Mar 28, 2011

this is beautiful

Date A Girl Who Reads
An article by Rosemarie Urquico

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilightseries.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Mar 24, 2011

so time consuming

i hate painting my nails because i'm so obsessive about it so it takes me like 2 hours to do 2 coats + a topcoat. I CANNOT CONTROL MY LEFT HANDSFAJSDKLAJA

Mar 17, 2011

it's the same old fight

maybe not exactly the same because at least now i don't act on the impulse to starve myself to dust, but it's still not easy. and it's really exhausting, but nobody ever said it wouldn't be. it's like i read once, you can stop the behaviors but the thoughts never completely go away. i'm always going to wish i could be smaller, because in the end i feel like my very existence is the imposition that keeps the world from spinning the way it is supposed to. i always feel in the way, or unwelcome, or just unworthy. it's like my mind thinks that if i can make myself smaller, i'll be less imposing. but i know the cycle and i know it just keeps going, because you can always be smaller until you're dead.

anyway the other day i went camping with four friends and had a much needed break from my routine. it was supposed to be their 'guys only' camping trip but they all said i should go because i'm "practically a guy with but with boobs," which i guess is nice of them. after so many years of isolating myself, i'm always amazed at the connections i feel to people around me. it's funny how we all talk and laugh and can pretty much say anything, but the best moments are the ones where we're all driving in the car with the radio turned up and we're not saying anything. or where we're all sharing cinnamon-fried ice cream with strawberries and whipped cream at el encanto and i'm not caring about the calories because why should i?

i wish i could have that mentality when it's just me and myself, with nobody else to tell me it's okay. when i'm with my friends i get so swept up in the excitement that i can allow myself to indulge without guilt, but when i'm alone all i can see are the imperfections that my mind wants to starve away. march 15th marked exactly 2 years since the day i came home from mirasol, and i still struggle, but i know that i'll struggle for the rest of my life. it won't always be so hard, but the urge will always be there. the difference now is that i'm fighting it, and i try to remember that.

Mar 12, 2011


i wanna change pretty much everything about me,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Mar 5, 2011

250/two fiddy

if you haven't read anything by derrick brown, do it. he is so good i can't even. this is the first poem i ever read from him, and it started an addiction that cannot be tamed.

cotton in the air
by derrick brown

Your polished back is arched like Saint Louis.

I can see your fingers pushing into the bricks
when I lift your hair
to smell October drain from your neck.

You are cotton caught in the air
I am unfurling laces in your body.

I move on you steady like a fleet of ships pushing ice.
I want to break it all.

Your tank top strap slips down the huh huh of your shoulder
and I will not strain meaning from this.

I have to taste all of your shapes with my teeth,
circles of salt
square butter.

Waltzing a wrecking ball.

I lift your body so that your legs strap to my hips and you
are now adorned.
I toss you around the room because I don’t want to be inside;
I want to walk through you.

So I can know.

I am wading in the dark felt Tijuana paintings of your hair.

I am molting my bed clothes uncoiling towards Sahara.

All I want to do is hot lust you into dead sweat.
To watch your legs, those bent sickles,
to watch them shake
like poisoned wrens.

I am gnashed and dazzled.
Smother me in the exhausted thrust of your yes. . . .
as exploding laundromats.

You will be rough-balanced and throne-sucked and
tongue-dozed hard.
A straggler you can’t shake from your open-air lava solo.

May I be the image you turn to
when you are heaving alone,
burning like Halloween in Detroit?

I am breathing up your legssssspitting at the hiding nightingale.

Drift your breasts into my mouth
and I will be that doped up, spinning victrola.

La la la la la la.

I want to make love to you while you’re wearing figure skates
until the hardwood floors are toothpicks.
I want to kiss your throat in a dressing room with my hands
bound around your voice.
I want you to leave your boots on in your apartment
so we march our bodies across the ceiling
and confuse the neighbors.

I don’t care if you made that dress,
I will shred it until you look deserted.

You’re as restless as a New Orleans graveyard in a storm
with the coffins boiling up to the surface.

That’s all this writing is. You are across from me and the
soup is cooking.

I sit up all night listening to your dental records.

I will teach you of exorcism and screw the hell out of you.

I will carry your steam in my mouth.

Daydreaming of the evening of loud struggle.
Call my name—I will cascade like a suicide.
I will fall upon you like a box of fluorescent bulbs
dropped from a five-story building.

I will do anything you ask. . . .
unless I have been drinking; then it is opposite day.

I can’t believe you can sleep through all this.

Chunks of brick in your fingernails.
Mortar on your pillow
A bomb shelter
sketched on your skirt.


oh my god, to write like this. i want to marry this man.

Mar 3, 2011

249 my babies

so check these lil guys out,

COLLECTIVE AWWW. a bunny had babies in our hay pile in the backyard, there are five of them. their names are:

oenomaus (ik ik, wtf, it's pronounced "ani-may-us")
and crixus

BROWNIE POINTS IF YOU KNOW WHAT THOSE NAMES ARE FROM. anyways, the names aren't really fitting considering they're nothing but furry little puffs of cute, but that's not the point. they are my babies. but that picture was taken probably a week ago when their eyes were still closed. since then their eyes have opened and they've left the nest, on their own in this cruel world :'( and all that stuff

so this is when they opened their eyes:

and this is spartacus (the only two you can really tell apart are spartacus and gannicus. spartacus is the smallest and darkest and he has a little white mark on his head and gannicus is the biggest and he has a white mark on his head too!)

obv i didn't just pick him up without knowing it was okay, for those of you who are like OMG THE MAMA BUNNY WILL ABANDON THEM IF YOU TOUCH THEM, okay i did some research before touching them and mother bunnies have very strong maternal instincts and it's hard to get them to abandon their babies! and the only ones i picked up were s and g because they're my fave lil warriors ♥

they've all left the nest now even though they're still tiny. that's kinda what i feel like. i mean obv i'm not as tiny or cute as those bunnies, but i feel like i've just barely opened my eyes and i'm already leaving the nest and it's like, um no there are predators out there, i want back in my hay pile please.


it's been a while huh?

a lot of things have happened. one, got fired from my job at vs because a girl at a dif store decided to screw me over during an exchange, made it look like i was trying to steal money from the company and didn't ring me up as an associate, reported it later making it look like i got $15 back WHEN I DIDN'T GET NO MONEY BACK, anyways basically she gets me fired for something tha ti didn't even do, and gets $50 for getting me fired because that is the "culture of honesty" that the company believes in. if you report someone and get them fired, you get $50. so, good for her, i hope she used that money to buy some crack or something

this happened about 2 1/2 weeks ago but i'm still bitter, i hold onto things i guess. probably because i fucking loved that job with every little fiber of my being. my boss was a total sweetheart. it wasn't her decision to terminate me, it was the "district manager" who i've only ever met twice and both of those times i was on break stuffing my face so how's that for a good impression. anyway she (my boss, not the dm) sent me a really sweet message on facebook after the fact. she felt really bad about the whole thing but hey life happens

alsooo someone got mad at me over a silly facebook post, proceeded to block me, delete my number, and key my car because that's how you deal with problems in today's world. so that was good.

2011 has been year of the medical bills for my family. dad was in ICU for 17 days at $15,000-20,000 A DAY. as in, for one day! and he almost died like 5 or 6 times. and now mom's getting knee surgery, and i will withhold all the gruesome details but i might have some serious shyt going on with my stomach and maybe am going to die but idc anymore i really just want my job back. when i'm not working i sit and do stupid things all day and get depressed. such a sad story right.

i need to finish my stupid assignment, i actually have TWO stupid assignments to finish now that i think of it, i'm such a procrastinator. a wise man once said "procrastination is like masturbation, it's fantastic until you realize you're just fucking yourself"

umm, here's a picture of a pretty guy

donno who he is but i don't mind if he bums here for a while