7 posts tagged “photos”
Them: You are just a ray of sunshine, aren't you?
Me: I am everyone's ray of sunshine.
And sometimes I say it with genuine conviction, and other times I'll say it with a deadpan stare. But what it all comes down to is that it's true. Call me a liar, but I daresay I'm pretty good at making people smile – even if they're smiling because they secretly think I'm kind of a dork. However, I'm confident enough to think that they are merely jealous of my unique abilities. Also between Connie and me:
Connie: YAY, my favorite person.
Me: :D I am everyone's favorite.
It's obviously so very true. She capitalized her enthusiasm! I am sparkly and contagious, true fact.
For the record, I have never been this cheerful and restless and jittery since – well, since never. The combination of sleeping capsules and too much caffeine pills has left me feeling afloat, caught between consciousness and unconsciousness. It feels akin to drinking about as much to leave you buzzed and unable to walk in straight lines but enough to differentiate logic from illogic. Brains intact, motor skills confused. Basically.
Which meant I walked into Laura's office feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience while still remaining hyper aware of my surroundings. I vaguely remember what I said to her about my recent activities. I mean, I remember but that meeting felt all too surreal and not really there. My focus was shot. At least attention is hardly required if all I'm to do is talk and talk, and I was able to skip class so that works well in my favor.
Incubus' Just A Phase feels like sex. Not that I know anything about it or if it's even possible to feel like sex, but everything about it is so bloody erotic. But certainly not the lyrics, oh no. It's all in the melodies and the way the words are sectioned off, isolated, and lingering. Amazing, if I do say so myself. And, and, and – Saul Williams at Slim's on the 21st. How wicked is that? Oh my god. That man is so insanely talented with words, I'm jealous but mostly full of admiration.
What else can I talk about? Other than the fact I'm merely psychobabbling at this point because my fingers are typing much faster than my brain can figure out what subjects to cover. There's quite a bit of them. You'll realize that this is all, um, what do you call it? Stream-of-consciousness, there we go. I'm still a bit peeved at my manager, but what can you do? Injustices are everywhere, including small franchises that underestimate your capabilities as a worker. But nothing depressing here! I am happy today, let's see how long I can drag this out before I crash.
I want to go somewhere, lie down, and breathe until the air gets too heavy that I'm too tired to think, to sleep, or do anything else. People should join me and stop moving for a fraction of their lives. You miss a lot of things when you're constantly in motion. So you know when one of your limbs fall asleep, and you try to wake it up but all you get are these half-painful, half-ticklish and paralyzed muscles? I am feeling that right now – an assortment of pinpricks on my skin and my spine, and I think I'm about to collapse. Like right now.
Yeah.
Dark trance music makes me dizzy. It reminds me of smoke and psychedelia, ecstasy and false, transient happiness. I miss it a little bit, but that lifestyle is too crazy for me now. November 2004 was particularly memorable, but that seems like a faraway dream. Drugs are dream-inducers, and it's my fascination for the fantastical that make them particularly appealing. I bring this up only because Trish and Kenneth woke me up at 2AM just to drive across the Golden Gate and watch the city lights from the other end. We stayed in the car, I was half conscious in the backseat, while they played some obscure trance tracks and smoking, laughing, and talking to me even though their words went right through me. They dropped me back two hours later, and they drove back to – well, god knows where, they're natural owls. Sleep during the day, awake during the night; I rarely ever see them.
My eating habits are off. Been nibbling at bits and pieces of fruit, overestimated my hunger and asked for a tall coffee and barely finished a third of it. Speaking of coffee, a lot of customers have been offering us coffee lately. I joked that they're offering so they could drug it and bring us home because we're amazing associates, but I really shouldn't joke about that kind of thing. A lot of customers today have been really rude and feeling self-entitled, disregarding our new policies about certain things, and it was putting me in a bad mood. I'm happy to be home.
Oh. My mom thinks I'm living a famine/feast lifestyle – that was the analogy she offered me anyway, as she scolded me when I asked to leave the house one day. Apparently, my social lifestyle goes as follows: I go through a period of staying home and lazing away like a complete blob, geeking out in front of the television, tuning out the world and whatnot, and then I suddenly have short bursts of desire to leave the house, never coming home or coming home way too late, looking like the undead, etc. This usually lasts for a week before I, once again, succumb to the shell of my home. I'm glad she's concerned, but I don't know how to tell her that I'm, you know, almost 21 and if I feel like never coming home, I shouldn't have to feel obligated to do so. Nevertheless, she manages to make me feel guilty.
I happen to like my lifestyle, a balance of both worlds, I guess. And at least I keep up with my responsibilities – just that I happen to look like I haven't slept at all (half-true), which makes me terribly moody and hating the world and sunlight. I'm secretly some kind of vampire, I know it.
Lately, a lot of people I know have been confronted by disturbances in their lives – family issues, love quandaries, and so on. I just want to hug everyone and listen to them vent; it actually helps in ignoring my insignificant ones. Also, people (including random customers) have been telling me (after the fact) that so-and-so have died. I feel so useless and insensitive when others confide in me the death of a loved one. I know that the polite thing to say is, 'I'm sorry for your loss' and wish them well – some variation thereof. But I just stand or sit there and nod, nervously looking away because I, personally, don't feel comfortable when people apologize for my losses. I keep thinking people are the same. And that's such a selfish way of looking at it. I don't know where I'm going with this.
This is not meant to be a pessimistic post but about random things I've been wanting to bring up for a while. In other geek-related news, I think I'm going to buy me a Macbook Pro soon since my old iBook is dying out on me. The Macbook Pro is gorgeous, and it's seriously calling out to me. I think it's definitely a must-purchase at this point. Therefore, one must by a slip cover for it, etc.
I've been really materialistic lately, it's disgusting. :)
I saw my share of boys waiting for their girlfriends or potential love interests yesterday, and I have to mention how much I secretly enjoy observing other people on Snuggle Day. I think the best part is seeing all these boys I see every day in their baggy pants, shirts ten sizes too big, baseball caps, skateboards, and cigarettes dangling from their lips transform into these well-dressed gentlemen with a flower or chocolate in their hands.
So adorable. If there's anything that makes someone look attractive, it's the amount of effort they dedicate to an event or to someone because they love them. Of course there are other things, but that's not entirely relevant here.
I got a lovely surprise at work yesterday. Connie and Andrew stopped by, and I received a box of cupcakes from Citizen Cake and a simple card that you normally get in grade school from every student imaginable because it was obligatory. It was cute and unexpected and, come on, who can't deny the gravitational pull that are cupcakes? Yum. And they were so pretty too, as you can plainly see. I had a difficult time deciding whether I should have eaten them or not but nonetheless demolished them after getting home and taking photographs.
Good stuff.
And then in the early evening, I picked out daisies from the backyard – the kind that grows everywhere – and handed one to Alyn as a silly gesture. And because his dad and younger brother were there (washing their dogs), I gave them one too. His little brother thought I was nuts, and his dad laughed and said something in French that I didn't catch. Forest and Daisy ate theirs, haha.
The past couple of weeks have been spent mostly working, mostly school, planning a trip to Fresno for my friend's wedding (I hope to take a lot of pictures if not a little bit), eating at two new breakfast places – courtesy of Connie – which were spectacular, and watching a couple of rented movies with Lynnette and Paul. I was taught how to play poker (which I've conveniently forgotten) and to make fireballs (which I opted out, thank you very much).
There's going to be a barbecue at my house, and I must be insane for being the only person I know who isn't too fond of barbecues. It's just never appealed to me for some reason.
Oh, and some quotables that were said to me at work yesterday and today:
You're such a doll, a sweetheart.
– Said by some sexually ambiguous customer, who I think is relatively nice but unnerves me all the same. It made me happy, though. He came in today and noticed I was without a scarf, which he perceived to be weird since he expected me to be cold; I was. And he introduced himself as Andrew, haha.I have to say you're doing an excellent job at multi-tasking.
– By some random lady. I like it when people notice and take the time to appreciate what you have to do sometimes.
I think that's all. Next post on Sunday when I return from Fresno to share my picture taking frenzy, at least if I'm not tired. Yay, I get to wear a skirt and be girly without having to defend myself.
La!
Some things have ended and other things are – well, I hope to think they're going somewhere. Strangely, recent events haven't affected me so much as they would have a week ago. Either I've conditioned myself properly to expect disappointment and take it, or maybe I just stopped caring when I accepted the fact that nothing would be the same. Whatever the case, I'm kind of happy. (And I say kind of because it's bizarre to feel this way considering the circumstances that got me here.)
And I suppose I was none too surprised, as the end result was something my mom had predicted when everything had started about a month ago, give or take. Funny how old events feel like they just happened when things that have just happened feel like they've occurred months ago. Again, maybe I'm just getting used to it. And maybe I don't mind being some kind of stranger if only I'm allowed to start over. In words of many people I've sought advice, things can only get better (knowing me, however, I could probably make things worse but anyway!).
People amuse me; my work amuses me; I amuse myself in ways I can only find annoying. See, I made the mistake of being happy, friendly, and awfully conversational today with everyone. This has quite the effect on random individuals, I've noticed. Married or single, boy or girl – I'm clearly very magnetic because people respond to it.
(I try to de-stress myself by thinking it's just because I'm a fantastic person, but we all know how ridiculous that is so I'm going to pretend it's because I'm nice. Yes, nice.)
Um, what else. Blood donation appointment in three days, school in four – I now have a reason to shop for pens and paper! And grab a scrapbook while I'm at it. I'm really getting into photographing portraits – especially candids. We'll see how that goes!
Look, my hiding spot.
Hiding spot is a little misleading, as I'm not meant to be hidden when I go up there. There are two ways to get to the top:
1) From the back (or what others argue is the front) where you climb this not-quite-steep hill of sand, which slowly transitions into cement et voilà, you're on top –
2) From the front (or what others argue is the back) where you step over gnarled tree roots and stepping stones not-quite-padded with sand, squeeze between a cement wall and nature where you find yourself immediately on the semicircular dome of awesome –
Anyhow, I come here to think and relax and take pictures of the same scenery over and over again (more precisely, the ocean). There's green and flowers, maybe weeds, that I haven't identified, dogs on the prowl, and blue graffiti (which I don't appreciate but neither here nor there). I fell asleep here once by accident, but it was nice all the same.
Being there reminds me of Rilo Kiley on repeat. And hey, guess what I'm listening to. Under the Blacklight is the best album of 2007 ever.
The past couple of weeks have been, more or less, interesting. Intriguing. By which I mean have been composed of events I wouldn't normally catch myself doing. First case: karaoke bar. Club? Whatever you call it, that is where I went to (hence the disco ball) with some friendsies. Granted, there was no singing on my part, but the experience still stands. I think I was a little more fascinated with the lighting fixtures and the fact that each room wasn't exactly soundproof despite being isolated from one another.
And there's really nothing funnier than hearing someone imitate the throaty, raspy voice of Gollum to complete strangers.
Next time, I plan to hijack the business' tambourines on the basis that karaoke is not karaoke without the shiny, sound-making things. And I would probably insist that they fix the colored lights because fluorescents don't cut it.
Nonetheless, it was a stress reliever. I don't remember the last time I was this high-strung because of school, work, and the gritty real world. I wake up in the morning with bed head and rumpled clothes, a quick shot of caffeine and its capsule cousins, and restart the day like a wind-up doll. Very uncomplicated. Boring. Unlike this past weekend in which I was manhandled and literally shocked by a boy and his toy, a completely innocent-looking contraption until he enlightened us otherwise.
Anyhow, trees! Again! Not surprising, really.
In the past week or so, I've been listening to my mix CD nonstop. Sometimes I fail at making CDs because the tracks hate each other and don't mesh well, so to speak. It actually makes me very frustrated. Individually, they're fine, but together it's like this loud, horrible jumble fest that makes it hard to listen to.
My Chemical Romance makes a good impression here, as I've come to find how much I love to headbang to their music when I'm feeling particularly upset. Case in point is the issue with a certain someone who shall remain unnamed. After writing a somewhat long letter about my opinions on relationships and what-have-you, I think I managed to lose a friend in the process. Why? Because it's apparently very easy to confuse friendliness with an open invitation to confess feelings that should stay unconfessed. So while I bemoan everything I've ever said and written (that were misconstrued in the process) to infinity, here goes my playlist of choice:
Tomorrow marks the last day of something, as if changing a style (read: lifestyle) is going to do anything. This sort of thing appeals to me – and occurs fairly regularly – so I sat myself down and analyzed every aspect of it, going over why and how it matters to me. Didn't quite see an answer, but I'm putting down a guess with my obsession with try again and again and again until it works. Staying the same is monotonous and gives me anxiety.
There was a deer family that I saw before going to class the same morning I took the picture of the tree. Sensitive creatures, those animals, and one of them kept watching my every move like I was about to pounce them. It was a little frightening, come to think of it, and also calming.
Ask me how that works and I will simply shrug at you.
I also have a fascination with trees. Anyone can note this after viewing my collection of photos. Green is sort of my favorite color as well, so that helps I guess. Sometimes I hate trees because they house spiders. Today at school, I was staring at the pine needle-infested ground, interwoven with web strands that glittered. It was pretty and disgusting. As much as I glorify spiders (and thus beautify spiderwebs in the process), I despise them with every fiber of my being that I nearly cry when I'm too close to one. It really bothers me. I went kayaking once, partnered with my mom, and we hit a few trees along the Russian River. That was all right for a while until we were entangled by a gnarly tree branch, and I saw these new spider species and I cried and got angry at my mom because she basically said that my fear of them wasn't so much as a problem as being stuck. Which ultimately brings me to:
Why do people underestimate other's fears of whatever it is they hate most, anyway?
However, there are things around here that keep me sane. Case in point being my hometown of Pacifica. Despite its perpetual drift in fog and rain, I love it to bits for the oceanic scenery and then some. This place is what makes it hard for me to say, "I want to get up and move to New York/Seattle/Tokyo permanently!"
The first few years of living here, I had every intention of leaving California. But after ten years (I think, I can't honestly remember), I love it and never ever want to leave the Bay Area. I plan to visit other places for days or weeks or months at a time if I have to, but I want my permanent home here. Though I leave my future open to the thought I may find home elsewhere. You never know.
