Warm Summer Days Indoors

There was a certain amount of comfort to be had in overheating, he thought, it was a constant of summer and reminder that he was alive, he supposed.

Looking through the windowed roof of the day room with the comforting presence of her head on his stomach he couldn’t help but wonder at the heat, even indoors with the overhanging shade of the trees above the day room, it was stifling.

He felt her shift against his bottom rib on the left side, the small huff of breath that almost said: what to do? but then she settled back down and closed her eyes.

What to do indeed, heat washed over every thing in his head. It was sluggish and he watched the shadows on the panes of the roof sway with shadows from the trees that swayed lightly in the humid breeze. What to do?

Photo Credit: digsdigs.com

They were wasting time he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He let his hand idly bush through her hair, burning up from the sunlight it had absorbed. He was glad she had stuck around, it was a good feeling.

When she was around he could pretend it didn’t feel like he was falling apart. Laying there on the floor in the heat it felt like the brittle glue holding him together had melted again into place, whole.

In the sun it was perfect, her hand rested lightly on his ribs, the knuckle of her middle finger skimming the patch of t-shirt over his heart. Time was passing by him at an alarming rate, it made his heart race — there wasn’t enough time to begin with, why was he squandering it?

A bell sounded from further in the house and his blood recoiled, the hand in her hair tensed and pulled at the strands, he could hear footsteps approaching. It had reached the hour, he should get back to work but his hand stayed in her hair.

He placed his other hand over her upturned one on his chest and closed his eyes, sunlight warming his eyelids.

It was oppressively hot but that was okay for him, it was okay for her and the footsteps receded almost as soon as they were heard.

prom

the dresses flowed endlessly like water through a river,

curls bounced up and down,

and faces were perfected with more makeup than let on.

i didn’t think this night would end up how it did,

with myself falling more in love with you.

as i stared across the room my eyes landed on you,

sitting with others whom you don’t know quite yet, but you soon will.

you’re not how i though you would be,

you’re different.

but different is good.

i don’t know what it is about you,

your eyes, smile, or personality that captures me every time.

it’s something that makes me stumble over my words and lose track of my thoughts

it’s something that makes me want to know you better,

figure out all the great things about you;

it’s something that is just as special as you.

 

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com

 

Pissage off

If I hear just one more person saying that “horseback riding isn’t an actual sport,” I will literally rip out their eyeballs and stuff them in their ignorant mouths. Maybe not literally, okay, but seriously, figuratively.

via i.pinimg.com

I don’t think I can handle another baseball or golf squirt trying to explain to me that “the horse does all the work,” because all I do is “sit on it.” Well okay, Richard, I don’t really see you doing much exercise when you walk along next to your caddie. Have you ever tried even holding a horse, a living being that weighs like a thousand pounds and usually really isn’t in the mood for cooperation? I bet your baseball bat doesn’t step on your feet ten times a day.

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And how about the fact that riding horses literally consists of trying to control a usually gigantic flight animal that could probably kill you if it really wanted to, and to do so you literally have to use every single muscle you posses in your tired, half dead body? Then try doing that for like an hour a day, without getting 100% frustrated, or, you know, dying.

But you’re right. It’s not a sport. My bad.

A Series of Unfortunate Events Season 2

Just this past Friday, March 30, A Series of Unfortunate Events season two arrived with gusto. Streaming on titan platform Netflix, season two has expanded from eight episodes to ten and takes the views up through book nine.

Photo Credit: variety.com

This season sees the introduction of the two remaining Quagmire triplets, a swagger filled Nathan Fillion stepping into the role of Jacques Snicket, and a wonderful, fourth wall breaking, sense of self awareness that shows of this nature often lack.

While yes it does follow a predictable plot line, which was a problem many had with the first season: bad guardian –> something terrible –> Baudelaires escape. The beauty of this repetitive and predictable plot line though is it allows actors like Neil Patrick Harris (Count Olaf) and Nathan Fillon (Jacques Snicket) to really work their roles and have fun doing so, which is reflected as fully realized and sharp characters.

Photo Credit: syfy.com

The plot, instead of taking front and center like most shows/movies, takes a backseat to an incredibly immersive and rich world. Instead of trying to turn darkly fantastical source material into highly approachable comic realism (e.g. Marvel Comics), the plot champions a wonderful sort of self-realized, almost escapist fantasy that is unafraid to hit viewers in the face with a strong message of: This is our world, not yours.

With this world also comes the introduction of the highly secretive and, thus far, very vague secret society of VFD as the Baudelaires chase after red herring after red herring (ha).

Photo Credit: screenrant.com

This season is wonderful and keeps the Baudelaires on the move, it maintains the spirit of the books and the first season with dexterity, and manages newly introduced plot lines with ease. I recommend this show so highly it and I are probably in space. Go watch it.

Now I may be a bit biased by the fact that I get to see one of my all time favorite series on screen, if one is in the mood for a more comprehensive look at season two (spoiler warning) there is one here.

three poems (that don’t have anything to do with each other)

Thank you.

A girl, pale and sweet

skipping through the sunset,

via static.tumblr.com

cutting dead roses

to put in her hair.

“Why, child,” says her mother.

“Those are dead!”

The girls nods understandingly.

“Yes momma, you killed them.”

_________________________

200 Glowing Stars

Every night, before I sleep

I lay down

on my bed in my room

in my home, our home.

via biggreen.club

It might not be what it was

before the fire took our flame.

but we have a tapestry,

200 glowing stars (exactly),

CDs and vinyls

and signed posters,

new favorite dresses

and a surprisingly healthy orchid.

It smells like cool air and rosemary,

a little bit like horse.

we have a door and walls

and a window with a view

on the top of a hill

with ruins that won’t be rebuilt.

but we have our room

where I lay at night

covered in a blanket

of our 200 glowing stars.

_____________________

Where were you

where were you when I needed you?

where were you when my house had no walls,

when the sun refused to look me in the eyes

and tell me I was worth shining for.

when claws ripped my pride

like a wet paper bag,

scratching

gnawing

beating up on me

over and

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over and

over again.

Where were you then?

I remember your face–

as if it was a bad dream–

behind the mirror watching me

your hideously gorgeous face.

go away.

I don’t need you now

to make up

what you unrestorably took.

26/1

I wanted to cause damage.

 

I wanted to feel something, anything other than alone.

I wanted to live hope, to have tangible hope.

I wanted to have hope that I wasn’t dead

so I aimed to maim instead.

I wanted it to stop.

To know you’re just like me.

Photo Credit: threadless.com

I wanted the world to stop,

 

I wanted a chance to crack open the hearts that didn’t want me

and scar them. To see the same hurts on them as on mine.

I wanted to crack open every ribcage until I found you:

the heart that beats with mine.

I wanted to break those that are perfect to feel for

just a moment

perfection between my two hands.

But time didn’t stop, I can’t hear your heart.

Everyone goes on smiling, band-aiding each other’s hearts while I try to wash the blood off my hands.

I feel like bleeding out.

The only damage I can cause is to the heart in my hands.

The one that fell out of my own chest.

25 more things to be happy about

A few weeks ago I compiled a list of 25 things that make me happy. I’m not in the happiest of moods currently, so I’m creating a sequel in an effort to cheer myself up.

  1. Music – the only thing that I know absolutely makes the world a better place.
  2. The sore dents I get on my fingertips after playing guitar for too long.
  3. Singing harmonies.
  4. Hugs – good, wholesome, all-encompassing hugs.
  5. Seeing my friends succeed.
  6. Having good hair days.
  7. Being proud of something.
  8. Going a week without biting my nails.
  9. Eating passion fruit.
  10. Being able to sleep in, for once.
  11. Having my driver’s permit (and the bragging rights that come with it).
  12. The times when I feel pretty.
  13. How silence isn’t uncomfortable with my closest friends.
  14. Tea tree oil.
  15. Getting buried in sand at the beach with only my head sticking out, and the sand that covers my body being carved into a mermaid.

    Image via elephantjournal.com
  16. Laughing until tears come out of my eyes.
  17. Finding the perfect tree for climbing.
  18. Climbing said tree.
  19. Being barefoot.
  20. The satisfaction of overlooking a valley after hiking all the way up it.
  21. How my nose gets red when it’s really cold out, and I can see my breath in the air.
  22. Being so hot that I can feel the sweat evaporating off of my skin.
  23. The comfort of a cool breeze in the summertime (the best feeling in the world).
  24. Grass coming back after the fire.
  25. Peeling a tangerine in a perfect spiral.

Imagine

Imagine if you could do anything you wanna do, be anyone you wanna be, go anywhere you wanna go.

Where would you go? What would you do?

You always hear parents saying to their children,”you can do anything you want, you just have to believe in it.” My parents never told me that. I’m glad they didn’t. I wouldn’t have wanted them to lie to me.

credit: dressage-news.com

I can’t do anything I want to, that’s simply not plausible. I’m not brave enough to become an astronaut, that’s for sure. I don’t have the time and endurance to practice enough to become a Grand Prix Dressage rider. I definitely don’t have the voice to become a singer, and I’ll never fit the standards to become a model.

But if I could, if I had all these possibilities, what would I do?

I would do everything I know I can’t do. I’d hike up Mount Everest, because why not? I’d ski the Olympic Super-G, race to the podium just for the heck of it. I’d start a band and travel around the world to perform our music to millions of obsessive fans. I’d create the most beautiful paintings of life and beauty and ugly love, so stunning that they’d immediately be displayed in the Louvre. Honestly, I’d probably successfully bake a cake for once, because I don’t see that happening any time soon with my striking lack of talent.

credit: cpr.org

There are so many things in this world, big and small, that I would love to do or achieve or become in my life, and I know most of those things will never possibly happen. Though I’d obviously love to become a world famous artist, that’s not what I need. Of course we need equal rights for everyone, the same opportunities. But it is good that not all of us have the same talents, the same passions, sometimes it is good that we can’t be anything we want. After all, that makes up our individuality.

It’s our hearts that make a beat

Music is one of the most important things in my life. Ever since I was a kid, waddling around my kindergarten, I’d be singing along to songs I didn’t know the lyrics to. As it turned out later, I was a horrible singer, but that didn’t matter as a child. It made me happy.

My first favorite song was “Fight for your Right to Party” by The Beastie Boys. I obviously had no idea what it meant, considering I didn’t understand a word of English at that point. But it was the energy and positivity in their voices that got me. My mom told me it was a little too aggressive for a six year-old girl to listen to, but, you know, that really didn’t bother me.

The first instrument I ever learned to play was the violin, mainly because I was obsessed with this kids TV show about young Mozart. Well, I wasn’t very good at it, and my siblings always complained about that “awful noise” whenever I practiced, so I quit after about two years.

credit: lovethispic.com

But even after that I was really into music. I’d memorize my favorite songs, film music videos with my friends and siblings, we’d perform our own version of “Mamma Mia!” to our parents- all that cringy stuff.

In tenth grade, I started playing the piano, because I wanted to be able to play all of Twenty One Pilots’ songs, since they are my absolute favorite band and I really can’t sing. Apparently, I am not musically talented at all, but, again, that doesn’t really bother me. So I started playing the ukulele. I’m pretty sure it is one of the easiest instruments to play, because even I have mastered some songs by now. And that really says something.

Being able to successfully play music, all by myself, with only a couple YouTube tutorials and UkuTabs.com (literally the most helpful website ever) I gained some confidence. So, when I got bored over last summer, I decided to take a drum lesson. The drums have always been my favorite instrument in a band, they’re so unique and mentally and physically difficult, and to be honest, my favorite celebrity is a drummer so that might have played a role in it as well… I got to use my neighbor’s drums in his basement, that was hopefully a hundred percent soundproof, because I had no idea what I was doing. But after hours and hours in that hot, stuffy basement, I at least learned how to keep a decent beat. There are few things that I’ve experienced in my life that feel better than hitting the drums as if my life depended on it.

credit: tumblr.com

When the new school year started, I joined garage band. It’s probably one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I’m so thankful, too, since there are already two really good drummers in the band, and they still accepted me, even though I’m pretty bad. But even playing a basic beat in the very back of on stage with a group of such talented others filled me with so much joy and new confidence. Also, apparently, “girl drummers are bad-a**”.

That same year I also started playing the guitar. I’m a really slow learner, and I’m still pretty bad at it, but I love music so much, everything about it. As long as I get some pretty sounds out of it, it makes me happy. As long as I’m not perfect yet, I will keep practicing. That might take a while though.

Probably the most important things I lost in the fire last winter were my guitar, my ukulele, and the school’s drum set. Whenever I felt down or needed distraction, I’d listen to music, and whenever I really needed to feel better, I’d play it on those instruments.

This sounds like such a cliché, but music has always been there for me. I’ve always had great friends in my life, and a sister whom I could tell almost everything. But there are some times where I don’t want to talk to anyone, and don’t want to hear anything, except the tune of my favorite songs.

Why, Disney, Why?

A couple of days ago it was announced that the release date for the live action Mulan was pushed back yet again to Spring of 2020.

Photo Credit: weibo.com

Meanwhile other movies have been pushed up and newly announced, now I can’t say what is going on behind the scenes at Disney or what is going on with any part of the Mulan-in-the-making, however I can say that from where I’m sitting I’m angry.

I’m not angry at production, corporate, actors, etc. I am a general type of angry that I will have to wait two more years to see my favorite Disney “princess” back on the big screen (admittedly, I watch the cartoon version almost monthly {life is stressful}).

Photo Credit: ew.com

Why, Disney, why? I understand the importance of Avengers: Infinity War but I want to see an Asian-woman-led movie. Which I will get courtesy of Constance Wu in Crazy Rich Asians (GO CONSTANCE!), but it’s not Mulan.

My heart hurts and child-me feels a little bit like I was offered matcha ice cream only to find out it was a heaping scoop of wasabi, but oh well. I guess I’ll have to wait two more years to see Liu Yifei (who I will, until further notice, imagine is me) kicking some major Hun a*s and saving China.