Somewhere along the line of blogging (or lack thereof), I got super self-conscious about what I wanted to express and forgot that this is actually my personal blog and I can say/post/rant about whatever the hell I want.
And really, I have a lot to say.
Here are a few random thoughts as of late:
- I really, really, REALLY love Taylor Swift. I won’t argue that she has the voice of a cherub, but seriously. I haven’t related to this many songs on an album since the Spice Girls, to which I made up meanings to because I was 8 and didn’t realize until much, much later in life that half that shit was about sex (what the hell is zigazig-ahh?!).
- I have no shame about the above. Or much of anything. I am now old enough to be confident and proud of my musical preferences, however questionable some may think. What can I say? I grew up on the pop music of the 90s and prefer it to the electro dance craze of the moment, or the sleepy melodies of Bon Iver. Sorry, folks. I tried. I do not have refined musical preferences and am perfectly okay with that.
- I trust others more than I trust myself in particular situations. This has to change.
- Due to limited space and the sheer weight, I really only like to purchase books that have pretty covers and spines. It’s like a display piece. Of my intelligence. Because you should judge me on my reading. And the covers. (My current physical possessions include: The Secret, 642 Things to Write About, and The Big Book of Spy Stuff – there’s a lot to read inbetween the lines of that. Possibly that I am going to write the greatest spy novel of all time and will manifest it through The Secret).
- If I could meet any, ANY living person it would probably be Taylor Swift. I would probably cry like a 12-year-old, then spend the rest of the time trying to convince her I’m not weird. Fuck, I feel weird just writing that.
- I lost my journal that I kept for 2 years from 2009-2011 after I moved from Austin. It’s about 8.5×11, hardcover, and purple with flower prints on the cover. It’s kind of hideous. If you happen to have it, I am offering a $1,000 cash reward. I am not even joking. And feel free to contact me anonymously if you have read the contents and are now afraid that I am a psychopath. Thanks.
- I like reading unsolved mysteries, and torture myself that they’re unsolved.
- I like to pretend I solve mysteries in real life. About people. It’s called making assumptions. I am only occasionally right on the first try.
- Libraries are not the wonderful, beautiful vaults of information I remember as a child. They’re full of grumpy employees, angry people who hate waiting in lines (what are angry people doing in mass quantities at the library?!!) and homeless people trying to watch porn. I want the library of my childhood back.
- I like baking for people I like.
- I am a chronic jack of all trades. I’ll never let go, Jack.
- Stop talking shit about your significant other. Break up with them if you find that you begin your conversations with, “My relationship with so and so is great, but ____.” No. Shut up. Don’t put your but in there. We always, always have something to complain about. Learn to appreciate what you have, and put an effort to either accept/deal/or change the buts. And ESPECIALLY break up with them if you find that you’re complaining about them to a member of the opposite sex to seek their consolation/attention/hope they sweep you off your feet and take you out of the current relationship.
- Tip your waiters/waitresses well. My mom is one. She makes close to minimum wage after tips and works 12 hour days. If you tip like a shitty person, I will treat you like shit.
- It is never worth it for me to punch someone in the face. It probably wouldn’t hurt much, and the return punch would probably hurt 10x more. And my fist might hurt.
- I feel the most euphoria exploring new parts of New York City. Alone.
- I had a love affair with Batman once. In my head. When I was 7. Not much happened.
- James Bond is one of those people that you’d like to date just to see if you can change them and shit. You know, make him want to quit his job and settle down with you on a remote tropical island somewhere. And then it’d probably be really boring. Ugh.
- This has been the BEST summer, ever. Highs in the 80s. Lows in the 60s. Is this really summer?! Am I dreaming? I don’t miss you at all, Texas.
- Writing should be just that. Words. On paper. On screen. Strung together into semi-coherent thoughts. You should write because you want to. It doesn’t have to impress. It may not even need to say all that much. So long as there is an urge to write, one should do it. So, voila.