I think my hairdresser and I should start seeing other people.

Now don't get me wrong, he's a great hairdresser. I mean, he knows exactly what my hair needs and how to give it to me, but there's just no spark anymore, no adventure. He never lets me take risks anymore.

I think that I have been unhappy with him for awhile and just never knew how to verbalize it. But now...well he's just too selfish, egocentric, overly bitchy. I sit there patiently listening to his boy troubles and as soon as I mention something about me, he pauses, and then just goes back into his philandering drama. Nice, real nice.

Moving on....

I felt asleep early last night and left my new record player on all night. I hope I didn't ruin anything. My mother gave me a gift certificate for Waterloo records and the next day after Christmas I was there with all of the other burgeoning audiophiles. Differences between me and them included about ten years, lack of acne and boobs. The man behind the counter and I were drawn into a conversation about the reasons for this sudden vinyl explosion. He just couldn't see past the obviously superior sound quality. Although for me, who only remembers mixtapes, CD and mp3s the reasons were a bit more romantic. I vaguely remember tiny 45s on my little Disney themed record player and my father's old records with no record player. I think that I just like the tangability in the whole thing. There just isn't a process anymore if you download something directly into your computer.

I went digging into my fathers old records and found a few gems, at least to me. An original press of Abby Road was the best find although I did enjoy "borrowing" his collection of Creedence Clearwater records and listening to "Cherry" on his Neil Diamond, Best of record. I even managed to dig up my old Fleetwood Mac album I found in a garage sale when I was 16. Although at Waterloo, armed with a 50 dollar gift card, I was paralyzed with the possibilities. Should I spend it all on used classics? Should I rebuy important records of my adolescence? Should I take a chance on possible new classics?

I decided to do a little bit of both. I bought stuff to make new memories and remember the old.
1. Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings - 100 Days and 100 Nights - Terribly good, new old Motown soul
2. Iron and Wine - The Shepard's Dog - Reminds me of long-haired hippy bands of old but a great new sound for them.
3. Explosions in the Sky - those who tell the truth shall die, those who tell the truth shall live forever - Pretty ambient Austin rock to space out to
4. godspeed you black emperor!- lift your skinny fists like antennas to heaven - this album got me through finals back in Ann Arbor
5. Bettye Lavette - The Scene of the Crime - Tough old bird sings some gritty soul
6. Ramones - Mania - How could I not buy this?
7. Stars - In Our Bedroom After the War - impulse buy, jury is still out

Sidenote. Now I love me some Radiohead, but seriously why so expensive?

I think I need a bigger suitcase.

Suddenly my house, my vacation, has become a prison. Basically, my father cancelled my insurence and my car's has yet to pass inspection due to a bit of plastic hanging from the bottom of the car. So I can only drive my mother's car. Which she needs. On a daily basis. On top of that, I have to share a room with my sister whose never had to share anything in her life.

I am a whiny fifteen year old and it drives me fucking batshit.

I was talking with D2 the other day about the different versions of me throughout the years. They seem so random and dissimilar from each other that the only remaining link is just how I felt and my reactions to it, good and bad. D1 used to think this made me inconstant. I like to think it makes me more interesting. Either way, it should make for some interesting pictures.

To name a few as chronologically as possible:

tomboy
serious dancer
angry black eyeliner grunge stage
alterna rock/punk hippy stage
serious student
barista
sorority girl
AmeriCorp volunteer
coffee maven
mild alcoholic
Probate of Travis County
member of the "intellectual elite"

I think I'm heading toward the era that I would like to call "badass with a heart of gold," which is also the name of a random song in my iPod. Incidentally, this badass goes to bed at 10, wakes up at 7 and has rapidly declining social skills due to work imposed isolation, but boy can she rattle off theories of change like a motherfucker.

I woke up this morning unawares. My phone was clutched in my hands over my head and I had a splitting headache.

Welcome to the end of the semester

I'm half way done! Can you believe it?

People out there are having way more fun than me right now

Snow Soup

Not that I need an additional reason to be a shut in during finals, but it snowed like crazy on Friday to the point where headlines the next day read "Where we went wrong." It wasn't pretty.  I overheard accounts of 4-7 hour commutes, fist fights and people just getting out of their cars and cursing the skies. I however walked to class during the mini blizzard that lasted only a day.  I went out for a sandwich at 11:30 and by 2pm there was at least 5 inches on snow out. I headed out, already late, to do my intervention presentation for Hiro's class that I had hastily written just a few hours before. Five slides and five minutes sounds like a good idea, but not when your proposal is supposed to be 15 pages long. After babbling for my proscribed minutes, no one had any questions which always concerns me. Although I was later told it was because of my insane amount of detail and thoroughness that left everyone mute. Although not very helpful now that I have to write the damned thing. 

27 pages in 3 days....CAN SHE DO IT? Tune in next time.

Appian Way

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This is my school, Harvard Graduate School of Education. HGSE, pronounced hugs-see, for short. To the left is the Gutman Library were I spend many many deary hours studying. To the left is Longfellow Hall which also houses some classes and a cafeteria. Basically, I dont leave this place.

brandon had a baby

This is my friend Brandon. He had a baby. Her name is Audri Grayce. He is the first of my peers to have a kid. Earlier this year my childhood best friend got married. Both experiences where very strange for me. Mostly due to the fact that as hard as I squint, I can't imagine my life being in that period of time.

Also this morning it completely iced over unbeknownest to me. It became known to me as I comically fell feet forward, ass down into the ice. I then proceeded to try to get up on all fours only to be slid involuntarily into the splits. Two more attempts later, I managed to make it to one of side of the road. I imitated the small child clutching his way and waddled/shuffled my way to the bus stop. I am getting my shit done at school and holding up at home.

This place felt like a cocoon. Here I read my new book, drank cinnamon coffee and ate apricot crepes. Lovely.

begin

It seems strange to me with only 8 days left of my first semester back at school, with two major papers due with little aforementioned thought, that I am ok. That somehow I managed to get through the sludge of uncertainty and general unhappiness and be fine. Perhaps since I've reached the point of no return and experience has taught me that no matter how much I freak out about something, or however calamitous an experience seems, it all turns out fine in the end. So basically with a 12 page philosopher paper due on the argument Booker T. and DuBois make on the redemption of the Negro (their word not mine) and a 15 comprehensive community and parental involvement upgrade to the AmeriCorps CIS program due in a few days, I take solace in the fact that indeed having those few extra days to think will have everything turn out nicely. 

Instead of working yesterday, I took myself out on the perfect date. The date that I chose not to have with this guy that I already knew was perfectly fine, but not for me. This date was comprised of eating copious amounts of brunch, watching Atonement, and buying this lovely book called, you guessed it, The Principals of Uncertainty by Maira Kalman. I loved the idea of the stream of consciousness of a year in pictures. Her illustrations seem like something I would draw if I could train my hands to do something other than knit and glue things together. I made me want to write again. Just for myself. And take lots of pictures of all the things that catch my imagination. I feel better now that I have a camera in my purse again, although now I just have to use it. I want to remember the daily musings, however innate and pointless.

I was talking to some of my coworkers today about the idea of falling in love with a place, even if it still only comprised in our minds. Some of my friends have already decided that they are in love with my hometown of Austin, yet I am still looking. Which is partly (mostly) the reason that I am not applying to Harvard for grad school, however lovely the idea of having a PhD from Harvard would be. I just know that I don't like Boston and it's nothing personal, but I just have to move on. Although while I still don't know where this place is, here are a few signals that would need to happen (much like the signs your soul feels at home list):

1. My favorite songs are played on the local radio
2. Grocery shopping because a delicious luxury
3. The people smile on the street when eye contact is made
4. I have the perfect job for me at that time
5. There are TREES!
6. Bearable traffic or amazing public transportation
7. Mexican food
8. Local coffee shops
9. Local businesses
10. Like-minded neighbors
11. Livable standards of living

I understand that many of these things sound like Austin, which is true. I love Austin, but there are things missing like being able to find a job that I can be passionate about and that pays me decently. Maybe one day I'll be back.