Late-night phone conversations and stifling giggles so as not to wake up our sleepy towns. Sharing secrets, irrational fears and dreams of where we'll end up one day. Songs and playlists we've kept near and dear to our hearts are sent, with hopes that the hidden messages could be decoded by the other. It's odd how we came to be where we are, with twelve days of conversation attempting to make up for twelve years of silence. An unconventional friendship sparked by a mutual love for throwing caution to the wind that could potentially place us on the brink of something beautiful. To be perfectly frank, monotonous moments of my day are broken up with daydreams of you: Slow dancing under the stars, while soft and unimposing melodies surround us. Attempting to reach the end of a To-Do List that's ever-growing with trips to far away lands and ghost towns, guitar duets as the California sunshine fades over the horizon, and a world of firsts we've yet to experience.
What a strange relationship that's beginning to bloom, but my goodness, I'm in it if you are.
Purge.
In an attempt to clear out my hard drive, I found some writing samples I never initially intended to publish. Here goes nothing.
June 3, 2010:
Trying to accurately describe our friendship would cause an aneurism of sorts. Our last real encounter ended with you admitting to your newfound feelings for me. However, because she had just come back from her year-long jaunt abroad in an attempt to clean up her act, you couldn't find it in your heart to continue what we had. Why must beautiful confessions such as these always tip-toe around a "but so-and-so?" Due to some unforeseen circumstances, a not-so-brief encounter with illicit substances and an exclamation sure to echo in her mind for an indefinite period of time, you've now strolled back in my life. And I'm there with open arms. My goodness. When I stepped out the door and locked eyes with you for the first time tonight in half a year, I was afraid my beating heart would be audible. You held me in an embrace that seemed to stretch on for hours and hours as I gently traced indecipherable shapes against your back and our hearts beat in synchrony and, God, what I would have done to stay in that moment with you forever.
I'm quite unsure as to how many allusions I've made about you in my corner of the internet, but the words stuck end to end would span to the moon and back, I love you so.
Blurb.
It's terrifying how the last few weeks of the year are quickly approaching when I still feel like I haven't gotten through July. But of course, I'm merely living in the past, something that's easier than facing all the worries of tomorrow and whatnot. Oh, boo-stinkin-hoo. I've neglected this blog for five months and I didn't even think twice when I received a notification on my phone's calendar that it was my second bloggerversary. It wouldn't have felt right celebrating a milestone with my passive attitude towards the entire thing.
You know how I keep track of time now? Through however many weeks' worth of PostSecrets I haven't read on my reader. (It's currently at 4, for those curious enough. Unread items: 605.) To be frank, this whole full-time, 9am-5:30pm job sucks. In addition to feeling like I have absolutely no time to devote to anything else, I am miserable sitting at my desk for those eight hours everyday. Eight hours + two total hours while in transit = fifty hours a week/two hundred hours a month that I wish could be spent doing something I'm passionate about. My sketchbook's collecting dust, my watercolors and brushes and Micron pens are nowhere to be found, and whenever I feel like translating my thoughts onto pen and paper, I simply feel too lazy to do so.
Hi, I'm Marianne and I'm feeling jaded.
You know how I keep track of time now? Through however many weeks' worth of PostSecrets I haven't read on my reader. (It's currently at 4, for those curious enough. Unread items: 605.) To be frank, this whole full-time, 9am-5:30pm job sucks. In addition to feeling like I have absolutely no time to devote to anything else, I am miserable sitting at my desk for those eight hours everyday. Eight hours + two total hours while in transit = fifty hours a week/two hundred hours a month that I wish could be spent doing something I'm passionate about. My sketchbook's collecting dust, my watercolors and brushes and Micron pens are nowhere to be found, and whenever I feel like translating my thoughts onto pen and paper, I simply feel too lazy to do so.
Hi, I'm Marianne and I'm feeling jaded.
Weekend Snapshots.
Saturday comprised of going to the farmers market and indulging myself with the best cheese tamale I've had in ages, a catch-up with The Housewives of NYC and church. Saturday night was spent with a very dear friend whom I've known since middle school, affectionately nicknamed Drummer Boy. We went to our favorite restaurant that we used to frequent during our years of high school after football games, concerts and rehearsals.
This summer, I promise to be more adventurous.
Summer hasn't officially begun and I can already cross this off my list. I faced my fear of climbing ladders and heights head-on as he and I trespassed onto a building's roof that evening. Gazing up at the stars, watching the cars drive past, sharing stories, the sweetest kiss before climbing back down. Magical. I may have prolonged going to bed that evening for fear of washing the memories away.
Sunday: lunch at Chinatown, an excursion into Union Station and the last of the Dodgers vs. Braves series with family.
Despite the heat, a great time was had by all. The game was made even more enjoyable as a young man, clad in Celtics gear, made his way down to his seat (directly behind me, mind you) and was met with a chorus of "Boooooo"s and a "Celtics suck!" chant by the crowd. You've got to have major cojones to wear a Celtics jersey in a Laker-predominated venue, so, kudos to him.
This summer, I promise to be more adventurous.
Summer hasn't officially begun and I can already cross this off my list. I faced my fear of climbing ladders and heights head-on as he and I trespassed onto a building's roof that evening. Gazing up at the stars, watching the cars drive past, sharing stories, the sweetest kiss before climbing back down. Magical. I may have prolonged going to bed that evening for fear of washing the memories away.
Sunday: lunch at Chinatown, an excursion into Union Station and the last of the Dodgers vs. Braves series with family.
Despite the heat, a great time was had by all. The game was made even more enjoyable as a young man, clad in Celtics gear, made his way down to his seat (directly behind me, mind you) and was met with a chorus of "Boooooo"s and a "Celtics suck!" chant by the crowd. You've got to have major cojones to wear a Celtics jersey in a Laker-predominated venue, so, kudos to him.
We rarely stay for the whole game in an attempt to beat the rush of traffic out of the parking lots, but since we used the Dodger Express from Union Station - for free, instead of paying $15 for parking - we stuck around for the extra innings. By then, the crowds were dwindling away, which is a shame because the Dodgers won in the eleventh inning, thanks to Ellis and a run by Martin.
I need more weekends like this. Life, make it happen.
This week.
I learned to take chances. After a year of silence on our parts (not due to any animosity and hatred, merely the inevitable drifting away that occurs once school starts up again), an old friend from high school texted me, suggesting a meet-up of sorts. Normally, I'd mull over the text for a few hours, racking my brain for the perfect response, then anti-climactically give up and move on with my life. Not because of the text, but because I'd be too afraid of what would happen. Would the meet-up be filled with awkward silences and uncomfortable shifting of the eyes as we struggled to come up with conversation topics? Would we be so different from what we had known in the past? What if we wouldn't get along now? I pushed those thoughts aside as we made plans to meet up at our old high school to say hello to our old drumline coach, along with another friend. While the drumline rehearsed, we found ourselves walking around the dimly-lit school (it was nighttime) as we caught up with one another. We walked to the field, where we'd spent countless hours rehearsing drill for marching band and drumline, sat directly on the giant "G" logo in the middle and just reminisced. Telling stories, how the semester went, old inside jokes resurfaced and it was just like old times. I've missed my boys so much and hopefully we'll be able to hang out a few more times before Daniel leaves for the Mediterranean for eight weeks.
I realized how much I truly love farmers markets.
June wishes:
- That the Dodgers win on Sunday's game against the Braves. I was unsuccessful in trying to find a youth jersey for Ethier the other day, so I had to settle for Martin (#55), which isn't too bad. Long story short, I'm set for the game. (Also hoping for cooler temps that day.)
- I'm celebrating a milestone birthday this month, but I hope that it will be low-key. Heck, I hope everyone forgets. I'd settle for a midnight showing of Toy Story III in 3-D, though. Any takers?
- We are a generation run by instant gratification. I hope to stick to my diet and exercise regimen, even though results aren't to my liking at first. Slow and steady wins the race! Except there's no race here, unless you count the race against time. Or something.
- That I develop some kind of facetious inner dialogue. I'm the least wittiest person I know, as evident by the above bullet point.
- Tons of happiness, good music, good vibes. Forever.
I realized how much I truly love farmers markets.
I started my obsession with LOST, six years too late. When the series finale aired, I was sitting in my living room, eyes glued to the screen, though I had absolutely no idea what was happening. My LOST-fanatic friend was bawling half the time as he gave me background information in an attempt to catch me up. Well, it kind of worked. Nevertheless, the finale was beautiful and I found myself getting goosebumps at the merging scenes. Hulu's streaming the first five seasons until December 31, 2010, so here's my formal goodbye to my social life until I finish.
I finally received my giveaway prize from the oh-so-lovely NatalieAlyssa. She hosts a giveaway of her photographs every month, I believe, and the first time I actually signed up, I won! Beginner's luck, I suppose? Also, I was more than thrilled when I noticed the return address - Maple, Ontario, Canada. CANADA.
June wishes:
- That the Dodgers win on Sunday's game against the Braves. I was unsuccessful in trying to find a youth jersey for Ethier the other day, so I had to settle for Martin (#55), which isn't too bad. Long story short, I'm set for the game. (Also hoping for cooler temps that day.)
- I'm celebrating a milestone birthday this month, but I hope that it will be low-key. Heck, I hope everyone forgets. I'd settle for a midnight showing of Toy Story III in 3-D, though. Any takers?
- We are a generation run by instant gratification. I hope to stick to my diet and exercise regimen, even though results aren't to my liking at first. Slow and steady wins the race! Except there's no race here, unless you count the race against time. Or something.
- That I develop some kind of facetious inner dialogue. I'm the least wittiest person I know, as evident by the above bullet point.
- Tons of happiness, good music, good vibes. Forever.
Missed Opportunities, Boys With Girlfriends and Rude Comments.
Holy Negative Nancy, Batman!
Remember this post that I wrote over a year ago? How I had the opportunity to interview the electropop goodness that is HeyHiHello? I think I may have actually talked to Jakub, the lead vocalist, a few times before actually sitting down to compose interview questions. In the end, I passed on the opportunity as I labeled myself too shy and incompetent to go through with it. In the past year, they've slowly but surely built up their fan base and are on their way to being the next electropop hit. Following the footsteps of Owl City, if I may be so bold to say? What was the point of this blurb? Oh, yes. Missed opportunities. Sunken confidence. Regret, regret, regret. Seems to be a recurring theme in this blog, don't you think?
Oh, iTunes, why must you be a constant reminder of my terrible luck with boys and potential relationships? Meiko's "Boys With Girlfriends" just came on. Remember this post? Hopeless romantics eat that stuff up all the time! Meeting a stranger, discovering all these uncanny similarities and forming an everlasting bond, if circumstances allow. It's the premise of the rom-com in my mind's theater, honestly. I'm sure you can guess the gist of the whole situation without me having to blatantly spell it out. 'Cause I know better not to be friends with boys with girlfriends, oh. Boy-In-Question keeps texting me out of the blue, even going as far as mentioning his new job a mere fifteen minutes away; he lives in the South Bay, an hour south. Quite similar to another situation over two years ago, but that's a story for another time, perhaps. Oh, I know better than that, I know better.
Apologies for the extremely girly nature of the following paragraph, but it just has to be said with hopes that Blogspot can hold me accountable. I've gained twenty pounds since I was fifteen-years-old. That's about five pounds a year, which is a lot for someone standing at a modest height of 5'3". At a disastrous lunch with a few old friends a couple of weeks ago, a high school acquaintance (I never considered us close in the least bit) loudly declared how "different" I looked now as opposed to our high school years. After a questioning look from me, he continued to say that I was tinier back then, implying a noticeable weight gain. In the wise words of Ms. Stephanie Tanner, "HOW RUDE!" After that slap in the face, I'm now on a mission to get fit once more. Not necessarily lose weight, but get in shape. And no, round is not a shape.
It doesn't help that I can never resist the pull of Yogurtland when I veer close enough. Tart frozen yogurt + cheesecake bites + Mochi + irresistible pink spoons = a happy-go-lucky me. I've no willpower, really.
Sincerely hope you have a pleasant weekend.
Remember this post that I wrote over a year ago? How I had the opportunity to interview the electropop goodness that is HeyHiHello? I think I may have actually talked to Jakub, the lead vocalist, a few times before actually sitting down to compose interview questions. In the end, I passed on the opportunity as I labeled myself too shy and incompetent to go through with it. In the past year, they've slowly but surely built up their fan base and are on their way to being the next electropop hit. Following the footsteps of Owl City, if I may be so bold to say? What was the point of this blurb? Oh, yes. Missed opportunities. Sunken confidence. Regret, regret, regret. Seems to be a recurring theme in this blog, don't you think?
Oh, iTunes, why must you be a constant reminder of my terrible luck with boys and potential relationships? Meiko's "Boys With Girlfriends" just came on. Remember this post? Hopeless romantics eat that stuff up all the time! Meeting a stranger, discovering all these uncanny similarities and forming an everlasting bond, if circumstances allow. It's the premise of the rom-com in my mind's theater, honestly. I'm sure you can guess the gist of the whole situation without me having to blatantly spell it out. 'Cause I know better not to be friends with boys with girlfriends, oh. Boy-In-Question keeps texting me out of the blue, even going as far as mentioning his new job a mere fifteen minutes away; he lives in the South Bay, an hour south. Quite similar to another situation over two years ago, but that's a story for another time, perhaps. Oh, I know better than that, I know better.
Apologies for the extremely girly nature of the following paragraph, but it just has to be said with hopes that Blogspot can hold me accountable. I've gained twenty pounds since I was fifteen-years-old. That's about five pounds a year, which is a lot for someone standing at a modest height of 5'3". At a disastrous lunch with a few old friends a couple of weeks ago, a high school acquaintance (I never considered us close in the least bit) loudly declared how "different" I looked now as opposed to our high school years. After a questioning look from me, he continued to say that I was tinier back then, implying a noticeable weight gain. In the wise words of Ms. Stephanie Tanner, "HOW RUDE!" After that slap in the face, I'm now on a mission to get fit once more. Not necessarily lose weight, but get in shape. And no, round is not a shape.
It doesn't help that I can never resist the pull of Yogurtland when I veer close enough. Tart frozen yogurt + cheesecake bites + Mochi + irresistible pink spoons = a happy-go-lucky me. I've no willpower, really.
Sincerely hope you have a pleasant weekend.
Shutter Happy.
Last Tuesday, I received a parcel in the mail from a dear friend in the bay area. It's quite possible that I had a heart attack once I opened the box and peered inside to see his Canon DSLR looking up at me with eager eyes. Included were a 50mm lens, the 18-55mm kit lens and a flash unit. I, then, proceeded to squeal and jump around like a maniac in my driveway as the friend I was with politely waited for my excitement to wane. I mean, who in their right mind would allow a stranger (technically speaking, we've never met) to borrow a grand's worth of camera equipment for an indefinite amount of time?! It's unheard of! And borderline crazy. But, my goodness, I am so blessed and eternally thankful for his selflessness and generosity.
And I love how his letter clearly states that I shouldn't let the wrapping paper fool me and that he wishes for me to put it through hell.
It has been a week of impromptu photoshoots, wishing for idyllic weather conditions and a shutter happy Marianne with a permanent smile plastered upon her face. While I haven't made the full transition into manual settings yet (cue dramatic music), I'm happy to say that I'm learning, and willing to learn, everything I can about this little camera. It's also quite possible that he's successfully managed to turn a Nikon fangirl into an open-minded Canon user.
And I love how his letter clearly states that I shouldn't let the wrapping paper fool me and that he wishes for me to put it through hell.
It has been a week of impromptu photoshoots, wishing for idyllic weather conditions and a shutter happy Marianne with a permanent smile plastered upon her face. While I haven't made the full transition into manual settings yet (cue dramatic music), I'm happy to say that I'm learning, and willing to learn, everything I can about this little camera. It's also quite possible that he's successfully managed to turn a Nikon fangirl into an open-minded Canon user.
Grandma.
It's only fitting that, as I sit here with Notepad open and the vertical line blinking and prompting me to write, Between the Trees' "A Time For Yohe" plays in the background. More specifically, the line in the chorus, gently encouraging me to keep going with this post: "This is your time to weep / This is your time to mourn."
My maternal grandmother passed away last Sunday. I refuse to go into detail about such private matters on a public forum, so I'll only say that the situation is extremely bittersweet. Because it was so sudden, my mom, sister and I were unable to attend the funeral as our passports wouldn't have been renewed in time. What I didn't know was that my sister and I were the last grandchildren she'd had a hand in helping to raise. I haven't seen her since coming to California over fourteen years ago, and I regret it so much. It's become a banal saying in matters such as these, but I truly believe that she's in a better place now. I'm grateful that she doesn't have to suffer anymore.
Haha. I distinctly remember thinking, at the ripe age of five as my grandma helped dress me for school, that she was such a genius for knowing which sock went on which foot. I had thought that there was a specific sock for which foot, much like the right/left certainty of shoes. Favorite memory, hands down.
I miss her a lot, and I can only hope that she's looking down with a full heart and willingness to guide me.
My maternal grandmother passed away last Sunday. I refuse to go into detail about such private matters on a public forum, so I'll only say that the situation is extremely bittersweet. Because it was so sudden, my mom, sister and I were unable to attend the funeral as our passports wouldn't have been renewed in time. What I didn't know was that my sister and I were the last grandchildren she'd had a hand in helping to raise. I haven't seen her since coming to California over fourteen years ago, and I regret it so much. It's become a banal saying in matters such as these, but I truly believe that she's in a better place now. I'm grateful that she doesn't have to suffer anymore.
Haha. I distinctly remember thinking, at the ripe age of five as my grandma helped dress me for school, that she was such a genius for knowing which sock went on which foot. I had thought that there was a specific sock for which foot, much like the right/left certainty of shoes. Favorite memory, hands down.
I miss her a lot, and I can only hope that she's looking down with a full heart and willingness to guide me.
On Chance Encounters.
Have you ever been blessed with an encounter that leaves you feeling as if all the stars in the universe aligned in such a way to bring you two together? The type that leaves you with an unwavering feeling of euphoria and a tangible "Heck yes, anything is possible today!" attitude? I had one of these encounters the other day and it began when he looked down at my iPod and practically shouted when he noticed I was listening to Circa Survive's "Blue Sky Noise" album. Kindred spirits, if only for a moment. Or, more accurately, a normally tiresome hour-long bus ride that flew by because of his company.
Though, I must be frank and mention that out of all the available seats to situate myself on the bus, I chose to sit next to him; I reverted to old habits as an attraction to his piercings drew me in. And I'll be the first to admit my surprise as my surreptitious use of Circa's soon-to-be-released album as bait actually worked. I've no shame, really. He apologized for snooping at my music choice, which was a sweet gesture, and an easy conversation encircling shared interests followed.
I realize it's nearly impossible to accurately gauge someone's personality from a conversation as short as ours. And my ignorance of the banal (yet very smart!) saying that one should never talk to strangers was evident. But phone numbers and social networking sites were exchanged. He's studious, with degrees in English and accounting under his belt, musically-talented as the lead vocalist in an up-and-coming local band and extremely polite; all green lights. He gave me his post-hardcore band's URL and I giggled upon hearing a cover of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" thirty minutes before starting this post. My close friends can attest to my penchant for hardcover covers of terribly catchy pop songs. It's a guilty pleasure that, well, I don't feel guilty for having.
As his stop was before mine, he stood up and explained that he was visiting his sick mom as he held up the single red rose I had first noticed upon taking the seat next to him. When I first saw the rose, I had thought that whomever he intended to give it to, was a lucky, lucky girl. And I still stand by that. A very lucky girl, indeed. So yes, a little crush has somehow made its way into my life.
Truth be told, that day was one of the more perfect days I've had in a while. A few hours after the chance encounter, I went to a restaurant to get some take-out and the girl behind the counter said she loved my hair and if she could please cut it off and put it on her head. It wasn't as creepy as I make it seem; it was very cute.
A concise summary of the previous paragraphs: I love lovely days.
P.S. Desperately wishing I were in Indio this weekend for Coachella.
P.P.S. Blogger has it out for me, seeing as this is the millionth time I've tried to update this; the page keeps timing out, even though every other page works fine. Odd?
P.P.S. Blogger has it out for me, seeing as this is the millionth time I've tried to update this; the page keeps timing out, even though every other page works fine. Odd?
On Let-Downs, Adventures and LA Weekly.
You know what really grinds my gears? When something that's been in the planning stages for a while falls through at the very last second. (Reminiscent of one too many times when I've sat at home, all dressed up with no where to go.) Having no intention of going to a show when the artist rolls through town, talking to someone who states how amazing of an idea it would be if we were to go, getting extremely excited for the night in question, only to be let down. Again and again. Keep in mind that the concert scenario occurred twice in a span of six months.
I've mentioned time and again how I've yearned for a DSLR camera to practice, and hopefully further, my photography skills. He mentioned a grand opportunity to provide me with a camera and a chance to photograph one of the artists he's been working with - an opportunity I was extremely grateful for and literally over the moon about, only to receive one of the most disappointing phone calls I've had in a while on Tuesday afternoon. It's possible I went through a slew of a hundred emotions in one second. Extreme giddiness upon hearing my phone ring, disappointment upon realizing the opportunity wasn't going to come into fruition, and anger for trusting someone that was bound to let me down once more. It's become a set pattern, and I can't believe I allowed it to happen again.
I think I may need better friends.
Retail therapy: I believe in it. That afternoon called for a new pair of sunglasses.
Wednesday proved to be a much better day as I spent the day out and about with my sister. First stop was Hollywood and Highland to do a bunch of ridiculously touristy things: walking up and down the street pointing out names we recognized on the stars, taking photos of the handprints in front of the Chinese Theater and taking a much needed trip to Amoeba.
Because of the 80+ degree weather, we felt that a visit to Millions of Milkshakes in WeHo was necessary. We ended the day on the Santa Monica Pier. I was only slightly disappointed that they raised the prices for the rides. Yes, the rides are akin to kitchy carnival rides, but they're fun nonetheless.
What else have I been up to, you ask? You didn't, but just go with it. In an uncharacteristically bold move, I decided to apply to write for LA Weekly's West Coast Sound blog. I sent my application a couple of weeks ago, but as of this moment, I have yet to receive a word back. I'm quite impatient when it comes to matters such as these, haven't you noticed? As of right now, however, I wouldn't mind if I weren't to get a spot. I acted on an impulse and took a risk, things I rarely do, and that's all that matters. Besides, I doubt my knowledge of mainstream music is up to par with the other applicants and well-read bloggers who have successfully placed a foot in the door of the music journalism world. Surely my meager article failed to reach the minimum word count that I didn't even know existed. Oh, and I failed geographically as I chose to compose an article surrounding an event occurring in the O.C. Fail, fail, fail. Fingers are still crossed, though.
I've mentioned time and again how I've yearned for a DSLR camera to practice, and hopefully further, my photography skills. He mentioned a grand opportunity to provide me with a camera and a chance to photograph one of the artists he's been working with - an opportunity I was extremely grateful for and literally over the moon about, only to receive one of the most disappointing phone calls I've had in a while on Tuesday afternoon. It's possible I went through a slew of a hundred emotions in one second. Extreme giddiness upon hearing my phone ring, disappointment upon realizing the opportunity wasn't going to come into fruition, and anger for trusting someone that was bound to let me down once more. It's become a set pattern, and I can't believe I allowed it to happen again.
I think I may need better friends.
Retail therapy: I believe in it. That afternoon called for a new pair of sunglasses.
Wednesday proved to be a much better day as I spent the day out and about with my sister. First stop was Hollywood and Highland to do a bunch of ridiculously touristy things: walking up and down the street pointing out names we recognized on the stars, taking photos of the handprints in front of the Chinese Theater and taking a much needed trip to Amoeba.
I thrifted this 1960's toy camera for $2 the other day. I've yet to develop my first roll of film, but it winds well and the shutter works, so I'm hoping that the photos come out alright.
Because of the 80+ degree weather, we felt that a visit to Millions of Milkshakes in WeHo was necessary. We ended the day on the Santa Monica Pier. I was only slightly disappointed that they raised the prices for the rides. Yes, the rides are akin to kitchy carnival rides, but they're fun nonetheless.
What else have I been up to, you ask? You didn't, but just go with it. In an uncharacteristically bold move, I decided to apply to write for LA Weekly's West Coast Sound blog. I sent my application a couple of weeks ago, but as of this moment, I have yet to receive a word back. I'm quite impatient when it comes to matters such as these, haven't you noticed? As of right now, however, I wouldn't mind if I weren't to get a spot. I acted on an impulse and took a risk, things I rarely do, and that's all that matters. Besides, I doubt my knowledge of mainstream music is up to par with the other applicants and well-read bloggers who have successfully placed a foot in the door of the music journalism world. Surely my meager article failed to reach the minimum word count that I didn't even know existed. Oh, and I failed geographically as I chose to compose an article surrounding an event occurring in the O.C. Fail, fail, fail. Fingers are still crossed, though.
Parlous.
First it's a low-toned, mellow whisper that reminds you of the consequences - be careful. A refusal to listen to the first warning prompts The Universe to gently tug at your sleeve. Soon, blatant intimations present themselves to you in the mundane as curious slaps in the face, each warning more violent than the last. You turn a blind eye to what life has kindly shown you despite your knowledge of possible dire outcomes. As a result, what was once an imaginary consequence has taken root in front of your very eyes. You'll look on absolutely numb while remorse and a yearning for a second chance wash over you, but would you take advantage if given another opportunity?
Please take care for the warnings are growing ever frequent.
Giveaways, Grammys, Vlad the Impaler and Skins.
A couple of days ago, I noticed that I was chosen as one of two winners (out of 675 entries!) for a giveaway on A Beautiful Mess. Squeals ensued, perhaps a couple of exaggerated jumps in the air and incredulous facial expressions, too. But I've come across a dilemma - yes, a dilemma within the four days of the grand reveal. I didn't hesitate to e-mail the lovely and inspiring Elsie Flannigan to claim my gift certificate, however, I still haven't received a response. She's a busy person, I realize that, and the last thing I'd want to happen is for me to come across like the overzealous freak that I am when it comes to Red Velvet Art. But dang it, I want my prize. Should I send another e-mail? Perhaps my first one got lost amidst other messages in her inbox.
The Grammys are on right now and while I feel no qualms in being a Taylor Swift fan, isn't it a bit of a stretch to praise her writing ability and say her lyrics are wise beyond her years? I'm pretty sure I can come up with tantalizing lyrics and not have to resort to rhyming "me" with "see". She's still adorable, though. Oh, and I must add - my uneasiness as she accepted her Album of the Year award was palpable; I half expected Kanye West to run onstage and steal her moment once more.
Current: Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian. I have a bit of an impractical schedule when it comes to books I check out from the library. From the date of check-out, you have an allotted three weeks to finish and return it. The first two weeks, I take my sweet time. The third and final week, I step it up quite a bit. A majority of the time, though, it becomes necessary to renew it, which isn't a problem because it can be easily remedied with a click of the mouse. HOWEVER. My aversion to anything history-related prompted me to take my time with this novel even more than usual, with its plot surrounding Vlad the Impaler, and the relationship between Christian West and Islamic East. I planned on renewing it this past weekend to no avail. Because someone has already reserved the book, I can't renew the damn thing, motivating me to go on an insane reading spree the past few days. Not that I'm complaining, but because of the fast pace, I'm sure to overlook a few details here and there, especially the descriptions of the lovely Eastern European cities the protagonists traverse through. My favorite thus far? The description of war-torn (yet lively) Budapest, Hungary illuminating the nighttime waters of the Danube.
Beautiful. I'm sure I don't have to say that this novel has piqued my interest in visiting Europe, do I? Let's take a trip, my treat, and get lost. Not in the cities we'll be seeing, but in one another's eyes. In my opinion, the ease of getting lost in the windows of the soul is magnified with breathtaking backdrops such as this.
There. A verbose Blogspot entry to, hopefully, compensate for the lack of words in the previous weeks. I've been watching the second series of Skins and I think Jal said it best when she exclaimed, "I keep stepping on (land) mines, Cassie!" as tears ran down her cheeks. I do, too, Jal. But things will only get better from here on out. I claim it.
Current: Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian. I have a bit of an impractical schedule when it comes to books I check out from the library. From the date of check-out, you have an allotted three weeks to finish and return it. The first two weeks, I take my sweet time. The third and final week, I step it up quite a bit. A majority of the time, though, it becomes necessary to renew it, which isn't a problem because it can be easily remedied with a click of the mouse. HOWEVER. My aversion to anything history-related prompted me to take my time with this novel even more than usual, with its plot surrounding Vlad the Impaler, and the relationship between Christian West and Islamic East. I planned on renewing it this past weekend to no avail. Because someone has already reserved the book, I can't renew the damn thing, motivating me to go on an insane reading spree the past few days. Not that I'm complaining, but because of the fast pace, I'm sure to overlook a few details here and there, especially the descriptions of the lovely Eastern European cities the protagonists traverse through. My favorite thus far? The description of war-torn (yet lively) Budapest, Hungary illuminating the nighttime waters of the Danube.
There. A verbose Blogspot entry to, hopefully, compensate for the lack of words in the previous weeks. I've been watching the second series of Skins and I think Jal said it best when she exclaimed, "I keep stepping on (land) mines, Cassie!" as tears ran down her cheeks. I do, too, Jal. But things will only get better from here on out. I claim it.
Another Sketchbook Snapshot.
"To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded." Ralph Waldo Emerson
Hiatus from Blogspot; lurk Tumblr for updates! Trust & pixie dust.
A Random Thought and Updates.
You'd think that finally hearing a confession I've been waiting since seventh grade for (I'm twenty, now. Do the math.) would propel me to incredible highs. That I'd be so inspired to write that I would have numerous posts queued on the mere subject alone. Sadly, that's not the case. The conversation we had three nights ago hasn't found its way out of my mind yet and an emptiness has begun to fill every crevice. Who would have thought that a void would have as much weight — even more so in matters of the heart — as something so concrete and distinct, its polar opposite? Also, this just had to make its presence known in the month preceding February, when seemingly everything explodes with hearts, pinks and reds. Truth of the matter is, there simply isn't anything I can do about the situation. I should just take Russell Peters' advice and and be a (wo)man. Takeitandgo.
A couple of updates:
Oh. For those of you that made a New Years resolution, you should check out The Small Object's download for today -- a 2010 Daily Resolution Record Keeper. For every day you complete your goal, you simply place a stamp, a sticker, whatever on the corresponding date. If it worked when we were children (gold stars!), why shouldn't it work now? ;] Besides, it would be pretty neat to see the entire thing filled up (with a few gaping holes, here and there) by year's end.
Hope everyone's doing well!
A couple of updates:
- I recently stumbled upon Maddy's IndieVISUAL Journal Challenge, where you draw something representing your day, everyday and post it online for the world to see. It's a year-long project and while I highly doubt I'll be able to complete all 365 days, I'll be sure to take it one day at a time. I've posted a couple on my Flickr page, as well as on Tumblr. If you've ever wanted to start an illustrated journal, please, please, please consider taking part in this, too.
- The oh-so-lovely Kina Grannis at The Troubadour next week!
- The last thing I want to do is jinx it, but everything looks peachy for part deux of Drummer Boy's audition. He drives back up to Santa Clara on the fifteenth. Keep him in your prayers, please!
- The idea of making resolutions never really appealed to me because it's inevitable for goals to fall by the wayside. Besides, if you really want to change something about yourself, why wait for the beginning of a new year? Just change. With that said, I'm sticking to my pescetarian diet, and gradually stepping it up to vegetarianism. I'll have to look into Vegan Yum Yum, a cookbook that Kyla Roma suggested.
- Kafka on the Shore is a strange one! With parallels to "Oedipus Rex", you can't really expect anything but.
- One of the people I'm following on Tumblr has written a novel and is willing to mail out previous drafts to those that are interested. I'M INTERESTED! Problem is, I'm one of those super paranoid freaks (and rightly so) that would never in a million years give out my address to someone random on the internet. A solution? Get a P.O. box. But is it really worth it to pay $45 to open one up for a book? Thoughts and opinions would be greatly appreciated.
Oh. For those of you that made a New Years resolution, you should check out The Small Object's download for today -- a 2010 Daily Resolution Record Keeper. For every day you complete your goal, you simply place a stamp, a sticker, whatever on the corresponding date. If it worked when we were children (gold stars!), why shouldn't it work now? ;] Besides, it would be pretty neat to see the entire thing filled up (with a few gaping holes, here and there) by year's end.
Hope everyone's doing well!
Happy New Year!
The New Year is upon us! I would do an introspective post, challenging myself to look deeper within in an attempt to see how I've changed (or failed to) in the past year, but that just doesn't seem fun at the moment. Instead, I'll opt to do a list of my Favorites of 2009.
Favorite book:
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. Out of all the books I read this year, this one has managed to stick with me. Murakami is truly a prolific author with his incredibly vivid descriptions and ethereal characters. I'm only two hundred or so pages into Kafka on the Shore -- is it possible to name someone your favorite author after a book and how ever many pages?
Favorite new band discovery:
Oddly enough, their name is Discovery. An amalgam of Vampire Weekend and Ra Ra Riot, this band has found a way into my heart after one listen-through of "Osaka Loop Line." It's an instant favorite. On second thought, since I'm conflicted with choosing between fun. and Discovery, I'll list both.
Favorite new TV show:
Easily Community. While The Office has hilarious intros, Community never fails to impress with its outros. The Spanish Rap with Abed and Troy is my favorite to date. I was wary of seeing this when the first promo commercials were shown and I'm glad I gave it a chance because it brings the LOLs. Oh, and Modern Family is a very close second.
Favorite movie:
(500) Days of Summer. The relatable plot, the local haunts featured such as Point Fermin Park and Bunker Hill, Joseph Gordon-Levitt's heart-warming smile, Zooey Deschanel's amazing wardrobe and the soundtrack -- what's not to love?
Favorite adventure:
Going down to Santa Monica Pier and Venice Beach late into the night with friends, laying a few towels down and catching up. While that was nice on its own, the addition of lighting sparklers and having a mini rave on the sand brought the night up a few notches. We're a fun group.
Favorite revived friendship:
Definitely Anthony. We've hardly had any downs in our four year friendship, but we drifted far away from one another after I graduated. A friendship only to be brought back a hundred-fold the past few weeks. He was saved this past summer and never in a million years did we think that our friendship would turn into fellowship, but it has. He took me to his church on Tuesday, hence my happy tweet from that evening. I'm blessed to have him in my life.
Favorite social networking site:
Sorry, Blogspot, but Tumblr has stolen my heart when it comes to short bursts of writing, inspiring photos and new bands to come across.
As an afterthought, add the following to your dance party playlists for tonight! It's an amazing mash-up of Billboard's Top 25 hits of this year.
I'm running out of time, so I'll have to cut this short. Tonight will be low-key and will be spent with a few lovely people -- my kind of evening. Hope everyone has a blessed New Year! Have fun. Get crunk. And make resolutions that you'll forget in a few weeks. Cheers.
Smoke.
You draw in your breath, allowing the toxins to fill your lungs. The repercussions? Untold. Wavering. You exhale the wispy smoke, which dissipates into oblivion, while the faint smell of tobacco lingers on your clothing. Why must you do this in my presence? You know I thoroughly despise secondhand smoke. I whine, whinge, complain constantly and a smug smile finds its way upon your lips. A dagger would do wonders, if you felt no remorse in killing.
I've been going through old files and sketchbooks long forgotten in an attempt to find more of my quote, unquote creative writing. It's terribly written, but my love for the photo (Andy from I See Stars) called for a post. This was written after an outdoor Starbucks session with my best friend, whom I've been trying to convince to stop smoking. My efforts are futile, though; this vice has an unrelenting hold on him.
A Not-So-Serious Post (except for the end).
My one rule on the 1nt3rw3bZ when it comes to links in "About Me" sections: not to leave one for my blog and Tumblr (basically anything involving writing) on other sites. For example, my Last.fm, Twitter, YouTube and Flickr pages don't have click-through links to them. But if you somehow stumble upon my blog and Tumblr, you have access to, well, pretty much everything.
There's a reason why only two of my real life friends know about this blog. I don't mind strangers having access to my posts, but I get a crazy, almost overwhelming feeling that people I know are overstepping some kind of boundary when they read my personal thoughts. But maybe I'M just crazy. And possessive.
Well, I've been found. I woke up from a night of glorious, glorious sleep to find an email on my Blackberry: "_____ started following you. Win! Love, TumblrBot." No. NO. NOOOOOO! I know I'm not at all creative when it comes to creating link names (they're all some form of "marianney") but still! What prompted him to type it into Tumblr when I have no links to it anywhere?! It's really kind of creepy if you think about it. Anyway, my last Tumblr post was addressed to him and said something along the lines of: "Please unfollow me. Ktnxbai." in hopes that it will prevent our mutual friends from adding me as well. Sigh, I don't like this.
My friend (read: Hug post) texted me last night saying he got a call-back from his Santa Clara Vanguard snare line auditions! That's one hurdle out of the way. Please, send positive thoughts for him for the next couple of weeks. Maybe I'm biased, but he truly deserves a spot on that line! I'm not exaggerating when I say that every free moment of his life is spent drumming in preparation for next summer, his age-out year. So, please, send positive thoughts. Rub a rabbit's foot. Wish on shooting stars. Throw a coin in the fountain for him. He deserves this. And it'd be the best feeling in the world to see him decked out in uniform, pouring his heart out on the field and hopefully winning a championship ring in the process.
Also, I realize there is a clear overuse of parentheses in this post. I am therefore forbidden to use them in future entries. Fin.
There's a reason why only two of my real life friends know about this blog. I don't mind strangers having access to my posts, but I get a crazy, almost overwhelming feeling that people I know are overstepping some kind of boundary when they read my personal thoughts. But maybe I'M just crazy. And possessive.
Well, I've been found. I woke up from a night of glorious, glorious sleep to find an email on my Blackberry: "_____ started following you. Win! Love, TumblrBot." No. NO. NOOOOOO! I know I'm not at all creative when it comes to creating link names (they're all some form of "marianney") but still! What prompted him to type it into Tumblr when I have no links to it anywhere?! It's really kind of creepy if you think about it. Anyway, my last Tumblr post was addressed to him and said something along the lines of: "Please unfollow me. Ktnxbai." in hopes that it will prevent our mutual friends from adding me as well. Sigh, I don't like this.
-----------------------------------------------
I have a favor to ask of you. Yes, you, reading this.My friend (read: Hug post) texted me last night saying he got a call-back from his Santa Clara Vanguard snare line auditions! That's one hurdle out of the way. Please, send positive thoughts for him for the next couple of weeks. Maybe I'm biased, but he truly deserves a spot on that line! I'm not exaggerating when I say that every free moment of his life is spent drumming in preparation for next summer, his age-out year. So, please, send positive thoughts. Rub a rabbit's foot. Wish on shooting stars. Throw a coin in the fountain for him. He deserves this. And it'd be the best feeling in the world to see him decked out in uniform, pouring his heart out on the field and hopefully winning a championship ring in the process.
Also, I realize there is a clear overuse of parentheses in this post. I am therefore forbidden to use them in future entries. Fin.
Gershwin and the Drunk Concert Master.
I was watching an episode of Skins when this classical piece in the background piqued my interest. I knew I had heard it before, but I couldn't pinpoint the exact composer and title. Minutes went by as I scoured my brain for the information that I could recall with such ease during my Symphonic Orchestra years. A sense of relief washed over me as I remembered Gershwin's "Rhapsody In Blue". It was honestly pissing me off that I couldn't figure it out. Does that ever happen to anyone? You know you've heard something before, but can't think of who sang/played it? It's simpler with lyrical songs because you can easily pull up Google and search for the words in the song. Needless to say, I miss being part of an orchestra. That sense of unity between you and your peers as you perform on stage with the warm lights beaming down on you. Such good times.
Again, another instance where music brought me back to a memory. I remember this one performance where our concert master, a rebellious violin virtuoso forced to be a part of the music program because of his strict parents, showed up absolutely hammered. Well, scratch that. He was drinking in the empty music room while the other groups performed, as a great big "F--- YOU!" to his parents and as a makeshift tribute to his Russian heritage. When it was our turn to take the stage, he casually strolled up to the front and took his place on the podium to tune the orchestra. I wish I could say something tragic and hilarious occurred because of his drunken stupor, I really do. But all that happened was him swaying to and fro in front of a full audience, with a big, stupid grin plastered on his flushed face. I remember thinking what a fantastic way to end my senior year, were he to fall off the podium and cause a scene. (Haha, I'm horrible.) Amidst all the incredulous murmurs and whispering among us during the tuning session, our music director had absolutely no idea what was happening. I don't condone underage drinking, but honestly... it was the best. It's my second most treasured performance experience, with sneaking on the roof in our concert dress as number one.
Sigh, I really do miss it. Maybe I should get over my fear of auditioning and just do it! Life's too short for could-a, would-a, should-a. Right?
Passion Pit.
I observed/realized/was reminded of several things as Kelsea and I gallivanted through Hollywood yesterday for the Passion Pit taping at Jimmy Kimmel.
Now for a video! My favorite part was when everyone chimed in during the first "higher and higher and higher" part of the Little Secrets chorus. It sent chills down my spine, that feeling of unity in a crowd of strangers. Then again, it simply could've been because of the chill in the air. Ha.
My only gripe about last night was their three song limit. They played The Reeling and their single, Sleepyhead, in addition to the televised Little Secrets and promptly said their goodbyes, much to the dismay of the audience. Our shouts for an encore were ignored, but honestly, it wasn't bad for a free show. A good time was had by all and it's safe to say my no-show-streak is over.
- Contrary to popular belief, hipster kids don't just stand and feign boredom at shows; they actually dance and sing along! It was probably a rare occurrence in the hipster world because, let's face it, Passion Pit is the only band in the world to elicit such a response. They are that amazing live. What was once a stand-around-and-wait-while-keeping-aloof crowd became a dance party in a matter of seconds.
- There are some people from your high school years who will never grow up. They will still find pleasure in gossiping and making other people's lives absolutely miserable. You'll also run into them at random shows because, heck, it's a small world after all.
- Pee-wee Herman still creeps me out after all these years. Straight up. It was the most awkward thing to witness as he did his interview with Kimmel completely in character.
- Famima!! is (in my humble opinion) the best convenience store to ever exist. Where else can you find Bawls, Ramune, Hi-chews, Mochi and Beard Papa's under one roof? I miss having one in my town.
- I will never be able to live in a city where it snows. It was a mere 50°F last night and I could barely move. You people living in winter wonderlands must be laughing right about now. In my defense, the wind chill was crazy cold.
- Friends that you meet through church are Forever Friends. Enough said.
Now for a video! My favorite part was when everyone chimed in during the first "higher and higher and higher" part of the Little Secrets chorus. It sent chills down my spine, that feeling of unity in a crowd of strangers. Then again, it simply could've been because of the chill in the air. Ha.
My only gripe about last night was their three song limit. They played The Reeling and their single, Sleepyhead, in addition to the televised Little Secrets and promptly said their goodbyes, much to the dismay of the audience. Our shouts for an encore were ignored, but honestly, it wasn't bad for a free show. A good time was had by all and it's safe to say my no-show-streak is over.
Cadence.
You make your way on stage, each step heavier than the last. The nerves, so tangible, accented by the mild tremors of your cold, cold hands. You shake it off as you reach the microphone. Center stage: where you belong. The bright lights shine down as you scan the audience for a familiar face and a sense of calm washes over you as we make eye contact. An encouraging smile, camcorder in hand, the white of the screen highlighting my face in the sea of shadows. Meager applause follows your introduction, but you brave through it without so much as a second thought. The beat crescendos through the stale air and you fall into it and you're up and you're out and your caged words and rhymes escape. Layer upon layer of preconceived notions are stripped away until you're all that's left, if only for a brief moment. The song ends, but your time in the spotlight's only beginning; the applause is deafening.
I must confess. This brief acquaintance resulted in playing Russian Roulette with your playlists.
I don't want to intimidate, I want to inspire.
I must confess. This brief acquaintance resulted in playing Russian Roulette with your playlists.