C'est L'Amour!

Some new collages.  I have this sketchbook in which I put EVERYTHING. Like, everything.  Every time i see a picture that I love, I cut it out for inspiration.  I design outfits in it, and practice drawing, and write and illustrate (or copy in) poems or quotes.   It's my baby.  I have this vision of some day being a major fashion designer and still having this book to go back to from 2010 that's got everything that has ever inspired me....ah.  True love.  Of course, every time I work on it, I feel like I need to try more with my style.  So, here it is: I will be dedicated to dressing cuter and innovatively.  It's just difficult as I have no time. And 50% of my closet is too big for me.  But other than that....hm.  It would seem a shopping trip is in order....

Ooooooo!!!

I am going to take a little time out from serious writing (and from studying for finals....cause really, who cares? Oops not a good attitude.  Sorry.) and write about something girlie and cutesie and fun.  So suck it.  Haha I will admit it: I am completely obsessed with prom dresses.  Again  Possibly even more than last year.  I keep getting these magazines in the mail that are filled, cover to cover, with glitterysparklyprettypretty dresses.  I have been trolling websites.  I have bought a Seventeen prom magazine.  What is up with this fascination?  I suppose it's because there are very few nights in the year when you can be a princess.  I love dressing up in a big ball gown.  I love feeling gorgeous and getting pampered.  Seriously, my favorite things in the world.  I had an amazing time at prom last year.  Everyone pumps you up with these amazing dreams of prom, and then tells you, "No, wait, don't get your hopes up!  It's not gonna be amazing, it'll probably be boring, don't be stressed!"   So I tried really hard to expect that much.  But prom was everything it could have been.  I had an incredible time with the best date in the world, and the best friends a girl could have. Sigh. 
    Sooo....being the girlie girl I am, and the innate costume designer inside me, these are my ideas for a dress:
Long and mermaid style, with either one shoulder or a halter....maybe strapless....with something pretty in rhinestones, and showing off my back.  I might upload some sketches soon.

So there you have it.  My completely pointless, adorable little post.  Sometimes, those are the best kinds.

Friend me!

If a tree falls in a forest without being written about in a status or twittered, does it make a sound?  I watched "The Social Network" with one of my best friends, and the whole time I kept thinking, "wow, I'm going to feel strange ever writing a facebook status ever again."  Because this movie puts straight into a glaring spotlight the obsession that our generation has with broadcasting something to the world, often while it's still happening.  I'm just as guilty of it as everyone else.  I'm reminded how I was tempted to write "I'm skiing a blue square!" right before I went down a hill on my ski vacation.  Why do we feel the need to talk about everything that happens to us?  Is it because we feel that without informing all of our friends what has just happened, it hasn't occured?  And perhaps the scariest thought of all, are we too busy living a virtual life to live our real ones? 
  That creeps me out to no end.  So I've decided to no longer check Facebook from my phone, or status from my phone.  Try to limit it to one status a day.  Because truly, life is too short to live it online.  There's too much out there to experience.

Ucky Feelings

I hate that moment when everything seems to be going exactly right and suddenly, the person you're talking to says something that makes your stomach drop to somewhere around your toes.  Usually, tears well up in my eyes and I'm stuck staring at their face, thinking, "Did you really just say that?  God, I hope I dreamed it.   Oh, no.  That mortified look on your face tells me I didn't dream it. Well. Damn. Yuck."  If they didn't mean to say it, the backtracking begins, and that's always fun to watch.  I do feel bad as the person tries to figure out just how, exactly, the can extract themselves from the six foot deep hole they've dug for themselves.  If the comment wasn't a big deal, then I just laugh it off and wave it away.  God knows I make comments that sounded great in my head...or more often, that seem to eject themselves into space from nowhere.  But sometimes, there isn't much to do besides stare at the person with shock splashed over my face, as clear as red paint.  I've never been good at hiding emotions, and hearing something that hurts from someone you love (friend, lover, whatever signifigance they hold), is utterly painful.  It feels like someone's shoved you over into ice water, in that you can physically feel the comment sinking in from your brain to you heart as you process. 
    For some reason, this seems to be the week of those kind of comments for me.  One very bad one just made me upset.  The other made me mad, and hurt worse than almost anything anyone's ever said to me.  Well, that's an exageration.  But it was awful, and it came from a friend who I would never picture saying anything hurtful.  How does that happen?  Is it just word vomit?
     One of the hardest to learn, but easiest to understand acts when you love to write and act is that words have staying power.  Once they are put out into the world, there is no going back.  No amount of apologizing can erase the fact that the moment happened.  I am in no way condoning holding a grudge; grudges hurt the person who's holding them the most, after all.  I just know from experience that a tiny shift occurs in the way you look at someone after they've hurt you in that way.  Sticks and stones aren't the only things that can cause a beating.

School is so not helping

Just a public service announcement: some days, staying at home would be more valuable than going to school.  There are at least three classes that I simply spaced through today, and I missed NOTHING.  I could have slept an extra hour.  I could have learned some yoga.  I could have made some brownies (though I sooo do not need them).  I might have painted something.  Practiced piano.  Finished that song I have to finish.  Studied the subjunctive in italian.  Kissed someone.  Cuddled a dog.  Rode a horse.  Gotten Starbucks.
But I was, instead, daydreaming to the tune of Et Maintenant, Le Passe Compose Avec Avoir en Negatif!  It's a very mellow song.  You can't fault me.  And you know, despite my complaining....I should probably be doing homework rather than blogging.  Gaaaaah.  I promise I will have an original thought soon.

The Book of Love has music in it...

"The book of love is long and boring...

no one can lift the damn thing.

It's full of charts, and facts, and figures,

and instructions for dancing.

But I....I love it when you read to me,

and you...you can read me anything."

"The book of love has music in it

In fact, it's where music comes from.

Some of its just transcendental,

some of its just really dumb.

But I....I love it when you sing to me.

And you...you can sing me anything."



"The book of love is long and boring,

And written very long ago.

It's full of flowers and heart shaped boxes,

And things we're all too young to know.

But I...I love when you give me things.

And you...you ought to give me wedding rings."

I learned this song from some friends over break, and only caught snatches of the words.  I just remembered to look it up.  After looking it up, I cried (of course), and realized, with a start, that this is my new Love Song.

  As my relationship goes on, there comes a moment where I just hear a song and know it's the one to describe my life at this stage.  There was the cutesie puppy love song, the sweet song, the melancholy song...and now this.  Okay, and I should provide a footnote: no, I do not want a wedding ring.  I mean, I do someday.  But I am 18. I am fine with being a girlfriend. More than fine. Ecstatic. Anyway.

  Somehow, hearing this song and writing out the lyrics has captured everything I would say about love.And, here's the peculiar thing about love--if you were to ask me to describe it, I think I could to a fair job.  It would take me awhile, and I would draft, and edit, and sit and stare at the paper for a bit, and tuck the pen behind my ear, and laugh at some memories, and cry at some others.  I would love it; I would moan over how long it was taking me, but secretly I'd fall asleep thinking about what to add.  As the song says, the book of love is long.  I'd have maybe two hundred pages, all written out in flowy cursive, that would contain every fragment of pain and longing, joy and euphoria, that I have experienced in the last ten months.  And then I would present you, wrapped in a long red ribbon: well written and grammatically correct paragraphs about love that would let you know how I felt about it.  But let me sing how I feel about love, and...ah.  You could feel it, too.  The words that looked pretty on the page are gorgeous when they soar over music and melody.  The things that felt right in my head make themselves whole and perfect in a song.  They hold themselves out of time.  I think one of the reasons I love writing and singing so much is because they both suspend animation--it pulls at my memories of sweet kisses in the snow, of rolling around in the grass, of playing, of laughing, of all of the little tiny things that make up the vast definition of love.  In my memory of this song, and of this short piece of writing, I will always be 18 and two months and 13 days old, deeply in love, and happy. If that is not magic, I don't know what is. 

The Phwa Phwa Moments

I was thinking about posting something cool, metaphysical, crazy-deep. And then I was like, shit, I don't feel well and I don't want to go back to school. So time for a funny, what's off the top of my head kind of wall post.  I now present, in living colour:

THE PHWA PHWA MOMENT.

The phwa phwa moment often occurs when you least expect it.  Usually, everything is streaming forward in Disney-animation level beauty.  For example, you are texting a really cute guy.  He is totally flirting, turning up the heat, making you shiver in antici......pation. You feel like sparkles are going to shoot out of your ears--this is the most amazing thing you've experience...well, at least in a few days.  And then, out of the blue, he says "Hey, could I have the phone number of your best friend? like, i know she's dating that one guy,or whatever, but she's hot." Cue that horrible, depressing tuba fart sound effect-- the Phwa Phwa Moment in action.

I have had a million phwa phwas in my life.  In fact, my facebook status updates often end with something like phwa phwa that ----. These moments live to bring you down. Make you cry.  I'm a horrible crier; I cry about everything, and these are the worsts.  The time when you think everything is going to go your way, for once, and then *phwa!!!!!*. Meh.

So, I am proposing a new action: let us fight the phwa phwas.  Instead of getting depressed about something not going your way, take a deep breath, imagine a sparkly sound effect, and say, "Screw it, I'm putting on some lipgloss and going to Starbucks/painting my nails/smashing some pottery".  A resolution I can embrace whole heartedly.

Resolutions....and the fallacies who love them

Ah, resolutions.  A love/hate topic, to be sure.  I, for one, adore making resolutions.  Have I ever really kept one? No. But the delicious sense of purpose that they give you, the feeling that maybe this year your life will stay on track with this list of five things, is empowering.  So, I have once again fallen into the trap.  Here is a list, which I have the very best intentions of following, of what I wish to achieve this year.

1.Figure out my life, re:college
2. Find the time to enjoy the people I love to be with, and stop worrying about hanging out with those who don't deserve my time.
3.  Stress=slow and painful death. GOAL:no panic attacks.
4. Write more. Read more.
5. A subpoint of 4: stop facebooking. Go read some Descartes.
6. Actually do my homework. What a concept.
7. ONE SODA A WEEK. ONE. Lauren, seriously, one. please.
8. Do some yoga and stretching every day. You will be a lithe, lotus machine.
9.No, you do NOT need those cheese curds with your chicken, or that brownie with your meal. Eat light and healthy, and enjoy it.
10. Get back into running.  You liked it! No, really, you did.
11. Final Resolution: love yourself.
I have decided to devote a blog entry to this last one.  I think it merits it. stay tuned.