I finish the application and I feel like crying. I like the dorms, i like my friends and i'm scared about what's going to happen. I love my life here, why does it all have to change? <br /><br />Fafsa hasn't gotten back to me my award letter, and I just want to know what is going to happen to me. Where will I go, what will i do, how is this happening so fast? How will I pay for next year if i don't get financial aid. <br /><br />At this time last year, I was so excited. I was at peace, enthused, a little sad about leaving high school, but I couldn't wait to see where my life would take me. <br /><br />It led me to 424 Font drive, and I don't think that's what I was expecting or wanted. <br /><br />How could my life less than a year ago have so much direction, how could I envy a period so much, how could I not foresee my lack of knowledge or my fear of growth? <br /><br />I'm pregnant with doubt and I have no idea if i'll ever figure it out, I just want to feel like theres never ending possibilities not that the world will end at 20 in 424 Font Drive.perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-52030787896172616322008-05-20T01:51:00.000-07:002008-05-20T02:02:47.458-07:00and they say the universe is expandingI'm sitting in my cranky crinkly bed, watching Mary Poppins, refusing to grow up. I can't BELIEVE i'm going to be 20. I can't believe the universe has played this cruel joke to me after convincing me for so many years I was a young, sweet innocent babe. This is such fucking bullshit and I'm not going to stand for this injustice. I scream to my boyfriend, punctuating every word with a tear <br /><br />"I'm going to be 38!"<br /><br />"What? When?!"<br /><br />"SOMEDAY"<br /><br /> I sob. I don't want to live in a world with out playground and joy for mcdonald happy meals. At this stage, even disneyland will lose its magic. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Life is so depressing.perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-16324782434235154242008-05-20T01:47:00.000-07:002008-05-20T02:04:04.586-07:00gum drops and please walk signsAgainst the blacktop table a white NO SMOKING sign shines and i wonder why they don't just say "please keep yourself healthy"? or "stay away from cancer"? "keep your lungs free of toxin and danger".<br /><br />I guess it can't all be like my play class which encourages positive signs which read "Please walk" instead of "don't run"<br /><br />But It's probably better that way because if we lived in "please walk" signed world, if a boy refrains from dating you, the shock would probably be enough to combust your heart.<br /><br />I guess the harsh "don't run" signs cushion the blow in a way. I believe that in that "please walk" world, the "keep your lungs free of cancer" kingdom gum drop fairies make it so love is love not some strange thing that feels as if it only takes a word, name, thing, as if a turn on/off switch to change it.<br /><br />Maybe I don't love.<br />Maybe I don't get it.<br /><br />In the back of Mary Ward I hear drunken squeals and screeches as raccoons come out to inspect the night, wondering why this is happening. <br /><br />I dunno little buddy, wish i could help but everyone in college seems to grow old and careless at times. <br /><br />I sound like an insecure 13 year old, i swear i once was confident but this whole shindig has made me as vulnerable as a one legged pelcan and it's about time to mend that leg and get on with it.perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-63882163605570659992008-05-20T01:45:00.000-07:002008-05-20T02:05:21.848-07:00sore throatsMy throat wants to scream. Its saying: <br /><br />screw you, i refuse to work for this cruddy old place anymore, for a cranky lady who just wants to complain about her dirty roomate. Think college is hard? Try being a throat. Trying having to shuffle all that old, tasteless, rough chuncks of gray colored carpet you call food down with out me. <br /><br />Try seeing how u like staying up half the night, screaming out senseless drunk, staggering words in front of a club, when all you want is a warm cup of coco and Time magazine.<br /><br />Try dealing with all those disguisting diseases, constantly trying to creep up on you when all ur trying to do is fight them all off so you can go back to your books on tapes and sandwhiches.<br /><br />Try sucking on popsicles, cutting off ur only escape to the world and stuffing something strange and pulsating instead. <br /><br />Try reciting useless pieces of information when u know ur old buddy, the brain, is out on a date, and won't be reciving any of this.<br /><br /><br />my throat is sore at meperks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-89804166830647102052008-02-04T02:12:00.000-08:002008-02-04T02:15:25.431-08:00Facebook adsThe facebook "break up advice" ad glares up in my face. I'm<br />not sure if they are looking for a laugh or if<br />they are serious about advertising the "hey douche! congrats<br />on fuckin up your relationship" message it sends across. At<br />first I laugh at this, have to remember to mention it to<br />someone later or make a doodle of it in class. Then it makes<br />me sort of sad. Who would be this desperate? Seek help<br />online... i just had to complain about it electronically. <br /><br />But i guess the question i should be asking is why do<br />relationships suck? or why do bf's blow?<br /><br />After our shits and giggles ma boo wanted to sign off aim,<br />which of course I understand as my cue :<br /><br />Beatriz Ruano: go to bed then<br />Beatriz Ruano: your free!<br />thenewlordbyron: free?<br />thenewlordbyron: stop making me feel guilty<br />thenewlordbyron: i hate that feeling<br />Beatriz Ruano: alright sorry<br />Beatriz Ruano: its fine byron i understand<br />Beatriz Ruano: ur done w/ bf obligations<br />thenewlordbyron: NO<br />thenewlordbyron: its not that<br />thenewlordbyron: god<br />thenewlordbyron: forget it<br />thenewlordbyron: im the worlds worst person ever i get it<br />thenewlordbyron: woohoo<br />thenewlordbyron: dont date me then if thats how u fel<br />thenewlordbyron: gnight<br /><br /><br />i wouldn't date you sure plum, but not only are u the coolest<br />person I know, I would never want to have to be in the<br />position to use a facebook ad.perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-35506341006414261752007-11-21T14:24:00.001-08:002007-11-21T14:37:27.397-08:00I need a can of gasI need a can of gas says the tv<br />my sleeves are so itchy, and i feel bored and happy. Sitting in my room after three months of living in the siberia of san francisco makes home feel strange, and sorta of meningless. There is nothing for me to do here. My parents are at work, my brother at school, and i'm sitting in my room watching t.v. and not really sure if i should be working on homework or calling someone, making plans for later this week. The home of my memories was me stretching thin, trying to find time to do all my school work, while handling a job, seeing friends almost every night, hanging out w/ my cousins, and doing a bajillion activities. It feels tho, that i came back to find my old life has abandoned me, everyone is just as busy as before, my parents with hundreds of things to do, my friends still as school, my cousins with families of their own, and me sorta confused as to where i had fit in to this whole mess. Not that I didn't expect for life to go on with out me around, or for everyone to stop and take notice of me, but I guess I just thought that when I came home I'd feel like it was home, not like an outsider looking in.perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2668918100004084513.post-5727600219496209262007-11-16T11:30:00.000-08:002007-11-16T11:34:59.634-08:00Life on marsI can't stop chewing on the end of my shoestring laces and i swear its driving me mad. <br /><br />I love my best friend, hes the sweetest boy i know and its funny when hes horny.perks of being beehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952958763171228028noreply@blogger.com1