Sometimes I Write Things…

5 Nov

…you know like once every two years or so. Now that’s some serious blog neglect and i can’t promise that it won’t happen again.

But now here I am sitting at home on maternity leave with some time on my hands. I really thought I would have more free time since I’m used to working 40+ hours a week and going to school full time, but my son is 2 months old and I’m only now finding myself with any kind of down time, and by “down time” I mean time in which he will let me put him down.

OMG let me tell you about this kid though! Have you ever seen a beautiful baby? I mean a REALLY beautiful baby? You might be thinking I’m a bit biased but I kid you not my son is perfect, like… perfect. Ok, ok i won’t bore you with the softness of his baby hairs or his picture perfect toes any longer, instead let me tell you a few things I’ve learned or whatever…

Before you have a baby people always tell you “Just rest and get as much sleep as you can before the baby comes”. Especially when you’re on bed rest, people make it seem like that’s some kind of blessing as I’m bored out of my mind watching Everybody Loves Raymond reruns for the umpteenth time. Plus let’s be real, I could sleep 20 hours one day and I will still be tired the next day, it’s inevitable. So why tell someone to enjoy sleep while they can? Because they will NEVER sleep again, that’s why! This is such good advice, I really should have listened to. Now I wouldn’t trade the midnight feedings or 3-5AM play sessions my son thinks we should have for anything in the world, but RIP sleep, you will be surely missed.

So far in my two months of motherhood I’ve been pooped, peed and puked on. And i should mention I was peed on in the face at three AM while my son screamed as if he was the one getting pee is his eye. And I was pooped on in the Texas Roadhouse parking lot while my husband and I looked like the newbies that we are. It really should have been caught on film, I laughed so hard my husband had to finish the job. And the puke is a daily occurrence that usually finds its way down my shirt. I’ve also forgotten the diaper bag at home with EVERYTHING in it..twice. I’m gonna go ahead and blame post pregnancy brain on this one because both times my son was just a few weeks old and I’d rather not blame regular brain.

It’s safe to say that life after baby is pretty chaotic. Chaotic in the most blissful way of course, like middle of the night wake up calls that give you an excuse to stare at a beautiful miracle long after he’s finished eating. And despite how ready you are for the new task of being a mom, it takes some time for life to feel normal again. It happened for me about four weeks after my son was born. My husband and I were waiting in line at Costco for him to pick up his new phone. Our son was sleeping peacefully in his stroller (after 45 minutes of me carrying him around the store, because babies) when my husband made some comment about our son being like me because i whine all the time. And that was it, my jaw dropped open at the absurdity and I pinched him everywhere I could get my hands on as he halfheartedly dodged my advances. All around me the world disappeared, even that sweet little baby that is half of me and half the man that i love, drifted away. This was us, laughing, playing, this was normal, this was easy, this was my life. And even though my husband is there with me for the diaper changes, the feedings, the rocking to sleep, this was the first moment since our sons arrival that it felt like us again. Us plus one.

Their are a million things that my son does that are adorable, I’ll bore you with them later, but my favorite thing is when he wakes in the middle of the night to eat. He doesn’t even open his eyes cause he’s so tired, and after he’s done eating he scrunches his face and smacks his lips cause his little belly is full and he’s so content just sleeping on my chest, that is my favorite face.

That is all for now, my boy is waking up and i must go kiss his scrunchy little face.

See ya in two years…

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Sleep No More NYC

19 Jun

A few months ago I visited some family in New York and had a blast! Cousins Brunch, Family Pictures, New York City with my sisters and some cousins, it was just an all around good time but it always is when my family gets together. Before I tell you a story about something called “Sleep No More” let me tell you a few other highlights from my trip….

Brunch

So every time I visit New York, where my mother was born and raised and most of my relatives live, I try to get together with my 27 cousins from my mom’s side. We usually just do a cousins brunch and invite everyone. Now that we’re all mostly grown up “cousins brunch” has grown to include children, husbands, boyfriends and the like. Now some of us are closer then others, not because of any bad blood or hurt feelings but because we grew up together or are closer in age, that kind of thing. So previously before the meetup I was texting one of my older cousins who I haven’t seen in at least ten years and who’s never met my husband, letting her know about the meetup and that my husband who wasn’t coming to NY wouldn’t be at the brunch. On the morning of the brunch I arrived with my two sisters, niece and nephew, and two cousins who’s house we had slept at the night before. We walked in and a few people were already there, my older cousin who I hadn’t seen in years being one of them. After greetings of hugs and “It’s been forever!”‘s my older cousin says to me…

Her “I thought he wasn’t coming?”

Me “What?”

Her “I thought you said he wasn’t going to be here?”

She points to my cousin James standing next to me. I think to myself, “I never said James wasn’t coming, what is she talking about?!”.

It takes me a half a second longer to realize she’s referring to our previous text conversation when I told her my husband wasn’t going to be there.

Then it dawns on me….she thinks HE”S my husband. But wait she’s met James before and he’s her cousin too!!

I looked at her appalled and simply stated….”Uh that’s James…he’s your cousin too.” I suppose my husband and James both have black hair but other than that they don’t really look the same at all.

Then I laughed for days about how ridiculous this all was.

I had a salad (I know you were wondering if I ordered breakfast or lunch or did a combo).

Taxi!

The day I went with my two sisters and my two cousins to The City (this is what us Long Islanders call New York City, get with the program) we wanted to take a taxi to this book store my cousin wanted to take us too. Now one thing to note is that when taking a taxi in NYC they all only seat four people unless you can track down one of those enormous van taxis, and we were five people. Sometimes you can convince a taxi to allow five if you pay them extra or if they’re just nice. So we decided to just start walking the general direction that we needed to go and hoped to happen upon a taxi along the way.

The cousin that was taking us to the book store works in The City so she’s really familiar with the whole taxi process and takes it upon herself to be the one trying to hail a taxi that would take five.

She asked a few and got denied but the rest of us didn’t mind, we were just continuing on our way hanging out enjoying the day strolling through the city.

Then out of the blue my cousin starts just trying to hail any old random car driving by, we all turn around and she’s leaning over into an all black unmarked bulletproof looking car making negotiations with the driver. My jaw drops, what is she doing!! That’s not even close to a taxi! There’s no way I’m letting her sell my body into some kind of sex trade, I’m not willingly getting into the mafias pimp ride.

My other cousin, her brother, takes one look at her taking to the driver and starts yelling at her.

Him “Analiza, get over here!”

Her: Still talking to the driver she barely glances over her shoulder “One second”

He walks over to the car and tells the driver “No thanks”

She turns to look at her brother, “What?”

Him “Were not getting in this car”

Her: Turns to look at all of us “You guys don’t want to go?”

Everyone in unison “Uh no” “Not in that random car”  Not a chance!” “Nope”

Her “Guys it’s fine!”

We all turn and walk away from her and continue our stroll toward the book store.

Now it’s her turn to look baffled. Apparently to a seasoned New Yorker getting into random unmarked black cars is the norm.  Not for us that day thought.

A few minutes later before we can even finish making fun of her for thinking any of us was going to go through with that, James hails a cab that will take the five of us.

We made Analiza sit up front with the driver in every taxi we rode for the rest of the day and us four squished into the back, we figured she deserved it after nearly killing us.

Taxi!

P.S. The book store was totally worth it.

A disclaimer :

Every other blog post I’ve written has had the names omitted to protect the guilty, this one will not.

That is all.

Sleep No More NYC

Sleep No More NYC is an interactive play. A rendition of Shakespeare’s Macbeth performed in an old abandoned hotel in NYC. You will be wearing a mask…. that is all the information I had before my experience and that is all you get. Enjoy your show.

Me: Me (26)

Cassandra: My Older Sister (27)

Samantha: My Younger Sister (19)

Analiza: Cousin (AKA Death Cab) (24)

James: Cousin (Analiza and James are brother and sister) (22)

The five of us are standing outside of an abandoned hotel. The guy who gives you a paper bracelet with permission to drink or marks the back of your hand with the dreaded permanent markered black “X” has just given us four bracelets and defaced Samantha’s right hand for the evening and gone on his merry way.

We only stand there for a few minutes before we’re ushered into the pitch black entrance of the hotel. It’s all dark except for a few lights illuminating the general direction we’re supposed to be travelling. Coat check takes all of your belongings and warns you cell phones are forbidden to be used inside.

I hang onto mine anyway.

After coat check we check in at the little booth at the end of the hallway where they have each person individually pick a card from a face down deck of cards. The lady didn’t tell us what to do next or what the cards were for she simply said “Enjoy!” and started helping the people behind us.

Now the whole place is dark and I mean, pitch black dark. There were other people there too but it felt like just the five of us. We make our way up the flight of stairs and through the winding hallway toward the sound of music, all holding hands. I wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be scary, like some kind of haunted house play, or was a guy with a chainsaw around the corner ready to jump out at us…..?

Light floods into my vision as we reach our destination. A 1940’s bar. It’s all 40’s music, slicked back hair and smoke. I love it.

Samantha: Wow.

The band’s song comes to an end and a soft round of applause floods the room.

A suited man makes his way to the huge microphone at center stage to address the audience in his sultry voice.

Man: Welcome all to the McKittrick Hotel. The card you were handed upon your arrival is your ticket.

We all look at each other slightly alarmed.

Man: If you find yourself holding an Ace, please take the door to your left and enjoy.

His voice trails off in the background as we all check our cards. James and Cassandra have Ace’s. Analiza and I have 2’s. Samantha has a 3.

James: Looking at Cassandra “I guess that’s us.”

Me: How are we going to find you?

Cassandra: We won’t go far into it, we get to go at our own pace anyway so well just stay near the beginning and wait for you guys.

Me: Okay. Good luck!

They nervously make their way through the smoke toward the small herd of people gathering near the front.

Analiza: I need a drink.

The three of us walk over to the bar where Analiza orders their special. A foamy green drink that tastes like black licorice. Gross.

Me: That looks terrible.

Analiza: Taking a sip “It really is.”

We stand around for a few more minutes taking in the scene. Looking around the room their are obvious “actors” playing their roles scattered throughout the bar, decked out in their 40’s hair and makeup. Never breaking character.

The man with the smooth voice starts announcing that people with a “2” card or earlier can make their way to the front.

Analiza and I decide to wait for the “3’s” to be called this way the remaining three of us can enter together.

It doesn’t take long for us to be called. Samantha, Analiza and I make our way over to the herd of people gathering to be ushered into a small dark room with 20 something other frightened people. Our cards are hole punched, we’re handed masks and instructed to put them on.

Mr. Sultry Voice himself follows us into the room, closing the door behind him which effectively shuts out all the bar sounds and any soft light that might have been illuminating the tiny space we’re now occupying. He wanders in between all the people making eye contact through our masks as he tell us the rules. In the dark we find each others hands.

Man: No talking….no photos……no phones. Feel free to explore…..follow…..watch…..touch. Curiosity shall be rewarded…… You must remain masked at all times…

He’s so serious and it’s so dark it’s easy to feel like you’ve wandered into a horror film and the only way out is to follow this man into the elevator he’s just called to take us away.

We file in single file and since the three of us we’re standing at the back of the little room we end up being at the front of the elevator by the door.

I can’t tell if the elevator is going up or down or sideways. I’m in a trance listening to this man tell us about being brave and how they want everyone to explore on their own. Don’t be afraid he says.

I’m terrified.

The elevator comes to a stop and the man gives us one last farewell…

Man: Remember curiosity shall be rewarded above all things.

He releases the door and we all gather our wits to walk out into the unknown. The guy standing right next to me is the first one to tentatively make his way over the threshold, gripping my cousins hand I go to follow him but Mr. Sultry Voice puts his arm in front of me blocking my way.

What?!

He quickly shuts the elevator door and presses the button for us to go up, a wicked grin playing across his face…

Man: The best experience is the one done on your own.

As the door closed I saw the poor guy who’s now on his own turn around appalled at the closing elevator door, fear in his eyes peering back at me, mask to mask.

I can’t see it because we’re all wearing masks but I know my jaw isn’t the only one’s who’s dropped. My fear of the unknown has now turned into being the next victim in this elevator game of wits.

End of part one….part two coming soon.

Sleep No More NYC

Sleep No More NYC

Composition For The Artist

13 Mar

This is a paper I had to write for my Composition For The Artist class…

Who Me?

I was 14 years old the first time a stranger called me ornery. I was sitting with my older sister in her guidance counselors office while she signed up for high school classes. I no doubt made some remark about the cramped office and how the counselor, Mrs. Snowburger, still managed to stuff eighty-seven little cat figures into every nook and cranny of the space, I counted. Or maybe it was the comment I made under my breath about her last name, it was probably almost definitely one of those two things that led her to the conclusion that I’m ornery. When my mother came home from work that evening I told her what the counselor had said and asked her what it meant, because at the time I didn’t know. My mothers first reaction was to laugh. Partly because she knew it was the truth but also because looking down at the wide-eyed scrawny 14-year-old in front of her she knew without a doubt I was indeed her daughter.

I was born in Wiesbaden Germany on January 6th 1987. Growing up my father was in the Army, so we did a lot of travelling. I’ve lived everywhere from New York to Louisiana to Colorado and so many places in between. My mother was a part-time stay at home mom and a part-time whatever job should could get wherever we happened to be living at the time mom. I was raised in a house with all girls apart from my father. I have an older sister that’s a year older than me and a sister that’s six years younger than me. My older sister and I grew up very close. Having to move around every few years and say goodbye to all of our friends, she was the only friend who never left.

My parents got divorced when I was thirteen. That is usually a pretty traumatizing event in any childs life but really it was the opposite for my family. My parents splitting up was the best thing for my mother and once the divorce was finalized she moved my two sisters and myself from Colorado to Nebraska where she took a job running a restaurant and a chance to start over. With the divorce came seeing my father less and less, when he decided to leave my mother he chose to leave us kids as well, which I suppose is the case for some people.

By the time I graduated I had attended five different high schools. Not because I ever got expelled or in trouble in school but because we kept bouncing from place to place. In fact in school I just kept my head down and did the minimum that was required of me to get the heck out of there. I graduated a semester early just so I didn’t have to be in school anymore. I remember my counselor bringing me into his office one day and telling me I had enough credits to graduate the following month if I wanted to. He told me I had to have a really good reason for doing so though, so I made up this lame excuse about needing to work more at my job to save money to attend college the following fall. He didn’t need to know that I already worked full-time or that I had no plans to attend college, like ever.

I had no idea of what I wanted to be when I grew up until five years out of high school. People had always told me I should be a stand up comedian or something like that but the idea of public speaking for a living completely freaks me out. I was living in Omaha Nebraska and working as a manager at a job that I could have very easily made a career out of when I finally realized I wanted to be a screenwriter. I had always enjoyed writing and for whatever reason people seem to think I’m funny. My initial interest was to do sitcom writing but as I explore writing more and more my interests keep broadening.

I know it’s really lame but it was the show Dawson’s Creek that first made me even think about writing for television. There was just something about those characters and the relationships build over the six season span of the show that made it click that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to write relatable characters like that and build relationships that really made you care about the actors as if you really knew them. With being a screenwriter for television you get to spend a lot of time with your characters and develop them into whoever you want them to be.

I got married in 2009 to the only person in the world that would move across the country just to help me follow my dreams. Almost two years ago my husband and I both quit our jobs, packed up and headed for California. We didn’t have a place to live or jobs to replace our old ones, we just kind of leaped head first. When we moved here I still wasn’t really ready to go to school, but after exploring the industry and looking into schools I finally decided I wanted to go to The Academy Of Art University in San Francisco. The main thing that drew me to this particular school was the fact that they don’t just teach you your major, you also get to learn every aspect of the entertainment industry, which really interests me. This is my third semester at the Academy and I honestly love it. Some people know exactly what they want to be from a young age but I’m glad I waited to go to school until I was sure of what I wanted to be. Until I was sure the debt would be worth it. For the first time in a long time I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be and doing exactly what I’m meant to be doing.

I truly believe that everything happens for a reason. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I didn’t get to move all across the country when I was little, I wouldn’t have met my husband if I had taken that job offer to run my own restaurant for the company I was working for, and I certainly wouldn’t be me if you couldn’t tell after minutes of meeting me that I’m without a doubt, incredibly ornery.

Blogging on the Train

19 Dec

It’s finals week and I’m officially done! The end of a semester is always a little bittersweet. I’m of course thrilled to have finally made it through all the work but I’ll miss the familiarity that my classes become. I had two really amazing teachers this semester and can only hope next semester holds as much promise.

I’m thinking about doing short documentaries as a serious business on the side, hit me up National Geographic.

I can’t handle all the sad Facebook posts of pictures of the little first graders who died in Connecticut. Those were people’s babies. I can’t imagine ever having kids of my own in a world where it’s a real possibility to send them off to school and never see them again, I can’t live with that.

I just tried setting up a youtube account and got all the way to the part where you pick your profile picture without any trouble, and then I started looking through all my facebook photos for the perfect one and oh god it’s been an hour.

I’ve already eaten all the candy canes off my christmas tree.

I have 9,755 all time views on this blog. What can we do to get 245 more views by the end of 2012? Let’s end it with a bang folks, 10,000!!

No but for real if the world is going to end on Friday I have a ton of things to finish up before then. Someone get me the rest of the cheesecake out of the fridge.

Boy Meets World is coming back (are we all as excited as I am about this?) and somewhere along the lines I blogged about old school Boy Meets World. Which is apparently referring people to my blog. I wonder how far they get before they realize this isn’t a homage to Topanga blog.

I made a hilarious rap video for my MPL/Edit 2 final, because of course I can’t do anything seriously. Follow the link here…Who Booty- The Unofficial Music Video! Then show all your friends how swag it is! Am I using that word correctly? I can’t keep up with the lingo these days. People still say lingo right? Whatever.

Speaking of being old, I turn 26 in less than three weeks. That’s unheard of, when did I get so old. Ugggh.

The Coolest Things Are Happening

10 Nov

This is the story about how I got the opportunity to make a short documentary about the comedian Anjelah Johnson, for school. Yeah I know, CRAZY AWESOMENESS!!

So if you aren’t someone who follows comedy and has no idea who Anjelah Johnson is (there is something wrong with you), let me educate you. There are only three short videos (of probably hundreds that I’m sure you will watch later) that you need to see and then I promise you’ll love her just as much as I do.

1) Nail Salon – This is just one of her many stand-up skits, the very first one I saw.

2) Bon Qui Qui– This is a skit from the show Mad TV.

3) Wedding Dance- And last but not least, this is a video from her wedding (June 2011). And this one is on here just because I like it.

So now that we’re all on the same page (she’s hilarious right?!)…

As you might know I’m in my second semester at the Academy Of  Art University in San Francisco. And I’m kind of in love with it. It’s just all around a great experience. The students, the teachers, the city, the things we’re learning and the projects we get to do.

So I’m taking this class called Motion Picture Language and one of the assignments is to film a 3-5 minute documentary on any thing/person you’d like. And then in a class called Non-Linear Computer Editing, which I’m also taking, you have to edit your film together (this is one of three films we have to make this semester).

For a long time I had no idea what I wanted to do my documentary on. Other people from my class were doing it on things like their Grandfather, a homeless man, an animal shelter, or karate. But I wanted mine to be awesome.

I knew Anjelah would be in my area in about two weeks doing shows, so I got this crazy idea to just try emailing her to see if I could do it on her. And I really didn’t think it would go much further than that.

I went to her website, Anjelah.com, and found contacts for her various managers. I started by emailing one of them. Waited about a week and didn’t hear anything so I emailed her other manager. Waited another week and got an email from her assistant (shout out to Lauren!). Basically saying she’d love to help coordinate the details and help in whatever way she could to make it all happen.

What?! Come on guys how cool is that!? Let me help you out, it’s the coolest!!

I only really had a few days to prepare, because her show in Cache Creek was in a few days. Needless to say though I was super excited.

Finally it was the Saturday of the interview. The plan was to meet up with her assistant (shout out to Lauren!) at 6 pm and she would get us all set up and into the venue to do the interview with Anjelah.

I got off work early, rushed home to change and then was on my way. I brought my husband along as my camera man. And thank God I did, cause this whole thing was very intimidating and that guys my rock.

So we show up at the Cache Creek Casino around 5 o’clock. We go inside to just look around and see if there are any marquees or signs that we can film to use as B-roll footage.  We ended up talking to the head of security because uh you can’t really film in a casino. Apparently two twenty somethings look smart enough to cheat at craps with the help of a handheld camera. Anyway the second in command at the hotel shows up and was like “Oh you’re the documentary crew?”

Hold the phone.

Were the what?

Crew? Where? Just a minute buddy.

Oh you mean were the idiots that are trying to figure out a 700$ video camera and have somehow managed to get an interview with Anjelah Johnson?

Well if that’s what you meant, than yup that’s us. Here we are!

“Do you guys need any help with your equipment?”

No this is pretty much it buddy.

All of the security guys were very nice and helped us get security passes and showed us into the venue.

I was beginning to feel overwhelmed and a little bit like I had no idea what I was doing. But I’m a huge fan of faking it until you make it, so I just kept pretending like I belonged and interviews with celebrities were just an everyday occurrence for me.

We didn’t have to wait long once we were into the venue for Anjelah’s people to come down. I had texted her assistant (shout out to Lauren!) to let her know we were already inside.

The entrance all happened very fast. All of a sudden Anjelah and her people were standing right next to us, I didn’t even see where they came from. It was all handshakes and pleasantries and Anjelah being whisked away to do sound check. Her assistant (shout out to Lauren!) told us to stay and watch sound check and then Anjelah would take us with her to the green room to do the interview.

Sounds great.

Sound check was awesome, they just run through all the intros and music for the show. Making sure it sounds right and all the lights are where they need to be. Anjelah sings a little bit and beat boxed to check the mic, she’s clearly in her element on stage.

She exits stage and then walks over to where we’re sitting to take us to the green room with her. The green room is basically her waiting room backstage. And it’s awesome, the lights in there are perfect, their are plush red chairs, flowers, food, the works.

We go inside with her and she’s so sweet. Offering us tea and asking about my school, telling us about her family coming to the show. Really really I couldn’t have asked for a better experience. She was gracious and humble and answered my questions perfectly.

I’m not gonna go into detail about the actual interview, you’ll have to tune in for the documentary to see how it all turned out 🙂

*A  special thank you to Anjelah Johnson for opening up her world to me and letting me be a part of it for an evening.

*Her Assistant (shout out to Lauren!) for coordinating the whole thing and being so nice to people who were complete strangers to her.

*The people at Cache Creek Casino for letting me be “The Documentary Crew”.

*And the very bald security guard, Keith, for letting us hang out in a bunch of places no one else gets to hang out in.

One.

7 Oct

I pull my hair into a messy bun and lean my head back onto the headrest so it stays firmly in place. It’s only 8 AM and it’s already hot outside, it’s really hot. We’re winding up a mountain road as music from my iPhone softly makes it’s way out of the speakers in the background. I close my eyes and allow myself to relax for a minute. The past few weeks have been hectic, heck the past years been hectic. Moving, work, school, opening the business. It all collides together keeping me busy, hell keeping me sane. But I forget what it’s like to get away. I forget what’s it’s like to pack the car in the early morning and head to Yosemite for a night, effectively leaving everything else behind.

I open my eyes and glance sideways at my husband driving, knowing full well if he sees me looking at him he’ll turn to look at me and I don’t want his eyes straying from the winding road. He looks good in his simple grey v-neck t-shirt and black Nike shorts. Then again he always looks good. His jet black hair is still damp from his shower and is in a perfect tousled mess, just the way I like it. I often find myself watching him in awe. It’s hard to believe we’ve been married for almost three years. It’s astounding to think how far we’ve come. I remember the first time I saw him, over dressed for an interview at the restaurant I worked at and a couple thousand miles away from his home. I could tell from the start he only understood about half of what anyone was saying to him, he’d only been in the country for a few months. He told me once that he had thought I hated him when we first met, oh if he had only known how wrong he was. I picture the outfit he was wearing that first day, red pinstriped shirt and grey slacks that didn’t reach his ankles with the pointiest dress shoes I had ever seen. Before I can stop myself I giggle at the memory.

He turns and looks at me at the sound. Oh shoot.

A grin plays across his face, “What’s so funny?”

I lean forward and my hair falls around my face as I grin back, “You.”

“Me?” He says playfully.

“Yes, you.”

His dark hazel eyes that are the exact shade as mine bore into me for a moment.

“You’re beautiful you know that.”

It’s not a question but a simple statement. And he’s always doing that, I think he just likes to see my cheeks flush.

“No” I challenge as I feel my cheeks getting hotter and quickly change the subject. “The road.” I nod toward the pavement he should clearly be watching instead of me.

“I’ve got the road, what I want is you.”

He’s lighthearted mood and playfulness is infectious. He spends seven days a week running the business and nights studying alternate energy sources for impoverished countries, like the one he comes from. It’s been too long since I’ve had him on my own like this, and this carefree.

“Come here.” He says as he lifts his arm for me to snake mine under his to find his hand.

I oblige immediately. Interlocking my fingers in his in his lap and shifting my body so my head rests on his shoulder, and I’m hugging his right side.

He body radiates heat but I don’t care. His is the kind of heat I can’t get enough of.

Aside

No Idea

29 Sep

I opened a door on my face yesterday. I can’t even properly open a door I’ve been opening at least once daily for over a year. Stellar.

I always make lists of like a gazillion things I need to get done and only ever end up accomplishing .3 of those things. This is only slightly exaggerated.

I only like cherry sours if their not sour. I’m not sure what this says about myself. Maybe I only like things that are the opposite of what they seem. Maybe I only like things that are deceitful. Maybe I just really hate sour candy.

There’s this song on the radio that goes “My chick bad, lookin like a bag of money” and I just don’t understand. I’m sorry, wait…what? Your chicks bad and she looks like a bag of money? Or your chicks bad because she looks like a bag of money? And how are either of these supposed to be good? Is she a little burlappy and you’re into that kinda thing? Explain this to me.

I love how this blog has turned into a bunch of posts of random lists that don”t have anything to do with each other. Actually I don’t love this, I’m just too lazy to flesh out any kind of real stories so this happens instead. I apologize. Also, why are you reading this?

I was supposed to make a movie for my Motion Picture Language class tonight but instead I drank wine and watched Seinfeld, and I’m  not even a little bit upset about this.

I love the song “Some Nights” by Fun. Watch the video it’s amazing.

Oh speaking of opening a door on my face, on the first day of class this semester I totally tripped up a stage and fell on my ass in front of my whole class. Now I’m not the kind of person who ever trips over anything, ever. I kinda pride myself on being able to maneuver steps and small objects without any incident. And I certainly never trip in front of large groups of people. But that wasn’t the case three hours into Appreciation Of Actors on the first day when it was my turn to monologue in front of the whole class. It wasn’t one of those play it off trips either, I was on my ass and everyone was watching me.  Admit it, I’m the coolest person you know.

Admit it.