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.
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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?
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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
Weird Dreams
They were bizarre and involved all my Bellingham-people.
One that I thought was funny, because it was just a case of my subconscious being not very subtle at all, was when a group of us were watching tv.
It was Glenn, Maia, Carissa, and some more people in the background. Their faces were faded.
But there was *also* my first boyfriend, this guy named Casey who I think is adorable and we’re on pretty good terms. We make a kind-of point of talking at least once a year and catching up. There was also Jeremy, and his new girlfriend (in my dream, at least). When I saw his girlfriend was there, I didn’t feel jealous or anything–I just felt tired, because she served as a reminder that he’s over me, and because of that fact, his vendetta against me is just so out of place and inappropriate.
I didn’t even try to talk to him or say hi, because even in my dream I knew he still held whatever grudge he’s holding. But I did try to talk to Casey, and when he ignored me as well, I was shocked. Casey and I had about two months of not talking after we broke up (in ninth grade), and we’ve been on great, hugging terms ever since.
But in my dream, he was ignoring me. I finally pushed a response out of him, and it was so funny. He told me that yes, he still liked me and appreciated the friendship we had, but he remembered how I enjoyed a commercial for Mac a few years ago and frankly, he just can’t associate with that kind of person so would I just e considerate of his feelings and leave him alone?
Everyone in the group was really silent, and trying to pretend to focus on whatever was on tv. I just hung my head and sighed, and then my dream switched into a little narrative.
“And she sat there, her head hung low, and for the first time the exhaustion showed on her face, and it was there for the whole world to see–she was tired, and her feelings were hurt”
I know. I know! Pity party in the subconscious much…. Well, at least my subconscious feels bad for me!
Reading List: Fiction
These are the books that were important enough to me to move. At least, most. Of the fiction. This list doesn’t include any of the non fiction, and I think I’ve left some fiction in the car.
The Fountain
Flight 1
Flight 2
Ghost World
V For Vendetta
Watchmen
Fun Home
La Perdida
The Invention of Hugo Cabret
Snow Falling on Cedars
The Republic
Selected Poems (E.E Cummings)
Selected Poems and Letters of Emily Dickinson
Collected Poems (Edna St Vincent Millay)
Ten Cents a Dance
Loose Sugar
The Complete Novels (Jane Austen)
Collected Fictions (Jorge Luis Borges)
Eaters of the Dead
House of Leaves
The Inheritance of Loss
* The Brothers Karamazov
Crime and Punishment
The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana
The Name of the Rose
Jane Eyre
* Lolita
Oliver Twist
Great Expectations
Collected Stories of F Scott Fitzgerald
Madame Bovary
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Everything is Illuminated
Smoke and Mirrors
Interpreter of Maladies
The Namesake
Unaccustomed Earth
The Hour I First Believed
* I Know This Much Is True
A Madman Dreams of Turing Machines
Einstein’s Dreams
One Hundred Years of Solitutde
Collected Stores (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
On Chesil Beach
* After Dark
Kafka on the Shore
A Wild Sheep Chase
* The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles
The Elephant Vanishes
Against the Day
Gravity’s Rainbow
Fathers and Sons
Fancies and Goodnights
The Twentieth Wife
White Noise
Anil’s Ghost
Divisadero
In The Skin of a Lion
My Name is Red
* Anna Karenina
War and Peace
Hearts in Atlantis
The Gunslinger
The War of the Worlds
The Time Machine
Dune
Ender’s Game
Speaker for the Dead
The Elegance of the Hedgehog
The Hunchback of Notre-Dame
Les Miserables
A Barrel of Laughs/A Vale of Tears
Wainscott Weasel
A Rat’s Tale
A Wrinkle in Time
A Wind in the Door
The Neverending Story
The Giver
Dragons of a Fallen Sun
Dragons of a Lost Star
Dragons of a Vanished Moon
Bold means it’s there because it was a recommendation/gift
Italics means it is really high on my priority list
Strike Through means I’ve already read it
* means I have every intention of rereading it in the near future.
Puzzle Pieces
I used to talk to my ex(girlfriend, Sabina) about this, about puzzle pieces. We would talk about how soul mates work, and how people who are meant for each other know that. I still think the idea of soul mates is a valid one, one definitely worth exploring. I think they work like puzzle pieces.
Everyone is a puzzle piece, with their own uniquely-defined shape. You can’t see your own shape clearly, though (or anyone else’s, for that matter). Not in its entirety, at least. You only know what the edges look like by how they match up with someone else’s edges.
So when you meet a new person (and this doesn’t have to specifically relate to dating–I include friendships and all sorts of relationships in this concept), you see how well your puzzle pieces match up. It’s like a fog, and it slowly clears as you see more and more curves and corners fitting into each other. It won’t always be perfect–you might both have a little jut at the same spot, and they overlap with each other. Or maybe you both have a tiny little indent that needs filled, and they’re both at the same exact spot, so you can’t fill each other’s indents. See?
I think soul mates match each other’s edges perfectly.
**This isn’t to say I think soul mates never argue, never fight, never don’t do the right thing for the other person. It’s just to say they have all that they need within them to help complete each other. They match.
Copycatting
Here’s my version of an hourly comic journal. Granted, you’ll notice I only have four “entries” to span a twelve-hour period, but I don’t think my life is interesting enough for twelve panels. That, and I don’t have the patience. It took me long enough to get these done! I’ve continued with it, and I have sketched versions of most of Tuesday and even half of today. Hopefully they’ll go a lot faster than Monday’s went.
Oh so busy
Well now I’ve been so busy, I haven’t updated my blog! Which is sad, because I truly do have the best of intentions.
I’m copying a friend, who copied a super-cool blogger/comic artist and I’ve been making this little doodles, each one capturing the essence of a part of my day (the original concept is a cartoon an hour as a summary, but I’m not dedicated/practiced/patient/self-controlled enough for that. I’ve made four a day, for two days.
I’ll scan them soon, though, and I hope you all have fun with them. And then do it yourselves! (Except you. You already did it 
)
Toodles!
Interpretations
I finally got a hold of a scanner. I told you people I would, eventually! (It was a long time ago, and I won’t hold it against you if you don’t remember.)
When I went to Rome, ages ago (I’m saying this while casually waving my hand in a dismissive gesture and turning my nose up as high as it goes, don’t worry), my dad, sis and I stopped to watch these street performers.It was pretty amazing, and we took a picture and left.
Years later (a few months ago), I’m sitting in my living room, bored and in the mood to sketch something.
So this
turns into this
I can’t help but feel critical of it. The transformation from these rough-edged yet beautiful street performers into something soft and…. cute, it’s almost frustrating. I like my doodle, yes, but in a way entirely separate from why I like the photograph. I guess that’s the interpretation, but it’s unintentional. I wish I could capture the raw-edged beauty of the performers, instead of blunting their corners. I forget, sometimes, the connection between the inspiration and the doodle.
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.
