Thursday, February 26, 2009

Things I Love Thursday

the sun peaking through the clouds right when you get out of class

making a stranger smile

smiling because of a stranger

fast-forwarding through commercials of your favorite television show

singing at the top of your lungs in your car......
.....only to realize the window is open.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Sunday, February 22, 2009

wishful thinking

sometimes, i wish that i had a billion dollars that i could give away slowly to everyone who was sad. then, every time i saw a frown i could sneak a thousand dollars into their pocket, purse, car, room, etc. they would find it and would be so taken back by their luck, there would be no room in their beautiful, wonderful minds to remember pain or misery.

sometimes, i wish that i could be like The Giver, from Lois Lowry's The Giver. The Giver takes the responsibility to hold every memory of pain or sadness, and no one else in the community had to ever know of such negative feelings. of course, in the end they show the downsides to the members of society not knowing any sadness. but i wouldn't want to do that, just every now and then. just when i see someone who needs a pick-me-up.

i suppose this is just wishful thinking.

21st century

In hunting and gathering communities of the past, and the few that still exist today, they spend an average of 20 hours a week working. That is including any housing needs, weapon making and repairing, etc. And in the end they'll be much healthier, to top it all off.

The typical American expects to be working 40 hours a week when they embark in their career, but it's normally quite more. Any type of managerial position and you'll easily put in 60 hours before you know it. Then our money goes into huge houses that serve no purpose, a brand name car and huge televisions that we'll put on payments that keep us working so much.

And they call us the advanced society?

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Smiling with Your Eyes

sometimes i forget to let my friends know just how lovely and wonderful i think they are. today i asked kate if she could hang out on friday night and she said she was going to long beach, and i frowned! this is not one of those mental frowns either, it showed immediately on my face. that led to this entry.

i truly and sincerely love you guys and how happy you make me. whenever i think i'm going crazy or am crazy already, you guys let me know that i probably am, but that you guys will still put up with me. the things i love most, however, are not your "personalities" (although those are swell) but those little things that you guys do, that i just have to smile about and be so thankful for.

these are in random order and vary in significance and length. it's just what pops into my head.

1.) it had been raining that night and we went to parkway. getting back into the car, i was wet and freezing. and shaking. and you guys know, that when i get cold, i get cold. and i think like two different times matt told kate "turn the heater up, amy's cold" but he didn't say it in his "matt voice", i.e. not in his "THE CONDOR IS GOING TO GET YOU MOTHAFUCKA" voice - you know the one. he said it in his nice matt voice! and for some reason i thought that was so nice and considerate of him to notice i was cold and ask kate something as simple as turning the heater up. matt is so rad, i just plain love him and his crazy late night ramblings.

2.) whenever kate is faking a smile, her eyebrows move up and her eyes don't squint as much. and i laugh inside every time. it's hilarious!

3.) BRIAN YOU ARE AWESOME BECAUSE YOU REALIZE HOW HORRIBLE IT IS THAT ANDREW [A] DRAGGED ME ACROSS THE FLOOR. you're awesome for other reasons, too. that one in particular ^_^!

4.) jordan and i have an interesting friendship. 99.9% of the things we say to each other are cynical, sarcastic and ridiculously hilarious (to us, at least). and every time we have anything sincere to say to each other, i've noticed we always find ways to do it where the other one can't immediately respond. i.e. he sends me an IM a few minutes after i've logged off, or i'll send him a myspace message. even stranger is that it happens subconsciously all the time and i always forget til after i do it!

okay, i've made too many blogs lately, so i'll just randomly scatter the rest of them in various entries.

every time.

every time someone cuts me off on the freeway and i feel a strong urge to run them over, i picture them as a six-year-old, with tears in their eyes because the bully at school pushed them into the dirt. and that i happen to look just like that bully, and this was the first time they had ever done such a horrid thing as cut someone off and they were just getting back at me for pushing them into the dirt.

at least...that's what i tell myself, so i don't run them over.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

sometimes blogspot needs a 'friends only' option

I am two months old today.
All day she stared, and stared,
and stared,
and I felt that I was as beautiful as can be.
Whenever I was fussy
threw food all over her shirt,
she held me tighter still,
I knew that I was special and that she cared for me.
Today my Mama loves me.

I know she loves me a lot.

The first day of school is finally here,
and my Mommy bought me blue shoes;
to match my dress, my tights, my eyes.
The others thought I looked silly,
so I cried til my blue eyes turned red.
She rushed over and let me cry on her shoulder,
crying so hard I wet her shirt -
wet it all the way through.
Soon after the tears were gone,
I knew I had found
my best friend,
right there on the cement,
outside my first day of preschool,
there in my Mommy's arms.
Today my Mommy loves me.

I know that she loves me a lot.

Times have changed oh so quickly,
I can run, yell, sing, tie shoes and
even multiply all of the 8's on a good day.
There are new words I'm learning,
from the mouths of my parents,
words I'm not learning to love.
I fear God, I fear yelling, I fear leaving,
I fear love, I fear hurt, I fear consistency.
Whenever we move, I don't let myself cry,
because leaving isn't as scary
as letting yourself get comfortable,
comfortable in love.
And sometimes she doesn't show it, but I know
my Mom loves me,
even when she's mad and even when I'm wrong.
Because at the end of every night,
she still kisses me on the forehead
and hugs me very tight.
Today my Mom loves me.

I know she loves me a lot.

If you asked my driver's license,
it'd tell you I was now an adult.
I do all of those adult-like things they do in moves:
I buy gas,
I call the DMV,
I wait on hold for the DMV,
I pay bills,
I have a credit card.
Yes, I am an adult now.
At least that's what I say when I cry,
so I don't give in and go in my mother's room at night
in search of arms to hold me,
like on the cold concrete outside the preschool.
Now when I ask how her day was,
she screams and she throws
and accusations fill the air.
I take extra showers nowadays;
tears feel better there;
the water washes the guilt with the tears;
In there no one ever hears.
Maybe there's no hope for us now
we never were Leave It To Beaver.
I pray God will fix it
and let her be my Mama, my Mommy, my Mom.
She is my mother. She is the one who bore me. At least on the good days,
she won't be bothered by at least that.
A secret? Every time she yells my heart dies a little bit inside
not because it hurts, though it does, because
she'll never give me forehead kisses and love me like she did.
Today my mother went crazy.

She doesn't love me like I thought.

18 doesn't mean shit.

sometimes i am in shock and awe at the immaturity of my peers. this occurs everywhere and about everyone: friends of mine, folks at work, all the monte vista kids, the 20 and 30 somethings at city, etc., etc., etc., etc.

and what makes me most annoyed is this myth that being 18 makes you an adult. i am sorry, but if you haven't had any real responsibility or life experience in your entire time on earth, then you are not an adult. i don't care if i offend anyone, i truly cannot take it anymore. i cannot take this ridiculous thinking that you're all grown up once you leave high school. i live by the motto that if you act like a child, you should be treated like a child.

today in anthropology a 25-year-old who has been going to city for seven years and still hasn't obtained her degree started whining about life and her problems. and in the process let it leak that she has never had a job because she "can't find one that suits her goals" and that she's living on welfare while her parents let her live in the guest home attached to their house. "do you pay rent or bills or car insurance or anything?" "no, but...everything is so expensive nowadays, how could i with the tiny checks i get?" meaning, the "tiny" checks the government gives her because she has convinced them she is not fit for work.

perhaps this was a rant...i apologize. but i'm sick and tired of never letting myself slip for one second at school or work so that i can get out of this godforsaken school and house. and it pisses me off that all the while people far less deserving are living the good life free of stress or money worries. pisses. me. off.


sorry about that, Readers.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

valentine's day

roses are red
violets are blue
valentine's day
is for people like you

the one's who don't care
if you have something to wear
or someone to kiss
or a loved one to miss

it's for the free thinking
who don't spend their night drinking
who cares if you're taken or single
or just like to mingle

what's much more swell
is letting love dwell
and grow and spread and pass on and share
so those you adore will truly know you care

-this cheesyhorrible poem i spent a whopping four minutes on is for gina, who i hope has a wonderful valentine's day :]-

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Dearest Reader,

Here's the thing, Reader. Admission into time and space requires a belief in limits: a belief that both time and space are real; that you can therefore have and have-not; that love can be lost or found; and that you are what your physical senses show you and no more.

These illusions immediately lead you to believe that you are incomplete. Yet, far from indicating you are flawed, they reveal your brilliance by filling you with desire, igniting your emotions, fueling your passions, and catapulting you out into the world where journeys are begun, connections are made, and dreams come true... only to be replaced by new dreams as your divine sense of incompleteness persists.

This is by design, Reader. Feeling incomplete does not make you so. It's how legends are born, giants are made, and history is written. It's why you're here. To ever so briefly escape your true identity as you live with an unquenchable thirst that will lead into adventures of grandeur, discovery, and a realization that love is all there is.

if only, if only

if i knew that it would not affect my chances of getting a job when i get older...

...then i would get dreadlocks in a heartbeat.

they are the most beautiful, wonderful, natural creation anyone can create with their hair.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

my neighbor and i.

Today I sat at my window and
watched the shapely mother
across the street wash her car,
corral her children into obedience.

Then I wondered,
what has she done today
that made her smile
ear-to-ear, with her whole heart beaming,
feeling like a million bucks.

But hypocrisy filled me
as I shifted my gaze around
asked myself the same question;
came up quite short.
Found myself a new goal,
very New Years-esque of me I thought.

Hopefully from now on,
my shapely neighbor and I
can have that feeling every day
the one in your stomach
(that feels so good you could explode)
when you feel content,
you feel illustrious,
you feel proud.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009


i have heard the word capricious so many times today. and from completely unrelated sources, which is what makes it odd.

Monday, February 2, 2009

i need to read more nonfiction.

i finished the curious incident of the dog in the night-time two days ago. it was a strange book. good, but strange. now i'm not sure what i'd like to read next. i'm trying to go through and read all the books on my bookshelf that i've had for ages, yet have never gotten around to before i go buy any new ones; it's a bad habit of mine.

five out of my six classes are all intensely similar. not in the manner they're taught or anything like that, but actual subject wise. whenever i'm reading my textbook, i completely forget which class i'm reading for after a few minutes. spanish is the only class that is quite distinct (for obvious reasons).

i'm off to do two separate writing assignments concerning myths...for two separate classes, wouldn't you know. seriously, teachers need to be more creative.

i've determined that the saddest event that happens to me on a daily basis is at nightime: no matter how much love and attention i've given ninja that day, when nighttime rolls around and i'm on my computer with my legs crossed, she walks up, sits on my lap and lays her head and paws on my arms so i cannot use the computer and am forced to give her my utmost attention instead. i have not decided if i find this more endearing, or irritating.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

gang bang boys.

In the bargain bin
of the gay sex shop
we find an entire catalogue
of tiny sex novellas.
They are paperback, just larger than pocket sized,
with 1980’s photographs
of hardcore acts wrapped around the cover.
The unintentionally beautiful typography
presents a bevy of
no nonsense titles

“Gang Bang Boys”
“The Older Man”
and “Blow Jobs.”

Inside “Blow Jobs,” the crisp yellowed pages
turn just the same as any
classic tale plucked from the central library shelf,
though the prose itself reveals
quick plot lines rich with
descriptions of raging
dicks and thrusting

How difficult it must be,
I think,
for the author of “Blow Jobs”
having spent so many years
mastering his craft
only to have the market
wrenched away from him
by the brunt of video sales
and the unrelenting internet.

We thumb though them all,
his life’s work
some forty books
piled there
under a layer of discount dust
no chance for redemption
and I wonder-

“Author of “Blow Jobs,”
where are you now?”