friday five

Top 5 Albums

Though I'm from the "iPod generation," I still think the album as a whole (the narrative, the arc, the variation) is paramount in music. So, this is my homage to the albums that I can listen to without skipping a single song.

1. Beneath These Fireworks - Matt Nathanson
Of course, right? I hate being predictable, but there's no way this list could exist without this album. I still remember when Lex from Great Harvest burned me this album - it was love at first sound. I remember driving in Wheezy, blasting this CD, giving it to Jansy, letting it fill the places that were empty from all the heartbreaks with boys. I will always love this CD, and it kills me a little inside every time Matt Nathanson says that he feels this album was lacking in some way, because to me, it is perfection.

2. Leaving through the Window - Something Corporate
I first found Something Corporate through the song Konstantine. God, that song still gives me chills, especially in the acoustic version where Andrew, really quietly, says -instead of sings- "God, I miss you." When he sings things - even back before his bout with cancer - you can hear the sincerity and emotion in every word he sings. This album always makes me think of summer and my best friend and how playing piano became so cool when Andrew did it. I love the rawness of this album, it's got that energy that only a debut album can have, when the musicians are young and full of hope, before they get broken when the record label fucks them over.

3. Infinity on High - Fall Out Boy
This album always makes me think of New York and my crazy trip up there with the kids from Footloose. I think this was FOB's peak - FUCT was good, but IOH was really their shining moment. Pete wasn't crazy over Ashlee, Patrick's voice was rocking, they had money and support coming off of FUCT, so they really had all the materials and inspiration to make a wicked album. I'm a fan of Folie a'Deux as far as Patrick's voice, but Pete's songwriting took a turn for the worse in that album... kinda makes me hope he gets a divorce and finds something real to write about again.

4. Mad Season - Matchbox Twenty
Every time I feel like a sellout for liking Matchbox Twenty, I listen to this album and prove myself wrong. This album is the shit. The orchestration, the vocals, the overall energy? Fantastic. There's a maturity in this album that really shows the step up from Yourself or Someone Like You to Mad Season, especially lyrically. I just listened to this album last week, and messages I thought I got when I was 15 still hit me so heavy seven years later. I think this album also does a really good job of defining a concept for an album - for instance, a song from Mad Season would sound astronomically different that a song from their third album, More Than You Think You Are.

5. Say It Like You Mean It - The Starting Line
I was sick with pneumonia when I first saw this music video, Kenny with his waif-like face and bleached blonde hair (it's still a freaking hilarious video, in my opinion). Little did I know that this album would be one of my favorites, and this band would always have a special place in my heart, so many years later. I think this album does a fantastic job of not growing stale, which is so easy to do in that pop/punk sound. Each song stands out from the others, whether because of a riff, a lyric or a melody, and that makes this album so easy to put in and just let it play.

Friday Five

Top 5 Things that Make Me Nostalgic

Inspired by Adam's quote: "Nostalgia is powerful stuff."

1. The Starting Line. This band defined my teenage years. I was young, thought I was angsty, thought I was in love, thought no one understood me but musicians I had only met once (but who offered to "f****** kill" the dude who crowd surfed my head into a metal post.) They just released a live album and wow, do I miss them more than ever.

2. Justin. This is my old friend from Unos, who recently found me on Facebook after three years of not talking. I guess catching up with him really got me thinking about how much (and how little) changed in the past three years. And it makes me think about the days of Unos, and all that happened then. I look back at those times fondly now - I don't think that's necessarily a good thing.

3. 3x5 photographs. No one seems to print 3x5 photos any more (who died and made 4x6 king?!), but the majority of my childhood is captured in just those dimensions. I guess something about 3x5 photos screams film and time and memory lane to me. Plus, it has that pretty decent John Mayer song written about them.

4. NOVA. For some reason, every now and then, I get this intense desire to go back to the days of Acting Class, getting lunch in Cascades as a class, driving around and doing nothing. When it was good, it was really good - the crazy guys, the party girls. Now, I'm past all of that, but sometimes I miss it.

5. CDs. I wrote an entry a while back about purchasing CDs for the first time in a while, and it still holds true. Though I haven't bought a CD in several months, I still get the biggest high off of purchasing my own little musical, aesthetic experience. I always think of my friend Tricia for some reason, and if that's not nostalgia, I don't know what is.

friday five

Didn't think you'd ever see these again, didja!?

Top 5 Reasons 21 was the Greatest Year

1. Being able to go anywhere. The tension between 20 and 21 breeds perhaps one of the most annoying countdowns EVER. And duh, I love being able to drink. It's an exciting world out there, kids, and alcohol proves to be a tasty guide to it all.

2. Having a boyfriend. If the past, oh, dozen entries haven't tipped you off, I am (still) ridiculously crazy over my BF. It will be ten months in about a week, which is SO INSANE for me. Having someone there to be your friend, your love, your comforter is such an amazing feeling. And I refuse to take him for granted.

3. Working at Wolf Trap. Parts of it sucked, REALLY sucked. But would I do it again? Hell yes. I got to shoot for hours and hours. I learned to trust myself and my equipment. I got some amazing friends and wicked good letter of recommendation out it. Working at WT solidified me in my decision that I want to, and am capable of, being a photographer.

4. School. Now, I'm not saying I enjoyed the ridiculous amounts of work. But during 21, I felt more at home there than ever before. I had friends that were my age to laugh with and complain with. I had a desk at the SG, and I could run to the Photo Lab for any other needs. And while my classes were effing hard, I definitely learned some things that semester that I'm very glad to have under my belt.

5. Money. Thanks to working three jobs in the summer and two currently, I have enough money to move into my new place the first week of December. Holy crap, she's growing up.

albums to be released on my birthday

Switchfoot: Hello Hurricane
Michelle Branch: Everything Comes and Go
Dashboard Confessional: After the Ending
Britney Spears: The Singles Collection

Go forth and celebrate my 22nd year ending by purchasing an album by one of these fine artists.

my life is complete

So, I was going to do a real post tonight, but I happened to go to my now defunct journal and browse around for old time's sake and found this:

"May 14, 2008:

The seasons don't change.

It's more than ridiculous that for the past three years, January through April are filled with boys. Spring must be working some awful magic in them, because during those months, they can't get enough of me. But as soon as May hits and generally through the rest of the year, they have booked it back to whatever safe habitat (or state) from whence they came.

And every year, I think to myself, who knows, maybe this year the seasons will change. Maybe the male population won't begin showing interest in February, maybe I'll actually get a summer fling. But no. The seasons are the seasons for a reason, and with this established pattern, I think it's safe to say I know what to expect for the rest of my life.

It's not lost on me that it's May, not April or June, that David and I broke up. It's not lost on me that it was last May, the asshole from Connecticut drove away and forgot about me. It's not lost on me that it was two years ago in May, that I shared a night in a hammock with a boy who couldn't make up his mind.

The seasons don't change. And sometimes, I don't think we do, either."

So all that emoness aside - LOOK AT MATT NATHANSON'S NEW LYRICS:

"It's warm enough to trick the birds into singing,
it's warm enough to give 'em hope,
but we both know it's dead winter
and seasons change, but we don't."

FUCKKKKKK MATT NATHANSON AND I SHARED A BRAIINNNNNNNNN.

And for the record, the Curse of May was broken.

fighting gingivitis together

As I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, one hand on my hip, the other holding my toothbrush in my mouth, I saw his toothbrush standing in the little ducky holder on my counter. No, this is not a symbol of our depravity (he doesn't spend the night considering I live with my parents). It's simply that he works late, and when he comes over straight from work, we've gotten into this little routine of going up and brushing our teeth together in my bathroom.

I don't know why I like his toothbrush there so much, next to mine. But if I were to take a guess, I like it because it's a piece of him that is so solid, tangible and ordinary, living in my world. And for once I'm not saying it means that this relationship is going to continue or die or anything too deep - it simply makes me happy. I like waking up in the morning and seeing that piece of him. I like standing next to him and making faces at ourselves in the mirror while brushing our teeth at night.

He's up for a new job, one that's closer and wouldn't require us to see each other at 1am. And I'm so excited that I will get to see him more frequently and at times that I'm not ready to fall asleep.

But I just don't want to lose that damn toothbrush.

photo lovers: salute!

In this digital age, everyone's a photographer. We have cameras on our phones, in our computers... so who's to say you're not a photographer?

ME.

Start reading over at tracijbrooks.wordpress.com to see the magnitude of photography - and my thoughts on every bit of it.

i'd die if i didn't see you there

And when we can see things clearer
than we think we see them now
Maybe kiss each other sweetly
instead of trying to bite down
Maybe then all this will be better
Maybe then we'll recover


I didn't know that fights could be silent. I always pictured them with yelling, door slamming, even household items smashing into walls. I didn't think the first one would be fought over the phone, curled up in my bed or in my car, sobbing, trying to contemplate any sort of future - let alone tomorrow - with the man I say I love.

But knowing us, I should've guessed that it wouldn't have been a normal fight. There was no yelling. There was no anger. It was the easiest fight to lose because all I had to do is keep my mouth shut, and it was over. Us. No more.

But He made me look at him, he made me speak, and because of that, we have tomorrow. And the next day, and the day after. Maybe even longer.

Monday is seven months. And it means more now, than ever.

in your atmosphere - john mayer

I don't think I'm gonna go to L.A. anymore
I don't think I'm gonna go to L.A. anymore
I don't know what it's like to land and not race to your door
I don't think I'm gonna go to L.A. anymore

I don't think I'm gonna go to L.A, anymore
I'm not sure that I really ever could
Hold on to a hotel key
in your bedroom neighborhood
With me sleep walking in Hollywood

I'm gonna steer clear
I'd burn up in your atmosphere
I'm gonna steer clear
Cause I'd die if I saw you
I'd die if I didn't see you there
So I don't think I'm gonna go to L.A. anymore

I dont think I'm gonna go to L.A. anymore
Get lost on the boulevard at night
Without your voice to tell me
I love you, take a right
The ten and the two is a lonely sight

I'm gonna steer clear
I'd burn up in your atmosphere
I'm gonna steer clear
Cause I'd die if I saw you
I'd die if I didn't see you

I'm gonna steer clear
I'd burn up in your atmosphere
I'm gonna steer clear
Cause I'd die if I saw you
I'd die if I didn't see you there, see you there

I think I'm gonna stay gonna stay, gonna stay in the grey, think I'm gonna stay
All the street lights say never mind, never mind
All the canyon lines say never mind
Sunset says we see this all the time, never mind, never you mind...

insomnia

I shouldn't have done it.

And I'm sorry, but not for the reasons I should be.

they call her love

The weather has been changing in Northern Virginia - fall is definitely in the air. I know this because at night, the breeze coaxed through my window by my fan is not just cooling my hot skin, it's chilling what's already cold. I know this because when I wake, I'm deep under covers, tucked into pillows and the light is hazy and not quite enough to pull me from my warmth. I know this because I now scamper into the shower, the hot water now serving a purpose to protect me from the day ahead.

I know fall is here by my mood, by the events, by the time. I always seem to want to think more during the fall, preparing for the long haul of winter when I have nothing but intellect to keep me company. Only this time, it will be different because of the man I have next to me.

I have held his hand in mine for almost seven months. SEVEN MONTHS. It feels like an eternity to me, the girl of short relationships and flings. He has put up with my BS, my craziness, my frustration. I have forgiven his tardiness, his absentmindedness, his unavailability. He has made me talk to him. He has let me cry. He has forced me to move outside my comfort zone. He brought me roses for our sixth month anniversary.

We have finally said the Word (or, The Words). And it was painful and it terrified me, it made me doubt us and myself and relationships but we said it anyway. And it's true, and I meant it, and I hope I never stop meaning it or forgetting how much it meant.

nothing dims these stars

I wrote an entry similar to this one a long time ago.

I hate, now more than ever, when artists use the metaphor of a car crash for some great, big emotional or mental break through. All I can say, having been in two major ones and one minor one, is that these artists who write such songs, have clearly never been in one. If they had, they'd know it was traumatic, stressful and incredibly painful - not something you write about when seeking clarity and a general emotional jump start.

I should be grateful that I'm okay and the other driver is as well, and I am, somewhere inside of me. I'm glad no one was hurt, I'm glad I didn't break any more bones, I'm glad his car didn't go over that seven foot wall into the parking lot of Rite Aid. All of these things could have easily happened. But instead of gratitude, I'm really wanting to give God the finger and start cursing at him for yet another low blow this summer. Getting sick, dropping my summer classes and being forced to go back to AU for another fucking semester wasn't enough, no, let's have Traci have an accident and now be out of a car. Where am I supposed to get money for a car? How am I going to pay for more school? I'm so fucking angry at everything.

But life just keeps going, you know? You never get the time to stop and just take a day to stop shaking and curl up in bed and just gather what pieces you have left. Work, rehearsal, piano, work, rehearsal, piano... it never stops. And fuck my life, it's not getting any better any time soon.

i just died in your arms tonight

I love photography.

Le duh, you say, we know this. And I take a lot of pictures, especially this summer, at least 1000 shots a week. Despite those startling numbers, I can without a doubt point to three photographs that I cherish above all else... and they're probably not what you think - i.e., none of them are Matt Nathanson.

First is a photograph I took while in California with Jordan, my best friend through high school. It's black and white, and what Pez calls the perfect example of an Ansel Adams' picture with it's foreground, subject and background. The lighting, the composition and the model are absolutely perfect, and I wonder if I'll ever be able to create something quite that beautiful again.

Second is a picture that I didn't even take - Jordan took it of me. Again, black and white, and I'm standing in her garden, under her trellis, wearing my prom dress from the year I went with Bobby. My hair is short and flipped out, and my eyes are quite serious. I think ti's my favorite picture of myself, ever.

Third is a photo I took at Brew Mountain Coffee, at the Cool Hand Luke show years ago. I was just figuring out my SLR, wasting film right and left. This particular show, I shot probably two or three rolls and got maybe one or two photos I could bear to look at. One of them was a posed photo of three skateboarders, holding their boards, pointing up at a sign that said "No Skateboarding Allowed." Even though I created the picture, I love looking at the irony and feeling like I captured a Moment.

A long time ago, I hunted through my box of negatives to find the negatives for these three photos. I can't even say how amazed I was to actually turn them up - searching through negatives is tedious and difficult and not nearly as easy as browsing through photos on a computer. I pulled the negatives out and set them aside in a sleeve so I could go to Target and get them made into 8x10s. I carried them in my planner for the better part of a year, hoping I'd remember to get them made.

Tonight, I realized I never got them made and pulled out my planned to check if they were still there. A sinking feeling grew in my stomach as I flipped through the pages and looked in the pocket where I stashed the sleeve - nothing. I searched my new planner, knowing it was futile. I looked over my desk, checked in drawers, looked places I knew it would never be.

On a whim, I looked in my box from MAC that currently holds sharpies and other odds and ends. I knew it wouldn't be there, but I looked inside a Target photo envelope for kicks - and between pictures from the Virginia Newsies Rally (believe it or not), there they were. I couldn't believe my eyes, and the knot in my stomach slowly dissipated as I breathed out, checking to make sure it was really them.

It was, it is. They are. I have them.

That feeling of utter hopelessness, of futility, of helplessness, is one I am unfortunately all to acquainted with. Sometimes it's over something as innocent as a negative - other times, it's heavy, like a memory. And it's the worst when it's both and you feel so stupid crying over lost pictures when people are dying in the world, and you will be able to take more pictures tomorrow - but it still hurts. Pain is real no matter where it comes from. I know this more than anyone else.

But tonight, I will be able to sleep, knowing I'm lucky enough to hold onto these insignificant items.

And Monday, I will make the damn photos, because I know a second chance when I'm given one.

To Do

I'm alive. And writing lists like fucking whoa.

TO DO BEFORE I GO TO THE BEACH THIS THURSDAY:

1. Post on Blackboard
2. Reply on Blackboard
3. Write telephone essay
4. blog at The Park In Vienna
5. Finish editing Twelfth Night
6. Practice piano
7. Upload Alyssa shoot
8. Buy swimsuit
9. Buy alcohol
10. Cash checks
11. Get camera

As you can tell, my life is a mess of photography, money, the arts and school. Don't be surprised if you don't see me for the next six weeks.

(But - for the record - I'm still happy. Stressed and frustrated, but deep down, I'm so fucking happy. Even more so that in TWO DAYS I'll be at Virginia Beach with people I love, far, far away from school and work.)

oh, you think you got it

Life is too good right now.

I keep looking over my shoulder, wondering when it's going to throw me a curve ball or smack me down to the ground, but it's been a several weeks, and I'm still on my feet. It's a damn good feeling, I'm not going to lie, especially after that hell of a semester.

I wish I could freeze the next few months and just stay. I want to throw a potion or cast a spell over my world and slow the fuck down because I know, I know these months will fly by and come fall, I will be desperately clawing to retain these moments. I love my job. I love everything about it - feeling professional, the venue, getting paid to do what I love, my schedule, my fellow interns. There could not be a better way to spend the summer!

And I'm crazy for my boy. That ridiculous, swing your arms out and turn your face up to the sky, spinning and dizzy, wonderfulhappyamazement. I didn't know it could be like this! I honestly never could have even crafted this relationship in my head. It's above and beyond expectations - and yet, at the same time, so grounded and deep in my heart that I sometimes just want to cry and how happy and normal and right this feels. I'm daily surprised at how it's been almost four months - on one hand, who ever would've thought I'd stick with a guy this long... and on the other, wondering why it hasn't been six months, eight, a year. Every day is beautiful with him and it feels like we've already shared a million.

It's not that I'm not aware of the challenges this summer will bring. I'm not in denial about the terrors of the fall and finding and job and the (hopefully) impending move out of my parent's home. I think about these things daily. But just like that old Friday Five... I'm not going to feel entitled to this summer. I am grateful, so grateful, for everything, so I won't let worries about the future ruin the beautiful present.

I'm going to keep spinning, thank you very much.

moving on

My key ring has lost two of its valuable members this past week.

A couple of days ago, I gave the Rices their key back, since I won't be needing to stay there over the summer despite my class the latter part of the summer. Today, I turned in my key to my office with the student government here at AU.

I'm assuming there's some significance in this - aside from the fact my key ring is lighter (people always make fun of me for the mess of keys, gadgets and keychains I keep on my carabiner). I guess one can speak to the transient nature of life, leaving homes behind and gaining new keys to signify the additional achievements in life.

But fuck all that.

I sort of feel like I lost family after turning those keys in. Granted, the SG family has disbanded, making way for the new executives, but my office mates will actually still be there for the next year, and I miss Natalie already. Giving the key back to the Rices (along with packing up several of my earthly belongings and carting them away) also depressed me, since they really did become my family over the past year (and this time I don't have a new fish to cheer me up). It'll never be the same, you know? I'll always be friends with them, but that element of being one of their "kids" has sort of dissipated.

I love how I attach ridiculous amounts of sentiment to the most irrational inanimate objects, don't you?

...Music Monday?

So, this is my attempt at making up for missing the past three Friday 5's. I figure as long as there's alliteration, I'm square.

Top 5 Ending Songs on Albums
I think the last song on an album is so key, and I think a lot of artists just sort of throw it away. Here's a toast to those that kept their ending just as strong as their beginning.


1. Hate This Place - Goo Goo Dolls - Dizzy Up the Girl
This song, as many of you know, was my theme song for my teenage years. Even though Johnny Rzeznik said this song was created in the style of the Replacements, I think it really complimented the rest of the Goo's 1999 release.

2. Kylie From Connecticut - Ben Folds - Way To Normal
I like this song because Folds ends his album in a totally different way than how he started. Most of "Way To Normal" is non-sensical and at times crude, but this bittersweet piano tune cuts back to Folds' more poignant ballads like Evaporated or The Luckiest.

3. I've Got All This Ringing in My Ears and None n My Finger - Fall Out Boy - Infinity On High
Though I'm a general fan of this whole album, this is probably my favorite song on the album. I don't know if it's the weird, driving intro or the way Patrick Stump sings "Tell the boys where the find my body" with that throwback almost jazz sound, but this song is definitely the best choice to close the album.

4. I'll Be the Wings that Keep Your Heart in the Clouds - Mayday Parade - A Lesson in Romantics
The title from a few entries ago ("I could stand here for hours just to ask God the question, 'Is everyone here make believe?'") came from this little gem from an otherwise ordinary pop-punk-emo band. I love the duo vocalists (harmony! counterpoint!) and the slow swinging guitar strumming and the mention of my home state. Virginia IS for lovers.

5. They Weren't There - Missy Higgins - The Sound of White
It's physically impossible for me to skip this song whenever it comes on my iTunes, and I was lucky enough to hear Missy play it when I saw her at the 9:30 club earlier this semester. God, this song is the quintessential post-relationship tune, but more than that, it is one of the best closers for an album I've ever heard. This song could teach others about how to really complete an album in its delivery, lyrics and general awesomeness.

i don't want to fall asleep and watch my life from 50 feet

It's been rather quiet on the blogging front. I figured it was time to break the silence.

The other day while driving to the Rices, I passed by a man sitting on the side of the road. He had pulled off into the little picnic area off of Beach and sat on a bench, shirtless, white hair frizzing around his head, banging on a bongo. Or maybe it was a djembe. I'm not quite sure.

It made me laugh, but as I kept driving past him, I started to think about what exactly he was doing. I'm sure he thought he was communing with the nature spirits or something, but to me, it was just a picture of someone doing what made them happy, and damn everyone else.

I've decided this is a Good life philosophy.

It's time that I stop focusing so much on the rules that I have (willingly) embraced and clung to. I don't have to be the alpha, psycho-top student that will land a job with a Fortune 500 company right out of college. I have to accept myself, give myself room to make mistakes and figure things out. And I'll do what makes me happy.

So if you ever see me in a park, playing the bongo without a care in the world, you'll know why.

what's good for you

For the first time in the history of my relationships, I am looking at the future.

For the past year, I thought I wasn't a "future" kind of girl. No rings, no white dresses, no bouquets to throw. No homes, no mortgages (at least, not with anyone's name beside mine on the papers). Certainly no children - they are the EPITOME of the future.

And then I met him. And things changed.

It's my little victory - this weekend, I will be celebrating my longest relationship (i.e., two months and SIX WHOLE DAYS). In another month, I will hopefully triumph over the Curse of May with him by my side. And honestly? I wouldn't be surprised if we actually made it all the way.

It's the little jokes about having children, but always with the "if" hanging over it. Using the "L" word, but only kidding. Playing with fingers and rings without saying a word. Describing wedding plans, in the hypothetical sense. And the other plans, so many plans, that might have nothing to do with marriage but everything to do with commitment. These things make me wonder if one day, I will share the white dress, the bouquet and the mortgage with him.

(Even my mother has noticed and made her own predictions about the possibilities of a ring on my finger in an ungodly short amount of time.)

But my favorite thing about us is that for I don't have to worry because we are in no rush to do anything. We're not rushing the ring. We drink in just being with each other, and there's that underlying assumption that there's never going to be a drought.

It's thrilling. It's scary. These are uncharted waters for me, but I've got a fellow sailor next to me who doesn't mind the lack of map. People always say it's the journey, not the destination, that matters - I'm ready for both.

I could stand here for hours just to ask God the question, "Is everyone here make believe?"

It's been a rough couple of weeks. I'd rather not talk about the painful moments - and there were several - when I was an emotional wreck, on academic suicide-watch and living in silence. I wanted to quit everything. But I didn't. Clearly, I'm still here.

So I'd like to give the State of the Union, highlighting the glimmers of hope to convince everyone that I am doing okay.

First, school is almost done. I am four weeks away from freedom! I do have two classes over the summer, but really? After this past semester, two three-credit classes spread over 12 weeks is going to be a breeze. Plus, I'm pretty sure I won the Professor Lottery and got two awesome professors.

Second, my boyfriend is the shit. He has been there every day for the past three weeks, whether by phone or in person, being a heart that cares for me, a source of comfort and a voice of reason. We've been working through a very rough time together (very early in the relationship, believe me, I know), but I am fiercely proud of the character we've both shown since that week. He really is unlike anyone I've ever been with, and I'm getting suspiciously comfortable with the idea of a future with him. Take that as you will.

Third, I got the photography internship at Wolf Trap. YES. Photographing bands and theater for the entire summer? Win. Getting paid to do so? EPIC win. And this just in - Matt (my best guy friend) is probably going to be working there this summer as well. Spending my summer doing something I love with someone I love? That's just too good to be true.

Fourth, I just bought a pair of aviator sunglasses. Yeah, I know this is no where near the other items on the scale of epicness, but, well, they make me really happy. And that's the spirit of this list, if not the letter.


I love you guys. Thanks for hanging in there with me.

i'm not the same survivor i used to be

Yesterday, I found out that someone I looked up to and respected made a Big Mistake. And it was in the worst way possible - the kind of mistake that rips up the hearts of everyone around them. As I left from hearing the news, I couldn't help but hold onto my quiet grief over the loss of one of the few Good humans almost as tightly as I held on to the boy walking beside me.

And my best friend told me she can't imagine how much harder it is for those that really knew him, knew both of them. And I'm sure that's true. But I also think it speaks to the immense loss that someone who only met him a handful of times can still feel this discouraged and betrayed. He Mattered. And now we'll never be able to look at him the same way, without the questions in our eyes. At least, I won't be able to.

I couldn't let the echo go in my head, even hours later as I lay next to my boyfriend, feeling every bit of our good intentions meeting more than halfway. And I know now that my fears are not meaningless or unfounded. This is what terrifies me about marriage and love and the worst of times - I'm terrified that I can't do it. I'm terrified that tomorrow I could hurt this boy who I am falling so hard for, that despite every word and kiss we mean with all of our hearts, that it still just might not be good enough. People FAIL. Miserably. I am no where near as strong as he was, so God, if he fell what hope do I have?

Good humans, Big Mistakes. And Love. I want to believe in Love! I want to wear blinders to all the numerous failures we make so I don't lose this fragile hope I have. But I also want to rejoice in the moments that we overcome those Big Mistakes. I just hope there are enough to make this pain worth the while.

what's a friday five?

Top 5 Upcoming Friday Fives
I know I've been absent, but there's been a lot of shit going down. As a disclaimer, these are not necessarily going to be the next five you see, just ones that may or may not arrive in the next couple of months. Credit to Adam for the idea. Have a suggestion for a future Top 5? Comment away.

1. Top 5 Lyrics - The main reason I haven't done this one is because there are SO FUCKING MANY lines out there that I adore - how can I narrow it down to five? I mean, I could do Top 5 Matt Nathanson lyrics, Top 5 90's lyrics, Top 5 lyrics from bands whose CDs I've stolen, Top 5 Lyrics that remind me of friends... talk about magnitude.

2. Top 5 Things I Like About Dating - Believe me, I will postpone this one for as long as I can, folks. I don't like the sappy, ridiculous posts any more than you do, but I think after all the ruminating I've done on the perks of being single, it's only fair to give the other side their turn as well.

3. Top 5 Things I Like to Photograph - I'm really excited about this particular one because each of my categories represent a particular facet of photography that inspires and moves me as an artist. One of the things keeping this one from going live is that I'm attempting to find one of my photographs that coincides with each topic, and we all know how much time I have to devote to that sort of a hunt.

4. Top 5 Things that Stress Me Out (Not school related) - Not the most uplifting topic, but you all should know. Just in case you decide you want to drive me crazy. The caveat about not being school related is because clearly, there are enough AU-based things to populate a list ten times that length.

5. Top 5 Weaknesses - I would like to think I don't have a ton, but there are clearly ways to get me. Some are funny, some are poignant and some are just pathetic.

someone like you and all you know and how you speak

He asked me what my issues were. I asked him what his were.

Apparently, I am afraid of attachment. He has trouble sharing his feelings.

We're now dating.

For someone as happy being single as I was, this was more of a fight than anyone could know. And at the same time, it was perhaps the easiest, sweetest and most right relationships of them all. I told him, had he asked me the night we met to date, I would have said no. Even a month in, I still told him I wasn't ready. But only two weeks after I said that... here I am. A girlfriend.

He taught me how to shoot a gun and drive a manual car. I taught him how to bake cookies. He loves the parts of me I try to hide, and I can't get over how he makes me laugh.

And I'm realizing, more than anything, that relationships are built on the differences, the pieces of ourselves that don't match up. And they're work to find the common ground, to open up, to let yourself fit together.

And it's the moments when you're sitting there and hands slide together and bodies curl around each other that you realize this totally absurd concept of (to quote my friend Tali) two independent people simply wanting to be together is actually possible. Not only just possible, it's the most rewarding feeling in the world.

carry all your gentlemen

A long time ago, Elie requested I write something about my brother, music and my guitar. I've been waiting for the opportune moment... it finally came.

I've had my guitar for almost two years now. It's hard to reconcile that much time passing, but it really has. I'll never forget the day I bought it, the boy I bought it with or the boy I bought it for.

Or the boy who wanted to take it to Nashville.

It's always been difficult to be Jason's sister. I don't know if it's a younger child syndrome thing, that he's able to do what I've wanted to do more than anything - perform music - or that my parents seem to defer to him and in turn, make me feel disloyal if I don't kowtow in return. Perhaps this all stems back to jealousy or something equally petty and selfish, but I would hope that after 21 years, it wouldn't be so simple.

The thing is, Jason is good. No, he's better than good, he is the most talented musicians I know and perhaps one of the few that will actually make it. And I'm not jealous that he's good, I'm not angry that he's going places. I know he works hard for his fame and deserves it. That's not what drives me fucking insane and makes me alternatively want to cry and swear I never knew him.

It's that... when I stand next to him, it's like what I do doesn't exist. It's not that I'm untalented, but my talents are not the type that get the spotlight like being a musician and having really spiky hair. And it's not that my parents don't love me or believe in me or support me, but it just feels so one-sided in the way they relate to us. Jason needs something? We'll give it to him. Jason's getting bad grades? Oh, it's because he's playing so much. Jason's coming to visit? Start making his favorite foods.

And I get caught up in this show of support for him. And I don't WANT to be! I am not an unkind person. Yes, I'm selfish. Yes, I can be cruel. But I'd like to think in general, I am willing to sacrifice for those I care about. Jason is not counted out in that crowd, but being his sister, him being the way he is, you give more than your fair share.

Last night, I asked him to name one time he'd done something for me. He couldn't think of a single time.

I'd finally had enough, you know? I was sick and tired of having to give up myself to make him happy. So when he asked to borrow my guitar, my beautiful guitar that was bought hoping it would help me fight those demons and any boys who ever broke my heart, I said no. Fucking no, Jason, you will not fucking take my guitar to Nashville, even if it's only for a month, even if you need it, even if I don't fucking play it. It's mine.

And for once, he had no claim. He had no right, and I had every to deny him the use of my expensive guitar.

I can play the piano. I can play a bit on the guitar. I still have these dreams that one day I'll have a hobby of playing open mics and opening for bands in the local music scene, have a few fans, make an EP and just do it because I love it. As I'm driving, I still hum little melodies and write lyrics on old paycheck stubs, hoping to write just one more song to play for my friends.

But I know that I will never be able to write lyrics like Missy Higgins or craft melodies like Matt Nathanson, though God, sometimes I have these words and notes inside of me that are begging to get out, and it fucking rips me up that I'm just too clumsy to shape them into the eloquence they deserve to be.

I will never be Jason. But that's never stopped me from trying.

Because when it comes down to it, I love him. I only wanted his acceptance. I've only ever wanted people to see me as his equal, not his little sister. And because I love him, I want him to be happy and I want his life to be filled with spotlights.

Because I love him, the place where my guitar normally leans up against my chest of drawers, is empty.

if not now, then when?

Last night, as a friend drove me home, I had the opportunity to look up, out through his sunroof, as we drove the streets of Reston.

Have you ever stared up at the world as you fly by at so many miles per hour? (I know my best friend has, and she even has a song that makes her think of me and my sunroof.) This was my first time, despite both of my cars having a sunroof - I don't recommend manning a car and turning your eyes up at the same time.

But last night, I saw the world in the most beautiful way.

The closest I can come to describing it is watching the world being blown around you - no, more like you're being blown around by the world. You feel small and insignificant and yet the air and stars and streetlights are there and real - you haven't escaped gravity, even though your heart is up with the moon.

That's worth something, right?

Oddly enough, it reminded me of how I felt looking down from Katzen 202. Only it was about as opposite as you could get - in one, I was suspended, watching the cars rushing along, minding their white dashes, and in the other, I was the one racing between the lines. But I'd be hard pressed to find another time where I felt more alive.

We are so intent on looking straight ahead, eyes on the prize. That's certainly necessary and good... but I can't help but wonder what exactly we're missing when we just forget to look up.

friday five

Top 5 Male Vocalists
You know how some guys are butt guys? Well, I'm a voice girl.

1. Matt Nathanson. Duh, right? Goes without saying that I love his phrasing, his vibrato, his tambre. Everything about his voice makes me want to dance and sing and cry at the same time. He's got this one fan who had to have a surgery that would render her deaf - her last action before the surgery was going to hear Matt play. I honestly can't say I would've done anything different.

2. Norbert Leo Butz. So, I'm definitely not into the Broadway scene as much as I used to be, but a few days ago The Last 5 Years came on my iPod, and I was reminded of what an amazing singer he is. When he sings "Nobody Needs To Know," that man is untouchable.

3. Freddie Mercury. I know, I'm not even the biggest Queen fan, but his voice is absolutely killer. It's so light and strong and amazing! I don't know of a singer that can match his range, with the exception of Steve Perry, but they're both dead, so it's not much of a contest.

4. Scott Terry. The singer from Ohio-based Red Wanting Blue is absolutely AMAZING. Their music, in general, isn't anything incredibly original, but it becomes extraordinary when Scott leads them with his deep, resonating, almost country voice. He sounds like Toby Keith, Mac Powell and Erik Palmer all in one, it's a pretty rad mix.

5. Patrick Stump. I debated a long time whether Patrick Stump or Caleb Followill (from Kings of Leon) would nab this last slot on my oh-so-exclusive Friday 5, and though Caleb's perfect rasp is incredibly hot, Patrick will always have my heart. In Folie A Deux he really steps up his vocal game, and even live, he's pretty near awesome.

face to fake

Today, I found myself in the oddest position of giving advice to a girl over a boy that has played her like a fine violin.

It was just SO bizarre! Because I could just see myself in her, feel her pain, understand every bit of confusion she was feeling. Because I was there, you know? For a year, I was in that zone, wondering, planning, debating. It's a tough maze to find your way out of.

"We can call it anything we want," I told her as we walked back to her dorm room so she could show me the profusely apologetic Facebook note he wrote her. "We can say we've been played, we're cynical, whatever. But deep down, it's simple - our feelings have been hurt. It doesn't matter that we're in college or 21, our feelings are hurt and it sucks."

I think you have to acknowledge these things before you can move on. I think that accepting that god, sometimes your heart just hurts for no logical reason is a step you need to take before moving on. That though it doesn't matter in the world, in the grand scheme of things, it matters to you, however tiny and insignificant you are. It matters.

I've been down the road she's looking at - wanting to make contact. Trying to phrase messages so clearly and calmly. Wanting to believe those pretty words, wanting to give someone the benefit of doubt, wanting to believe the past four months weren't a waste.

"We need to have a face to face," she said.

"Face to fake is more like it," I replied, thinking of Kevin.

logophilia

I started reading at a really young age. Stories about Snow White, dalmatians and strawberries are some of my earliest memories when it comes to books. From there, I expanded into fairy tales- runaway princesses, mountains, outlaws and gardens, historical fiction- India, Germany and America, and mysteries - Indians, coffee and the Nile.

I've always loved a good story.

I still have a few books from my childhood that I fought for on eBay (because I didn't want the new, ugly covers - I wanted the pictures that first drew me to the story). Every now and then, I go back and pull them out and a half hour later, I am full of happy thoughts. Who says I can't ride a train to a school to learn magic? Just because I'm 21, does that mean I can no longer live with the dragons and make cherries jubilee? Will the secret garden still let me in, even if I'm tall enough to see over the locked gate?

And so I keep searching for new stories.

I recently read a series that I am only a little ashamed to admit to enjoying. My friend loaned me the first book during a bad spell, telling me it would make me happy. I started reading it, telling myself only one chapter a day (two on weekends). But four days in, I was hooked. I couldn't put it down, and then I needed the second, third and finally the fourth. Within two weeks, I had finished them all and my friend was right- I was happy.

I realized, I still love a good story.

The writing sucks. It's juvenile, the heroine is annoying, the hero is melodramatic. There are so many "gasp"s and "complain"s and "sigh"s that I want to remind her of the amazing word called "said." It's ridiculous, fanciful, cheesy. And it's one of the most captivating stories I've ever read.

I want to believe in fairy tales. I want to believe in romance, in magic, in dragons and werewolves and vampires. I want to ruminate on evil and good and the best intentions. I want love, sacrifice and danger.

If these are the stories of the childhood, I don't want to grow up.

he took his straw, unwrapped it, and plunked it in my water

I'm a week out from Spring Break. And no, it does not escape me what I was a year ago.

I've got this book that's pretty much the most emotionally unhealthy item a girl could ever own - it's a large, black sketchbook that is filled with skeletons from relationships past. There are four chapters for four boys that each left their own mark on me, took their own little piece of me.

Yes, I look at this book when I'm frustrated and bitter and cynical. Yes, sometimes it just gives more fuel to the fire and keeps my depression burning. Sometimes it just makes me sad.

But really? Most of the time, I look at this book when I'm desperate to remember. Because life goes so quickly, and I can forget the details that I once worshiped. This book is filled with the tiny moments that one thinks aren't worth remembering because they're so easily collected - and then when they're gone, you wish you had just stuffed your pockets with one or two more for the road.

The details and memories keep me company. I like knowing them, I like being able to run my fingers over the artifacts and not be cut, just warmed by their existence. They are mine, you see, only mine. No one else (especially the boys who left them behind) will ever be able to touch them. That satisfies me, selfishly I admit, but it's such a rare treat for me to have something entirely for myself.

This life moves so quickly, changes so hugely, that these details are my most treasured items. In my memory, they will never change - I replay them over and over and thank God that for some reason I am able to recreate these snapshots of time frozen. I can't even begin to tell you the insignificant, ridiculous things I have collected in the most desperate cry for things to REMAIN THE SAME while I fight the most obvious losing battle in the history of the world.

Whether it's denial or courage, you can be the judge.

And despite my best attempts, my pockets are still only half full.

Sex On Fire - Kings of Leon

I was going to use this song in a Friday Five or something ("This That Will Make This Week Bearable" or something to that effect), but I couldn't wait. I am so in love, and I wanted to share my joy with all 8 people that read this blog.

You need to go download, listen to, purchase or steal the song "Sex On Fire" by the Kings of Leon. This song is fucking perfection. Abstract lyrics? Check. Raspy-voiced singer? Check. Totally rock'n'roll drums? Check. Brothers in the band? Check, check, check. This is the ultimate, weekend-get-up-do-something-real-fall-in-love MADNESS that I want pounding through my speakers twenty nine times a day.

Fuck, this song! Shit man, I'm ready to go punch some people, tear down fences, dance and yell in my street at midnight thirty...! Just let me fucking act... this song isn't the only thing burning up.

friday five - bonus edition!

So. I definitely missed last week... I am going to blame it on the frantic preparation for Founder's Day. However, to make up for my disappearance a week ago, I present a list of TEN items today for your reading pleasure. And I figure this list, of all of them, should definitely be the longest.

Top Ten I am Grateful For
We so easily become entitled. I'm going to eat a big piece of humble pie and list those things that I have no right to, but I am so blessed to have them anyway. --As a side note, this was a really difficult list to populate. Not because I'm not grateful, but because the point of taking something for granted is that... you take it for granted.


1. A car. My parents bought me Wheezy and Tim - and they pay for my insurance. I did not deserve a car at 16, not do I deserve to have gone this long without paying for anything other than gas or repairs, but they are so understanding of me and my transportation needs.

2. People that let me stay at their house. The top of the list is obviously the Rices - but people like Miranda and Adam both have my eternal thanks for letting me crash at their places when I couldn't drag myself all the way back from campus.

3. Attending AU. I know I bitch about school like it's my job, but when I put my own animosity aside, I see how incredibly fortunate I am to attend a school in our nation's capital, getting so much culture and exposure. I often feel like I "deserve" this because of my GPA or skills, but really, it's just luck that I'm there.

4. My friends. I have three people that I know have my back no matter what, and that is far more than I deserve. I have many other friends that support me and help me grow up and get over myself... from Tali to Matt to Tricia to Leigh and everyone in between, your different point of views and personalities are ridiculous, and I love you all.

5. Being told I'm wrong. I hate it, I fucking hate being wrong (I mean really, who enjoys it?). But I've realized this is how I learn best, and god, there is no better time to get into the habit of disowning your entitlement than when you're wrong.

6. When the road is smooth. Take it literally or figuratively - I should be far more thankful than I generally am when I get either.

7. Beds. After sleeping on the floor a few nights ago, my shoulders and back were very excited to have the Rice's Sleep Number bed welcome them back into the fold.

8. Buying things. Somehow, even though I work many several hours a week at a place of employment, I still take for granted this idea of spending money. I totally dig buying random shit, and I don't usually think about what my life would be like if I couldn't.

9. Being 21. Oh, how soon they forget. Only six months ago I was moaning the fact I couldn't drink - and now I go flit out for wine or cocktails whenever I feel like it.

10. The general good-health of my body. The saying is so true, "You don't know what you have until it's gone." My right wrist being broken was one of the most frustrating ordeals I've ever been through, and now that I'm down to a brace which I can remove, I am so thankful to have my best friend, my right hand, back. Don't take your un-broken self for granted, folks.

abstraction at its best

I’ve been stepping around puddles in the largest concrete ocean I’ve ever seen. One toe here, a pinkie there, one dip and drown-

and sometimes I dance more than avoid.

The wind whips around me, yearning like branches of all the trees I never knew. I should have climbed. The oxygen twists around my limbs, hollowing through me and through me like I don’t even exist.

The sky darkens, against me and its fate is unavoidable. One by one, the rain drops fall, numbers accumulating until my head is so full (and I’m no longer transparent) I'm no longer dancing –

I am drenched.

why i am single part one: TOWCS

I realized I never finished my story.

I haven't seen him in almost two years, yet daily I am reminded of the relationship and the choices I made. I still wonder, sometimes, if I really did act in my best interest. It's rough, being forced to quit cold turkey when you're honestly not quite done. But I did it, albeit messily, and here I am, single. (We'll forget that The First happened, because apparently that memory is not worth worshipping.)

A few days ago, I went into the Rockville Music and Arts to pick up some books for a student. As I drove up, I saw a figure leaning against the back counter that accelerated my heartbeat at least double time. A familiar button down shirt, dark hair, stocky figure. Holy shit, I though dimly, the process of forming actual thoughts stunted by the lack of oxygen to my brain, I think that's Kevin Paro.

I thought about how he did work in Rockville for a time, I thought about the manager turn over, I thought about Mary saying a year ago he'd be coming back. All of this went through my head in a split second.

I walked into the store, completely unprepared to say anything, unwilling to believe it was actually the Asshole.

And yet, I hoped, desperately, that it was.

Some things never change, you know? And I'm okay with that. Like my friend said, you'll never fully forget someone that held that sort of a spot in your heart. But I'm not afraid of him, and I'm not the begging girl I used to be. I have grown up a lot over the past two years. I've changed. Even though I still have no honest to God idea what I would say to him, I know that if it happened, I would be okay. Sure, it'd shake me. But I am at a good place right now. I am fiercely in love with being with no one but myself. I am being selfish, independent, young. And I guess these types of days are limited, so I'm not going to waste them.

The simple fact that I can joyfully embrace being single made it okay that I had no valentine, no plans, no hopes of anything Saturday. It made me not bitter. It made it more difficult - and yet easier, at the same time - to do this series on relationships over the past week. And absofuckinglutely absurdly, it made it somehow okay to spend the entire night and morning talking to a boy I barely knew and spending most of my Valentine's Day night in his arms.

But back to my story.

Belief crushed hope, and I was right. It wasn't him, and as I scrutinized the man I thought was TOWCS, I could see the similarities that made me think it was him, and yet it was so clearly not. At the same time, for all intents and purposes, it might have as well been him. I said nothing to him, he said nothing to me. And if I ever do meet him, the real Asshole, I have a suspicion that our reunion wouldn't be all that different.

friday five

Top 5 Thoughts About My Relationships from Matt

He gets a lot of practice being my best guy friend.

1. "The art of conversation isn't completely dead, don't kill it."
If you can't tell, the brutal honesty keeps me in line. I get so tired of trying to reason with males and eventually give up - and then Matt says something like this.

2. "I don't deny that you're truly fine with things now, but if you keep being friends with benefits, you're going to keep liking him, most likely more, and then you're going to WANT more emotionally, and I don't think that process is going to take very long."
Matt can make me see things that I probably know deep down and just want to ignore. To this day, I'm not sure how he got to know me so well in so short a timespan. I think I attribute this to our friendship forged in theatre.

3. "I think I've come up with new theory that you should embrace. We'll call it "Traci, Version 2.0". Guys have fucked you over so badly that you're emotional psyche (at some points, not all) couldn't BE any worse (no offence) that at this point you should just be like, screw it, and go do whatever you want because you can't get more screwed over by people than you've already been."
An interesting perspective, and one I've never truly been able to embrace, though it definitely looks appealing on paper.

4. "If they're so immature that they can't be just friends with you, then they're dumb anyway."
Story of my life. I've found it's incredibly hard to backtrack once you've started down a particular path, especially for guys (or at least, the ones I'm attracted to). This flippant dismissal towards a boy I care about is literally one of the hardest things for me to do.

5. "If you were a bitch, and you still were attracted to assholes, than it would be a power struggle until you stopped dating and the whole relationship would be a roller-coaster in a different sense than how it usually is for you. But you're not a bitch, you're normal and nice, but you're still attracted to that same sort of guy so, eventually, he's just going to fuck you up and you won't have that effect on him. The level of sarcasm and wit you protray from the get go is RIGHT in the middle between "sarcastic but in a sweet way" and "sarcastic and bitchy" and so some guys just think it goes to the latter and go with it."
Perhaps one of the most significant, defining characterizations of my love life, ever. It's both straight forward and sympathetic, which is a very difficult balance to strike, but Matt does it pretty flawlessly. I actually learned to stop blaming myself, just a little less, after this conversation.

the perfect guy

When I was younger, various literature told me it was wise to make lists of the qualities and characteristics that were necessary to your soulmate so you wouldn't settle. I, being the sheep I am, followed that advice. In some ways, I honestly think it helped me (though not for the obvious reasons). I wish I could look at one of those old lists and see what naive!Traci thought her perfect guy would be.

I'm not saying all these qualities must be present in someone I date. But this list features personality traits- not interests, careers, physical features. These are, in my opinion, fundamental pieces of simply being a good human being and one who is worth giving up my singleness to embark upon a relationship.

(And yes, these are all qualities I've experienced/should've experienced/wish I hadn't experienced. If you're really up for a challenge, match these items to the corresponding male who inspired them from the previous post.)


The perfect guy won't be afraid. Of me, of the relationship, of the future. He will be the one that is ready to explore, conquer and triumph, convincing the reluctant me that this is worthwhile.

The perfect guy won't make excuses. He'll accept no BS, mine or his. He'll own up to mistakes, he'll kindly correct those that are wrong, he won't cop out when he feels it's getting too tough.

The perfect guy will commit. I will not be a choice for him, a supplement for whenever he pleases. He will be there when he should be there, emotionally, physically, mentally.

The perfect guy won't play games. He won't make me jump through hoops to find him. He won't fuck with me just because he can. Instead, he will be honest and say what he means to say without hidden agendas.

The perfect guy will fight. For me, about me, and even at times with me. He's not going to lay down and let anyone (me included) make stupid decisions without having an arms race.

The perfect guy will respect me: as a woman, as a human, as the capable, strong, impossible, insecure being that I am.

The perfect guy will be able to look at where he is and be content.

The perfect guy won't hurt me to remember.

The perfect guy won't be in my head.

The perfect guy knows he isn't.

the important ones, in chronological order

It looks a lot like the Friday Five, but don't be fooled. Satan comes to you in many disguises. We're doing profiles in class, I figured this would just get me ready for the graded assignments.

1. The First. He really was the first, in so many ways. My longest "relationship," especially if you count the years I yearned and he ignored. I sort of feel like he should go back on the list at the end since that was a very different relationship than the first, but... that's just a waste of space.
Best Moment: When we went to W&M to see his band play over last spring break. The whole experience was fantastic - I think the best memory of that trip was coming back and stopping at that old, torn down prison in Lorton on a whim. We took pictures and I had that little rose in my hair... I haven't looked at those pictures since that week.
Lesson Learned: I am good at being single.
Odd Reminder of the Relationship: Waltzing. Our first "date," we saw AU's musical, "Do I Hear A Waltz." We then waltzed outside in the moonlight. Later, I took him to my special spot, and we took pictures of us dancing again.
The Fallout: We don't talk. He's dating someone new.
Song: Walking By, by Something Corporate.

2. Mercutio. Cast as said Shakespearean character when I directing Juliet and Romeo. This one was a lot of fun, but after the break, it became very difficult to keep my cool during rehearsals.
Best Moment: Running around in his basement, doing nothing at all.
Lesson Learned: Boys who only spill guts when they're drunk are no bueno.
Odd Reminder: Firefly. I remember the good days of our little trio sitting and watching Firefly on his incredibly comfy couch, musing over which character we would be.
The Fallout: We're actually pretty good friends, believe it or not. It doesn't escape me that out of all of these, he was probably the least important and yet, somehow, he's the one that lasted.
Song: You and Me, by Lifehouse

3. Batboy. Without a doubt, the shortest "relationship" of this list. Most everyone that knows him thinks that he's secretly gay and just way, way deep in the closet. I'm not surprised.
Best Moment: Sitting in the hammock, his arm around me, just relaxing in the summer air and hoping that for once it might work out.
Lesson Learned: What weed smells like - I had no idea until him.
Odd Reminder: Nutley, or whatever that damn road is that goes over 66. I can still see him driving in front of me, his foot sticking absurdly out the window in that amazing summer air.
The Fallout: I wrote a damn good song and a poem from that emotional mess.
Song: The Origin of Love, from Hedwig and the Angry Inch

4. The Asshole. Oh Connecticut, how I loathe thee for the amazing piece of work you churned out. He wins the award for the most destructive of all relationships with the title "The One Who Wouldn't Stay." I don't know what I'd do if I had to deal with another one of this magnitude.
Best Moment: It would be a lot easier to pick the worst moment. We had a lot of times that I was sincerely happy, believe it or not. But I guess the best would be the night we went to the playground by Sovey's house and sat talking, and he ended it with holding me (I just thought he wouldn't let go so soon).
Lesson Learned: ...Verdicts still out on that one, kids. I'm still looking for that silver lining.
Odd Reminder: God, no way to pick just one. Um. That barrette I wore the night we got caught kissing behind the Mclean Music and Arts store.
The Fallout: I'm still a virgin.
Song: Gravity, by Sara Bareilles

5. The Boy Scout. The first relationship post-Kevin, which was a huge deal, and it was an even bigger deal because he was the first to break the musician stereotype I had been chasing since age 15.
Best Moment: Hearing that he went off on Ashley (a cast member of South Pacific) who had a party and invited literally everyone but the smelly kid, the mom and me.
Lesson Learned: If a boy hasn't grown a pair by 24, he's probably never going to get them.
Odd Reminder: Cinnamon in scrambled eggs with orange juice.
The Fallout: Saw him once or twice down at the Susan, but I ended things pretty harshly, so I don't expect we'll ever be bosom buddies again.
Song: Cailin, Unwritten Law. The obvious choice would be Younger Then Springtime, but I sort of would hate myself if I actually wrote that as the defining song.

in love with love

I used to be. In love with love, I mean. I've toned it down a bit (I think) over the past year or two - a few hard knocks helped me out - but there's still a part of me that is absolutely fascinated with love. To me, love is the ultimate sacrifice, the quintessential adventure, the closest we come to perfection on this earth (some people might point to children, but they don't excite me nearly as much as love does).

Anyone that meets me in my current state of denial and anti-dating and whatnot would probably be fairly surprised to to hear my confession that I get off on weddings. I fucking adore them. They're having your cake and eating it, too. They're commitment, romance and beauty all in one day full of the best intentions known to man. Weddings (slash love) are two people looking each other in the eye, swearing before God and man that they're in this for the long haul. They're going to beat the odds, they're going to make it work, they're going to take two incredibly imperfect people and give it their best shot.

The thing I love most about love is simply that it's all about acceptance and forgiveness. It's kind of that final step in growing up, giving up the very human expectations we have of each other, and just taking people the way they are. Love is someone looking you in the eye and saying, "Hey. I love you. I know everything you do wrong, I know everything you've fucked up, and I still love you for it and accept you and not only do I want to spend forever with you, I can't imagine forever without you." Love isn't blind. It just looks past the mistakes.

That's why I say that love is the closest we come to perfection. When we love, we have ourselves taken a step closer to perfect by ignoring our selfish nature, and we also have allowed our counterpart to similarly move closer with us because we no longer hold their faults against them.

That's really what I love about love. Two imperfect people finding perfection in each other.

why i am single part one: musicians are cancer

In honor of Valentine's Day, I'll be trying to post every day this week with some thoughts on relationships and the experiences I've had over the last five years. I had hoped to make this a round robin sort of deal with other bloggers, but me and my last minute ideas sort of shot that one. Sorry guys, it's just me this time.

The story starts the same way, almost every single time. There's a boy, a musician. The hair color generally changes, but not much else. He's funny, charming, brightens my day with his nonsensical and/or sarcastic and witty sayings. We embark on a relationship, things go sour, and I turn bitter. I'm left to ruminate on my mistakes for several months to a year, and then the cycle starts again.

I think the easiest way to describe this pathetic demonstration of insanity would be likening it to cancer. I wish I could take credit for this analogy, but it was from a friend the night I sat waiting for the Missy Higgins show to begin last summer. Pez thinks it would make a fantastic song title (specifically, for a FOB-esque song that doesn't actually feature the title in the lyrics). I sort of can't help but think of my brother every time I swear by this mantra.

The reason I am single is because musicians are literally cancer to me. I have no immunity built up to them; my t-cells will never make a comeback. Their witty words, bashful honesty and tortured souls are the poison that both exhilarates and harms me. Their moments of greatness that they deign to share with me are the disease and the cure. When I'm sick, there's nothing that can cure me like a brush with their artistic selves. Likewise, when I'm well, nothing can suck the life out of me like a glimpse of one of their unfortunately all-too-familiar faces.

I look at people who have been in remission for long periods of time, and I wonder if their feelings about their cancer are similar to how I feel about mine. The days that you're feeling good are really, really good. There will always be those rough days when you're weary and the medicine just doesn't seem to be helping. And there are the days where you're just hanging in there, living in the status quo, not quite recovered, but not sliding backwards, either. In some ways, those are the days I fear the most.

Most of the time, my days are in the good to middling range. Every now and then, though, I do get a bad one. I recently had one of those while going back to some old stomping grounds. And that tale will be told at another date, in 'why I am single, part two.'

friday five

Current Top 5 Favorite People

I know I did this last semester, but it was the right choice for this week.

1. My parents. Maybe it's that I'm still riding the high from last weekend's rescue party, but in a way, I hope not. I think that I came to realize in a gut way how my parents are really for me, 100%. I guess I haven't always felt like that before, and it's pretty rad.

2. Seth/Maddie from the SG. God, these people are so refreshing. It's such an odd feeling to be appreciated for the work I do, especially when I'm doing it for fucking free. Seth has gotten into the habit of calling me "Traci J." in his special brand of Kentucky/Ohio accent, which makes me laugh.

3. Elie. In some ways, living with her has been feeling more and more like an extended sleepover (I'm thinking it's our late night chats when we're both in bed and should be sleeping). But regardless, it's so great to have a second family there for me, and a best friend who has a solid answer for anything I throw at her (and I'm pretty good at throwing the most ridiculous shit out for an SOS).

4. Will. This was my actor for Adam from The Shape of Things from last semester in Directing class. I ran into him by fluke today and we ended up having dinner and having one of the best, most refreshingly honest talks I've had in a while. He wrote his number on a napkin, and I just might call it one day.

5. Miranda. I love this girl even though we are as opposite as you can get (minus our shared OCD over school). I don't know how we're such good friends since I absolutely cannot fucking stand her beliefs and views, but fuck, I love that girl with a passion. Plus she way complimented my mix-making skills, that compliment basically made my fucking week.

change, change, change

This weekend I have been incredibly worn and depressed and emotional. I spent most of Sunday crying, trying to get the what felt like mountains of homework done through my tears, reluctant to return to my own home because of some guests my parents invited over that I did not want to see and trying to figure out why my entire self esteem was in the crapper.

It was not a good weekend.

My saving grace is having parents who love me, though sometimes not in the way I want them to. They have been fantastic this weekend, and I could barely bring myself to leave my house on Monday because I didn't want to leave their warmth and support.

I'm doing better. I'm still stressed, still upset, still really unhappy. But at least right now I'm not feeling like my only option is to retreat to bed and stay there for three months. I'm writing for The Eagle, for the first time this semester, something that I'm excited about and want to do well - and if I've been procrastinating on it... well, that's just the story of this semester. I'm remembering why I chose this 180 of a major, I'm taking pride that maybe those A's weren't a fluke after all.

It's the best feeling in the world to get into something that you haven't done in a long time and find yourself, if not succeeding, at least not failing the way you thought you would. The words are coming, the quotes are there and I am so lucky to be able to tell this story.

how i get through the week

Monday: working at the photo lab. The atmosphere is just as chill and chemical-y as last semester, and Adam's and my shifts still run back to back. It's not a bad way to ease into the week.

Tuesday: Tuesday Tradition still reigns supreme, though it took us a few weeks to get going. The Tradition is even better now that I have my very own SuperMug (TM) thanks to Adam. That is a 32 oz tankard of beer... delicious.

Wednesday: I begin with Bitch Wednesday, in which Maddie and I chill for an hour in the SG offices and complain about the liberals. Then, I have my weekly dinner with Miranda, one of the few friends I have left on campus.

Thursday: Take-out/TV Thursdays at the Rices. Mrs. Rice works Thursdays, so Mr. Rice always brings home something yummy for us to munch on while we kill braincells by watching The Office.

Friday: Payday! After teaching piano from 12-6, I have a friendly amount of money to deposit into my bank account.

friday five

Actually posting on Friday? Amazing.

Top 5 Things Every Girl Needs

1. A planner. I love these things so much that I have two of them. For me, writing in my planners keeps my sanity under control. But the flipside is that any time I'm bored/waiting/trying to look important, all I do is pull out my planner and start scribbling and taking notes and boom, problem solved.

2. A secret. Don't ask me why, but it seems a girl with a little mystery is always way cooler than one who seems like she's playing the game with an open hand. In my opinion, the secret should be something potentially exciting, not just what you and your cat ate for dinner last night. I think when you've got something to play closer to your heart, things are just a little spicier.

3. A good strapless bra. I know wearing one is basically as fun as going to the dentist, but a really good one is legit worth its weight in gold. It's difficult to find one that's supports, doesn't diminish your cleavage and won't leave bruises from where the boning digs into your flesh. If you do manage to discover one, hold it like you'll never let it go.

4. A hobby. Be it cooking, knitting, photography, drinking, writing, painting or pole dancing, I firmly believe a hobby is essential to your happiness in life. Without hobbies, it's so easy to get caught up the the spin of work, home, dinner, bed. But a hobby- one you love enough to make time for- will break that cycle and give you a relief from being a normal work drone. Hobbies give a sense of camaraderie and accomplishment that I think most humans- especially women- need.

5. The One Who Got Away/The Heartbreaker. Why do we need such a depressing thing in our lives? Because we need to know our limits. Having a man that, for whatever reason, left such a huge handprint on our hearts (in a less than positive way) shakes a girl out of her security and reminds her that nothing is for certain and sometimes, there's absolutely nothing we could have done to change the ending. Almost every single woman I know that has had such a disabling pinnacle in her life can now speak of it and give it its emotional heartache due, but more importantly, speak to the lessons she learned and how she remembers those principles daily. At least, that's what mine did for me.

friday five

I'm sorry this is late. But with my past week, you should be proud of me for even attempting.

Top 5 Reasons Short Hair Is Good
I'm warming up to it, and I figure this can't hurt.

1. Showering time is cut in half. I never knew how much time shampooing and conditioning all that hair really took, not to mention the time wringing water out of it via a towel. I can now shower and blow it dry it about the same time it took me to simply shower and clip it up before.

2. My earrings are now uber prominent. Not that you could miss the two inch silver angel wings before, but now that my earrings generally go past the tips of my hair, they're definitely noticeable. I like this. I take pride in my jewelry.

3. I'm more encouraged to wear scarves. I didn't always utilize my collection of a dozen scarves, but they're definitely making a comeback. Without hair to cover the back of my neck, it's now mandatory for me to be swathed in a scarf, or I'm one unhappy camper (like how I spun that negative into a positive?).

4. It's an adventure. With my long hair, I sort of knew what to expect, what styles would work well in what situations, how it would look if I did this or that. Now, it's like waking up and beginning a jungle safari with my hair. If I hold the brush at this angle, how will it ultimately dry? How much of this product is necessary? It's a constant guessing game, that's for sure.

5. I get a lot of compliments. Not going to lie, my ego sincerely appreciates it, since I can't shake the nasty feeling that I look like a boy.

i think about how it might have been

I'm a bit terrified of tomorrow.

My hair and I have always had a strange relationship. It's always been the most beautiful part of me, I know that, and It knows that. When I was little, everyone loved my hair. It was long, thick and shiny, and everyone played with it so much that I finally became sick of the attention and banned the attention. I regret that decision now. I didn't realize how that gesture could soothe the stress. By now, I'm too old, they've learned not to, blah, blah, all the excuses. But I miss having my hair stroked, I miss that calm, I miss that security and reminder of childhood.

Right now, it is the longest it has been since I last cut it for Locks of Love (which was over 3 years ago), and perhaps the longest it's been ever. It's almost to the small of my back, I can reach my arm around and not even lift a finger to touch it. And it's still the most beautiful part of me. I know that. It can be curled, it can be straight, it can be all big and wavy, and somehow, I can always feel attractive when I've got those layers to flip over my shoulder.

But the day after tomorrow, it's all going away. And to be 100% vain and 100% transparent, I'm honest-to-God, drama-free, terrified that with It goes my one claim to beauty. I'm Jo March, trading her locks for... what? A Greater Cause? I can only hope. Because I'm so scared I'm going to be ugly when my hair is gone, that it will be painfully obvious I'm still just a chubby, short Asian girl who just wants to be praised. Only now, there might not be anything worth praising.

Don't lie and tell me looks don't matter. I'm beginning to think that in this world, along with death and taxes, that's the only fact that will never change.

friday five

Yes, it's late, and I apologize.

Top 5 Good Things About This Semester

Because the list was originally "Top 5 Bad Things" and then I realized, nobody likes a party pooper.

1. My awesome law professor. He came and spoke to my reporting class last semester and he was the coolest cat ever. He used to be a defense lawyer, so he had some pretty amazing stories, and he had this easy-going yet incredibly intelligent way about him that makes me think maybe my Monday night block will not be like stabbing myself in the eye with a spork.

2. Being 21. I know, it'd make more sense for this item to be in a "Top 5 Good Things About Last Semester" but think about it- for about 2/3 of last semester, I wasn't. So. Here's to being 21 for my final semester of school, and being able to drink whatever I want from January to May.

3. A Lighter Bag. I.E., I don't have FOUR classes in a row on Mondays and Thursdays. Elie and Mrs. Rice will attest to the ridiculousness of it the past semester, and thank god this semester the most classes I have in a row are two, and at the moment, neither of those have any books (and might not, because they're both news design/multimedia classes). Booyah!

4. A New Music Editor. Not that I love the Eagle any more (or to be more accurate, hate it any less), but the absence of One Ex Music Editor makes my heart sing and almost makes me excited enough to go back and actually work there as opposed to me coming up with my own story ideas and writing them because I feel like it. Almost.

5. The Election Is Over. No more "race for the White House." No more "controversy." Granted, we'll still have to examine Obama's presidency, but for the love of Mike, I don't want to hear another word about Sarah Palin. And considering my courses, I don't think I will.

BONUS (because I feel mildly bad that I legit missed my friday five)

6. This Is A New Semester. A lot, and I mean a LOT, of shit happened in Fall '08. Some of it made me better, but some of it made me a whole lot worse. By the simple fact that This Is Not That Semester, Spring '09 has to be something good.

i would just hope my last thought was a good one

i've never been the biggest fan of Scrubs, but tonight I realized what this show has mastered and few others get.

Their music kicks ass.

I'm watching the new episodes, and I don't know if it's just because I love this song, or that the script was pretty decent, or that I'm feeling hormonal, but hearing Ben Gibbard's soft vocals underscoring the death of a patient was unbearably perfect. The characters are sitting there laughing and joking and being all brave, but once that guitar riff started, my heart sunk, and you know? You knew, as the audience (and Death Cab For Cutie fan), it was over.

And that's something I can get behind. These writers or scouts or producers know the power of a good song. They GET that the perfect melody can take their good show and good script and good actors and make them GREAT. I've rewound this episode four times, because I can't fucking let this go.

I'm sitting here, almost in tears, at this Greatness.

Friday Five

Didja miss me? I took last Friday off since it was the day after Christmas and all, but the extra week gave me time to compile this extremely difficult and selective list. As a disclaimer, I specifically did not use any entries from people I know personally, because favoritism is never pretty.

Top 5 Journal Entries (Not Mine)
I read a lot of blogs. But these are the five, brutally honest works that inspire me to keep writing in this journal and to keep attempting to find the words to express my thoughts. Please note the asterisk'd entries contain objectionable content, and a double asterisk implies extremely graphic content. You have been warned.

1. I Loved You - from Unknown
I don't remember how I found this entry, but it was so poignant that I felt the need to post it in Jewelness the first time I discovered it. There's just something about the perfect blend of stream-of-consciousness and emotion that created an entry I have never forgotten.

2. Not Everyone Can Be November, You Know - from lightsfallup
This entry, passed on to me by MoreToKnow (another of my favorite bloggers), immediately resounded with me because, well, it's about November. It thrilled me to see November finally getting its due (we always get the suckiest photos in calendars), and in one of the most abstract and poetic ways I've ever seen. The paragraph starting with "not everyone can be november, you know. not the way you mean it..." is one of two "lyrics" that I know I could tattoo on my body and be content the rest of my life.

3. *The Perfect Woman, Moments, The Glass - from VK's Empire of Dirt
VK is one of the bloggers I found through Roissy (who, though a misogynist and Kevin all over, is one of the most entertaining bloggers I've ever read), when VK hosted a week where a circle of bloggers wrote entires on "The Perfect Woman." This entry, though mildly explicit, shows such a vulnerable, emotional side of a man who is only a few steps below Roissy on the player scale, that it is worthy of this list.

4. **L - from (title withheld but a link here for the depraved)
Here's the best part of the entry, for those who aren't going to read the rest because of its double asterisk:
"And it’s not at that moment or this one that I feel L has been misused. It is that in this effort for connection, in this testing of bonds, we all are. Where there is need or want there is danger. We introduce ourselves to disappointment, time and time again. We create illusion and crash ourselves against it. "
Wow. For an entry about having sex with a single mother... that is perhaps the most profound statement I've ever heard. I feel like this writer, whoever he is, somehow sold his soul to the devil in exchange for sleeping with every woman under the sun, and somehow managed to find the impossible nuggets of truth that stick out of his writing like little diamonds.


5. Kindness and Abs. - from Matt Nathanson's Journal
So, this is not the quintessential Matty Nay blog I think of when I think of his blog (it's actually the one about Britney Spears playing basketball on the Ellen Degeneres show). But ever since he signed to Vanguard, his archives got hidden in the depths of the Internet, and this was the next best entry. If you ever hear me utter "Thank you, Mark Wahlberg," you now know why.