Rocks and Sand and Water
I might have to visit in again in summer, when it’s warm, just for this beach. I really like this beach, even if I’m alone. I spent an entire January sitting on it, reading Dracula, after all, completely alone.
It’s Possible
That there may be a person who, while innocently sleeping next to someone, may or may not reach out their hand and intertwine their fingers together, all the while sound asleep. That same person, who may or may not exist, might also hold said hands the entire night.
It’s possible that it might be one of the cutest things that someone may or may not have experienced. Ever. 
Happy Valentine’s Day, world. Remember that it is a day of love, and as such, not reserved for people you’re dating. Love your family, love your friends, and shower them with the affection you know they deserve.
(Or bitch and moan about being single. Whatever gets you to February 15)
This is going to sound silly
But I’m feeling rather self conscious, rather shy and I’m about to do something that takes me far from my comfort zone.
Tomorrow later today is a big day for me, and it’s taking me far from any comfort zone I could possibly imagine having fit myself into. I’m doing not one, but two things that are scandalously different for me, but I’m really only going to go into detail on one of them.
I bought a new dress, and tights, and boots. And tomorrow later today, I’m going to wear them all together. I know, scandalous, right? The “dress” is really something that Modest-Marci would wear with jeans. It’s technically long enough to wear as a dress, but technically translates to it wouldn’t be okay to wear when I was in high school, which in turn means I wouldn’t wear it.
But I want to. And with dark tights and cute boots, it’s actually not even inappropriate. Even my sister said it just looks like a cute, fun outfit that I would normally wear. There’s really nothing wrong about it except t’s just the shortest dress I’ve ever worn. And I’m feeling self conscious about it. Tomorrow is a day for change, apparently, and I’m kicking it all off with a new look.
In other, potentially more interesting, world news, I have a couple of (I think) neat posts about science fiction, of which I’ve been reading a lot more, as well as one on this book I’m finally getting around to finishing. It feels like I’ve been reading it forever. You’ll find out why tomorrow, when I sit down and type the whole thing out.
Amazing
I love the past hour and a half. It was the most refreshing, renewing, supportive hour and a half I’ve had in months, and it had proves that I know what’s best for me–it included ALL of my favorite things!
I met with a friend for coffee, and we both commiserated how frustrating life can be together. We’re both at our respective ropes’ ends, and we just talked for a little bit about how much it sucks–how it’s hard to watch people you love, or people you used to love, turn bitter and mean, and how frustrating it is when you’re forced to change your plans and when you have to live on someone else’s schedule. And we hugged, long and hard.
And then we went to the swing sets. We swung (I never know what the proper past tense form of the swing set verb should be), we talked about awesome children’s literature (Phantom Tollbooth–it’ll have it’s very own post soon, I promise), some really awesome sci fi/fantasy (Ender’s Game, Hitchhiker’s Guide, etc).
We made up little fantastical stories about men only a millimeter high, and what life would be like, and just really enjoyed ourselves. And he summed it up great at the end.
He sighed, and then laughed and said he likes those kinds of sighs.
“Those deep, full sighs that mean you know you’re going to be upset and sad and frustrated tomorrow, but you can enjoy this moment and know that you’re good and happy right now”
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!
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.
I’m watching my movie
That’s right, mine. Of course it’s mine! After all, they say my name not once, but *twice* in the title.
That aside, I felt like banging out a post before my weekend trip. My weekend trip with…. *gulp* my dad.
If you don’t hear from me again, know that I love you…. Hmm, a bit overdramatic, eh?
Well, if anything, I’m hoping to get some really nice pictures this weekend. We were going to to a motorcycle tour of Washington, but I think when my dad realized he couldn’t talk the whole time that way, it turned into a car drive.
Here are some top favorite pictures from summer, though. No particular reason for any of them, I just like them. Enjoy!
-
- You can read the whole story on my flickr account (attackunicorn)
PS–It always ALWAYS throws me off when I watch this movie, to hear my name every few minutes said by the TV people.
