Got to be some more change in my life...

So today a friend suggested (in a really nice way mind you) that I shouldn't take things so seriously.

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *cries*
I know. I wish that person could see how much I write about hating that I over-think over-analyze and let things build up. or my personal love affair with control. The only problem is...I really like that like one person I know knows this thing even exists.

The problem with all of your friends being able to read your blog is the idea that you slowly begin to seriously censor yourself because you don't want to offend anyone or hurt anyone's feelings, because if you do you're bound to get some argumentative comments from your friends that disagree.

I'm struggling to be different than my dad. I come from a family that flips out if a drink is spilled. I wish I didn't beat myself up about things--really I do. Do you know what it's like to be unable to sleep at night because you cannot stop thinking? And it's stuff that by all rights I shouldn't be thinking about! Grades, the past, my appearance, if I remembered to do some tiny thing at work that day and what would happen if I hadn't... EVERYTHING. If I could stop it right away I would. I am trying. I wish people could understand that I don't try to create drama and I don't enjoy being like this.

I care too much about what people think too.

When I finally get to sleep, when I'm with my girls, or when I'm taking pictures are the few times I can stop thinking for just a little while. I cling to these.

AND HERE I AM TAKING WHAT MY FRIEND SAID TOO SERIOUSLY. WHOO!
monotonous! arghh

Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

What a wonderful weekend it was!



I had the privilege of seeing John Mayer in concert for the second time in my life. I was much further from the stage this time, but I must say I enjoyed it more. Sitting on a lawn chilling out with people and being comfortable to dance if you want to or even lay down is muuuuuch better than being extremely close to the performer, but getting closer every minute because people are pushing you toward them.

People want to give me their idea that John Mayer is some bubble gum pop prick that plays music for the masses. I only agree with one part of that- he plays his heart out for the masses. Forget the singles you've heard John Mayer sing on the radio, the so-called hits. He's actually one of the best guitar players alive today. People ask him to play as a guest on their albums all the time. He's grown in his new album; he plays jazz and blues music about heart ache and being human. He tells it like it is. He writes the kind of music that makes people feel alive. Now that I have done a little plug for him, he should send me money.

He played an acoustic version of Slow Dancing in a Burning Room for his encore Friday night; I just about died where I stood. That song is SO GOOD.

Do you ever get that invincible feeling after attending a concert? Anything could happen to you, but you wouldn't waiver or crumble. It's like magic.
Depending on the performance and atmosphere, the amount of time that feeling lingers varies. Festivals, like Austin City Limits really pump up that feeling indescribably. When I'm at a concert (especially an outdoor one), there is a moment when I feel like 'this is exactly how life should be'. The summer air, the smells, the people and the laughter, and the music. I wish I could feel that way all the time.

The Sweetest Way to Die

Another blogger I've been scanning through made an interesting assertion about a specific personality type that I wanted to quote and remember. This describes a friend of mine perfectly, and no matter how much I love this person-- they still fall into this category:

But of course, these self-made assholes are putting on the biggest show of all, trying to pretend like they're even bigger douche bags than they are in the hopes that controversy leads to interest, then to affection and admiration.

They soon realize that bastards with hearts of gold who are discovered and nurtured only exist in the movies, and they die alone, having never finished their book that is "better than 80% of the shit they publish these days."

Who Are You?

I really wanna know...



When I was visiting my friend M, we wandered into a ceramic shop and decided to paint our own pieces spur of the moment.





This is the finished product M brought home to me this weekend. The photos don't do it justice. It's a deep red mug and the tree is black. I am in love with this mug.
I painted it because I wanted to have a new coffee mug for the new apartment in the fall--hence the school appropriate red and black.
The girls and I are going with a red and black theme for our kitchen and living room in the fall as well--it's just easier for us all to agree upon.

I didn't go in to work today; I took one more day to rest my mouth up from having the wisdom teeth removed. It sure was nice. This also means I only have to work 3 days this week. I'm not complaining.
I wish I were a tree sometimes...

You shut your mouth when you're talking to me

A few hours ago I had my wisdom teeth removed. Why they hell would we as humans be equipped with teeth if they weren't needed? I don't care about the cavemen and what they needed. Having them removed was the most painful procedure I've experienced so far physically. All he did was numb my mouth and then jerk them out. not. even. kidding. The bottom left one was the only one that hadn't come out from beneath the gums. I think the roots of that sucker originated at my feet. I think I silently cried the entire time. Fuck dentists. The man wasn't even nice. His assistant was kind and tried to calm me down, but what the hell happened to hospitality?

I now officially:
hate soup
hate teeth
love vicodin

Now's the Right Time

for a good song, get something to say what I can't.



Trees have always been a favorite symbol for me. I love the way the base begins and the way the branches spread and reach and curl toward the sky. I love the way the sun shines through the bare branches at dusk in late fall, and the way the blue sky peeks through the cracks between the leaves in the summer. I find myself constantly getting shots of trees, and when I draw or paint, the contour, and the wild curved lines just do something to me. Even the spidery shadows they create amaze me. Trees are some of the most beautiful things to grace this earth. Their beauty has no seasonal boundary. They thrive when other things perish, they're the source of so many materials and elements, stories, and memories for people all over the world. I hope this fancinating love affair I am having with trees lasts.



Something I've learned to accept about myself: I lose things easily. I'll have something in my hand or put something somewhere I think is a safe place to find it when it becomes necessary, and then I'll forget. And sure this happens to everyone but when I lose something, I freak out. Imagine something as silly as car keys laying in plain sight, and me running around pulling my hair out calling myself an idiot, but feeling even crazier when I do find them.



Last night I couldn't find my phone, and I use it as an alarm to wake up for work in the morning. So I found a clock radio alarm and set it so that I wouldn't have to worry and freak out 5 minutes before sleep. Long and useless story short: waking up 2 hours late is the sign of an exciting day ahead. My hair does look fabulous, so I am anxiously awaiting a good surprise on this the 13th of June.

I'm a Dreamer in My Dreams

I sit here, watching GhostRider with my brother (this movie is the worst), and I wonder why I can't live in my dreams instead of here.

Things don't always go well in dreams, but at least a world of things can alter in a split second in a dream. In the real world, you have to wait for things to happen, or make them happen and suffer through the pain, heartache, etc until you get the that place. A specific characteristic of dreams that I find interesting in myself is that if I become aware that it is a dream, and try to extend it or make it last longer or control the events within it, I inevitably wake up. Without fail. Just another product of the destruction my desire to control creates. I always dream about people that are in my life currently; they make comments and say things that relate to what I might hear them say in reality, but the location is always set in the town I spent my childhood in. It weirds me out to dream this way because I can still see the streets, people, and places, and they seem so real I wake up unsure if the dream actually happened or not. I moved away from that town almost 8 years ago-- I was just a child. This seems significant because, I don't remember actual events or things I really experienced in this town as a child. My mom will start in with her "oh you remember that time.." conversation and usually I nod and smile, but I honestly don't remember most of what she says. Okay, who cares I was a child right? My brother remembers things like this, why don't I? I know I hated living in that place, and relished in the chance to move. I've never looked back until college, when I began meeting the people I grew up with in school. Buuut I digress. Point is-- I'll be having oral surgery this weekend and hope and pray that the medication will take me to that dream world for a while without my foolish interference.



Today my friend G (the one with the Lincoln etching), she informed me that sugar ants were in her keyboard. In my laptop this morning, there were also sugar ants crawling around in my keyboard. The coincidence made us laugh. I don't want to forget how the stupid little things made us feel closer even though we're living far away. Someday, we'll be old women that can laugh and do the same idiot shit we've done today--only we'll know how to handle the after