la vit en blanche et noir,

has always seemed much more exquise.

Kiss me conspicuously underneath the mango tree.

This song breaks my heart every time I listen to it, 

and I guess in some odd way, 

that's what makes me love it that much more.

Well, my current status of life--

I guess it could be summed up in one simple word: change.

It kind of makes the inside of my stomach feel warm just thinking about it, how much change is currently taking place, and how much inevitable change is on its way. I often have those cinematic moments where I visualize myself standing still in a scene of ever-revolving life. You know, the one where everything and everyone is in inexplicable evolve, and you're in the center of it all reflecting on the time passing you by. I'm officially unemployed, I'm officially going to live one of my dreams of visiting New York (the two-way aero-plane tickets have been purchased!), there's less than two months before fall semester is over, there's a possibility that I'll be a bank tailor starting this upcoming new year (and the whole process of being interviewed and etc. terrifies the shit out of me), I have what I guess can be considered a "date" this Thursday (and it means quite a bit cos' I haven't been on one of those for far too long), my desire for starting my journalism career is taking it's toll on me, and I'm just ready to start taking some action. I've been partying quite a bit these past weeks, I had my first actual "drunk" experience and I enjoyed it, but I'm over it. My realization on the truth of matters is expanding, and it's getting clearer everyday that I really don't give a shit if I fit in or stand out. I want to live a prosperous life, I want to be a follower of God. I want to do good, and I want to be happy. I want to follow my somewhat obscure dreams, and I don't want to waste whatever time it is that I have on this fleeting earth weeping and wondering, and hoping without faith. I'm not sure where this path that I'm on is leading me, but I know it's leading me to where I'm destined to be. I know I may not make it to be a legend, and chances are historians will leave my name out of ten pound weighing books, but I genuinely don't care. The right people will come into my life when I need them, I'll fall irrevocably in love with the greatest man imaginable when I least expect it, the right doors will open up when they're destined to, and this world will spin madly on but everything will be just fine. I know God has a humble amount of special plans intended for me, and I'm excited for the journey of reaching them. I'm scared, nervous, anxious, stready, ready, and exited. This is the kind of feeling to live for. More than ever, I'm set forth on living. Living to be alive!

And her dark brown eyes spoke loud and precise,

Chanson du jour.

I get nervous when I see him,

It makes me anxious when I don't.

Knowing this makes me a bit unsettled.

Especially because he has no idea;

and possibly never will.

just, because.

So, as the whole world and their grandmamajoe's know, Beavis and Butt-head is finally coming back to television! I am beyond excited! I remember watching back-to-back episodes with my older sister as a kid. After several episode re-inactments, both of us eventually mastered the inevitable "huhhh huhh huh's," and "eh heh heh's." Beavis and Butt-head is just a classic, man. And with great luck, I was able to get a hold of one of their 1994 Rolling Stone College Special edition issues. I randomly decided to visit a local bookshop a few minutes away from home, and to my surprise, it was vintage magazine heaven! There I was finger-flipping through some issues of Rolling Stones when *heavenly sound effect* Beavis and Butt-head! Of course I had to bring it back home with me, regardless the fact that my room is starting to look more and more like a museum with all my hoarded findings. But, c'mon. How could anyone resist such a find? An even sweeter bonus, the store owner (which was super adorable, let me tell you. An about 70-something year old Italian women that held quite the conversation about her passion for vintage readings and trio music) apparently "digged" my personality and only ended up charging me two bucks for it. It will definitely be a hand-me-down to my children one day (whenever/if ever I have any.) Heck, I'll make sure to have children just to have my mini capsule of cool 1990's handed-down.

Please,

don't make me like you.

One - fifty (two)

1. Birds


2. Hands


3. Tea


4. Letters


5. Words


6. Dreams


7. The number Seven


8. Commas ,


9. Periods.


10. Radiohead


11. Nirvana


12. Camera Obscura


13. (Parenthesis)

14. parler dans français

15. hablar en español

16. secret crushes


17. unspoken-about-kisses


18. Zooey Deschannel


19. How I Met Your Mother


20. When will I ever meet your mother?


21. Questions?


22. Questions without answers.


23. Mysteries


24. Mysterious people


25. Odd people


26. Quiet people who listen to their I-pods 24/7


27. Denny's. cos' it's open 24/7.


28. The color blue:


29. like the sky,


30. and the sea.


31. not making sense to others,


32. but making sense to myself.


33. when others make no sense to me,


34. at all,


35. I become much more intrigued.


36. fancy words


37. worn-out shoes


39. skipping numbers


38. and making up for it afterwards


40. Old books that no one reads


41. Exposed diaries


42. watermelon,


43. with lemon.


44. faces,


45. freckles,


46. freckles on faces.


47. believing


48. that


49. everything will somehow


50. fall into place,


51. no matter what.


52. Oh, and Ending things in even numbers.

Have you ever,

been so happy 
that you could just die
and it wouldn't even matter?

"I'm alone on a bicycle for two."

Where is my mind?

So, I'm currently listening to a song called "Where is my mind" by the Pixels (hence the title of this post) and I thought to myself, hmm...what a good freaking question. I am literally like a mind on a stick (okay, not literally) and yes, that doesn't really make much sense. but the point here is, I am a non-stop thinker. I think way too much, of everything, and I mean everything. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Right now, I'm still in that what-the-hell-am-I-even-doing-here/ what's my purpose sort of phase. The more I grow, the more and more distant the answer to that question seems to get. I'm a college gal, I work, I'm in my last year of teenage-hood, and it all seems so obscure. Things used to seem so much simpler as a kid. I could have been a librarian, or a rock star, I could have been a freaking astronaut--and now, I feel so limited. But still, I want it. I want it all. It's like, fuck. I want to be a radio dj, and I want people to listen to real freaking music. I want to open a record store in the heart of a busy city, and forever carry on the talents of Thom Yorke, Bjork, and the Raconteurs. I want to write for fucking magazines, and reach out to all the odd, pigeon-toed, crooked smile underdogs. I want to learn how to paint, and make beautiful art pieces that my future grandchildren can hang in their early-twenties apartments. I want to learn how to play every single instrument possible, and make sweet passionate music. I want to be a chef, an actress, a fashion designer, a lover, a giver, a traveler, a maker--"I want to be one of these things first". and perhaps the trip that I'll (hopefuly, fingers-crossed) be taking to Boston this December will help me start it off.