Quand il me prend dans ses bras, Il me parle tout bas (repost from myspace)

august 4, 2008:

a cell phone is an extremely personal thing. Theres the obvious personal information: phone numbers, photos, texts. And in the age of the personal digital assitant: dates, appointments, music, notes. Things that we would be distraught without, and likely embarrassed for aquaintences to find. Not strangers, because who cares what strangers think, you dont even know them. And not friends, because friends already know you and have formed their opinions. But people who are on the verge, and whom you might be trying to impress.

But anyway, I'm not really thinking about that when I say it's "personal." What I mean is that you hold that thing up to your face and breathe on it all day. You touch it with your sticky fingers, probably spit on it to some degree, and in all ways get it all gross with your grossness. If youre my friend, then I probably love your grossness, and am not really even grossed out by it anymore. Thats what friendship's all about: loving each other's icky stuff.

But if I dont love you, if you're, say, a customer of mine... and not even a regular (im not talking about you, michael) but a person off the street, whom I've not met... don't ask me to use your cell phone. "Here, you talk to her." hell no! Thats revolting and insulting.
Ick ick ick.

Oy. So this is your friend neighborhood etiquette police, asking you to please not do this to strangers. Unless you would rub your cheek against said stranger and accept them spitting on you. Which, you know, if thats your thing... then stay the hell away from my phone.

hay tantos caminos para andar.... (repost from myspace)

september 12, 2008:

I'm only hungry for gourmet cupcakes.



Im really hoping ill never grow up. Which is not to say I want to stay this age, this right-now, forever. Which is to say… I don't know what I want.



If I don't watch them, my hands go to my mouth. Why, hands? What are you up to?



Why create? Why do some people not create anything at all? Otherwise, how do you know your soul is alive?



If youre fooling yourself, how do you know? Or, better, how is it possible to fool yourself? Its you! You know all your tricks!

Or are you then too wary of your old tricks? Imposing them on situations where they don't exist, and trick you into thinking youre tricking yourself again?



What?



If you listen to language tapes while you sleep, then I cant help you interpret your dreams. Like.. literally. I don't speak german.

Sorry.

for the rain, it raineth every day (repost from myspace)

december 1, 2008:

So, at about 1:30 today a customer pointed out that I:


le sigh.

when i was a little bitty girl, and my mom would travel for work, she would leave it up to Dad to dress me for school (obviously). Invariably, when faced with this challenge, Dad would let me dress myself. He'd simply check me for relative weather-appropriateness and send me on my way. I'm sure this lead to greater self-confidence and whatnot, but it maybe also lead to this: to not caring at all apparently.

In my defense: my feet are really far away from my head.
right?
right.

i thank the Lord for the people i have found (repost from myspace)

december 18, 2008:

I never want to feel bad about who I am.
I never want to cheat myself by wishing I were something I am not.
I never want to dishonor the person I’ve become by pretending to not be her.

I think this might be what it’s all about. Being yourself. Or becoming yourself. The entire journey is to find out who you are and to love that creature. To strive to be the most accurate representation of the You.
And then, all importantly, to find the people who love you for it. The people with whom you have no filter. The people who demand no filter of you. The people who allow you to be most purely You. To find the people who are not so much like you as those who simply fit with you. The ones whose lives and whose Selves are formed in such a way as to be complete with you. The friends who are not friends; the friends who are family.

This is all tumbled up in the labels. In the “best friend” and the “close friends” and the “buddies” but what it really comes down to is that we’re all seeking the people who love us. Not the people who grow to love us, (those people rock, too, but it’s not what im saying)... but the people who it seems are out there loving you before you ever know them. And when you meet, you get to skip past all the bullshit and go straight into perfect harmony, however you define that.

But loving these people is a way of loving yourself, too. Of rewarding yourself for being goodenough with people who are magnificent.

I don’t feel im getting it out well enough. I don’t know if I can say quite properly what I really think. And this is my story, but I’m trying.
My point is, maybe, that there is nothing so simple, nor so noble, as friendship. And I hope we never discount it.