Reflection, Resolution, Prediction

Happy New Years beautiful people. I am so happy today. 2011 was a banner year. It started off a little bumpy but it rose exponentially from there, until today, the last day of 2011. For this post I thought about a few elements I wanted to incorporate. The first, a recap of the year, the second my "resolutions" for the new year, and third my vision of the new year. 2012 is gunna be amazing if it follows the current trajectory, but first let's roll back the clock 365 daysz-- New Years Eve 2010.

I started the year in Fresno, CA of all places. Let me say for the record, there is really no reason ever to go to Fresno, but my best friend's boyfriend was hosting a party and we decided to go check it out. We drank beer and made pancakes and played halo and hung out with a dozen bros who we love and only see very rarely. Thus begins 2012.

January Accomplishments: Started performing at Manic Mouth open mics, visited Portland with my mother, turned 19, performed in an improv show thanks to my gorgeous friends, it snowed, and told My Ex for the second time in 6 months to never speak to me again (and it worked).

February Accomplishments: I had no Valentine, I went on yet another crappy coffee date, I decided that sociology was the thing I wanted to study, and besides that not much happened.

March Accomplishments: I organized and hosted a murder mystery party, I played a rad game of Apples to Apples, I went to Hawaii, I presented an incredibly impressive sociology project, I finished my second round of college finals, and I started reading the Princess story at open mic.

April Accomplishments: What the fuck happened in April? I started a new quarters and took my second sociology class.

May Accomplishments: I had a mental breakdown in a bathroom and had to call my friend so she could talk some sense into me, I had another stupid fucking coffee date, I went to a party where I acted like a groupy, I went to Folk Life, and the sun finally sorta came out in Seattle.


June Accomplishments: Saw a sociology advisor for the first time ever, took my finals, visited my friends hometown, ate some damn fine pastries, went to a game farm, took my friend to my hometown, went to Santa Cruz, started working at Berkeley Playhouse, and met my now boyfriend.

July Accomplishments: Spent the night of the fourth with two amazing friends, saw Tim Minchin live, had my first Facebook interaction with my now boyfriend, had my first date/ wine night with my now boyfriend, and went to a crazy party for my friends birthday.

August Accomplishments: Not confident anything important happened here... Watched shark week with my friend after spending the evening at an elementary school (not in a creepy way).

September Accomplishments: Went on an intense family canoe trip, decided to try long distance with my now boyfriend, took a road trip back up to school, went to a 90's party, declared my sociology major officially, I became the Manic Mouth open mic host, and started the hardest quarter of college thus far.

October Accomplishments: I didn't die, that is a accomplishment in itself. I hosted a Halloween
Themed open mic, visited home, heard the L-word, went to a Renaissance Faire, decided to apply to the honors sociology program, and dressed up as one of the village people (the construction worker) for Halloween.

November Accomplishments: I barely survived midterms, changed my bio class to pass/fail, applied to a study abroad program, got accepted to the study abroad program, saw Gaelic Storm and Noah and the Whale perform live, went home for Thanksgiving.

December Accomplishments: Finished my hardest quarter yet, painted a mug with my roommate, said goodbye to my roommate, met my new roommate, went home for the holidays, went to Half Moon Bay with my now boyfriend, visited my uncle in LA, got an IPad, and played with sea otters.

There's 2011 for you. Probably I'm missing stuff, probably important stuff, but 365 days is 365 memories and you can't write them all down.

Now for my resolutions:
1. Make everyday unique. Have a funny story for every day.
2. Reach out to friends. They can't always come to you.
3. Study, then watch TV.
4. Play, then study.
5. See as much live music as you can on a budget.
6. Be on a budget.
7. Keep up your blog. Expand your readership.
8. Make a new friend everyday. Search for people.
9. Love the man you love.
10. Be a perfect daughter, and an even perfecter woman.
11. Forget exercising or eating well, you're not gunna do it and you've got a great bod.
12. Eat whatever you want, you've got one life to eat truffles and pasta, do it.
13. Do light therapy, remember SAD? Yeah, never again.
14. Always dress fabulously, you have a boyfriend but make every man who sees you wish you didn't.
15. Get rid of last remaining acne. Because it's preventing you from seeing your beauty.
16. Grow out your hair. I'm fucking serious.
17. Save your money. Don't buy a handbag at Target. Buy it in Italy. Don't drink that crappy Tully's latte, drink one in FUCKING Italy.
18. Don't stress. Everyday is not a crisis. Tomorrow you'll feel better.
19. Appreciate the friends you have. When you see them, hug them like it's a goodbye not a hello.
20. Be funny.

20 things to do this year to make 2012 even better than 2011. That's what resolutions are about, recognizing that even if last year was awesome, the new year could be improved with a few changes in yourself.

This new year is going to rock. I mean it sounds simple, but it is simple. It is Simply Going to Rock. How could it not? It's on the path to greatness and it hasn't even started. Here are some expectations of mine.

First, I'm taking really fucking badass classes this quarter. I'm super excited about all of them and this quarter is going to be much more manageable because of it. Second, Bachelor Is coming back. That was another thing that happened in 2011, I became obsessed with that show thanks to my roommate. Ben is going to make an awesome Bachelor. Just saying. Third, I have the most amazing man who I never give enough credit on my blog, but is absolutely wonderful. With him by my side, this year will be so full of love and joy and happiness. Fourth, I have like super awesome friends in both Seattle and San Francisco. Like seriously, I'm never without someone to hang out with and I am so excited to make more memories with them this year. Fifth, I AM GOING TO ITALY. HOW COULD THIS YEAR NOT ROCK WHEN I'LL BE SPENDING THREE MONTHS OF IT IN ITALY. So I'm super excited about that. Sixth, I am doing really well in school. I love school, I love learning, and I love what I'm studying. I'm going to apply to honors sociology and I hope I can get in and really delve deep into my major. Seventh, I'm young, I'm happy, I'm sassy, I'm smart, I'm heathy, I'm employed, I'm so very very lucky. Which is why when the bell drops tonight at midnight and the clock strikes twelve my heart will absolutely shine with anticipation.

Have a good New Year, be happy, make resolutions, reflect, predict. And be safe bitches! Call a cab or take pubic transportation or have a DD or something. You actually have to make it alive to 2012.

Close Encounters of the Familial Kind

It is the third night here in LA and Christmas celebrations have wound down. It's been a good Christmas all things considered. No drama, which for any family, is impressive.

The morning started with me waking up before everyone else, before even the sun. Maybe it was the anticipatory child in me but I felt clear headed and ready for the day. But as I lie in bed, I mean couch, I found myself drifting back to sleep. Then suddenly I woke up again to a house thrown into chaos. Being in the midst of the chaos purely by sleeping in the living room, I rolled over and tried to make conversation with my uncle. Half asleep and thus incoherent, I rolled back into the pillow and back to sleep. What I was waiting for was my 7 year old acid monkey cousin to wake up and rush to the overflowing pile of presents under the tree.

It happened very unclimatically actually. He woke up finally and mosied over to his stocking with his sister trailing slowly behind. I've never seen such lethargic children on Christmas morning. Maybe it's just me (it's not) but when I was 7 I tore out of my bedroom at the crack of dawn screaming and shredding paper from packages as fast as my little hands could. Nothing could deter me from the presents under that damn tree. Those kids leisurely finished their stockings before stopping and having breakfast. What?! What!? I wouldn't eat, breath, sleep, shower, etc until all my presents were openned and lined up for all to see.

The rest of the day was normal as far as Christmases go. We all lounged around browsing our presents as well as others'. Because of the impracticality of bringing presents to LA just to bring them back, our family subset didn't bring many presents for each other. My presents from my parents (aside from one awesome one) are all still at home torturing me from afar. Tomorrow I will return home and enjoy my plunder but until then I must appreciate a few gifts from extended family. I also was not able to give presents to my parents which made me feel bad, but tomorrow that will be remedied.

Christmas dinner was also a success, which given my vegetarian uncle was a pleasant surprise. The turkey was well done, and I don't mean overdone, and there were mash potatoes and fruit and gravy and stuffing and all the other traditional American feasty foods.

Now we are watching Close Encounters of the Third Kind, not quite a Christmas tradition, but lovely to cuddle up with all of us and watch a movie together. All sitting, all quiet, all calm. I have never seen it before but the title reminds me of this weekend. Close encounters with my family. All ten of us crammed into a house built for two. In every room at least two people find respite, on couches, inflatable mattresses, chairs... And in a way we are alien to each other. We see each other a couple times a year or less and in reality we know very little about each others lives. Only what we can glean from the couple days we have with each other. It's not always as spooky as Close Encounters, although sometimes...

Dear Santa,

As you may know, it is in fact Christmas Eve. This is a big night for you, as you, I'm sure, are well aware. I know I may be a little old to be asking things of you but I have a few requests.

First is good weather. Seattle is infamous for it's rainy days. But for Christmas I'd like a nice warm sunny day while I'm down here in LA. I know it's probably hard to deliver a sunny day down the chimney but maybe you could set it outside the biggest window so I can wake up with it shining in. That'd be great.

Second is good food. I'm serious. I want a damn good meal on Christmas. I know this might be hard with my vegetarian uncle preparing the meal but if you could just slip in something nice for me, that' be great.

Third is a good Pandora playlist. Seriously, with all this down time I need something to keep me going, and recently my Pandora hasn't been inspiring me. If you could like... fix that... That'd be great.

The other stuff on my list would be an Italian dictionary, a suitcase with wheels, the ability to beat my boyfriend at hanging with friends, a cure for acne, a cure for dry skin, matching socks, The Help, the cure for writer's block, a phone case, a tour book for Italy, a pair of skinny jeans that aren't too short and/or awkward, some carmex lipbalm, sun glasses, perfume, and unfaltering peace of mind.

Last year I tried to convince you I was good. This year I'm going to give you plenty of space to decide that. This Christmas I've already gotten more than I wanted or expected from the people I love and I hope they feel the same.

Thanks for listening Claus. I'm sleeping on the couch again so I guess I'll see you tonight.

What's Up LA?

Well we've arrived here in LA and I am currently sitting on my uncle's couch between my mom and my cousin, Maggie, 13. My other cousin, Neville, 7, runs around like a monkey on acid. Unlike the other 7 year olds, his energy is not borne out of holiday sugar. In fact, as far as I can tell he does not eat anything. My grandmother sits drinking a small glass of Baileys confusing Tapas bars with topless bars and Tina Fey with Rachel Ray. My dad sits in a chair in the corner trying very hard to curtail his snarky comments-- somewhat unsuccessfully. And my uncle who's house we've unapologetically invaded runs around trying to salvage the damage Neville has begun to inflict on this posh Los Angeles home. The rest of my family sits around the living room dodging the whirling acid monkey. The LA Christmas Family Adventure has officially begun.

It's Begining to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Here we are. 3 sleeps until Christmas. 1 sleep until I head down to L.A. to spend Christmas with my mother's side of the family. My uncle lives down there as a composer. I haven't seen him or my aunt in a few years. I'm excited to be down in L.A. and I'm excited to be with my mom's family.

For those who have been readers for a while you may remember last year I talked about how my parents families don't mingle socially. I forgot that that's not exactly true. There is some intermingling between a subset of each family group that intermingle for Thanksgiving. That has happened the last couple years and some how I just ignored that truth.

That aside, it doesn't change the fact that my parents families have separate celebrations for Christmas. To recap for those who don't read EVERY post I write (damn you), my dad's family gets Christmas Eve and my mom's family gets Christmas day.

Here is where this year is different. For the first time since I was one year old I will not be spending Christmas Eve with my dad's family. That is 18 Christmas Eves with the same people. That's quite a record people, and I'm proud of it.This year I will be in L.A. hanging with my mom's family and, like, famous movie stars.

At least it will be a warm Christmas. I'm hoping it will be a quiet Christmas. I'm not really sure what I should expect. It's been so long since my mom's whole family has been together, and certainly never in L.A. at my uncles place. This has never been attempted, and I wait with uncertain anticipation.

On (un)related note, it's almost Christmas. Santa is packing up his sleigh and it's snowing places (not here, thank god) and kids are amped up on candy and I'm so so happy. Christmas is my favorite time of year. The music, the food, the family, the friends. The fucking presents.

I'm sorry, maybe I'm just a little girl but I love presents. I just do. There is something about getting a surprise gift you weren't expecting. And it's the people who love you that give you those gifts.

But I love giving gifts just as much. I love shopping for them and I love watching them being unwrapped by the person. I just fucking love presents, bitches.

Trains of Thought

Eight AM the alarm rings
And the first train of thought today
Pulls out of the station.
The slow chugging can be murderous in the morning
--The cold engine stutters--
But when that shrill whistle blows
The call of the tracks is loud and unapologetic.
In the bathroom, it is hard to differentiate the steam in the shower
from the steam engine now picking up momentum
The train is now moving down the line at a startling speed
The workers on the tracks stop and take a step back
as they see the determined front wheels barreling towards them
There is a coal deep in my soul that fuels this train.
If a train of thought leaves one side of my brain
at a hundred thousand thinks a minute,
and another train of thought leaves the other side of my brain
at a hundred million thinks a minute
at what point would those two thoughts collide?
And furthermore what would become of it?
If a train leaves my brain
at two hundred thousand thinks a minute
and another train leaves your brain
at three hundred thousand thinks a minute
who will say what they are thinking first?
If my train passes your train
at an unquantifiable speed
will we still look back at each other
after we’ve gone
and wonder what would have happened if we’d have been on the same track?
At some point on your journey you forget where you were headed when you left.
But somehow it’s okay because the engines won’t stop, the engines can’t stop
So you just keep rolling
Until the engine breaks down,
or the conductor gets tired,
or the tracks end
Or the station you now remember you were headed for
Can been seen on the horizon.

Love and War

I wear combat boots
Marching into a war that should have ended years ago
But at the end of the day I still unlace my boots with care.
I hang them up for the nights I spend with you.
You said all’s fair and I said no fucking way
The history of war looks a lot like the history of love
So I pull my boots on tighter every time you say
I love you, Kiera.
Because you said you would stop with holding love like it was a threat.
Your troops gathered and one by one they shot promises into my barracks
Shattering the armor I had built up for the last 20 years.
My life spent building great walls daring someone to have the energy to tear them down
Someone to think this land was worth conquering
Veni, vidi, vici
I’ve been defending my territory since the day I met you.
My armory was not equipped to defend the front lines
I retreated, scrambling to maintain whatever territory I could still call my own
But you kicked down the walls of my barracks,
Invaded my trenches,
Ripped off my pants and upon seeing me defenselessness cried
This is fucking Sparta, Bitches!
You ended up on top,
Thrusting your sword into me until I thought I would die.
You took me down black opps style like I was an enemy of the state.
This is war. This ain’t some Call of Duty Modern Warfare pussy shit.
I never knew catastrophe until I saw the nuclear missiles lying behind your eyes
Mushroom clouds clouding the meaning of your words.
You mistook this for a grenade
You saw a time bomb waiting to envelop you in flame
But what you don’t understand is,
You dodged shrapnel that was never aimed at you
You became the causality of a war I never meant to start
And in the end, our love was collateral damage.
A battle field riddled with the bullet holes of broken promises
Of broken barricades. Of broken hearts.
As the dust begins to settle I tell myself
Next time. Next time I will say a farewell to arms

Dear Gotham: 2.0

Last week I performed in my first ever slam poetry competition. I have been writing poetry for a little less than a year. I've been performing at open mics since about the same time. Last spring I wrote my first slam poem. It was called Dear Gotham and I performed it at the last open mic of Spring Quarter. I posted it here back then but since than I have edited it. And then I performed it at this slam. Well... I didn't make it to the next round so... Ha. Maybe it's not that good. But I thought I'd share the updated version. Also, I have two other slam poems that I wrote specifically for the slam poetry competition that I'll post in the next couple days although I'll warn you ahead of time they are pretty weak.

For a first ever slam poem, I can live with it. (also, any weirdness in spelling, format etc, I'm sorry, it's spoken word poetry, I'm not thinking about how it is read as much as how it is heard.)

I lost my identity the day
I called it Secret
I masked myself,
forgetting what was hidden underneath
Who I was blurring with
who I was pretending to be
Until slowly the facade
became the flesh

Now I fly the streets at night
Suspended by the city’s invisible puppet strings
As I spin my wheels,
my head spinning
I think:
What happened Gotham?
What kind of bleak,
post-apocalyptic society
thought up you?
Your people are dying, Gotham.
Consumed by fire,
consumed by hate,
Costumed by their own gaudy misdeeds
Your streets stink of the poor and down trodden—
Trodden into the dust of your crumbling walls.
Do you embrace the ugly, Gotham?
Do you welcome the misshapen misfits?
Does your modern gothic architecture beckon like liberty’s silhouette from across the sea?

Who is left to clean up, but those who created the mess?
Our ancestors built this city on the bones of the dead—
My ancestors built upon
your dead
And I alone have sanity enough to stop it.

My heart is black like this city.
Black with soot.
Black with broken dreams
This city never had dreams.
It only had the broken
blackened people
who knew better
than to dream.
Count me with the dreamers, Gotham.
Tell the folks back home I pulled this city up by my
spandex.

This city,
where the evil cry out their sonic song
Where the glint of hope in a child’s heart
cannot be seen through the smog.
Where are born the worst scum of the earth—
Sent to disrupt the already
disturbing existence of these wretches.
These wretches that crawl across your dirtied streets,
Slither through your slime
They come out like night crawlers
in the dark,
Looking for dreams
to make nightmares
Their muddy hands thrown up in front of their faces
as dawn approaches

In the dark
the demons come out.
They are locked in little
gilded cages in the light,
But their pen doors are unhitched in the last fleeting rays of sun.

The demons play
upon the temples
of Gotham’s people.
They tap-dance
across craniums
until the pitter-patter
echoing through the skulls
bid a Scarecrow
come and play

We are all afraid, Gotham.
Of bats, of leather-clad cat burglars, of the seething poison
that you spew.
We are afraid of you, Gotham.

I picture you 100 years—
No,
1000 years ago Gotham.
I picture you with gullies
and meadows,
and no smog
so you can see the sun.
What wondrous wildflowers
used to stretch along
the streets
that are now decimated
by Harvey’s dented coin

I know better than to think of you like this.
You were the breeder of pond scum from the beginning
and you will be the breeder of pond scum until the end.

You were built on mysteries
that not even Edward Nashton himself could answer
But riddle me this, Gotham.
Why do I carry on
through all the vacuous desolation?
Bats are not solitary creatures
by nature, you know
Do not fear, citizens of Gotham.
You’re knight
of the dark night is here.

I watch from on high,
my senses buzzing with the thrum of Gotham’s hum.
Not so much a hum
as a roar

At the end of the night
I find myself drunken
with apathy,
Dribbling curse words
down my chin,
Making spit bubbles
out of my shattered
emotions.
The sun rises
and I am reminded of the poor scattered souls,
who made it through
the night,
To live another day
in this city.

Why Etch-A-Sketches, Pencils, and Backspace Keys Have Made Me A Bad Person

Let's all face that facts on one thing right now. We all make mistakes. We forget birthdays, we lose our tempers, we bomb tests, we spill water all over our friends new macbook air. And in the very moment that we realize our mistake, whether it be trivial or catastrophic, we wish wish we could undo it. Or that we didn't do it in the first place. You have a stupid conversation with someone and you say, "forget this ever happened". You get your bag of chips stuck halfway out of the vending machine and you just wish you could take back your $1.25 in dimes and go on with your life like nothing happened.

You don't rear-end a car and go, oh well. Or at least I don't. I go, OH NO! I WISH I COULD UNDO IT. I always wish I could undo that mistakes I made. Unsay the thing I said when I was mad at my boyfriend, unprocrastinate studying so that I could have time to learn the material (what was I doing on youtube for this many hours anyway?), unspill my coffee or uneat that chili dog that is quickly looking to exit me in a noisy, gassy way.

Even if they aren't mistakes, sometimes my timing is wrong (I should have studied hard and then spent four hours watching cat videos cuz at least I wouldn't be stressed). I wish I could go back in time and do it differently.

How did I develop this desire to undo everything I've done? Or, maybe, how did we develop this as a human culture? I blame inventions that allow you to undo. Fuck the Etch-A-Sketch that lets you shake away your mistakes. Damn the pencil that allows you to scrub away any silly doodles about how JRL+KP=LUV. Curse the backspace key on my computer, the key I consistently use more than any other key.

Let me draw in fat, felt tip markers. Let me doodle in sharpies. Let me pry this backspace key off my keyboard and be freed by the fear of moving on from mistakes.

Because how can you move on from mistakes, how can you recover, or rationalize your mistakes if in a blink of an eye that mistake is gone? No one knows. No one will ever know. You can deny your failings. They might as well have never happened.

But they did.

You FUCKED UP BRO.

You held down the shift bar a little too long and typed > instead of .

You didn't hold down the shift bar long enough and typed !!!!!!1111 instead of !!!!!!!!!!

You just hit that parked car. You just broke your fourth iPhone. You just yelled at your roommate. You just damn screwed up, son. There ain't an eraser for that, friend. Everyone can see, everyone knows, and you can't delete that. You can't undo anything.

You have to learn to accept mistakes. I'm not saying that when you mess up you should not care or just say fuck it all. I'm saying man up and recognize, brotha. You done effed up. See it, name it, and deal with it.

Etch-A-Sketches, pencils, backspace bars, they just delude people. It's not real. Remember what's real. Mistakes are real. Embrace them. Cuz they aren't gunna disappear.