tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64122331134821674792024-03-13T10:05:59.357-05:00eloquent graffiti[insert wit here]lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-82419471884228048782012-04-18T20:50:00.002-05:002012-04-18T20:55:14.785-05:00the boy who rounded his wordstell me your words<div>and kiss my eyelids with</div><div>the surprise of a newborn</div><div>in heels.</div><div>try me.</div><div>eat my heart out through</div><div>my loins.</div><div>I will spread my legs and dance</div><div>along your thin,</div><div>giving lips.</div><div>paint me like one of your french</div><div>girls.</div><div>lay my feet along the right path, </div><div>the groove along your sinews</div><div>and rolling spine and lengthy</div><div>calves.</div><div>I have always been yours,</div><div>drawn from your ribs,</div><div>written with your fingers.</div><div>tell me you want my</div><div>children.</div><div>I will drink you</div><div>into my veins, </div><div>transforming lust to life.</div><div>speak to me, now.</div><div>tell me what births </div><div>I may someday give.</div>lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-750475573037517502012-04-01T13:20:00.003-05:002012-04-18T20:56:41.144-05:00new meaningput this balm on<div>the curve of my back and say</div><div>it will all be</div><div>okay, again.</div><div>remind me of the round tips</div><div>of your prodding fingers and</div><div>how they release the words from my </div><div>throat as misty, soundless gasps of </div><div>this simple meaning, this</div><div>yearning thirst.</div><div><br /></div><div>speechless, I will teach you</div><div>my smell.</div><div>taste and become</div><div>yourself at sixteen,</div><div>painting me as your signature with</div><div>reaching arms as a resurrected woman</div><div>made youthful again in her own youth.</div><div><br /></div><div>search my hands for </div><div>petals and laughter and</div><div>tell me my smell</div><div>becomes you.</div>lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-81073204941494489192012-03-29T23:03:00.002-05:002012-03-29T23:22:53.057-05:00the wonder of greenI loved you before<div>my snow-scraped boots nestled </div><div>against kilimanjaro's curved back and</div><div>before</div><div>my lips began to taste</div><div>of something other than self,</div><div>of those ones I dipped into searching for your</div><div>apple-scented taste,</div><div>green and delightful.</div><div><br /></div><div>I loved you before</div><div>my breasts ripened and</div><div>my hips widened with their expectation of</div><div>the bountiful life</div><div>that I hoped contained you,</div><div>even still.</div><div><br /></div><div><div>I loved you before</div><div>-I know this -</div><div>because of how we danced our</div><div>characters together along</div><div>the seam of the aged dorm couch,</div><div>wisened by cheap beer and unrequited</div><div>everythings.</div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"></div><div>I loved you before</div><div>my knees learned yoga and</div><div>before</div><div>I uncovered my uncanny touch that</div><div>still calls men's names from england,</div><div>mexico, honduras.</div><div><br /></div><div>I loved you before</div><div>this weekend</div><div>when I taught you</div><div>this touch</div><div>once again <span style="font-size: 100%; ">and </span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I loved you even after</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">we delicately lay in your parents' bed</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">covered in the wonder of green</span></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; ">ripeness,</span></div><div>allowing the gravity to tiptoe</div><div>our fingers closer.</div><div>I will slide along</div><div>the creases of these wrinkled sheets,</div><div>ever decreasing our distance,</div><div>never again to reach </div><div>such great proportions.</div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div>lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-32270109916050004132011-02-28T00:41:00.004-06:002011-02-28T00:59:29.514-06:00enclosed, enticed, enraptured.inside of you are<br />the notes of the song I have written<br />the refrain that tears<br />my cords with<br />the beauty of the high.<br />it is upon us.<br /><br />we will lay here inhaling<br />the scent of bottled flowers<br />pretending time will allow us<br />to pull the air into our lungs weakened<br />by hours intertwined<br />with the skin of our dewy bodies.<br />it will never wrinkle,<br />our eyelids never dim or close,<br />the dust become us<br />as we are all we ever were<br />or are<br />or will<br />or can be<br />for we are all.<br /><br />and so they go -<br />these days pregnant with<br />the hope of the senior waiting for the letter<br />her heart confident but mind still<br />ever-so-rational -<br />panicking -<br />yet bound<br />to the knowledge that<br />tomorrow will care for itself<br />and coffee will forever taste the same on<br />her waiting tongue.<br />so the scent behind your ear<br />will intoxicate my cells tomorrow and<br />when I no longer recognize your face or<br />my children's.<br /><br />so memorize me here<br />memorize me now<br />taste my tears and the skin along<br />the softest parts of my yearning body and<br />know that it is yours.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-92083318007663080272011-02-16T23:03:00.002-06:002011-02-16T23:05:30.899-06:00JoyThere is really nothing more to say than that I am extremely happy. I got into Johns (fucking) Hopkins and Emory, and I have the greatest boyfriend I could ask for (minus his whole "I go to A&M thing). I feel like I have been waiting for this moment for years. I'm afraid to breathe or it may pop.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-25951678254464865062011-01-11T23:30:00.002-06:002011-01-11T23:54:04.657-06:00fairytale lullabyNothing really new here, but I feel like writing. I've been spending my boring days doing not much but thinking about all the things I need to do but not doing them - mainly planning my spring break trip with my mom to visit grad schools. I'm so incredibly bummed to be missing SXSW this year. Last year was a lot of fun, but I think this semester is finally going to be the semester that I let loose and just have a damn good time.<br /><br />[I edited out this paragraph because it made me sound like a problem drinker, which really isn't what I want to convey. So on to my new boo!]<br /><br />He really is a darling. He's one of those people that is just so good that you don't really understand how it's possible that he hasn't been eaten up by all the bad ones out there. I know I'm biased, but I trust Rachel's sense of judgment and her long friendship with him. He's a good person, one that I'm never unsure about his true intentions or feelings, one that I know isn't just in it for himself. He's a true romantic, and it just feels oh-so-comfortable to let myself fall into it.<br /><br />He makes me feel good about myself after a time when I always blamed myself for pretty much everything. I really hope I make him feel good about himself because he deserves it so much.<br /><br />I think he's pretty much the only person that I feel content waiting for...physically. Not that it's just him that wants to wait - it's definitely me as well - just that we both know that it's a better idea not to get it too complicated already with sex. To those who know me well, this is probably a complete and utter shock. I've always been the one to hop on (hah!) and immediately enjoy the ride (haha!), but not this time. This time just being around him is enough, and soon enough we'll make the decision to move forward and it will be better (I hope!). Until then, no complaining from me, just simple pleasure.<br /><br />Other than him, I feel like I'm holding my breath in life, just waiting for grad schools to decide whether to allow me in or not, whether to give me money or not, blahblahblah. Until then, I just have to wait, wait, and wait some more. I feel like there's not much reason to pick up a new internship, hobby, volunteer position, etc. just because what's the point when you're going to be leaving so soon? But then I think, damn, I only have class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and only 12 hours at that, and a small research assistant position that will be over sooner than I think. So I'll probably end up volunteering somewhere, finally contributing a little back to society during these free days.<br /><br />These days really are some of the last free ones I'll get. I'll be relatively free of incredibly demanding school. Free of money issues while my parents finish paying my school and living expenses for undergrad. Free of the drama of my past relationship. Free of a real job. Then after these days, after May, I'll be (hopefully) going into grad school - demanding school, taking out student loans - in debt for years to come, possibly (and this is a big question mark) figuring out how to continue this relationship - added relationship drama, and getting a job of some sort to pay for my very existence - going into the real world. These things are not very exciting for me at all.<br /><br />But overall, besides these temporarily imagined stresses, I am incredibly, incredibly happy. Sure my apartment gets quite lonely at times (and even a little scary) and I feel quite restless during those times, but life is overall pretty amazing. It might be due in part to some awesome new music that I downloaded lately. Currently - Bombay Bicycle Club's album Flaws. Good stuff.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-9306288642777300502011-01-03T22:27:00.002-06:002011-01-03T22:53:18.668-06:00reallllly?So we made it happen! And it was purely awesome, purely, purely awesome. It just seems so natural, so real, and not quick at all (even though when I realize that it is in the grand scheme of things, so what?). He's a good guy, an experienced guy in the best sense, and quite the charmer. But now I'm about to start seriously gushing, which makes me feel silly, so now I shall bitch.<br /><br />My last relationship was a good one overall. The most functional overall. Until near the end, when everything that I had founded it on was shattered. I can't write the exact details of what happened in case this gets out through friends and whatnot, but I can say that my trust was completely broken. My very life was treated as inconsequential and I questioned some of my strongest beliefs. It was more complicated than that - in that I don't belief that he intended to hurt me with his actions due to some issues that he still has to resolve - but in the end, it was what it was.<br /><br />We still talk, so I told him the other day that I was seeing someone else - not dating yet, but talking. I figured he would find out sooner or later and better through me than through someone else (or the Internet). He responded pretty casually - "okay, cool," "yup, that's fine," etc. and then mentioned that he was going to try to hook up with a stranger at a party he was going to. I figured that was his knee-jerk reaction - she's seeing someone so he has to prove that he's still desirable or whatever - but that he was serious about it and ready to move on.<br /><br />I contemplated keeping my new relationship private from him on Facebook, but with the number of friends we have in common I figured it would be useless, even demeaning to him. So I put it up without keeping it from him. I mean, I <span style="font-style: italic;">had</span> talked to him before about the likelihood that it would evolve into a real relationship. And frankly, I don't need his permission to do anything, but I'm a nice girl and wanted to be considerate.<br /><br />But then I tried talking to him today, days after it went online, and he was very standoffish. Then, after strained conversation for about fifteen minutes, he finally told me that he wasn't okay with it and that it really bothered him. He said he couldn't even talk to me until he could do it in person (or something to that effect). I was nice and said that I didn't mean to hurt him and that I wanted our post-relationship relationship to stay the same.<br /><br />But what I really wanted to say was this: YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BE SO UPSET THAT I AM SEEING SOMEONE ELSE WHEN YOU (PRACTICALLY) WERE THE ENTIRE TIME WE WERE TOGETHER.<br /><br />But I'm too nice to say that. He has some serious issues he needs to work on, and I figured that I might as well keep that to myself because there's no point arguing anymore. I can write to get it off my chest and that's really all I need right now.<br /><br />The healthiest thing I've done this break is get into another relationship. My reasoning? If I didn't then I would be tempted to get back into the old one, opening myself up to dangers to my psychological and physical well-being. Now I'm not just using the new relationship for that end - if anything, that's a welcome side effect. I'm totally into him because I am into him, pure and simple.<br /><br />Yay! I'm happy again.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-43230448546128784802010-12-30T22:51:00.003-06:002010-12-30T23:23:04.804-06:00the crossing of the fingersSo much has changed since I last wrote. In regard to the whole heartbreak thing - well, I've taken care of it the same way that I have always done. By finding someone else.<br /><br />I feel as if I should actually be feeling some kind of guilt for moving on so quickly. I was with him for over a year, by far a record for myself, and our lives continue to be intricately intertwined. And I loved him. Still love him in a different way, but I nonetheless continue to love him. So why am I not feeling so incredibly guilty for falling all over someone else less than a month after we called it quits?<br /><br />Maybe it's because we fell apart so slowly that I've had time to kinda just let go. Maybe it's because I already had my official rebound with someone I already regret, so that's out of the way. Maybe it's because I know that he was doing something similar to me the entire time that I'm allowing myself to abandon the idea of us/him very quickly.<br /><br />Or maybe it's because this guy is a really, really good guy. Granted, I don't know him very well yet, not at all, but I trust Rachel's judgment and I can usually read people pretty well. Most of the other guys I've dated, well, I've only been halfway into the relationship the entire time because I could just <span style="font-style: italic;">feel</span> that it wasn't right. This isn't like that. Not at all. I mean, I do have my reservations - mainly what the hell are we thinking getting into this, whatever it is, so close to graduation? And long-distance?<br /><br />But I've never been one to write something off just because the timing was off. I'm too much of a romantic for that. And honestly, after what I've been through this past semester, I think I can handle a shit ton of heartbreak. Life is like the surf, so give yourself away like the sea, right?<br /><br />But no, seriously, I haven't been excited about someone like this in so long. It feels remarkably good. I kinda feel like he's pretty much what I've always wanted in a guy (to start out with, you know - it's not like people come pre-packaged with all the right bells and whistles or something). Tall, dark, handsome, smart, funny, motivated. I have a lot to learn about him, and he about me, and who knows - maybe something will come up that completely disgusts one of us and is a game-ender. But obviously I really hope that doesn't happen.<br /><br />Sometimes I feel like everyone else that I went to school with - the one who got pregnant, or married, or whatever - are actually braver than I have ever been. They followed their hearts, and even though I'll judge them for "fucking up their lives," part of me still wonders what would have happened if I had chosen something similar. In the end, life would be a lot harder - based on money and children and whatnot - and maybe even divorce - but it seems like they did exactly what they wanted to do. And yes, college was exactly what I wanted to do (and it is definitely not a mistake), but it involves sacrifices. I really don't think that you can have everything at this age. Maybe not ever. But hey, it's worth trying, right?<br /><br />I have no idea what to expect this coming semester. So much is up in the air - what universities I will be accepted and denied to, what the Peace Corps thinks, what happens with me and new guy, how the dynamics between me and Matt work out, what internship/volunteer position I settle on - and somehow I'm okay with this. My time here in Corpus is spent in suspension. I have time to reflect on everything that has happened, prepare for what might happen, and keep my fingers crossed for everything I have always wanted.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-22253046317766364892010-12-18T01:08:00.002-06:002010-12-18T01:41:23.255-06:00the golden commandmentTherapy. I thought I needed therapy, or counseling, or whatever nice word they have for it these days, after what I've been through this past semester and year. Too much cancer and one big break up, plus realizing that life after undergrad is very real and very scary - it just made for a really tumultuous time.<br /><br />But forget formal therapy. I've forgotten the very basic therapy that I used to give myself before I had someone there with me practically every minute of my life - writing. So here I am, back to where I was in the beginning, perhaps none the wiser or perhaps for the better.<br /><br />Here I go.<br /><br />I don't really feel anything during the day, especially during conversations about him. People will ask me how I'm doing now that it's over - hell, my mom even told me 'do not despair!' - and I feel like they live in another world where the breakup really, really hurts. I kinda shrug everything off and laugh about the awkwardness of it all or make a joke about how big my apartment is without him. But the truth is that my apartment is really, really big without him and really, really empty.<br /><br />It hits me at night, right when I decide that it's time to finally get some sleep. I close my laptop, or turn the TV off, and turn off the lights. Lay down. Close my eyes. And bam! Suddenly I realize that there is no one beside me and my apartment is so very quiet. There is only the sound of my breathing.<br /><br />Then I do what I call the 'Memento' move. In the movie, he's all sad about his dead (?) wife - it's been a long time since I've seen it - and there's this very touching memory of his where he stretches his arm across the bed feeling for her warmth, which of course isn't there. So I reach across the bed - as I still sleep on only my side out of habit - and there is nothing but blanket and pillow. Cold blanket and pillow. And I can't help myself and immediately tear up.<br /><br />There is nothing really to do except wait for the feeling to pass. They say that you need at least half the time of the relationship to get over it, so I've got a little over half a year to recover. Even that isn't comforting, though.<br /><br />We had both started to give up toward the end. I don't know if he did, but I began to hold onto things that I knew would remind me of him after it was over. I joked about his pants with the gap in the ass, trying to remember how awful they looked because I knew I wouldn't see them again afterward. I looked through old pictures to see how his hair looked before and after we shaved it, realizing how much it had grown since August and how long it had to go before it was the length of when we were in love. Maybe that will be in six months' time. But I guess I may never know.<br /><br />I don't know anything anymore. Just that when we both sat down and said it should be done, all I could think was, "We were really good together, weren't we?" And yes, we were. We were amazing. He was my best friend. You just never stop loving your best friend.<br /><br />I'm so scared of life now. Before, even though I knew that we were going to have to separate after college, I felt like he would always be there somehow - in grad school, in the Peace Corps, wherever. But now the painful reality has hit. He won't be there. No one will be there. Not even my friends will follow me to wherever I end up, and even though yes, I will make new ones, letting go of those you love - those you wish you could forever cling to - cuts so deeply.<br /><br />I shouldn't mourn the things I haven't lost yet. I know.<br /><br />I know what I have to do - think about this as a fresh start. My life is stretched far before me. I have health, financial support, friends, family. Even a cat (I had to mention her - I think I woke her up with my typing and she's probably not terribly happy). And I have amazing goals of traveling the world, making it better, living free. Even though these next few months are going to be very difficult - especially in my one-bedroom - they'll just be fleeting memories in the years to come.<br /><br />Hey, remember those six months that I lived with my cat, took classes, and twiddled my thumbs waiting for grad decisions?<br /><br />-Yeah, I don't remember those too well anymore.<br /><br />I just really have to make sure that I don't slip into something destructive to ease my boredom and anxiety - drinking, perhaps, or smoking anything, blablabla. There are really two ways I can take this, and I have to choose the constructive one. I'll work out more, or decide to cook myself an awesome dinner each week, or write more on here, or start volunteering somewhere worthwhile. Maybe listen to music like I used to or jump back into watching good cinema. Start meditating and do yoga again. Overall: treat myself like I should be treated.<br /><br />Hey, I really like that motto. New years resolution? Treat thyself like thou ought to be treated.<br /><br />Life really is beautiful, and even though I might have to work a little harder in the coming months to see that, I'll enjoy it nonetheless.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-75761057762392902812010-08-09T21:11:00.005-05:002010-08-09T21:26:36.581-05:00all will be well.Okay, I'll skip the "omg, I haven't written in forever and I just remembered how much I love writing" crap. Here we go.<br /><br />Updates.<br /><ul><li>My sister finally got married. Weird, but cool for her I guess.</li><li>My sister also got cancer. Or rather, she found the cancer she had for a long time. Thyroid. But the good news? She's already had it removed, received radioactive iodine treatment, and been shown to no longer have any cancer in her body. My mom was really freaked out about it, I cried a lot, but she was a real trooper. And now she has a bad ass scar on her neck. What a bamf.</li><li>Matt and I are still together. Yay!</li><li>I'm about to start applying to grad school. And take the GRE on Saturday. Stressing a lot.</li><li>I'm moving into my new apartment on the 20th. West Campus should be...interesting. But way more convenient than anything I've ever had before.</li><li>At the moment, I'm planning on saving all my money that I earn from the Colloquium and the FIGs to (finally) make a trip up to New York and visit Ed after I graduate. I haven't told him yet in case something comes up that I need the money for, and in case my parents decide to pull an overprotective folks on me, but I'm way excited.</li></ul>Hmm. Those are the major developments.<br /><br />In other news, I saw someone last night that I used to have a really silly crush on in high school (and up until about yesterday). It was weird - it was like he was trying to outdo me in everything he said, rubbing in my face all of the promiscuous sex he's been having with girls I don't care about. I tried playing the "would you" game with him that I play with pretty much everyone in Austin, and he accused me of hitting on him. Really? <span style="font-style: italic;">Really?</span> Sure, part of me wanted him to hit on me so I could be like, "Woah, I still got it. What a loser for still wanting me." And I know that he totally did. I just didn't like the way he went about it. And I didn't like how lame he became over these years with all of those other pompous people at Rice. I wouldn't be surprised if that's the last time I see him, and I really feel no sense of loss. As soon as I got home, I got online and told Matt how much I love him and how glad I am that he isn't a jerk-off.<br /><br />Speaking of Matt, we really were incredibly close to breaking it off at the end of the summer. Correction: I was close to breaking it off with him. The constant togetherness got to me, and it got to the point where any little thing he did irked me for no apparent reason. But now that we're gone, and I had a taste of the jerks I'm missing out on, I can see a better future for us than I ever have before.<br /><br />At the moment, though, all I want is to be done with the GRE. Please, please let me score something decent so that I don't have to retake it. I'm worried that my list of schools is too short (Denver, Boston, and UTHSC-Houston), and I'm sad that my decision will most likely be influence mostly by financial concerns, but all will be well. All will be well.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-20495811093330683762009-12-10T23:58:00.001-06:002009-12-11T00:03:02.456-06:00shiva.<meta name="Title" content=""> <meta name="Keywords" content=""> <meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> <meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"> <meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"> <meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"> <!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:documentproperties> <o:template>Normal</o:Template> <o:revision>0</o:Revision> <o:totaltime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:pages>1</o:Pages> <o:words>245</o:Words> <o:characters>1397</o:Characters> <o:lines>11</o:Lines> <o:paragraphs>2</o:Paragraphs> <o:characterswithspaces>1715</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:version>11.1282</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:donotshowrevisions/> <w:donotprintrevisions/> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:usemarginsfordrawinggridorigin/> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--> <style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Times New Roman"; panose-1:0 2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} @font-face {font-family:"American Typewriter"; panose-1:0 2 9 6 4 2 0 4 2 3; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:50331648 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-parent:""; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman";} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style> <!--StartFragment--><span style=";font-family:";" >Do Not Resuscitate.<o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >they asked me if I knew<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >what it meant and said<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >that if something happened<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >– anything – <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >that I should know what to do.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >– nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >though we’d been doing it all along<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >as if we each had been to the hospice.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >just watching your hair fall out and<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >your body eat itself.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >and we never even blinked when<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >the cancer consumed the rest.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >we just inhaled when<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >you could not.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >we didn’t know that<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >it was then you had chosen –<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >“go for a walk around the neighborhood”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >you said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >“the air is so nice today.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >and when we returned<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >we did not resuscitate you.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >I only woke myself because<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >when your body turned against you<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >I was falling in love with<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >a lovesick boy who knows neither<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >death nor god – <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >both you are familiar with.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >it was your last sunny afternoon<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >that I finally took a break from him.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >– remember?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >the afternoon we all sat and <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >enjoyed the warm sun while you<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >receded into your weakened mind<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >your eyes blackened by removal.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >and no one wanted to go inside for<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >we knew we’d never climb or<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >help you up<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >those scratchy concrete stairs again.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >but instead the sun turned cold like your skin and<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >we went into your empty<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >stone house and talked about<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >Do Not Resuscitate.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >a brief moment eclipsed<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >by reality.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >like my day with the boy.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >I took in everything about him that<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >you are not.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >using my lips to borrow life from him<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >we carved a future with no one but<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >ourselves and eternal sunshine – <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >only for a pile of dishes to sober<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >us to the shadowed sun.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >we will resuscitate for now while<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >discovering life and<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >preventing new ones.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >pretending you are not covered<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >with earth and<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >coming for me.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[if !supportEmptyParas]-->
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style=";font-family:";" ><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >so here I am.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >naked.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >touching my breasts.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >waiting for you to appear.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >waiting for no one to<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:";" >awaken me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">[while listening to the antlers' hospice album.]
<br /><span style=";font-family:";" ><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-20534368324710652872009-09-30T01:19:00.002-05:002009-09-30T01:48:23.746-05:00american dreamsIt's been months since I've written a poem and actually posted it, but since it's past one in the morning and I'm not tired it kinda makes sense to do this now.<br /><br />So here's something I wrote on August 2, 2009. It's pretty much about adjusting back to life in the US, not knowing whether to love or hate it or to love or hate myself for those feelings. As usual with my poetry, relationships (sexual or "real") aren't necessarily literal. I guess you've gotta read it to catch my drift. Also, for some reason the indents are non-functional so forgive me if it seems a bit runny.<br /><br />I wake up at dawn<br />these days<br />with too much to do and<br />too much time to do it<br />but here in the city<br />nothing seems right<br />where the roosters are<br /> silent<br />and the birds are lazier<br />than I am<br /><br />whoever thought a place like this<br />was a good idea?<br /><br />no one touches me here<br />because it's all about<br /> distance<br />distance from the boys<br />and men<br />I have loved and always will<br /> their names nearly cover the alphabet<br /> these days<br /><br />I try not to chase them<br />any further away than<br />they already are<br />because here in this starless city<br />I cry most for the lovers<br />who are to come<br /><br />the first morning afters<br />the taste of unbrushed teeth<br />and the smell of potential<br /> oh, the potential<br />of being full of life for<br />years to come<br /> that studded ring finger<br /> and lips swollen from his touch<br /> amidst the smell of oatmeal and honey<br />or<br />for just a moment<br /> the kind that you keep on<br /> perpetual pause<br /> just because you can<br /> so that when another man<br /> wears his cologne on the 5<br /> you remember his crow's feet<br /> and the way his fingers memorized your body<br /> that night<br /><br />so here<br />in the city<br />no matter the futility<br />I will wait for his crow<br /><br />[Okay, okay, I changed it up a bit. Seems that August me is definitely not September me. This is why I love words and not numbers.]lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-67176812084261723482009-04-08T23:26:00.004-05:002009-04-08T23:34:57.728-05:00Indie star.As those of you who love me know, I write a column every other week for the Daily Texan. This week I was supposed to have a column, but let's just say there were "creative differences" between me and staff, so I just decided to let them drop it. I guess I'll write about puppies and kitties next time (or at least attack some cool people who don't deserve it).<br /><br />[Don't worry, I'll write the full story after I'm not liable for shit or whatever.]<br /><br />So since The Internet is amazing, I get to post it on here instead. Someone I won't name said that I'll probably get more people reading my column on my blog/Facebook than I would if it was printed. I got a good chuckle out of that.<br /><br />It's not my typical typical typical kind of writing because it's uber-structured for me (and oh, how I hate structure!), and I had to add in some sociology junk to try to assuage people (and cut out some funny shit) but anyways...enjoy.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"> <span style="font-size:180%;"> "</span>Last month I participated in what few other hippies would dare try – Round Up 2009. For those who don’t speak Greek, Round Up is the weekend when all the frats and sororities deem it socially desirable to wear neon colors and fanny packs in an (unofficial) attempt to hook potential members on the Greek scene. The parties are virtually non-stop, with round-the-clock drunkenness in celebration of, well, being Greek.<br /><br /> I am not Greek material. I don’t have the money, the look, or the ability to drink copious amounts of Keystone, and the crowd I run with typically scowls at the Greek culture. I once thought that rushes were simply overwhelmed by what we sociology majors call anomie, a sense of normlessness that hits most freshman when they realize they have no friends in a school of almost 50,000. To combat this loneliness, about 11% of current UT students have pledged, and I once considered myself superior to them because I found social solidarity on my own. But when I started seeing a frat guy this semester, I realized that our relationship would depend on my willingness to try out the Greek life.<br /><br /> I once believed all the typical stereotypes that circulate throughout the non-Greek world. “Frat stars” spend most of their money on cheap beer and pride themselves on how much of it they can drink without puking or passing out. They have an insatiable appetite for sex with as many different sorority girls as possible, and they must pay thousands of dollars in dues to get friends and one night stands.<br /><br /> On the other hand, I’m known as a “goddamn independent” in the Greek world. I am penniless and hopeless, and I lack a “real” social life because I don’t always have parties to go to from Thursdays thru Saturdays. The guys in my circle are feminine, dirty, and culturally pretentious because they wear skinny jeans, grow out their beards, and went to the Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! show. To them, our underlying animosity toward the Greek scene exists only because we are simply incapable of handling it.<br /><br /> Because I believed in the frat stereotype and relished in my own indie branding, the very thought of Round Up terrified me. An entire weekend with a bunch of oddly dressed rich white kids in West Campus? My social failure was certain. I had a horrifying image in my head of me holding an empty Solo cup while awkwardly standing in a corner, watching endless rounds of beer pong, multiple keg stands, and rampant sloppy make-out sessions.<br /><br /> But I surprisingly and unabashedly enjoyed myself at Round Up, even though my Toms were clearly out of place in their sea of Sperrys. Their ceaseless enthusiasm pulled me into their festivities in what I can only describe as a scene of critical mass. The more of them, the harder they partied – the harder they partied, the more I became part of them. I, a proud member of the indie scene, united with the Greeks in an unlikely weekend of carefree celebration.<br /><br /> After all, what makes the Greek culture all that different from the hipster scene? We judge each other based on looks, affluence, connections, and attractiveness, so the only dissimilarity lies in how we express our social standing. The frat star may wear neon sunglasses with Texas flag shorts and drink from a beer bong to assert his dominance, while the scenester will wear the most obscure vintage band shirt and smoke hand-rolled joints to prove his indie-ness.<br /><br />What unites us is the fact that we all simply try too hard to make ourselves known. The animosity between our two groups exists because we need this distinction in order to define ourselves. This practice of “othering” sadly leads us to believe that our differences overshadow our similarities, and we begin to identify ourselves by what we are not. Hanging out at the frat house the other night, the only way I could tell that the guys were frat stars and not scenesters was by the Greek letters on their shirts. They make the same jokes, watch the same shows, and have the same simple desire to have a good time as any group of scenesters do.<br /><br /> After my boyfriend graduates in May and my connection to the frat world has been severed, I probably won’t go out of my way to get back into the scene. I’ll just return to my side of the fence and reassert my indie nature knowing that I’ve seen the other world, and it’s not that much different.<span style="font-size:180%;">"</span><br /></div>lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-48591340115215136622009-03-10T23:42:00.000-05:002009-03-11T00:07:17.875-05:00the basicsI just waited over five minutes for this page to load, so I'm going to add that to my list of things I won't miss about Dobie.<br /><br />Anyway.<br /><br />I've been doing a lot of Twittering lately, so if you haven't started it <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://twitter.com/home">get on it</a>. If you're already as cool as I am, you should totally <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://twitter.com/LauraCov">show me some love</a>. If you don't know what it is, the easiest way I can explain is is that it's just a site of Facebook updates. Yeah, sounds f-ing boring, but once you get started you can indulge yourself in letting people you don't know know exactly what you're doing. Think <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://dailytexanonline.com/1.1576386-1.1576386">25 Things</a>, but on crack.<br /><br />For a couple of weeks I felt like I was completely sucked into the sex educator program...I think I can probably give the MOC (methods of contraception) class from the top of my head. Besides that, I've been writing my column every other week for the Daily Texan, trying to keep up in class, and getting a boyfriend.<br /><br />Mhmm, mhmm, wait, WHAT?<br /><br />Yeah. 'Tis true. I had spent the past few weeks bitching about how lonely I was and how impossible it is to meet nice, decent-looking, funny, smart, and socially functional guys at UT. If you had a single conversation with me between the dates of, say, Feb. 12 and Mar. 5, I was probably uber depressed about my lack of any kind of romantic life at all. <br /><br />And then I decided that no, I was fine. I didn't need a boyfriend (no one does, this is true), and single life was kind of fun after all. I could go out to parties (like I have all that many parties to be going to in the first place...but whatever, in the event that I somehow weasled my way into one) and flirt with whomever I wanted. If I had the desire to I could have a crazy, kinky, sweaty, passionate one night stand and not give my number the next morning. And I never had to worry about someone else, or analyze their thoughts and feelings, or let anything get in my way of my life plans. However non-existent they are, of course.<br /><br />So I took everyone's advice and stopped looking. And so one found me.<br /><br />He's not my "type," but I've never really had a solid kind. Let's see - an asshole Mexican, a douchebag redneck, a pretentious film buff, and an overly romantic poet. Okay, scratch what I said about "he's not my 'type'" because I'm full of shit. I'm like the United Nations of relationships. Or the Jolie-Pitt clan. Anywho, what matters is if I'm happy. And I am.<br /><br />Meanwhile, I can't stop listening to Yo La Tengo's "Gentle Hour" and "You Can Have It All," and to Bon Iver, in general. Good stuff.<br /><br />And although it would have been awesome to stay in Austin for SXSW or for mis amigos, I'm kinda looking forward to getting back home. I need a break from this dorm and from classes and the non-stop action. Actually I'd just <span style="font-weight: bold;">love</span> to have a week here without any responsibility. I'd get to do all the things that I've wanted to do in this lovely place but never had the time for. (This is also a big reason why I'm going to be a FIG mentor next year...I'll have an excuse, and an obligation, to do all these fun things.)<br /><br />Okay, so it seems like the misses is about to get home and I need time to pretend to be asleep. Yeah, she probably doesn't read these things so it's all gravy. And also if you text someone and they say they're asleep, <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">don't text them back!</span></span> That just means that they have to roll their sleepy-ass bodies over and read your goddamn text to make sure you're not getting eaten by an ogre on the Drag.<br /><br />I've got a lot of angst.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-88058413329604205902009-03-04T14:50:00.002-06:002009-03-04T15:00:37.021-06:00cuatro. or is it cuarto?No no, I think it's cuatro. It's either "four" or "room." But wait! This shall be my number...whatever.<br /><br />16(?). When people mess up with their homophones (or whatever you call those words that sound almost exactly the same but aren't really) and say something completely ridiculous. I can't think of any right now, except for this one that was kinda lost in translation that my Spanish teacher told me in high school. So apparently "embarazada" in Spanish means "pregnant," but she didn't know that and she's hanging out with her friends one night and does something embarrassing. So she goes something like, "Estoy tan embarazada!" I'm so pregnant!<br /><br />17. Kings of Leon.<br /><br />18. Eating cookies or brownies when they're still warm and gooey and melt on your tongue in slippery, sweet succulence.<br /><br />19. Saying horribly inappropriate things very loudly in public places and watching reactions. (Hence my delight when I said that I was going home to go eat my vagina and I freaked everyone out around me on 21st.)<br /><br />20. Those few extremely clear moments that you have every once in a while when you realize just how ridiculous this world really is. How bloody complicated yet simple it can be, and how you're happy to be alive to be a part of some parts of it.<br /><br />I promise to write a real entry some day. Maybe even today.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-10590466108094907212009-02-25T13:11:00.002-06:002009-02-25T13:19:09.404-06:00tres.I've been kinda down lately, so I'm going to have to try hard to come up with five more things. But they'll make me smile nonetheless.<br /><br />11. Mason Jenning's and Jack Johnson's song "I Love You and Buddha Too." It's the hippiest shit ever, so I therefore love it. Highly recommend listening to it, especially if you've declared a jihad/crusade recently. (Btw, whoever thought that "Campus Crusade For Christ" is a good name for a group? Seriously guys, try to come up with something positive Christians have done in history...)<br /><br />12. Another music one, but whatever. I really love the music mariachis play. Yeah, make fun of me. But usually only when women sing it and are really angry. And when you know a lot of tequila went into its production. Try Salma Hayak's rendition of "La Bruja" from Frida.<br /><br />13. When you trip and no one else sees.<br /><br />14. The first few minutes after yoga. I feel so good in my body and mind that I feel like a dumbass smiling everywhere I go afterwards...totally worth it.<br /><br />15. When you know someone well enough to say what they are going to say before they have a chance. Not always, because that would be awful, but on those funny occassions when you feel completely synced with that person. I think some people call it getting your synergy on.<br /><br />I feel a bit better now. I have yoga later, so I'm planning on feeling amazing by 6:30pm today.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-89596738325953213192009-02-17T22:49:00.002-06:002009-02-17T22:59:49.454-06:00dos.Today I'm adding some to relieve stress, since I have two exams tomorrow and another on Thursday.<br /><br />6. When you get to the elevator and press the button and it's already there.<br /><br />7. When you find money in your pocket that you'd completely forgotten about. Always happens in winter coats.<br /><br />8. Doing something completely outlandish to make someone laugh who doesn't want to let you know that they want to laugh, so they kinda sit there with a stupid smirk on their face...but you can't let them know that you find it funny, so you have to hold in all that happiness inside. Ex: backing my ass up onto my roommate who really enjoys it but pretends she doesn't like it, but I can't laugh or I'll break the mood. That makes me smile.<br /><br />9. Seeing a happy person in public that you don't know. I think we're often taught not to show our delight in public and sometimes people let it slip out. You see it in little smiles, and that makes me smile.<br /><br />10. Seeing an artist or band that you love perform live. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Always</span> makes me smile.<br /><br />Ahh...writing these things makes me feel almost as relaxed as after yoga.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-20581390545828756452009-02-16T21:30:00.002-06:002009-02-16T21:36:54.215-06:00things that make me smile. uno.I've decided that I'm going to start writing little things that make me smile in my blog since I have so little time to write anymore and little things are quick and easy. And they make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Let's see...I'll write five things every time.<br /><br />Here we go:<br /><br />1. When people try too hard in yoga class and fart on accident. What makes it even more hilarious is that you're not allowed to laugh...almost unbearable.<br /><br />2. (Cliche warning) The smell right before it rains and then again right afterward. It happened today when I was leaving class and a guy from it pointed it out to me. Way cool of him.<br /><br />3. Randomly seeing people around UT. Makes you feel popular/loved (unless you don't want to see them because you A) hate every cell in their body, B) made out with them in drunken stupor last weekend and realize that they're butt ugly or a douchebag or both, or C) look like crap and don't want to seem like a slob).<br /><br />4. Studying for a test and realizing that you pretty much already know it. RARE occurrence.<br /><br />5. When you get to a store/restaurant right at closing time and they serve you. Makes you believe in humanity.<br /><br />Feel free to share any happy moments in your life...I probably share them with you.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-32079267197620096702009-02-09T00:33:00.002-06:002009-02-09T00:41:37.517-06:00Weekend UpdateYes, I am an awful person for abandoning my blog for scholarship applications, the Daily Texan, and other more-boring endeavors, and I can't excuse myself for this gross overlook. But seeing as I took some melatonin over an hour ago in order to curb the effect of all the caffeine I've taken in today, I'm bum tired.<br /><br />Here are the essentials.<br /><ul><li>Next year I'll be living at 4111 Speedway. Not the cutest apartment, but near the IF and with huge rooms. Neighboring houses so cute I suspect dolls live in them. Randomly know the guy living in the room I'll be living in next year. Weird.</li><li>I just applied (like seriously just applied, as in a few minutes ago) to do HIV/AIDS education volunteering in Ghana after my Maymester ends. I'm excited as gravy to start. [Yeah, I'm so tired I think gravy is exciting.]</li><li>I'll be writing a column every other week for the Daily Texan. I'm much more enthusiastic about it than this reads.</li><li>I've finally started doing all my sex education things. Ask me when my next Methods of Contraception class is or when I'll be doing Sex Jeopardy/Mr. Condomhead/other workshop. I'm loads of fun.</li><li>I'm too tired/lazy to take the bulleting off this, so goodnight and good luck.<br /></li></ul>lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-18809816125826710202009-01-28T18:57:00.007-06:002009-01-28T19:02:28.434-06:00Passive-Aggresive Herpes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZTetgkDtbqcYVL620G0bLpOmUq7m_Tw7WaCMId3n87FFLtd7k2nL6Mfw2eEZfkjas0EK62t8lrBbq6FcbLNz34lQku8OSP9ZA-bnKcNCGkZWEvkqU2AICdMVKDmUtpKIwB3gcsdUf_OQ/s1600-h/2417484523_baec042b43.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ZTetgkDtbqcYVL620G0bLpOmUq7m_Tw7WaCMId3n87FFLtd7k2nL6Mfw2eEZfkjas0EK62t8lrBbq6FcbLNz34lQku8OSP9ZA-bnKcNCGkZWEvkqU2AICdMVKDmUtpKIwB3gcsdUf_OQ/s320/2417484523_baec042b43.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296514064088912978" border="0" /></a><br />Since I haven't written anything significant on here for a while (I've been writing loads of crap for other things), here's something funny I found on <a href="http://www.passiveaggressivenotes.com/page/27/">passiveaggressivenotes.com</a> that I thought was appropriate because of my obsession with sex. Enjoy the site while I write scholarship/honors/class/competition essays...lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-58294309163371110412009-01-23T17:25:00.003-06:002009-01-23T17:41:30.929-06:00How Obama Saves LivesHere's a column written by my favorite columnist ever, Nicholas D. Kristof, who writes for the New York Times on issues critical to the developing world and about our duty to respond to their plights. In <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/09/opinion/09kristof.html">this</a> column, he describes how the Bush administration cut off funding to international organizations that provide abortions (or just information about them). These groups not only provide information and abortion services, but also supply vital birth control devices to developing countries (think condoms, IUDs, etc.).<br /><br />What was ironic about Bush's idiotic policy was that in cutting off funding and supplies from these organizations, the administration actually helped increased the amount of unwanted pregnancies. This, in turn, leads to many more women seeking unsafe "back alley" abortions, especially in rural areas, and also higher rates of death during childbirth, both for mothers and their children. And, if all went well and the mother and child survived the birth, yet another mouth has been added to that family, one that probably cannot afford to have another child and one that will further exacerbate the vicious downward spiral of suffering and poverty.<br /><br />But, thanks to the brains of Obama and his administration, the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/aponline/2009/01/23/washington/AP-Obama-Abortion-Ban.html?hp">US has quietly reversed its stupid policy</a>. To all those who would like to call Obama a baby killer, try to think for once. This policy will save more lives than Bush's ever killed. And Obama has stated many times that the US should focus more on pregnancy prevention rather than trying to deal with the unwanted pregnancies afterwards. (Meaning "fuck abstinence-only education, which certainly worked for Sarah Palin's daughter.")<br /><br />[Oh, and if you read the first article, you'll see that when Palin was mayor of some bum-fuck town in Alaska, she charged rape victims for rape kits. We sure dodged a goddamn cannonball in '08!]lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-51401069209574781912009-01-17T12:36:00.004-06:002009-01-17T12:58:01.208-06:00For lack of a better title: Sick and TiredDevelopments.<br /><br />1. Devon and Josh <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">finally</span></span> got together. Laura totally called it, and she is stoked about it. [She is also going to start planning the bachelorette party, which will be the sickest thing since disease.]<br /><br />2. Clinton isn't coming back to Austin. (Woahhh, didn't see that one coming! haha) Oddly enough, I don't really care all that much. When I talked to him, I realized that he's so far away from me these days that he might as well be on another planet, which Corpus happens to be in a way. I'll analyze this more in a bit.<br /><br />3. <span style="font-style: italic;">Completely</span> ended any chance that I'd go out with S again. I realize that sounds like I flubbed up or something, but I did it on purpose. It needed to be said. Still trying to figure out how or if we can be friends without his further hurt.<br /><br />4. An undevelopment - I still can't hear. I went to the Coop yesterday to get a shiny new daily planner and realized how unnerving it is to be in public by yourself and not be able to hear up to par. I guess every other time I've been in public with my hearing loss it was with other people, who acted like my crutch. Being alone and without much sound puts you in a daze you don't want to be in, where other people can't touch you and you desperately need that feeling. Also, it is quite scary to walk in the dark without proper hearing <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> have a vagina at the same time. I almost keyed some worker's eyes out last night.<br /><br />Other than that, I've been existing. Yesterday I slept almost until noon, did some grocery shopping, went back to sleep, watched some movies, then went back to sleep. Woke up at noon today with no plans and nowhere to be. During the semester I know I'm going to wish that I could have a day with no commitments like these, but for now they just seem so empty. On another note, I would really like to go to the gym but I'm still sick and feel like crap. I'd also like to ride my bike but since I'm sick I get all snotty and tired when I do, plus I'm scared to death of riding in traffic. Bleh.<br /><br />Well, my sickness can't last that long and school will start soon. In the meantime, I guess I'll do the dishes, try to pop my ears, and maybe take a shower somewhere in there. My legs are hairy.<br /><br />[More pondering on Clinton and S in an upcoming blog dedicated to the men and a half in my life.]lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-3053639112465481532009-01-13T00:56:00.003-06:002009-01-13T01:28:36.881-06:00Getting Lei'd at the BlockI am in the space between.<br /><br />The space between the fall and spring semester. The space between Corpus and Austin. The space between lack of focus and too much of it. The space between being here and not being.<br /><br />Somehow I think people arrange their lives into nifty blocks. Block 1, my childhood. Block 2, rebellious teenager. Block 3, ignorant freshman. Block 4, ? But more specifically, we cordon little sections of these blocks into parts that we can handle. The section I was in before was the "get your work out of the way, get some play, and get some ass." It was a time of caring about school, but not too much, of loving deadlines but not the assignments. It was a time of having a good time (in moderation) so that only a few Saturdays and Sundays I woke up wanting to be dead. It was a time of fooling around with love and hormones, dancing between the pieces as they fell. It was a time of finally meeting myself.<br /><br />The next block I am about to enter: I will rededicate myself to school to prevent my near academic downfall this past semester. I will look for and hopefully find and create a stable relationship with a person as happy to be lost as I am. I will get out more, see Austin, meet people. I will stay in touch and genuinely connect with those around me.<br /><br />But where does that leave me for the next couple of days? Well, here in my room, using my computer monitor for ambient light while I type Carrie Bradshaw-like on my Macbook. I really regret not writing more about my life. I always feel that I write too much in my blogs (which many of you have argued), but when it's your life, that's all you will have. For what are our experiences to us if we lose them to time?<br /><br />Now, this has been rather melancholy. Let's reboot.<br /><br />Although I still can't hear properly out of either of my ears (as proven by my dad's iPhone application, which told me I have much worse hearing right now than my 50 year old parents), I'll try to write a little about Hawaii.<br /><br />And since I told Josh I would make him a list of all the awesome things I did, here it goes:<br /><ol><li>Went snorkeling in a coral reef. Not as cool as the Great Barrier, from what my parents and sister told me (how uncool is it that I'm the only one in my family never to have gone to Australia?), but it was pretty neat-o. Really weird fish live under the sea (unda' the sea, down where it's...)</li><li>Went on a whale-watching cruise. Awesome part - saw humpback whales breathe, dive, and breach. Sucky part - got seasick with an accompanying migraine that made me puke as we were docking. Then I accidently put toilet paper in their no-toilet-paper-or-else-you-die toilet, so I had to fish it out with my bare (then barfy) fingers.</li><li>Saw Hawaii from a helicopter. Yeah, that was awesome. Although this is when my ear troubles began, it was quite worth it. I hadn't been in a helicopter before, so the experience was awwwwwesome. We saw a beached military ship that has since rusted, some wicked waterfalls, and chased <span style="font-style: italic;">deer</span> with it. Dude, they really do have deer and we really did get to chase them with the helicopter. Righteous.</li><li>Biked down a volcano. Minus the ear pain, it was sweet. We went up to about 10,000 feet (in a van, of course) and looked out at the volcano's crater, and then went back down to 6,000 feet and rode downhill. It's crazy how much speed you pick up going downhill on a 40-pound bike - I swear we just about wore out the brakes on the bikes. And although I had much more to think about on the bike, I appreciated the scenery much, much more than in the car. It was a sense of oneness with everything around you - the wind was in your ears (or, in my case, one of my ears) and on your skin, the sun touched you just as it touched everything else, and the sound of rubber on the pavement, speeding and turning, felt oddly powerful. Good stuff.</li><li>Ziplined around the island. Yeah, I'm totally a natural at it...not to brag. But they told me there's a zipline around Austin, so I've gotta try it now. Any takers?</li><li>Sat on a beach all day, without getting a sunburn.</li><li>Drove on a road with 517 turns, 100-something bridges (about half of them one-lane), where the speed limit was 15 miles per hour and which had some breathtaking scenery. It was also breathtaking in that my mom, sister, and I were scared out of our whits that we were about to plummet to our gruesome deaths as a result of my father's driving techniques.<br /></li><li>Oh, and got a lei put around my neck by a nice Hawaiian man. (Okay, okay, it was the concierge, but who's counting?)</li></ol>So yes, my trip was very satisfying. Oddly enough, it made me think about Corpus and what my town <span style="font-style: italic;">could</span> be. We've barely tapped into the whole surfing/kayaking/kiteboarding/paddleboarding culture and instead focus on cheap strip malls and cheesy festivals. But Corpus will never be a Hawaii...figure that.<br /><br />Oh, and one of my New Years Resolutions is to start being more punctual about returning calls/texts/posts/etc. I'm quite the bitch about that. But actually, I guess you can't call it a resolution for the new year since it's already halfway into January. I also agree with Josh, that you can change any time you want, so why make it the first? Ohhhh....here's my resolution - to keep making resolutions as the year goes on! <br /><br />Oh, you're a slick one.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-10728645216405732412009-01-10T13:53:00.003-06:002009-01-10T14:13:37.100-06:00Can I hear you now?So Hawaii was great fun, which I will detail later, but for now I will bitch and moan about my illness.<br /><br />So I got sick the day before we left, just the basic cold. It kinda sucked while we were there because I was always so damn tired and just wanted to sit on the beach all day (which is why most people go to Maui in the first place, but whatevs, not me). <br /><br />Our first full day on the island we went on a whalewatching boat ride, which would have been awful fun if I hadn't got awful seasick. I nearly made it to shore without throwing up, but being Laura, I puked when we were docking. Yay me!<br /><br />Then we decided to go on a helicopter ride and while we didn't go terribly high, I knew something was terribly wrong with my ears. They wouldn't pop. And from then on, I couldn't hear very well.<br /><br />The day before we left we went biking down a volcano, which would have been crazy fun if my eardrums hadn't gone crazy on me. Weird popping, twisting, snotting noises coming from them (in my head, at least). Pain. (Oh, this volcano was about 10,000 feet high, which accounts for why my ears didn't take a liking to it.) <br /><br />So we left the next day and my ears did pretty well on the ascent. But, being parts of Laura, they decided to fuck up going into Dallas at 5 am. It was one of the most painful memories I can conjure up at the moment. I felt like my ears were going to implode and leave a gaping hole in my skull, which sounds kinda cool thinking about it after the fact, but at the moment it was torture. Damn planes and their quick descents. And the flight to Corpus wasn't all shits and giggles either...more pain, accompanied with the strangest noises coming from my eardrum.<br /><br />My dad looked at my ears that morning and said that the capillaries in my eardrums had burst, which often happens to divers, or some shit like that. What had happened was that I had trapped fluid in my ear when I was sick, which isn't good for helping ears change their pressure. So the stress or something from that caused my capillaries to burst, which isn't a very comfy feeling. But I was reassured that they would get better, yadayadayada.<br /><br />But then they kept getting worse. I could hear less and less the longer I waited to get better, plus I had the same kind of sore throat I had when I first got sick. One night I couldn't sleep. At all. The pain was horrendous from my left ear, so I couldn't sleep and instead watched TV all frickin night. When I talked to my mom in the morning, she goes, "Oh, you've been taking your doxycycline [an antibiotic I sometimes take for acne issues], right?" To which I replied, "I told you <span style="font-style: italic;">two days ago</span> that I stopped taking it a while ago."<br /><br />And then she says, "Ohhh...well, your ears are probably getting infected."<br /><br />Yay. Fucking. Me.<br /><br />I've barely left the house since I got home because I feel so damn awful. I had the worst case of fever aches last night, the worst I've had since I was about five. I can't hear much of anything, so I have to watch TV at ridiculously loud levels, and I can't really listen to music because nothing I have in Corpus can get my music to the level that I need to hear it. I'm too tired to read, plus my eyes have fever hurt in them, so my existence is miserable at the moment.<br /><br />Feel bad for me.<br /><br />[A more positive post should come soon. I have loads to say about Maui and my theories on childhood illness and all that good stuff, but I'm having trouble concentrating at the moment. The sickness has gone to my head...literally. Like, I wouldn't be surprised if the infection leaks into my brain and eats away whatever is still left.]lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6412233113482167479.post-56193048448432077792008-12-26T21:46:00.004-06:002008-12-26T23:05:15.033-06:00A crumb of nirvana, fed to the dogs.I've reached an important moment in my emotional development (but does it really count if I can acknowledge it as it occurs?), but this time is incredibly difficult to describe. It's more of a state of being, not like a stage of development and more like a new level of awareness. Buddhist-style.<br /><br />I am absolutely in love with life. Not just my life, which is pretty damn awesome, but <span style="font-style: italic;">life</span>. Komodo dragons, oak trees, baby foxes, wheat fields, rice paddies, mushrooms. <span style="font-weight: bold;">Life</span>. Sometimes I can feel my heart swelling with adoration of everything alive...as if I, a human being, am literally absorbing the richness of being from our Mother. The closest image I can formulate to present my state of being is this - me, lying in a field of grass (the frolicking kind), just simply<span style="font-style: italic;"> being</span>. Becoming the grass. [And no, I'm not talking about <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> kind of grass, you freaks.]<br /><br />But that reminds me of other times in my life when I've had this feeling. None of those times were natural, if you catch my drift, and each time was followed by a period of disconnection. I had <span style="font-style: italic;">felt</span> connected to the world around me but I wasn't part of it in the end. In fact, afterwards when I was myself again, I just felt empty, as if the joy that had puffed me up had been slowly and painfully extracted from my heart, leaving my soul with a gaping wound that nothing could fill.<br /><br />Anyways, back to my whole connection to life. The more aware I am of the beauty of life, the more in love I become with being alive. And, then, the more in love I am with being alive, the more scared I am to die. I once heard lyrics to some Boy Least Likely To song where the singer says something like, "If I didn't like living so much, I wouldn't be so afraid to die." Before, I sang to this song without much thought...and now I completely understand. I am terrified of dying. Although I believe that I will return once again, I love my life, <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> life.<br /><br />Also, the more I am in love with life, the more I find life-affirming things to reflect on. Currently, I am madly in love with <a href="http://www.blogotheque.net/-Concerts-a-emporter-?lang=en">La Blogotheque's Take Away Shows</a>. La Blogotheque is a production group based in France that gets some of today's most awesome musical artists and gets them to perform in streets, in elevators, in apartments, in bathrooms, wherever their music takes them, and records it. The resulting film is usually not edited or simply edited for time, meaning that the music is raw and real. No overdubbing or retakes, just pure, simple music. Naked. Beautiful. <br /><br />They've been doing this for a few years, so there's plenty to choose from. Here are my favorites, in no particular order.<br /><ol><li><a href="http://www.blogotheque.net/Man-Man,4324">Man Man</a>. There's a lot of build up to the final video, but it's totally worthwhile to watch all of them. They get these kids from the street to help them make music and it's purely genius. It's completely the spirit of La Blogotheque - to remember the human love of music, to hear, to create, and perform it, together.</li><li>Bon Iver, parts <a href="http://www.blogotheque.net/Bon-Iver,4255">I</a> and <a href="http://www.blogotheque.net/Bon-Iver-Part-II,4267">II</a>. Now, I have to admit that this was my introduction to Bon Iver (boo Laura for being behind on her music!), but I can't get enough. There's this simplicity to his music that touches my spirit. It's so sad, but it's honest. It's human. There's also a really good story behind his music (bad breakup, poor health, etc. led him to spend three months in a cabin in Wisconsin - I think - and voila - brilliant music!). Anyways, be sure to watch the one for "For Emma, Forever Ago" because it's some great acapella.<br /></li><li><a href="http://www.blogotheque.net/Yeasayer,3966">Yeasayer</a>. By far, one of my favorite Take Away Shows ever, ever, ever. They're a great band to begin with, but their Redcave on the subway is phenomenal. Plus, listen to the lyrics at the end of it...<span style="font-style: italic;">completely</span> how I'm feeling these days.</li><li><a href="http://www.blogotheque.net/SOUND-TEAM,3129">Sound Team</a>. An Austin band, filmed in Austin. No more explanation needed. (Oh, they also sing in front of an immigration rally, with a ton of Mexican flags. Que bueno!)</li><li><a href="http://www.blogotheque.net/Andrew-Bird,2976">Andrew Bird</a>. I. Fucking. Love. Andrew. Bird.<br /></li><li><a href="http://www.blogotheque.net/Arcade-Fire,2868">Arcade Fire.</a> The first ever video I saw from La Blogotheque, and I just read that Take Away Shows were created for Arcade Fire. Anyways, it's just a big fucking wow. Ripping a magazine with the beat? Talk about a musical orgasm! <br /></li></ol>Side note: Because I love Andrew Bird so much, I'm going to give you EVEN MORE videos to watch of him! Aren't you lucky?<br /><ul><li>The <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iDud1qTLiGA">stop-motion animation</a> for his song Lull. Beautiful, strange, lovely.</li><li>Andrew Bird as <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OGByUuFqY7U">Dr. Stringz</a> on some weird ass show on Noggin. My heart melts.</li></ul>I think part of my previous melancholy was because I wasn't <span style="font-style: italic;">into</span> anything. I dabbled a bit in this, a little in that, but I was never really <span style="font-style: italic;">in it</span>. Always taking a taste but never a full bite. But now that I have time and I'm swallowing music whole...I just want to cry from the beauty of it all. I really wish I had kept at the violin when I was growing up. I know, I know, it's never too late...but when you have so many things to do, some things are just implausible. Besides, I'm happy to delve into other peoples' music to find myself. I'm within someone's instrument at any point of time. Right now I'm split between Bon Iver and Andrew Bird. Hmm...an epic struggle! But my money's on Andrew Bird winning in the end. Nevertheless, we shall see.<br /><br />Anyways, before I forget, back to the whole life thing. Next semester I want to embark on a journey of epic proportions (I like the word "epic" tonight, apparently). Since I love life so much, I want to confront death head-on. I either want to volunteer at a hospice for AIDS victims or at a nursing home, just <span style="font-weight: bold;">being</span> with the people there. I don't know which I'd prefer...AIDS would be good for my resume to join the Peace Corps, but I would also really like to learn from the older generations. They have so much wisdom to give us young, impressionable ones and they deserve to have their voices heard. But I am also deathly afraid of elderly people ever since my grandma was in a nursing home for the last years of her life. Hmm. Dilemmas.<br /><br />A closing image. My grandmother was a vegetable for the last few years of her life. She had horrible, horrible Alzheimer's, which caused her to lose everything - not just her memories, but also her ability to eat, speak, or walk. For years she could only scream and moan to communicate, and at times she seemed just like a child, unaware of the world around her and only present to her pain. <br /><br />Visiting her was so hard and I was so young. Sometimes I could have sworn that I saw some recognition in her eyes, some vague remembrance that yes, I was her granddaughter and that she loved me dearly. But those moments were fleeting. I remember the smell of the home, not that it was a poorly managed one, but just the smell of age. I connect that smell to sadness now, and loss.<br /><br />When she died...well, when she died, I didn't really feel a sense of loss. I felt relief. She wasn't dependent on people to do everything for her. She didn't need diapers or a feeding tube. She was free. But looking at her in her casket was, as they say, like seeing a shell of a person. It wasn't my grandmother in that grave, it was simply a body. But I could barely look at that body anyhow.<br /><br />A year or so later I found a picture of my grandmother somewhere, the place and time escape me. But she was younger, though not "young," smiling and standing on a deck next to a lake surrounded by evergreens. And though she had wrinkles, unsightly glasses, and short, curly, thinning, gray and white hair, she was beautiful. She was happy. She was alive, and not just in the biological sense. She was <span style="font-style: italic;">alive</span>.<br /><br />That is how I remember her, now. <br /><br />I know I will die someday, but I hope that I will live in the way she did that day on the dock.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">[Sorry for the excessive use of italics and links...today was just an italicized link kind of day.]</span><br /><br />Oh crap, a post script! Here is something that affirms life. The trailer for Earth, the movie they're making from the Planet Earth series, which totally blew my socks off. I almost cried when I saw the trailer for the first time (maybe because I was PMS-ing hard core), but it's just beautiful. And then they just had to choose the most perfect Sigur Ros song to go with it. <br /><br /><object width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JLz_1LNAuAQ&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JLz_1LNAuAQ&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"></embed></object><br /><br />Dude, I just cried when I made sure it was the full trailer...oh, life.lolahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12598056726807479243noreply@blogger.com0