Absolutely, inescapably, immediately, generally.

So, I actually sat down a few days ago to write a blog post, and the conditions were perfect. I was in the sculpture garden at school, it was cold but I was in direct sunlight (giving the illusion that it was kind of warm) and I had my Ray Bans on, the Bon Iver playing, and everyone was leaving all alone. Problem? The internet SUCKS at school here. I had my mini PC with me, and lo and behold, after writing a complete and not so sucky blog post, my internet stopped working and WordPress went back to the Dashboard page, which included deleting half of the post. Sure, I still have half of it saved, but it is so not the same thing. I’ve only got half of a good blog, which equals one suck blog. Anyway, I’m telling you about this (I’m still not sure who “you” is yet, but yes I’m talking you YOU) because I don’t want to seem like I’ve just made a new blog and am already neglecting it. I actually can’t really stop thinking about it, which, to be fair, is also probably because I’ve been watching a good amount of Sex and the City lately. What can I say?

Now to the real part of this blog.

Today I went to LACMA for the first time! As stunning as the exhibits were, what really got to me was the car ride. See, in my New York School of Poetry class there are about eight of us who sit in the back who are ALWAYS talking and eating and joking around. None of us really know the others in our little group, but this is everyone’s class that we can all hang out and be loud and the professor doesn’t really mind all that much (or so we tell ourselves!), so we make the most of it. Most definitely, it is all of our’s favorite class. When we were informed about the field trip today to LACMA, five of us agreed to drive with my friend Alex, and I can honestly say, that was the most unusually compiled group of people in one tiny space I have ever seen. All of us are so different, in no logical world would the five of us be thrown together for any reason. But, there we found ourselves, and it was the most fun thing ever. As hyped up as we all were to go to LACMA for the first time, the ride back was where it was all at. I had a window seat, and there was something about the warm sunshine, the subtle breeze of the windows rolled down, my Ray Bans on and Dean Martin featuring on my iPod. As one girl Bear pointed out, it felt like we should have been in an Indie movie. There really is no explaining to it. You just have to be there. But, you’ve been there, haven’t you? When the situation is just right, the light, the temperature, the music, the people, the smell. Maybe it turned out this way because I got to sleep in late and listened to the Andrew Sisters while putting on my make-up or because both of my roommates happened to be out of the room all morning so I got to have completely alone time, or whatever it happened to be. It was just a perfect day, that’s all. I probably won’t remember it years from now for any reason; hell, I’ll probably forget it in a week. But today was absolutely, inescapably, immediately and generally stunning.

Falling In Love At The Coffee Shop

It's been a long time since I have heard a song quite like this. It's so innocent, simple and sweet, I actually caught myself turn my head and smile shyly. 

I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you. 

(click above.)

Wild Words from Wild Women #7

"Guilt is often the price we pay willingly for what we are going to do anyway."

- Isabelle Holland, creative writer

Selecting a Reader

by Ted Kooser

First, I would have her be beautiful,

and walking carefully up on my poetry

at the loneliest moment of an afternoon,

her hair still damp at the neck

from washing it. She should be wearing

a raincoat, an old one, dirty

from not having money enough for the cleaners.

She will take out her glasses, and there

in the bookstore, she will thumb

over my poems, then put the book back

up on its shelf. She will say to herself,

“For that kind of money, I can get

my raincoat cleaned.” And she will. 

Before I Die

Okay, that last post was a joke. This one will flatten you to the ground. 

Go here. 

Make a list. Make it count. 

Photobombers.

Absolutely go here. 

For clarification:

Photobomber (n.): Someone who sneaks into a picture uninvited. They usually are making bizarre faces, and the subjects of the picture generally are unaware of the Photobomber's presence in the picture. 

Turn That Frown.

I went shoe shopping today, and as I walked out of the store while trying to simultaneously put on sunglasses, balance my new parcels, not get run over in the parking lot, and not trip, I began to wonder when I became so awkward. 

Now, there are different levels of awkward. When I take my shirt off in front of the Phleps' house in broad daylight, I know that is one type. When I shout obscenities in front of relatives at weddings, that's another type. But I realized today that I've recently become pretty self-conscious and have "deer-in-the-headlights" type situations every time a stranger talks to me. It's like, here I am in my world, and there you are in yours. I have my music turned up real loud, and when you knock on my door I drop the stack of dish-ware I was carrying and back up against a wall. When did I get like this? I never used to have a problem talking to strangers. But today in the shoe store the nice employee kept peering around the corner to ask me if I need help with anything, and every time he would do that I'd drop whatever I was holding and would start stuttering. It's not like he was incredibly attractive or was at all menacing - I just freaked out for no reason. Though, in my defense, he asked me if I needed help about five times the whole twenty minutes I was there, and I think he finally got the idea I didn't want to be bothered in my last "No, really I'm fine". This has also been happening at school a lot. I barely participate in class anymore, I stare at my feet when I walk to and from class, and if anyone makes eye contact with me I am always the first one to look away, almost like I feel guilty for having looked. At the coffee shop I have no problem with talking to customers, but I think it's different there because when I am working I am acting the part of the cheerful barista. Which is so weird because I really am cheerful and happier than ever! I just for some arcane reason am not showing it to strangers. 

Maybe it has something to do with how much of a hermit I've become. On any given night I would rather sit alone in my room and organize, read, clean, pretty much do anything, which for someone my age is NOT a good habit to start (considering I have friends who probably wouldn't appreciate being neglected). 

According to Dr. David Song, it takes twelve muscles to smile and eleven to frown. Maybe I need to exercise my Zygomaticus major and minor more before going out in public.