A Few of My Favorite Things
I decided to do a happy post. So, in true Sound of Music fashion, I’m going to tell you about a few of my favorite things. Here are seven things that make me smile really really big.
—————————ready?———————————————————————————-
——————————————–set———————————————————————–
————-GO—————————————————————————————————–
one) I really really like Valentine’s Day. I think I’ve only actually spent one or two of them with someone I was dating, but that was never the point. My sister loves the holiday, and loves to use it as a way to express love not solely to significant others, but to people who are important. Like family. So we usually pick a day close to the holiday and spent it together with our mom, eating lots of chocolate things that will, as Kyle likes to say, put us in a sugar-induced coma. My mom decorated the table with pink and white and red little lovey things, and filled a pretty white dish with the best candy ever, See’s hearts. They only come out once a year, so they’re very very important
two) I think I’ve spotlighted her enough on my blog, but nothing is better than the cutest puppy in the whole world. Right now my mom would be a little irked to see her sleeping on the couch with its super-cute new cover but I think she’s cute enough to get away with murder. So I let her. Right now, though, she’s snoring. Her favorite things list doesn’t include staying up super late writing happy things, even if mine does. She prefers a reasonable bedtime, but she’ll settle for sleeping in late with me in the mornings. Isn’t that nice of her?
three) I am addicted to art/writing supplies, and my newest favorite things in that department are the new journal, bottom, and sketchbook, top. My cute new journal has neon-colored paisleys on the cover, which is the coolest thing ever, and my classy new sketchbook looks simple and sleek. The inside contains full-paged pen & ink drawings and testings of my new chalks.
four) Rarely do I have the excuse to buy a new cooking book. Especially with my mommy the excellent chef always at hand, I never lack for advice in the kitchen. But we both agreed I need a personal guide to baking, since that’s my favoritest thing in the kitchen. There’s an understood quiet rule that you can only buy aesthetically beautiful cookbooks and this one certainly achieves it. It has full-page pictures of the finished products, as well as about five pages with pictures of “perfect” goods compared to under-, over-, and other -cooked bads. The best part is that the book was seriously discounted and we got it for a steal. Also, it’s pink, which is all I can really hope for in a book. I can’t decide to make madeleines or raspberry thumbprint shortbread cookies first. Such a dilemma!
five) While the person who bequeathed him to me is no longer a person I’m in friendly contact with, I have to include this lil lemur guy on my happy things list. Most find him creepy, others find him disgustingly, childishly “pop” cute, but I find him irresistibly perfect. He is too cute for his own good, but not in a bad way. And in an illogical kind of way, that statement makes sense so shush. He is my friend and I shall tolerate no ill-will on his behalf. If a reader of mine doesn’t understand why he is perfect in my opinion, then I think you’re missing a fundamental piece of information about me. I like the silly, the whimsical, and the creepy-cute. He lives on my bookshelf and guards the cup of tea usually resting to cool next to him.
six) This is my newest favorite happy escape book. It’s by the same author who did my other super happy favorite escape book, City of Dreaming Books. I need this book the same way I need this post, and I like it. It’s full of silly scribble illustrations to show me what’s going on, which I appreciate. It makes me remember how to be whimsical and fantastical which I’m pretty sure are two of the most important things in my world. My author has written another book, as well, so I’ll have something the next time I need a brand new favorite happy escape. Yay.
seven) While reading a good book, I’ve found a cup of tea is essential. It’s very very very important to my sanity to have it readily available to sip on, and over the years I’ve narrowed down my four favorites. I like earl gray in the morning, jasmine and peppermint throughout the day, and then peppermint or chamomile when I try to sleep. I like other brands of tea as well, but this brand I buy for the name. It’s a super silly indulgence, but I don’t much care. I like that my teas, all lined up in a row, say “stash” on them. I’m allowed to have these kinds of indulgences, right?
——————————————–————————————————————————–
This is what my face looks like concerning all these seven things (except less posed, I think). These things are what I think of when the dog bites, or if a bee should sting, or if I’m just plain feeling sad.
I like that all I have to do is remember them, and then I just don’t feel quite so bad.
Also, singing that song should be my not-so-secret number eight. Hush
When I Grow Up
I want to be this kind of grown up
I really don’t know what else I want to. I don’t have a clue what I want to be when I grow up anymore, but I know that I want it to somehow incorporate this concept.
Some would call this a good step. 
Yeah We’re All Going to Get in a Fight!
This post is, in essence, an ode to my sister. She’s great at a lot of things, and I’m sure horrible at some. But this is just about highlighting one of her many talents: comforting the recently single. She rocks at it. She is better at bashing my many exes than I’ve ever allowed myself to be. I’m nice to them–I’m sure some readers of this can even attest to it, how I defend my exes (well, they’ve just heard me defend one, but I defend them all, really).
It got to the point where I had to ban her from even saying Sabina’s name, she could be so wonderfully nasty about her.
People like to joke (at least, they used to. It’s faded as we’ve grown up) that we were like twins–we used to look like it, and we’ve always acted somehwhat like it. If it was true, when it comes to break ups, she’s the bad twin. And I absolutely love her for it.
Because she’s not a mean person. It’s not like she hates everyone I date and just waits for the break up to release it (at least, she’s never let on to me that that’s how she feels!). She’s just really good at letting me know how why I should hate them when it’s an appropriate time to feel hate, becauser I can never come up with enough reasons (sometimes, any).
So about a month ago, we were driving in her hot little car feeling like hot little girls and we were playing the radio loud. I didn’t know the song, but you catch on pretty fast to the lyrics. When I started laughing and singing along, she told me it made her think of me, post-breakup. I think it makes me think of me when I’m around *her* post-breakup!
“So so what?
I’m still a rock star
I got my rock moves
And I don’t need you
And guess what
I’m having more fun
And now that we’re done
I’m gonna show you tonight
I’m alright, I’m just fine
And you’re a tool
So so what?
I am a rock star
I got my rock moves
And I don’t want you tonight”
(the chorus to Pink’s So What song)
We listened to that song really loudly, drove to the place we used to live and then “broke in” to the clubhouse’s hot tub and went skimpy dipping (skimpy= in underwear). We flirted our hot little ways out of trouble with the security guard who checked up on us.
The song just seemed to fit so well. Plus, whenever I get a little grumpy, I hear Pink’s fabulously strong voice shout “We’re all going to get in a fight!” and I just feel a little bit better.
So in the end, I love my sister for being able to hate my exes when I can’t. Because I rarely can. 
Enjoy!
Product Placement
Product placement is an effective way to get my goat. I get annoyed at it, and mock it mercilessly. I take offense not at the thought that they think it’s effective; that by showing me a can of Pepsi, I’ll be tempted to buy it. I more take offense to the implication that the lifestyles portrayed in tv and movies are normal lifestyles that you should work hard to emulate.
I remember how indignant I got when I watched some House episode, early on in the seasons (second season, maybe?). House had a bed going, and he makes it for $100. He just pulls a hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet to wave around. It surprised me, and gave me a moment’s pause. No one carries around multiple hundred-dollar bills (he ended up having two or three on him). Even if you have enough money to waste one hundred of it on a silly bet, you wouldn’t carry around such large bills like that, and wave them about so casually. So that’s a good example of what I mean when I say I don’t like how tv sets ridiculously high and unrealistic standards for people to try to emulate.
When it comes to casual, cheap product placement, though, I’ve giving up my soapbox stance and I just laugh. When I watch a crappy movie and am bored, I just end up counting the ads I find. My friends dragged me to that second National Treasure movie in the theatres, and I counted thirteen before I gave up because I couldn’t recognize what it was that I should buy (I can’t tell one car brand from another if my life depended on it, really).
The thing that could get me frustrated is that I tend to be the most indignant about this, regardless of which crowd of friends I’m with. So when I went to go see The Day The Earth Stood Still with my mom, I was so surprised that her loudest complaint about the movie was the blatant product placement. My personal favorite was when the main character looks at her watch to check the time and all you see is the watch’s face, the size of the entire screen, with the brand printed in huge letters across the center (no, I’m so not going to repeat the brand. Like I’ll give them more coverage than they already paid for!). The best part was that time was not really of the essence in that scene, or at all related to what was going on. It was as if they’re giving up trying to be subtle.
That being said, I’ve decided to throw all throwing power of attackunicorn.wordpress.com at endorsing my favorite brand of cookies, Hit Cookies. That’s right, take a good luck at that picture and feel your mouth start to water. You know you want to go buy some.
Seriously, though, these cookies do rock. And I like them. A lot. They’re the perfect blend of sweet cookie goodness and crunchy, munchy goodness. I forget how much I like them until I find them somewhere. Then I devour as many as I can get my hands on.
A Slight Obsession
Okay, some of my friends and family might disagree on my use of the word “slight”, but whatever. I’m sure I’m not even HALF as bad as other little fanboys and fangirls out there. I mean, it took me like a friggin week to find the new trailers.
But omg omg omg *squeal* Watchmen is going to be so awesome. And if it’s not, well, come two in the morning on March 6, I’ll be crying like the little baby I’ve always feared I am.
It shouldn’t, though. I mean, I know Alan Moore would disagree with me heartily, but it seems pretty faithful to the graphic novel. I’m sure there’ll be some “updates” to make it relevant to current culture, but from all the stills and movie clips they’re releasing (and boy oh boy are they releasing a bunch), it looks like it’ll be good.
So yes, I’ve jumped on the bandwagon (fuck, I was one of the FIVE PEOPLE who recognized the trailer in Dark Knight’s opening at IMAX), but I jumped a while ago. I jumped when the bandwagon was just a couple of tricycles tied together. Okay, maybe not as early as all that, but still. Five people recognized Watchmen during Dark Knight, and I was one of them (I was the one who forgot how to breath, I was so excited).
It’s, if not my favorite graphic novel, definitely top three. The Fountain (I know so many people preferred the movie, but I really really liked the graphic novel better. I know. Shoot me) and Alan Moore’s V for Vendetta are its highest competitors.
Super stoked. Both the European trailer and Comic Con clip are online, and I really liked the Comic Con one. I found it on iTunes, though, which I kind of prefer because then it’s on my computer and I’m not waiting on my internet connection. They show some pretty cool movie shots, and I’d say they’re both worthwhile to look into (if you’re as much into it as I am).
The Best Building EVER
Bellingham beaches hold lots of secrets, if you only walk down them for long enough. My favorite such secret is this building–I have a slight obsession with it. It’s decrepit, it’s falling apart, and it’s going to fall down in less than a year, I guarantee it. Oh what I wouldn’t give to go see it now that the snow is drowning Bellingham.
To get the full impact of this first shot, look for the waterline. Then you can orient yourself properly and see how far this building is falling over. I’m not even sure what this building was originally supposed to be, since it is just a one-room shack about twenty feet from the railroad tracks. The top floor is the base of the building, with the bottom (where the brick ends and the strong graffiti starts, in the picture) being the main foundation. Every inch of both floors of the inside are covered in graffiti.
The top floor, with the huge hole in one of the walls, wa
s scary to walk in–it looked like you’d fall, like the floor wouldn’t hold up. Jeremy walked all over it the first time I went there, and I was brave enough the second time to walk it with Dylan. The slanted floor is pretty terrifying, though. I like that not all the graffiti is something I would necessarily consider “art”, but the colors are so vibrant and varied that it doesn’t really matter.
What looks really cool is the wall with a huge hole in it has an enormous stylized skull painted on it. I could spend forever reading the tiny little messages and signatures on all of the walls.
As further proof that the building won’t last much longer, it’s located right on the water’s edge. As in, high tide puts the water about a foot and a half up the outer wall. You can get into the structure of the building crossing in front of the wall, next to the water, and in through the side. The second time I went, it was high tide so we had to roll our pant legs up (well, I was in a skirt so I just had to hold it up a bit) to cross, and when we got to the bottom floor’s entrance, it was pretty well flooded. Very cool, no?
This is my favorite part of the outer wall, what with the bright colors. The crack going up this part of the wall is bigger than the shot shows, though. The first time I was here, Jeremy tried fitting himself in between it to get into the belly of the building, and very well near succeeded. He was about halfway into it when he paused and mused that there was probably an easier way to do it. That’s when we discovered the huge hole in the side opposite the direction we came from.
This is what the belly of the building looks like, and it is by far the coolest part. When the floor is flooded because of high tide, you have to stay on the cross cuts of stone to stay dry, but when I took the shot (when the tide was out) you could easily walk on the bottom. A bottom which was surpsingly clear of spiderwebs (I didn’t know at the time that it was because high tide would drown the little suckers). They (the spiders) inhabit the top of the bottom floor, though, which was pretty gross.
My escape
When I was a little girl, my mom, sister and I listened to the Les Miserables soundtrack. We listened to it so much that I had the entire thing memorized before I was old enough to know what half the songs were about. My favorite was Cosette’s “Castle In The Clouds”
I loved that song because it was easily relatable, even when I was tiny. The lyrics are simple and clear, so I knew what she was saying, and it’s a little girl singing (making it even more relatable for a little girl listening).
Since I was too young to know the whole plot of Les Mis, I would think about the little girl and wonder if she ever found a happy place, or if her castle ever existed in reality. I thought about it a lot, and fell in love with her little solo.
Even now, knowing the full plot and concept of the novel, I think about little Cosette’s castle. It would be such an amazing escape that any kid would like. There’s an easily understood appeal to it, I think.
I found this picture through smashingmagazine.com, one of my favorite design blogs. They feature different aspects of photography a lot of the time, and the blog post was themed Reflective Photography. You can see more from the specific artist here.
I love this picture for obvious (at least, hopefully obvious, by this point in the post) reasons. It wasn’t my favorite picture in the whole post, but it has a special little escapist-related place in my heart.
There is a castle on a cloud,
I like to go there in my sleep,
Aren’t any floors for me to sweep,
Not in my castle on a cloud.
There is a room that’s full of toys,
There are a hundred boys and girls,
Nobody shouts or talks too loud,
Not in my castle on a cloud.
There is a lady all in white,
Holds me and sings a lullaby,
She’s nice to hear and she’s soft to touch,
She says “Cosette, I love you very much.”
I know a place where no one’s lost,
I know a place where no one cries,
Crying at all is not allowed,
Not in my castle on a cloud.
“Last night…
… I had a dream about [Mexican folktales??]…”
Okay, so it’s not a full quote, only partial, but singing in my blog posts has never lost its appeal with me.
My dream last night was more like watching a movie; it was like watching a very interesting movie, done in three (?) parts.
It was basically like watching artsy-fartsy reinterpretations of Mexican folktales, the ones told to good little Catholic children to keep them too afraid of monsters under their beds to disobey. They included devil men, given away by their red-hued skin, pointy chins and dark, black, wiry hair. Also there were twelve women, pure and good, trying to lead the way to godliness and safety, as well as little children drawn by David B who spoke with heavy Spanish accents, trying to find their way to safety.
I’m blaming it on the fact that I just finished La Perdida, by Jessica Abel. The novel makes me want to re-invent my life, and it doesn’t help that I have a Cuban father who I could pretend I was estranged with, in order to search for my “roots”. That, combined with the fact that I spent the night in my father’s house last night, which is painted and decorated exactly how a Latin American man would want to decorate his house if he lived in the grayest city in all America. We had an entire conversation centered around the color orange [[Bright orange: see his armchair, see a full set of dishes, see his hallway walls, see a blanket, see a vase on his fireplace]], and then bickered good-naturedly about whether he liked bright orange or bright green more. [[Bright green: see downstairs walls, see other full set of dishes]]
My dreams made my mouth burn from spicy food, my eyes water from smoky, polluted air and my hair turn long, black and curly.
Bellingham mornings
I think one of my favorite things about Bellingham (there are a few, so bare with me) are the foggy mornings. I love mornings (like this one) where the air is so thick with fog I can’t see the mountains outside my window. I love watching it slowly roll away, until just patches of it remain in the pockets of the mountains. It looks like the setting for a Lord of the Rings-esque movie, so magical and mysterious. I like to think of all the creatures that must exist when there’s fog–creatures that couldn’t possibly exist unless the air is that thick, and when it clears, they vanish back into the unknown. I think they look like some cross between sheepdogs and sea anemones.
One of my favorite authors
I’ll admit–some of my friends I’ve made purely for their recommendations in books. I don’t think I have any friends like that currently (if they started out that way and are still in my life, chances are the friendship has evolved).
But it does happen. For a while, I was friends with this one guy who was a complete jerk. I hated almost everything about him, but oddly enough, when we hung out, we always had a great time. He also recommended the best books. I read a lot while we were friends, and some of his authors are still my favorites. For instance, he introduced me to Blankets, by Craig Thompson, which is one of my absolute favorite graphic novels.
Towards the end, though, it went sour and I, being the obstinate mule I can be, have long refused to read his last recommendation.
He told me I would love Michael Ondaatje’s The English Patient, and for a long time I went to great stretches to avoid that book. I finally cracked, although only slightly. I read instead his Divisadero, which is now one of my favorite books. Currently I’m reading Anil’s Ghost, and then next on my list is In The Skin of the Lion (that’s right–I’m still obstinately a
voiding The English Patient).
I could tell you about the plots to his novels, but it really wouldn’t matter. His style is non-linear, and you can tell when you read his works that he doesn’t care about the plot as much as he cares about the characters he’s creating. The plots are interesting well-developed, but are also completely irrelevant to appreciating his writing.
I’m reading, as I said, Anil’s Ghost right now and I’m so sucked into the novel. I don’t care about the plot, and I couldn’t care less about the slight mystery he’s creating, but I care about the main character, Anil. I care about her and I’m intrigued by her and I want to know more about her. The way Ondaatje writes is so captivating, as cliche as that may sound.
