too young for morals

I rang in January with my best friend by dancing, singing and rapping (it was real) until we eventually passed out. We had a Harry Potter moment while hiking in the forest where we vowed "things [were] really gonna change for us." I continued to adjust to my new school and made a lot of effort to do well with my job at the newspaper. I got back into biking after the great 'Hit By A Car Incident of 2009' and made a resolve to change my perspective.

In February I found the perfect red cowboy boots I'd been searching for and ridiculously wore them everywhere. I dyed my hair dark brown for fun and spent rainy days baking and knitting. A couple sweet friends surprised me at midnight on my birthday with wine and chocolate cake and I spent the next week eating treats because it was still my birthday week. I got my first tattoo, went on sweet dates with sweet boys and wore my power suit on fun assignments. I also went on fancy all-expenses-paid trip to Sacramento to lobby against some of California's scariest Republican reps.

In March I took a solo trip north to visit S in Fresno for some much needed heart to heart time. A trip wouldn't have been successful without a visit to Berkeley for coffee dates and co-op parties.

In April I held a grown man in my arms while he cried and after stood on a mountain with him and talked about how it's okay to be angry sometimes. I crashed my car into another car (don't worry, it was my dad's and he was only a little mad) and accidentally rolled down a hill at 2am that same night.

In May I celebrated a year since my third heart surgery. I made preparations to move to Berkeley for the summer and got really distracted from school when my friends came home. I started training for a half marathon the Parisians signed on for together.

In June I spent afternoons in parks with iced tea/coffee and good books. Best friend and I packed up my little car and made the long night drive to Berkeley, complete with a spontaneous glow stick party on the highway to start off a summer that was filled with Katy Perry duets. I went to a concert festival where I was totally spoiled by strangers' kindness, wandered around in an intoxicated stupor and found contention in my lack of showering. I started summer school, went to yoga everyday and went to concerts in record stores.

In July I continued to intern for a politician and reaped the benefits of free donuts. I walked everywhere in the Bay area and met up with friends in Santa Cruz and San Francisco. I celebrated Independence with A and D and had shady encounters late at night.

In August we celebrated best friend's birthday with a delicious coffee cake and a birthday party on the roof complete with late night/early morning McFlurries and "Dirty Harry." I moved home from Berkeley after school ended and spent every night out late with lovely people.

In September I had an incident with a good man friend and now we don't really talk much but I'm wiser now. I went to Berkeley again and finally went to a dance party like I had wanted all summer. I cooked delicious food for a house of people and watched boys pee on the sides of buildings.

In October I started an internship with Barbara Boxer and was harassed for being a liberal in a predominately conservative area. I met a childhood friend for the first time and it didn't work out but we still ate delicious food and managed some passive aggressive humor. I saw Arcade Fire in concert and fell in love. I ran and finished a half marathon and managed to make some people unhappy in doing so but life's not about living to please other people and ultimately my spirit soared so that's all that matters. I took long drives with my brother and found comfort in his forever-friendship. I spent Halloween dressed up like JFK while studying for a midterm.

In November I moved and moved again and got extra prepared for the holidays by eating cranberry sauce every day. I got held up and almost-attacked by a man at Little Cesars but laughed it off and spent the night LSAT studying and eating donuts. I went to a conference in Santa Barbara and danced under the stars. I became even better friends with some oldies and quoted Mean Girls way too much. My car caught on fire and I got stuck in elevator but it reminded me not to take anything too seriously.

In December I danced in the rain. I went on hikes and cooked with friends late at night. My heart hurt a little for missed opportunities. One week, I went to the movie theater four nights in a row. I went on day time adventures and felt guilty for relaxing my tired-from-finals brain. I had a scare and 911 came but one of the medics looked like Seth Rogan. I also had a really intense cough but I'm better now.

I began 2010 slightly jaded and no one should ever be. My motto for the year was "too young for morals" and though at the time, I meant that in sort of a self-destructive, "I don't give a shit" way, it became more about new experiences and taking risks. 2010, (holy goodness that sounds so futuristic! but so archaic) you were really good to me. I'll see you on the other side.

you've changed.

There is a moment in most failed relationships when the person who knows you better than you know yourself, who you love beyond anything believable, looks at you like you are a stranger. And not an interesting stranger, like someone you may see on the street for the first time, but a stranger who doesn't care to know you, with eyes full of apathy.

Apathy hurts more than anger, doesn't it?

And in that moment, nothing you could do or say could change anything. You wish you could climb inside his heart and brain and put those little grey's anatomy resuscitating paddles on them and jolt them back to life. Or shake some sense into him and show him pictures of his happy in-love face and remind him that you're still you and he's still him and you're really good together. But you're standing in front of him with your heart in your hands. He's standing in front of you and he's already gone at the same time.

And your body knows before your brain processes it.

Everything closes in around you and the air gets really thick, and your heart drops through your stomach and your skin gets so sensitive you're afraid if he touches you, you may just bruise, or bleed, or crumble.

I've probably been on the giving end of that dynamic but I can't shut off instantaneously. If I love you, I will always love you--even if I can't keep you.

But some men (and women, sure) have a special ability to switch it off and walk away. Washing their hands of you and already on to the next.

I often wish I could do that too. Wouldn't life be so much easier?

I hate that part.

it's never too early

a running list of what will be present at my 21st birthday:
-red stripe
-bean and cheese burritos
-corn bread
-cheese cake
-pumpkin pie
-the cha cha slide
-harry potter cake (chocolate inside)

edit, Jan 20:
-karaoke
-pinata

edit, Jan 21:
-"Aaron's Party," the hit song from Aaron Carter

-Drake concert (jk, it's age 21+. I just checked)

edit, Jan 28:
-"Mambo No. 5"

Ash is 21.

Today one of my bests turns twenty-one. She is beautiful and I love her. Happy birthday A!

*photo taken sometime freshman year of college. ignore my dumb expression.

little letters

i need to say the following:

dear charming boy:

it all started when i hand fed you that pie. why i did that is beyond me. am i stupid? yes, the answer is yes because you have a girlfriend. i’ve been the slutty mistress before and it’s not fun, it’s not cute, it’s not becoming. what’s worse though is that i really adored you last quarter but we both send mixed signals and then you got a girlfriend and now you’re constantly texting me smiley faces and telling me good night. stop doing that and start doing that to the girl who is probably sitting right next to you as you text me. she is going to kick my ass if you do not.

sincerely, i’m determined to keep this platonic by carrying silverware and limiting my text winky faces.

dear charming boy (again, on a different note):

thank you for being you. i enjoy spending time with you inside and outside of class. i love that we have compatible senses of humor and i think it’s sweet you want to drive us everywhere (THOUGH YOU REALLY SHOULDN’T DRIVE ME AT ALL, FUCKER)

from, aubrey, your just friend who appreciates your just friendship.

dear popcorn:

i love you so much and all your light-butter-60-calorie-per-entire-bag-goodness. thank you for being my dinner five out of seven nights a week.

love, the girl who goes through weird six-month food obsessions.

dear new friend i made at that party last weekend:

i don’t remember your name and unfortunately that’s probably because i was 80 percent more drunk than you. but our conversation was entertaining and i wanted to thank you for being patient as i slurred my words and probably made a complete ass of myself.

cheers, your drunk bff who like, isn’t sure what type of music she likes.

dear liver:

i know, i know. you really need to be clean and that’s my responsibility and i failed you. i will abstain and try harder to keep it that way.

respectfully, your irresponsible master.

dear yoga class:

i’m so happy it’s almost break and we can spend a lot more time together.

namaste, looking for my sanity after becoming neurotic during finals week.

bright tuesday before black friday.

in conjunction with Thanksgiving (hello, favorite holiday ever):

I missed my brother today so I went home and together we made lentil soup from scratch, ate popcorn and watched Lord of the Rings.

I’m thankful for his humor, his understanding of mine and how together we use this combined humor to drive my mother insane. (because sometimes she really deserves it)

this is a new kind of blues.

So unfortunate Friday continued this past week with me getting stuck in an elevator in the oldest building on campus. This was after I basically cried a little and begged my advisor to remove the ridiculous hold on my account and let me register for classes on time. So there I was stuck in an elevator just as my registration opened. Thankfully I had full cell reception and WIFI so not only was I able to Fbook status my situation, I was also able to register for 19 glorious units as I waited to be rescued.

But don't get too excited, unfortunate Friday continued and culminated last night with another fucking car incident at 10pm in a deserted parking lot. (What the fuck life, what the fuck.) Thankfully I've never taken myself too seriously or I'm sure I would have had a complete meltdown by now. Instead I find the humor in these situations, call AAA for the thirtieth time, take mental notes for my memoir (appropriately entitled Missed Opportunities)/manuscript for the sitcom about my life, channel my frustrations into school and work and continually kick my own ass with intense gym sessions.

On another note, I'm looking forward to Thursday and seeing the Potter midnight showing in Los Angeles with A. I'm already planning my character costume and ready to let my nerd flag fly high. Then Friday I'm off to Santa Barbara for the weekend to attend a conference. Work yes, but also some play and really just a great change of scenery and a shared hotel room with two hilarious and wonderful coworkers.

I'm also looking forward to Thanksgiving. Scratch that, really looking forward to Thanksgiving. Not only is it my favorite holiday but I am counting down the hours until Best Friend and the Parisians can play. I want me some fast food excursions, afternoon bike rides, and general lazying around Alexis St.

But also, I'm looking forward to getting some rest. I tried to take a night off last week and it was almost physically impossible. I felt so guilty and anxious and I've come to realize that when I'm to the point where I feel guilty about sleeping, I have a problem.

Tonight I Skyped with Mr. Hern. I miss him so much. Tennessee needs to give him back, sooner the better.

"as purty as a lady bird."

Meet Lady Bird. She was born in 2002 but adopted from a dealership in the shady part of San Bernardino when I turned sixteen in 2006. She came home in January and waited patiently in the driveway until I got my license on my birthday, February 12, 2006. She's named after President Lyndon B. Johnson's wife during a time in which I was really into presidents and their wives. The first place we went together was Barnes and Noble, the first people we drove illegally were A and some other newspaper kids to go orange picking, and our first long-distance drive was to Disneyland. Since then our adventures have included many a late-night drive to get food, multiple beach and Northern California trips, random "let's just drive for the hell of it" drives and so many memories in between. In the summer of 2007 Best Friend dubbed her 'red hot bubble car,' not because she was sexy or anything but because her air conditioning stopped working and from then it was always hit or miss. She helped me ditch high school on multiple occasions, once carried bundles of newspapers and was once filled entirely with balloons for Mrs. Bradberry's class on a rainy day. Lady's received two speeding tickets and probably a dozen parking tickets. She's lived in Redlands, Santa Cruz, Riverside and Berkeley. She's stalled in front of the Watchers' house (so scary) and in the snow at Forest Falls. Her check engine light is eternally on but that's just her way of saying hi. She's been abandoned at a couple parks and at Panera. She's met many many boys, good and bad, and kept me safe during teary drives home when I shouldn't have been driving at all. She looks best after a good washing, loves the cheap gas at ARCO and can often be found with a crusty french fry or two left over from me and hungry friends. She hit a dog one July 4th and recently ran over a bunny. She loves the UCSC sticker she's worn forever and the Sports Chalet 'I'd rather be paddling' plate frames dad and I put on ages ago. For the longest time she carried tampons, condoms and red finger paint in her trunk for late-night pranks (real mature). She loves friends and blasting Miley/Ali Lohan/International Dance Mix/The Strokes/Top 40 radio and listening to us sing badly at the top of our lungs. She's carried up to seven people at one time but is mostly used to two, specifically me and Best Friend, and she doesn't mind his cigarette smoking.

and I don't think lady will be coming home this time and it makes me really sad. Lady Bird and I grew up together and she's helped me have so much fun over the past four years. Cars really do have personalities and their own little quirks and it's hard not to be attached. Though you were a pain in the ass a lot of the time Ms. Lady Bird, I loved you so much. Best Friend said it best, "We had some good times in that car."

*photos courtesy of I's fbook. unfortunately early photos of Lady were lost when my laptop crashed.

unfortunate fridays.

the title is the understatement of the year. so for the past month or so, something ridiculous/bad/tragic has happened involving a car and me and has prevented me from attending my last class of the day.

these events include:

-rearing ending (it was barely a tap but i still cried, go figure) a car with a baby inside.

-locking my keys in the car (luckily i unknowingly dressed like a highlighter and the tow truck man could spot me a mile away.)

-losing my car (i was really tired and dressed like katy perry with cupcake boobs.)

-my car catching on fire. (see Oct. 29)

but today, a miracle: nothing bad happened.

but maybe that's because i got a parking ticket yesterday? dgjnkfdsnf!

two years ago today

we could have done something equally (more, in my opinion) awesome.

i wore this today while working the polls. well, heckling people outside the polls that is. and i had some really profound moments that made me want to cry. i really do not fit in in the ridiculously conservative inland empire but i guess the struggle-- the dealing with people constantly hating, the people going abe shit at even hearing the word 'abortion'-- of spreading our message is all the more significant in an area where people will disagree and are, quite frankly, more ignorant. anyway, i'm going to miss this internship and from what i currently see on my computer screen here at panera, mrs. boxer will win once again. mission accomplished.

why are you dressed so scary? it's halloween!

[my owl o'lantern. one of three pumpkins i carved over three days. i'm a little obsessive.]

Halloween was a rager! If you're a cat lady and only get out for weekly bingo tournaments. (not that there's anything wrong with that). But I ran into a good, old high school friend in a parking lot the other night and we stood in the rain (me in shorts), him with a dead car battery, freezing but happy to talk until 2 am.

"Aubrey, please don't be JFK for halloween. That's not sexy."

Okay so I really wanted to be JFK. Shoot me. Unfortunately not even that plan was fulfilled. Instead, I spent all day in the library with Andrew and a smuggled in pumpkin pie studying Supreme Court cases for a midterm the next day, writing a last-minute emergency article for the Highlander and stealing art supplies from the visual media room and galavanting around the U of R campus at one in the morning.

This is sadly reminiscent of last Halloween, which was spent at UCLA with A. We were both a little sick and lived it up by reading our textbooks and eating Coffee Bean scones.

Obviously, there are high expectations for Halloween '11.

Update: I just re-read this entry and noticed the JFK-shoot me pun. Not intended. I'm naturally hilarious (wink).

single handedly supporting the tow truck industry.

Who: Me. and my car, Ladybird.
What: Car fire!
When: today, this afternoon, before my Supreme Court class.
Where: Baker’s drive-thru.
Why: Ladybird is pretty old for Ford standards and she’s been sick for a long time. She’s like a cat with nine lives but this may have been the tenth.
How: Spontaneous combustion?

this happened as I was two or three cars from getting my food. I quickly turned Lady off but then had to turn her back on the get to the window, there were like ten cars behind me, I couldn't just sit there ya know? So then there's me with smoke and a baby flame coming out of Lady, the guy asking "Would you like ketchup or hot sauce?" and me yelling, "Yeah, sure anything!"
so I take this as a sign of fate telling me 1. I should have been in class, 2. I shouldn't have been eating fast food, 3. I shouldn't have been unabashedly playing Tay Swift in public, 4. I should stop exaggerating so much when I don't need to because this happens...
I call my brother, "Kev, are you home? My car's on fire at Baker's."
Him: "I don't believe you, no it's not." which is exactly what happened when I called after T and I got hit by that car last Christmas. "Kevin, are you awake? Trisha and I were just hit by a car."
Him: "No, you weren't"
I only call him first because I know he'll always answer but I hope that when a 'real' emergency occurs, he'll finally forget that time I lied to him when we were small and told him he could fly if he jumped off my bed (he broke his arm) and take me seriously.

Regardless, here's reason #4539786 why my life is a sitcom.

need a tooth brush?

today i found these gems on my mac. considering i'm still macbook illiterate, they were the best surprise.

i less than three T.R.

we're those people who run marathons.

morning of, getting ready to go. have i mentioned how i love these individuals more than anything in this world? have i mentioned how incredibly proud i am of all of us?

because i do. and i am.

run to be.

after hundreds of training miles, two pairs of shoes, mysteriously bleeding feet, protein shakes at 2 am and many naysayers, I DID IT.

the nike women's half marathon was a success and hands down the experience of my life. 'finish line feeling' is the undoubtedly the best drug i've experienced and happy tears were more than welcome as was receiving a tiffany's necklace from a sexy fire fighter and downing a bagel in thirty seconds.

an open letter to a broken heart:

because you are my baby cousin and you are hurting and I love you. and I meant every word when I said I want to kick his ass but realistically, there are so many better ways to spend our (your) time and energy.

-Do something you love, something for you. it's cheesy but now's the time to rediscover yourself. remember how you used to love running? run! remember how you've been pretending to like lame comedy/sports movies for him? see a chick flick! see a documentary! see anything with an intelligence level beyond fart jokes and 30-year-old men hung over in Vegas.

-Cry. make a playlist of all your "songs" or songs that are sad or remind you of him and listen to it. listen and cry and be mad and frustrated and angry. it's okay and you'll feel so much better.

-but also, listen to "Breaking Up" by Rilo Kiley and "Fuck You" by Cee-Lo. scream and dance and let it out. your celebration (that's right, this is the best thing to ever happen to you) begins now.

-Find your Parisians, find your David Campbell. and use them. don't use them, but use them. your friends are your biggest allies, your closest confidants and I promise they don't really mind when you ask them for help. they'll be there at midnight when you're lonely and just want to talk and they'll be there to take you on long car drives when you don't feel like talking at all.

-Get hott(er). seriously, what better excuse to get a makeover or go shopping. buy those sexy heels you've been lusting over, buy a new lip gloss just because.

-Ignore the haters. it's true that haters are going hate. mutual friends you thought were your friends may not be. people take sides and people gossip, that's life. ignore it. rise above it. don't stoop to that level, keep your head up and don't always verbalize what you're thinking/feeling. you're so much better than him anyway.

-Pack it up. there's probably stuff all over that reminds you of him. gifts, cards, pictures. don't toss it or burn it, you'll want to look back years from now and laugh at that douche ex boyfriend (also, some memories will always be sweet so don't be bitter) so pack it in a box and put it somewhere you can't see it. fill picture frames with inspirational quotes, pictures of you and your friends and of course, your favorite older cousin.

-Channel your energy. it's so easy to be pissed off but use that energy for something good. never be bitter, never get jaded. and this might be a little redundant but get off the couch you guys sat on every friday night watching the cartoon network and go to the football games, hang out with your friends, volunteer, save that money you spent for fucking taco Tuesday (you don't even like fast food!) and spend it how you want to spend it.

-Embrace this. you're a senior in high school for gosh's sakes! these next few months, this coming year is going to be the best time of your life. you don't have time for petty boys, you need a man who will take care you, stand by you and appreciate you. but don't rush it. savor your independence. nothing good ever fell into someone's lap. work hard in school, be a good person and that man will come to you on his own.

and just think: months from now, it won't hurt anymore. there are so many better looking guys to make out with, go on dates with and have fun with. five years from now, you'll barely remember his name. ten years from now, you'll see him at a high school reunion. he'll be fat and bald and alone. you'll still be fucking gorgeous, you'll be successful, and you'll have someone much better to show off.

but really, you are my baby cousin and I love you and would do anything for you so if you really want me to kick his ass, then only say the word, text me an address, promise to somehow bail me out of jail, and I'm there.

"All I ask of you is one thing: please don't be cynical. I hate cynicism - it's my least favorite quality and it doesn't lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you're kind, amazing things will happen." -Conan O'Brein.

that one time i was mistaken for a lesbian.

this is too good to pass up.

so i'm currently attempting to get someone to take over the lease on my apartment because i'm moving on to bigger and better things (ie. gypsy house, stay tuned for details). i posted an ad on craigslist with the information and this exchange student from the UK replies almost immediately.

i tell her i can send pictures later if she's interested. my intent was pictures of the apartment. she took this as me hitting on her and wrote "thanks aubrey, i appreciate your candor" and went on to explain that she's single, straight but also gay friendly. and then she signed it with, "p.s. i have all the pics i need."

biggest fail.

this one's up there with the great 2008 rejection letter incident from UC Merced when i didn't even apply. my life is a sitcom.

come on alex, you can do it!

1. Arcade Fire on stage. Campanile in the background.

2. More on stage time.

3. On the Golden Gate! Helpline for possible jumpers. (my perceptions of The Bridge came to life)

4. View of the pillar. It was super cold and drizzly and there was a breast cancer awareness marathon going on.

This weekend involved a quick turn around trip to Berkeley for the Arcade Fire concert. In between a whole bunch of awkwardness, we squeezed in a journey to San Fran complete with obligatory tourist destinations and tons of walking. Spent some time with the Berkelian Parisians, caught a movie and festivities with Best Friend, and saw AF Sunday night. They are arguably the best live band. I would have loved to have been in the pit with all the standing people but you know, awkwardness. AND THEN we drove all the way back, arriving in Inland Empire at 5am, in time for class Monday morning. But of course I fell asleep at 7am, woke up at almost 1 with a class and an unfinished paper due at 2. But boy can I write under pressure!

that one time i woke up looking strangely like...rihanna.

Not to make light of a very serious incident but the other day I woke up looking like Rihanna circa February 2009 post-Chris Brown beating. Unfortunately and thankfully the picture does not show the full extent of my ugly swollen puffiness but it's just one of my many tragic bodily functions (bleeding feet, night eating, you know): every so often I wake up with an allergic reaction. This time I think Nyquil is to blame. Used as a cure for colds or for insomnia, if I really am allergic to Nyquil, the world of Aubrey will get just a little bit sadder.

confessions of a closeted smoker.

Meet my friend Blake*. He is an obsessive, addicted smoker of marlboro reds. He has somehow managed to hide this fact from his poor unsuspecting parents for the past three years.

To avoid being caught with the scent of cigarette on his hand, he often wears a glove (see below picture).

(Note the gold watch over the glove. Always classy.) He wears this while we are in public and it's really creepy and it's really embarrassing.

When not in public, he often comes over to my house and wraps his fingers in plastic with painting tape. And I wonder why I'm his friend every day...

*name has been changed to protect the innocent, though if you're reading this you're most likely my close friend and most likely know exactly who is photographed.

what scares me most.

i was asked what i was most afraid of in a job interview the other day. WHAT THE WHAT?! i offered some lame answer about the economy and global warming, whatever came to mind superficially. but really, i am most afraid of the moment in time where i look at a picture from high school or college or early adulthood and don't remember. when i have to scan my brain to put a name to the face, "OH! that's her. we were really good friends in high school."

gentleman, good night. ladies...good morning.

songs i listen to that get me ridiculously pumped up to begin/endure running many miles:

1. frontin' - pharrell williams (stuck in 2002 obviously, but this is my current favorite song. i usually begin with this, the rest are no particular order)

2. bowl of oranges- bright eyes

3. american boy- estelle f. kanye

4. new york- jayz f. alisha keys

5. photobooth- friendly fires

6. no you girls- franz ferdinand

7. animal- miike snow

8. big pimpin- jayz

9. senorita- justin timberlake

10. wake up- arcade fire

11. the big guns- jenny lewis f. watson twins

12. daft punk is playing at my house- lcd soundsystem

13. going up the country- canned heat

14. the skin of my yellow country teeth- clap your hands say yeah

15. knife- girl talk's remix of grizzly bear

p.s. tomorrow is september, then it'll be october and then october 18 and that's when i run the real deal. crap.

sometimes training for a marathon is dangerous.

last night i finished 6 miles to find the top of my normally silver shoe red.

i took off my newly dyed shoe to find my normally white sock also red.

there is no sign of how this injury happened.

sometimes training for a marathon is dangerous.

nineteen.

you are my human form of Zoloft.

happy birthday D.

recent revelations.

there are no poorly lit camera phone pictures of food for this. just sweet and simple aspects of life that make me inextricably happy.

-drinking stale, year-old beer with two friends. giggling over things that probably aren't that funny. making pacts to never drink alone. making pacts that when we are alone, we will come to each other, always.

-foreign films, faking accents, and falling asleep in beds together.

-the security of home. the automatic best friendships that occur with siblings.

-scones and green tea. early mornings with lots of fog.

-girl crush on Angelina Jolie. pretending that i know her and that i will be exactly like her character in Salt.

-planning birthday parties. surprises, cake.

-long walks and late night talks.

-economics. reading economics, learning economics, i might be the only person who really enjoys economics.

-not too distant future plans: marathon, tattoo, london, boston.

going to the country, gonna eat a lot of peaches.

oh hello peach blueberry cobbler!

I spent a quiet evening in the kitchen with Bob Dylan, my stove and the juiciest, most delicious peaches from the Redlands farmers market. Of course I had no choice but to add blueberries and create a cobbler out of these.

Recipe with modifications:

For the fruit portion

- about 4 c. peaches (whatever that means, I sliced 4 large peaches into 16ths but used about 40 slices) pitted and sliced*

- 2 c. blueberries (I used frozen berries from Trader Joe's to save on costs and because they're freaking amazing)

-1/3 c. packed dark brown sugar

-2 tablespoons flour (I used whole wheat)

-2 tablespoons lemon juice (I forgot to add this, it's not necessary but will help ease the sweetness if you prefer a more tart taste)

-1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

-1/4 teaspoon salt

For the biscuit crust

-3/4 c. flour (again, whole wheat if you prefer)

-1/4 c. corn meal, yellow or white (I used yellow)**

-3 tablespoons dark brown sugar

-1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder

-1/4 teaspoon salt

-3 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces for easy mixing

-1/2 c. buttermilk (I used soymilk because I had it)

Preheat oven to 425F. Arrange a layer of peaches with a cup of blueberries at the bottom of a 2-quart ovenproof dish or pan. Toss in the sugar, flour, lemon, cinnamon and salt. Add another layer of peaches and the other cup of berries.

Form the crust by mixing the flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder and salt. Toss in the butter and use a fork or pastry blend to get it chunky. Add the milk to form a tough that's sticky and thick.

Drop spoonfuls of the dough on top of the fruit filling. Do it haphazardly, it looks so much better when it's organic and not too smoothed out. The dough doesn't need to completely cover the fruit either. Bake for 20-25 mins (mine was about 17 mins though, oven variation). The crust should be golden-brown and the fruit juices should be bubbly. Let it cool and scoop into a bowl. Top with whip cream, vanilla bean ice cream, or sorbet! (You can even have it for breakfast with greek yogurt, cottage cheese or plain yogurt) Viola!

*You can peel the peaches to avoid that weird skin crust. Just cut an X on the bottom, dip the peach in boiling water for 30 seconds and the skins will slide off.

**To transform this into more of a cake, use a cornbread mix or even a yellow cake or angel food cake mix. Wanna be sinful? Brownie mix!

This recipe was an experiment and that's why it's so awesome. It's versatile and can fit any occasion or taste you're going for. This one is a traditional peach cobbler but I've also made a crust with half granola, half biscuit crust for added crunch.

"i work long time, 4-hour, so tired."

Another day (in a row!) spent in the city with three of my favorite people. We started early (9am, after a night of three hours of sleep. ooowee!) and walked miles upon miles from Union Square to the piers for delicious tomato soup, then to Gihardelli Square for delicious chocolate and coffee, through Little Italy and almost China Town and back to Union Square again. We fail at bargaining but managed to save two whole dollars on a ring for me and hats for Mike and Erin. Just about collapsed of exhaustion on the BART home but when D rings for party crashing later that night, do I opt out and sleep? Of course not.

sexy train station.

I wasn't aware of S's fondness for train stations..."What? Well, I guess that train station is sexy..." Turns out if was a joke from junior year of high school. Good to know I'm still as sharp as a butter knife.

We walked the route we will be running for our half-marathon in October and ate dinner as well. Lovely evening out in a city I love with a roommate/friend I love.

the cruz.

weekend in santa cruz: traffic, heat, overheated car, heater, 99 cent store parking lot, overheated car, phone calls to male friends, all women should know about cars, Peet's, SC finally, this (above) little cutie, thai food, party, mixed drinks, we shouldn't kiss we're friends, opps oh well, should we again?, dance, okay kiss, sleep, early walk, coffee, grocery shopping, cupcakes, water for car, berkeley, overheated car, fuck you car.

my life, as a sitcom.

*disclaimer: i'll begin by saying that i in no way intend to be offensive, though it's really really hard to be PC in this one.

so after my marina run, friday continued to be awesome and after a brief social interaction with a friend, i spent most of the day reading in willard park where i ended up falling asleep and waking up significantly darker. i ate a delicious meal and then wandered down to a nail spa for a pedicure. afterwards i went to memorial glade to read more when the following event transpired.

*mentally challenged guy in a motorized wheel chair rolls up: hi, can i talk to you?

me, removing sunglasses and looking up from book: um, yeah sure. how are you?

guy: good. what's your name? can i ask you something?

me: aubrey, of course. are you okay?

guy (whispering): yes. can i shake your hand?

me: oh, okay.

guy, rolls closer and extends hand

me, shakes his left hand awkwardly with my right, reluctantly.

guy (still whispering): can i ask you something?

me (sort of annoyed): what?? i can't hear you.

guy (still whispering): can we be friends?

me: sure... (out of reluctance again, i put sunglasses back on & begin fumbling with my phone like i have someone to talk to)

guy (still whispering): can i tell you something?

me (more annoyed, thinking of an escape plan): uhh, i still can't hear you....

guy (reg. voice): can i tell you something?

me: yes.

guy (whispering): my friend died

this is when he begins to cry, FAKELY

me: oh, i'm really sorry to hear that.

guy (whispering again, fucking hell): can i ask you something?

me: I CAN'T HEAR YOU, YOU NEED TO SPEAK UP.

guy (rolls his moto-chair closer): will you be my girlfriend?

WTF, terrified at this point, me: i..i..i'm really busy. (i go back to reading)

guy, tells me more stupid things while i continue to ignore him, then after a few minutes: well, bye.

i watch him roll away and try to talk to other people who mostly ignore him. then all of the sudden, he rolls back my way! (as seen in picture, behind the tree) this is when i make a dick move by quickly gathering my belongings and making a mad dash far far away from the grass area. crisis averted, though this goes down as the only action i've received all summer.**

** not really, but the most long-lasting...? most significant...? but seriously, why me god? i started going to church again last week in case you didn't notice.

fridays are the new saturdays.

Time: 6 am

Place: Berkeley Marina

I've completely embraced my three-day weekends. After four busy weekdays I am exhausted come Friday (actually Thursday night). But today I got up at 5:30 am and took a nice little run to the marina. 12-miles total.

Note to self: Dressing promiscuous and running will cause creepy men to stare. no. matter. what.

what my summer life has been in five words or less.

1. books

2. yoga

3. walking

4. calculus

true life: we went to high school with landon donovan.

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.

with special guest, Aubro.

(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.

oh hey 12-mile hike.

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.

baby billys.

Hung out with these cuties in Oak Glen today. This was after S fell in a river and before T and I had to instruct her limb by limb on how to scale a mountain.

the other day,

We feasted like kings. Home-made pizza, complete with a huge dark chocolate cupcake from Casey's and Seans's creepy eye in the background.

(you were my ship.)

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

god bless amurica

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?

who built the la la love?

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.

It's me.

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.

on thinking too much.

There are times when we can't help but play the what if game because really, that's what life ends up to be. What if I never met him, what if you never hung out with her, what if you never started smoking those damn cigarettes. And we can't help but think a little abstractly in these settings. It is here where we define anxiety and here where I feel myself the most nervous because you remind me it's not all black and white. We go on pretending that it's always black and white, trying to deny that our every reality isn't gray. And you make me so sad. Your beautiful thoughts and me on the cusp of tears, feeling tense in that situation where you just know that you and the other person are just about to kiss. I laugh so hard at this, the contradiction we are with our chapstick and gum. We stare out at what we're calling the fifth dimension, the linear time line, the near cataclysmic disturbance that can happen at any moment because we know that there is no system, the universe is indifferent and beyond the facade we're both so brilliant at upholding the truth is, it's not based on philosophy or our theories or the paths we didn't take in life; we're both just fucking scared of getting old.

po po shut us down.

some days are just shit. and you care too much despite wholly knowing that you will only be disappointed in the end. the music you listen to is generally sad and even more so when you realize every lyric to every song relates to your current state of being completely pathetic. and maybe you feel like you wasted two and half years of your life, like not only feel but realize you really really wasted them and to what avail? TO FEEL LIKE SHIT.

but then, and to quote the always truthful jenny lewis, you find your silver-lining.

thank you, ivy wisner. you are my silver-lining today and saved me from crying in public and left me laughing til my sides ached.

love you butch.

best friends, juxtaposed.

"I'll be at your house in five minutes" means "I won't even leave mine for ten (at the minimum)."

Adventuring means ending up at the same park we've gone to for four years.

"Remember that text I sent you when we were both drunk?" means "Clarify what text and which time."

A fresh box of cigarettes that will presumably be chain smoked means one of us better have a lighter.

"Pre-(insert boyfriend/girlfriend's name) or post-(insert boyfriend/girlfriend's name)" means we've been friends longer than the length of all our respective relationships combined.

Coffee outings mean that the baristas already know our names and drinks.

"Let me catch you up on my life" means "Let me tell you about my most recent failed love venture."

Summer means that we'll see each other tomorrow and every day after.

aubrey logic

I always seem to come up with some elaborate scheme when asking my parents permission/advice/financial support on something. When I was twelve I told my dad this was my "quirky charm," now it's probably just manipulation or as it's recently been referred to as, a form of Aubrey Logic.

Last summer when I wanted to take a Woodstock-like adventure with a group of stoner boys the conversation went as so: "So we (one of three stoner boys was present to lessen the chance of mom saying no) have an offer you can't refuse."

This time around I'm thinking: "So I'm twenty and though I sometimes live in your house, how much control do you really have over me?"

Wish me luck.

that one time i wrote a brilliant philosophy essay based on an episode of rugrats and only three minutes of studying.

So I'll be the first to admit that I absolutely hate philosophy or "Phil" as I refer to him as. I mean, really, philosophy wouldn't be around if it weren't for a bunch of idiotic white men with nothing better to do with their time than to come up with lame theories on how I'm not a human being or am secretly attracted to my father (hence the appropriate pronoun). But anyway, I guess my hatred for Phil stems from both the fact that I don't really understand the subject but also, I don't even want to understand the subject.
So there I am every Tuesday at 8 freaking a.m. in discussion with my TA whom absolutely hates me and a bunch of eggheads whom are more than likely taking this class in their spare time. And you know how teachers will give a student a pseudo-pensive "hm...okay" if a student doesn't answer a question correctly or if they are not satisfied with said student's response? Well TA does that to me after EVERYTHING I say. And participation for this class is twenty percent of our overall grade so I have no choice but to make up some bullshit solely to not fail this course. (But realistically, the probability of at least one of my answers being correct can't be zero, which is why I'm completely certain TA hates me.) Meanwhile, Trevor* will follow up my lackluster answer with something insightful, leaving TA and the rest of the class believing that every word that falls from Trevor's mouth is gold, and maybe it is--Trevor's nothing short of brilliant but he's also one of the most attractive men I've ever come into contact with which must count for something. So there's TA at the front of the classroom applauding Trevor, writing what he said on the board and basically telling Trevor to bend over right there so TA can kiss his ass.
Though admittedly I should probably not be so apathetic and make more wise choices but when S is home and there's coffee to drink and havoc to be wrought, of course I'm going to chose that rather than study for the next day's midterm. S and I both agreed that Phil is DUMB and I should just write DUMB for every answer on the midterm. But you see, I may do what I want when I want but that doesn't mean I don't feel guilty for doing so (and I really do care a lot about doing well in school). So I got home around midnight and logged into Youtube, typed Kant in the search box and stumbled upon the most brilliant and lifesaving three-minute video ever. It was like everything Trevor ever regurgitated so eloquently was compiled into a short, Microsoft Paint-made video with some weird voice explaining what I taught myself to hate. And so this was all the studying I needed.
I went into midterm feeling pretty confident having remembered everything that video taught me. I breezed through the key terms and short answers section and finally got to the essay portion where we were to pick one of three essay choices. I chose the second because it related to all the examples of the three-minute video but also...to an episode of Rugrats?

For some reason I will never forget this episode where Chuckie commits some moral wrong and is guilty and keeps repeating "If a promise you can't keep, it will haunt you in your sleep and as you lie beneath your quilt, you will feel a conscience full of guilt." I was probably about seven when I saw that episode but that silly rhyme has stuck with me ever since. Combined with my Catholic guilt and this is what I think has prevented me from lying throughout my life (well, at least reducing the amount I lie...or at least feeling guilty about the amount I lie). And so I was super stoked to finally be able to use Rugrats in a practical situation and I wrote this awesome essay about Chuckie and how he embodies Kantian philosophy and I'm 99.9% certain I aced this midterm.
So in conclusion, you know how people can "like" really stupid situations on Fbook these days? Well, if I could I would like "that one time I wrote a brilliant philosophy essay based on an episode of Rugrats and three minutes of studying."
Anyway, now I'm gonna go subjectify my body and sell my soul for the sake of science and a hundred bucks!

*Name has been changed to protect the innocent and maintain my secret crush.