Archive | May, 2012

Dear Best Buy :: Fuck You

30 May

Last night I dreamt of you. Your tallness proceeds you, even in my dreams. So do your eyes. We were on a train filled with other girls my age; you were the only male. I’m sure that says something about my low self esteem when comparing myself to other females, or some dream psychology mumbo jumbo like that. Anyway. I was on my way to do some important job related thing (the job, however, escapes me now), and you were accompanying me as a mentor of sorts. The stress of the trip was really beginning to get to me and I complained to you about a nagging headache. So you placed your long, spider-like fingers on my scalp and began to massage the precise area causing me grief. The feeling was orgasmic, and I turned to face you, your fingers now tangled up in my hair.  There was a moment where our eyes met, then suddenly it was our stop and we had to get off the train (but not before I threw a smug smile at the girls who were glaring enviously at me, ie. all of them). We walked through some undetermined city together, side by side, and off in the distance I saw The Avengers showing Spider-Man the ropes of working as a team. I asked you if you thought Emma Stone was nearby. You didn’t know who Emma Stone was. We kept walking. Eventually, we stopped to eat our lunch. You perched yourself on the ledge of a planter holding a tree in front of some fancy looking office building, and I stood facing you. We ate noodles out of yellow Tupperware; it looked as if it might have been Pad Thai. As we ate we made faces at each other, our mouths stuffed with food, and it was really unbecoming of the both of us. I had just shoved another forkful of noodles into my mouth when suddenly – without any warning – you vocalized how beautiful I was to you. I was speechless, and so you leaned in to gently kiss me. And what a kiss. After this, we parted ways. I’m not really sure what happened in between our separation (I probably went on to whatever the job related thing was), but later in the dream you sent me a note asking me to come visit you in your flat. I was flustered, and I hurried over right away. I remember quivering with anticipation as I knocked on your door. My eyes gazed on the address: 221b Baker Street. You opened it, smiled, and welcomed me in. You closed the door behind me, opened your mouth, and said –

And then Best Buy woke me up to let me know that it is going to cost $700 to fix my laptop. They waited for that exact moment to call me. They dream cockblocked me.

Best Buy is the reason I will probably never, in my life, get to have dream sex with Benedict Cumberbatch.

Fuck you, Best Buy.

listlistlistlistlist.

29 May

I know posting lists on my wordpress is generally a boring thing to write/read, but I care not. Here’s a list of everything I hope to accomplish this week:

  • Start outlining my British Female Writers paper
  • Find all the sources I need for my Human Sexuality paper
  • Write up a (very) rough draft of my Technical Writing paper
  • Workout every day (and run when I can)
  • Watch all existing episodes of Veep
  • Watch all existing episodes of Girls
  • Finish Jane Eyre
  • Start working on my next feature for Cool Gizmo Toys
  • Successfully do my presentation for Spanish on Wednesday
  • Babysit on Friday
  • See The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel in theaters
  • Write up a wordpress entry on Cool Gizmo Toys and my other writing gig (which shall be revealed soon…)

Yup. Boring entry is boring. So sorry.

Spring Awakening :: How a Musical Changed a Sixteen Year Old’s Life

27 May

Earlier this month, about two weeks ago, I saw a community theatre production of Spring Awakening up in Portland. It was very good for community theatre. The actors were great, the singing was phenomenal, and all the costumes, set, and lighting were superb (not the mention the kid playing Hanschen was sexy as all get out). I had seen Spring Awakening three years prior when it toured nationally, and I had forgotten since then just how enamored I was with the musical.

Spring Awakening is a musical about teenagers awakening to their sexual desires in 1892 Germany. The musical, written by Steven Sater and Duncan Sheik, is based on the play of the same name, written by Frank Wedekind. It was a very taboo subject for Wedekind to be writing about in 1906, since the play involves such themes as: abortion, rape, homosexuality, incest, suicide, child abuse, and intercourse amongst teenagers. The musical kept the same themes in it, but updated the dialogue to sound more modern and weaved in a gorgeous pop-rock score.

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the boy from my past.

25 May

It’s strange to be stuck in a memory of something that never even happened. It could’ve happened, once, a while ago, but we missed our chance. Now all it has become is a missed opprotunity; a constant game of relationship tag. And that’s all right. We never would have worked, you and I. I know we’ve thought otherwise at other times, but I think we were always wrong. You would’ve driven me crazy. I would’ve wanted to take things slower than you’d have wanted. We wanted different things. In the end, we wouldn’t have meshed. Maybe it’s a good thing everytime there’s been potential for us our timing has been off. Maybe it’s a good thing you found your other half and I’ve moved on. Maybe it’s a good thing the only kiss we ever shared was in the presence of a room filled with other people, all their eyes watching.

But I think we would’ve made each other happy, even if it was only for a short while.

Maybe.

affliction.

24 May

It’s hard to fight for the cause you so righteously believe in when it seems like the cause may very well be pulling away from you, no matter how hard you try.

Maybe I should just tell you.

.asphyxiation.

21 May

Asphyxiation is not how I thought I would go,
but it seems the only option nowadays
as my lungs rapidly pull air in and out,
in and out,
out and in
until they can operate no longer
and dreadfully deflate inside my chest,
leaving me to wither and die
without a source of air
to depend upon.

I am an expert hyperventilater.

It’s an art.

Almost.

I am going to make it through this year
If it kills me

The more I listen to this song,
the more I think it makes for a terrible mantra,
seeing as I have no desire
to be dead. Not at
this age. Not at
twenty-one.

If it kills me
If it kills me
If it kills me

Twelve.

Twelve more months
and I’m through. Twelve more
fucking months of classes that mean diddly-squat
for my future.
Twelve more months of being
cooped up
in a tiny town that cannot contain me.
Twelve more months before
freedom.

Terrifying,
paralyzing,
horrifying,
glorifying
freedom.

When did I turn twenty-one?
When did I suddenly become this adult
that a younger me would barely
recognize?
I’m still a girl;
a toddler still learning how to toddle.
When did I learn to walk on my own two feet?
When did I stop believing in magic?
When did I suddenly understand how to cope with life?

When did I grow up?

I am going to make it
I am going to make it
I am going to make it

But it will never kill me

Remembering Past Friendships

20 May

Today this quote graced my tumblr dash and it got me to thinking:

“I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?”

It’s from the movie Stand By Me, which happened to be a constant in my life when I was twelve (and is probably the sole reason I started using profanity in the eighth grade). My friends and I watched that film repeatedly, each of us claiming which boy we were in love with, which caused a bit of squabbling. This quote, however, bears so much truth with it. In my current place in life I’ve got some really great friends. Best friends. Friends I wouldn’t replace for anything in the world… but I can’t help but to compare my friendships at twenty-one to the friendships I had when I was twelve. Back then I was literally inseparable from my closest friends. The five of us did everything together. Every other weekend was a sleepover. We went to the mall, we went and saw movies, we went roller skating, we made (shitty) home films, we hung out together at recess, and so on. All four of them were there for me when my mom died, and they kept me strong in my toughest hours. I told every little thing to these girls. Nothing was kept secret; nothing kept inside. Nowadays I find that there are certain things I don’t share with even my best of friends, but back then? It was never an issue. Maybe it’s because I didn’t really have much to hide back then, but I was so much more open and carefree about everything, probably because I knew there was no one I could trust more than those four girls.

I have so many memories. Trudging through the park filming Survival Pair 2: What If? Reading smutty fanfiction on my parent’s computer while they were out running errands. Hour long phone conversations. Playing the card game War all afternoon. Squabbling over which Sailor Moon characters we’d be. Coming up with code names for the boys we liked. Playing dress up and ponies. Putting movies on mute and talking for the characters (Agent Toast lives on). Trying to learn how to properly apply make up. Writing terrible, horrible fanfiction we were convinced was fantastic. Playing Barbies, even though we were at an age when we should have outgrown Barbies. Getting lost in sleeping bags. That game we played at recess with the rings. Seeing Return of the King opening day. Tickle Monster. Outlaw Star. Huggy tag. Wild Woman. Prank phone calls. Mad libs.

Those were some really fucking good times.

And it’s not to say that I don’t have good times now. The relationships and friendships I hold nowadays are much more mature, not to mention wonderful. My friends are the most important thing to me on this planet, each and everyone one of them.

And maybe I’m just getting old, which is making me – in turn – sentimental. All I know is nothing will replace swapping the eleven page roleplay with Jenna Saadeh during classes, freaking out when a bear started to charge in the deer hunting game Laura Bond owned, killing time during races at swim competitions with Stella Cheng, or staying up till the wee hours in the morning playing Nancy Drew video games with Aileen Sheedy.

These were the four girls that shaped my childhood; who made me who I am today. It’s sad to say that times change and people drift. I’m still friends with all of them, for certain, but it has been a while. While I’m still in touch with some more than others (Aileen and I still have sleepovers and play Nancy Drew video games), it’s been a long while since the gang’s reunited.

Which is a shame, because there are so many wonderful memories we have together:

Laura (top far left), Stella (third from top far left), Jenna (below Stella), and myself (the kid who is SO WHITE that it looks like her hair and her face are one… actually it doesn’t even look like I have a face)

Goddamn. Jacob Haas was tall.

We all have grown up and gone our separate ways, but I’ll never forget and I will always cherish the summers, weekends, trips, recesses, and sleepovers I shared with these four amazing girls from the fourth to the eighth grade.

Goddamn.

Those were the days.