another day, another dollar

lols i read this on the onion (it was an old horoscope) and thought it was hilarious:

"There's nothing wrong with being attracted to a man in uniform, but the stars still think you can do better than building custodian"

plus, i thought we needed a last post to make it 7 for december.
who knows, maybe we'll start the new year off lucky.

and there is a time to dance

Footloose is a really great movie.
Kevin Bacon in Footloose is good-looking in an unconventional way.
He kinda looks like a pig.
I love how when i tell people i don't eat pig they always assume it's for religious reasons.
My parents are included in those 'people' i just mentioned, lol.
I usually do laugh when i write lol; i know a lot of people don't.
But then again, i laugh at a lot of things.
Laughing at old people getting hurt isn't funny though.
Laughing at anyone, for that matter, getting hurt is not funny at all. >:{
I remember i said that one time and some random guy was like:
"Then you must really hate America's Funniet Home Videos."
I thought that was funny/memorable/mostly funny.
When i was young, i used to say that i wanted to be a comedian when i grew up.
Not to say i'm not young now, nor am i grown up.
Last July, in Washington Square Park i heard this guy sing this absolutely amazing acoustic version of that Killers song, When You Were Young, it was really moving. Not gonna lie, it might have been better than the original.
It didn't hurt that he was cute too.
In an unconventional way, like Kevin Bacon in Footloose.
Yup, that was a good good movie.

a most unusual take on things

This week I spoke to someone who I hadn't talked to in a while; it was sad, considering we were good friends at one point. Still, it left me thinking on our interpretations of things and how easy it is to reform friendships.


It was like his mind did not stick. He roamed freely from one subject to the next: we discussed the beauty of staplers, wishes, outer space, foxes, and Santa hats...all in a matter of 20 minutes.

"So who'd you vote for most unusual," he nonchalantly asked, in reference to our senior superlatives. "Um, you, of course," I said with a smile that was returned, "And R.C. for the girl category." "Oh?! She is weird! Thank God it was her, because I've heard so many people voting for A.M.--who's weird but not in the same way I am, if you know what I mean. People should be more careful with their labels," he responded.

And I did know what he meant. He's unusual in the interesting kind of way. The type of person who never ceases to surprise you because one day he's fixated on unicycles and the next he's mastering the art of the Rubik cube (while he's blindfolded). His mind does not stick; and these days, that's unusual.

"I do, I mean, I know; I thought the same thing, actually,"I responded after a short period of silence.

A few more seconds passed before he said, "And I voted you for most dependable, because, you always were."

Deus ex machina is the literary term for when something conveniently happens in a play that was unforeseen. I don't know if I'm using this in the right context, but it's what I thought of when someone unexpectedly called his name and he had to leave; it was like in a scripted movie. But with that brief conversation, it felt that awkward period had never existed, like we were still close friends and 10 years old.


pee. ess. have a great time in colombia, L.

I once wrote a poem

I once wrote a poem.
I liked it.
A lot.
I showed it to my friend.
She laughed.
She showed it to another girl.
She laughed too.
So, I laughed too.
But just because I had to.
I had to.
I didnt want to look like a dork.
Like Baljeet.
Except Baljeet isn't a dork.
He's a completely adorable kid.
Well, cartoon character I should say.
Either way, a dork I did not want to be.
She was a meanie.
Meanie bo beenie.
But she didn't know I guess.
She didn't know that she was being a caca face.
So I shouldn't blame her.
But still, I guess subconsciously it disappointed me.
A lot.
Well, I guess it's not subconscious since I know it did.
It disappointed me to find out she was careless.
That she didn't measure the effect her words might have.
That she was so loose with her words.
Still, I love her.
She's one of my closest friends.
I like her flaws.
I like her goodness.
I like her.
I wish I had told her how she made me feel.
I wish I would have said something.
But I didn't.
I laughed and made a mental note never to share my poetry.

(Baljeet:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CpDixHinnVQ)

an intimate moment in a public place

It's a funny thing, loneliness.
There was a big silence before she said,
"I feel like I have no one to talk to,
Like I've lost a part of myself."

It's a state we've been at, I think.
But I can't help but want to be there at the moment.
To have no one.

Okay, maybe not no one, that sounds a bit sadistic
But one person,
One genuinely awesome person;
It wouldn't feel fake.

If there's anything I've learned this year
It's that the Fourth of July car rides in the morning
And the occasional bus laughs in the afternooon
Might have just been the highlight of my day.

Not to say I dislike them now,
But with many of them it feels forced:
Like something done out of convenience or courtesy.
A favor you do because of so many years spent together.
And frankly, I'm not down for that.

Maybe sometimes having no one
Is better.
Or it might just be the down time
Before someone
Who can Save you comes along.

Starting a blog

Starting a blog is a hard thing to do.
Starting a blog is very nerve wrecking.
The first post is hard.
This post is taking so much out of me.
I don't know what to say.
I really don't.
I mean, when I got the idea to start a blog, I thought:
"hey, I have thoughts. I can blog!"
That feeling is GONE.
Like the wind.
Kaput!
Because,
FACT: writing to no one in particular is hard.
FACT: wittiness is a hard thing to achieve.
But who says I'm witty to begin with.
Shoot.
I guess this is getting awkward.
Like when you're walking in a hallway and then you bump into someone and then for some strange reason, you both pick the same way to go after that.
It becomes a dance.
An extremely awkward dance.

Anyway,
I hope this gets easier as time goes by.
I really do.
Like a lot.
I don't want to bomb this blog.
Like an atomic bomb.
That would be so sad.
Like really sad.
So before I do that.
EOM.

like our first teacher together

It was just an idea.
A simple spur of the moment thought;
Or that's what it seemed like.

She's like that, always.
When you think she's being being random,
You realize the subject is something she's been contemplating for a while
And she's sharing it because she wants input.

This time, however, she didn't just want a reaction but a response (there's a difference, you know, between reaction and response, or at least I think there is).

"How about I would like to start a blog.
Do you think people would read it?"
"I don't know. I'd read it"
"I have ideas. I guess I get weird things and ideas"
"Then you should. I mean, if you have the time"
"But I do, and I mean, no one would read it."
"You should; I would"
"You want to do it with me?"

And just like that, it began.