Saturday, June 26, 2010
Sort of. Not really. We ran to a Saul's for breakfast and to watch the U.S. vs Ghana game. The spirited environment made me almost believe I was a true soccer fan and not just in it for the food and hot soccer man bods.
Monday, June 21, 2010
(aka, the moment my brodom was officially recognized.)I've spent a great majority of this past week in a car with Best Friend. We shoved as much as we could into Ladybird last Thursday and basically made a midnight drive to move to Berkeley. Along the way we got super bored and super tired and thanks to some glow sticks found in my car and various top 40 radio stations, we created a mobile dance party complete with Redbull and peanut butter sandwiches we packed in my pink ice chest.
After a day of recovery (seriously, I almost lost my wits on that night drive) we packed up again and drove down to Santa Barbara to meet a fellow newsie at Live Oak Music Festival. A three hour drive turned into five due to some poor mapquesting skills and then the next 26-hours were spent stumbling around this hippie shanty down. The pinnacle of the weekend occurred while in a tree in which I mentioned how we looked like we could be posing for a boy band CD cover. "We'll call our band Aubro, after you Aub." And though I've always somewhat joked about my bro-ness this was the first time it was officially accepted. I'm proud. After eating enough Poptarts and drinking enough Miller Light to last a century (and you wonder how I could not be bro) and eventually feeling like shit and being completely filthy, we made the long ride back to Berk.
And so here I am: continuing to fulfill my gender role by cooking for D every night and constantly singing Katy Perry's ridiculously annoying new song, which by the way, D has mastered Snoop Dogg's verses.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
that time i woke up in a tent with my best friends and was still the same person i was yesterday of last year.
It was really quite weird to be expecting to feel any different once the clock struck midnight. Like a new phase of my life would suddenly begin though it had been existing eleven months prior to that. But I was so scared and I could have never told D that he was the only person I wanted with me while it happened. But it made me wonder if five, ten years from now we'd still be in the same position. We were three years before this and then now. I used the word 'cyclical' in that way where all my best vocabulary comes out when I'm high and D's confused but really it's pretty trite and used in econ all the time. Anyway, three years ago we were in the same position: park, my car, late night; hoping that our then-lovers would never leave because then we'd have no text messages (really). And now us as older young adults prank calling our enemies and analyzing every detail of our lives thus far. Would this be us in five years? The lyric "I still hang with my high school friends, some people never change at all, we're still the same compulsive drunks we were when we were small" was on repeat. Ideally we imagined her coming out of a divorce with three kids and him being terminally alone and depressed. And though we would probably be poor and probably drunk or high we'd still be best friends and therefore all right. Then it was after midnight, that ominous time line I'd been afraid of crossing all week. Nothing is relative and that whole game of playing "this time last year we were (insert some stupidly cute couple's activity)" wouldn't work anymore. Instead, it was "this time last year I was drunk and sobbing on D's lap, telling him I was sad and him rubbing my back telling me it was okay to be sad." I grew up after that and realized that most promises are empty, rings are nothing more than pieces of metal and that maybe all I really have are these intoxicated memories with a scrawny boy in a car that always seems to be on the edge of a breakdown. And I'm completely and utterly fine with this.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Saturday, June 5, 2010
O ship setting out on a distant voyage,
Why don't I miss you the way other people do
After you've vanished from sight?
Because, when I don't see you, you cease to exist.
And if I feel nostalgia for what doesn't exist,
The feeling is in relationship to nothing.
It's not the ship but our own selves that we miss.
Alberto Caeiro, 29 May 1918
Thursday, June 3, 2010
I received this shirt from an anonymous sender in the mail today.* I'm guessing it's some right-wing propaganda (complete with a number you can text to support immigration reform?) but I'm not sure what to do about it now. Wear it when I go vote next week?
*excuse my unkempt hair (i'm really embarrassed, even my hairstylist mentioned the other week that i have baby dreads underneath), oversized gym shorts (forgiving when one is on her period) and thank goodness you can't see my eyes. I look like fucking Quasimotto, what the hell is happening to my face?
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
If there's one thing I hate, it's people who won't let me in on the freeway.
If there's one thing I hate, it's letting people in on the freeway.
If there's one thing I hate, it's waking up to fifty assholes pretending to be me.
If there's one thing I hate, it's waking up feeling like an asshole because I yelled at those assholes.
If there's one thing I hate, it's pretending to ignore the fact that the urge to kiss was right before our eyes (quite literally).
If there's one thing I hate, it's turning a bunch of ideas into a laundry list.
If there's one thing I hate, it's that feeling that comes with scratching something new.
If there's one thing I hate, it's not knowing what's wrong with someone and all you want to do is make them feel better.
If there's one thing I hate, it's knowing that my mind naturally gravitates toward the negative and not being able to stop it.
If there's one thing I hate, it's not remembering if it was a dream or if it really happened.
If there's one thing I hate, it's being really busy and using that as an excuse to ignore email.
If there's one thing I hate, it's having to acknowledge that my feelings are my own, no one else's and my responsibility.
If there's one thing I hate, it's forgetting that and taking the way I feel out on the world.
If there's one thing I hate, it's people who criticize and can't take criticism.
If there's one thing I hate, it's feeling like a date sets precedent on how I should behave.
If there's one thing I hate, it's not you.
I always intended to follow you, always.
As I walked back toward my seventeen fresh epiphanies of guilt and heartache, muttering demands to my ears.
"I must not run from the mirror resting on the wall in front of me."
My reflection is horror. The skin beneath my eyes screams. Lacking as the widow's orphans, desperate as the whore who works in the same clothes and lives by the catch that is one past twenty-one.
Lacking as your future will be.
Embark, speak, hear me, oh great being! of the ocean, of all the skies.
Within the depths of your uncertainty, draped over your heart with snowflakes.
New shapes, weird texture, oh! such design. unplanned symmetry.
My casket-colored heart waits in line. My little girl eyes swim into the Atlantic of your wool shaped sleeves, moving cautiously toward those bones that display your cheeks just right.