Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Date A Girl Who Reads

by Rosemarie Urquico
(In response to Charles Warnke’s You Should Date an Illiterate Girl)

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn't burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.


Everything is lost, jumbled
scrambled in my mind
i try to speak and the words fall
their forgotten in time.
i shake and i twitch
so many stories, so many lines
so many words that come out in a spurt
they silently slither, they cross and it hurts
which is which, what is what
six windows open when one door shuts
again and again, the stories pile on
my mind races, but there is no finish line
i trip and i fall.
everything drops, words scatter into letters
my minds blank and i feel clear
i feel better.


Out Of Time

The howling wind kept my small body shivering, the snow was piling on this small rooftop like a coating of cupcake icing and there was still no sign of him. It was five till nine and time was slowing down all around me. I looked around the empty lot and imagined him running through that door, ready and willing. But there was just the door and the sound of the city breathing. I love this place, you could see the whole of Chicago from here, covered in a thick layer of winter but beautiful none the less. All the shining lights kept me hypnotized, lost in my thoughts of what would happen now? Would he swoop down and save me, take me away like he unwittingly promises? Or will I be left to endure this frigid winter alone? Wounded. It was always push and pull with us. We were always an almost but never a yes, never a for sure, never a forever. I waited my whole life for him, and I feel like nothing but his back up plan, just his plan B. Nine on the dot. I guess plan A must have worked out. I stepped up onto the ledge, and I stared down at the city that was my entire life. My face was hot, the cold couldn't bother me now. Standing over the city felt calming, numbing even. He wasn't coming and I was done with this game that I've been losing. I wanted to keep this image of my beautiful city in my mind, a winter wonderland that never let me down. I took a deep breathe. I slowly turned my back to all the sounds of life and flickering lights. I closed my eyes and thought of all the times I felt like I was the only plan he ever wanted. Times that seemed like I was the only thing that could light up his world. The scent of his coat as he hugged me, that smile that said I love you and only you. Its now or never, this is it. It's the beginning, or the end. I let myself fall back into the cruel city, it was all slow motion but I could hear the wind rushing as gravity pulled me down. And there it was, that awaited sound that always drowned out the cries of the city. A loud call, but somehow soft as he said it, "..Hannah?"
It was him. He was late.


Tuesday, October 30, 2012

The written word

Know what I found myself reminiscing about? The poetry club I was in back in high school. Only things I loved then were choir, English class, and of course poetry club. I use to get really nervous about public speaking (still am) but that club got me a bit out of my shell. Posting my stories and poetry on here is one thing, but being in front of a group, all eyes on you, nerve wrecking. I remember one night I recited a 2ish page poem, and it actually made people cry, I was proud. Who wouldn't be? The club started to fall through, people get busy, the teacher too, the cafe closed, life happens. It was always my favourite thing to do. I think i consider myself to be an avoident type of person. I don't like social settings too much, I tend to feel awkward at parties. If I meet new people I genuinely seem like I'm not interested, but it's just that I like to watch people and figure them out. I won't have anything worth saying till after I do figure them out. Now, with all the jobs I've had, I can force myself to be social and friendly when I have to, but that's not totally me.i think I'd benefit from poetry club again, writings is who I am so it's an easier social setting to be in for me. Plus I like hearing other writers work. And when they recite it them selves, your hearing it the way it's meant to be heard. You hear the pain, happiness, remorse or lack of conscience. It's pretty great. I wonder if my college has any thing like that, I honestly haven't checked. I'll have to check.

I really need to start writing more.

Monday, October 29, 2012

OOTD: plus I got a job!

So I've never done an outfit of the day post before so I thought I'd go ahead and do one :) I love fall/winter and the layering of the clothes style :) now, I really don't consider myself fashionable, I don't get too dressy most of the time. This is why I like fall, relaxed outfits, layers, easy fashion in my eyes. I love fall and I love winter.
Today I had an interview for a sunglasses shop and I got the job on the spot! I'm so happy! I think I'll actually enjoy this job. And it's close to home so no problems driving to work.
Another great thing that happened today is that I got my tax transcript in the mail for my financial aid! So I'm going to my college tomorrow to bring it in :) I love school, can't wait to be back in class. So far I'm planning on taking philosophy and a English creative writing class. I'll probably choose two more. :)
And! Nic got me a book!!!!!!! I've been wanting to read it for a very good while now and he got it for me :) he is always buying me books I have on my to read list :) love my hubby. And so for I'm loving this book too!

December baby

This straight-up means you are the most good-looking person possible… Better than all of these other months! Loyal and generous. Patriotic. Competitive in everything. Active in games and interactions. Impatient and hasty. Ambitious. Influential in organizations. Fun to be with. Easy to talk to, though hard to understand. Thinks far with vision, yet complicated to know. Easily influenced by kindness. Polite and soft-spoken. Having lots of ideas. Sensitive. Active mind. Hesitating tends to delay. Choosy and always wants the best. Temperamental. Funny and humorous. Loves to joke. Good debating skills. Has that someone always on his/her mind. Talkative. Daydreamer.Friendly. Knows how to make friends. Abiding. Able to show character. One guy/girl kind of person. Loveable. Easily hurt. Prone to getting colds. Loves music. Pretty/handsome. Loves to dress up. Easily bored. Fussy. Seldom shows emotions. Takes time to recover when hurt. Sensitive.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Hello life

So my grandpa Chevo hasn't been doing so well this past week. He has Alzheimer's and it's progressing pretty quick it seems. He forgets where he is, or sometimes who people are. Other things as well. Losing weight, and he just looks so frail. It's so hard to see this, because all my life he has been a tough strong real life cowboy type. Worked with his hands all his life. And now, he can hardly walk. We might be making a trip to see him soon. I really don't want to watch this happen all over again. My grandfather on my dads side passed away a couple years ago. I don't want to lose anymore people :/ I think it's making me become, or feel like I'm becoming, a reclusive kind of person. /sigh.

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Do I Scare You? Sleepless writing.

*i couldn't sleep the other day and I ended up writing this little number. Horror/fiction as usual, it's what I like. Nothing intricate, just some creative juicyness*

Do I scare you? I should. I know your type. Big bad and obviously the pack leader. A frat rat, loud mouth want to be, your nothin but a date rape waiting to happen. You hunt and consider yourself the top predator. Walking around like everything is yours and any one here is yours for the taking. You think yourself mighty, but the truth is, you're the weak. And I am the strong.
You need to realise that you've brought this upon yourself. Constantly bragging. Always in my way trying to catch a number or word that I would never throw to someone like you. But you, well you just don't take to kindly to rejection. So you taunt. Harass. But you've made a terrible mistake, you see, I am the top predator. Camouflaged, masked and hiding in the shadows. Readily waiting to rip out your throat and let you float away slowly.
I waited around the area you hunted. A dank coffee shop, filled with flowers waiting to be ripped apart by you. And there you were, like a little bee jumping from flower to flower buzzing with over confidence. Sickening. You walked out. But there I was, waiting in the shadows, ready to pull you into the deep darkness you have so well earned. You struggled a bit, but I like a little fight, I like to play with my food. I took out my knife, oh the warm stories it could tell, and I dragged it over your throat. It felt like cutting up a roast with one slice, but a bit more fulfilling. You let out this sweet pathetic wet gasp. You tried to breathe as if you really had a chance. I couldn't help but smile at your last sad act to hang onto your little life. Clawing away at something you couldn't grasp. You looked right into my eyes. And I knew at that moment you finally under stood.
You, are the weak. And I, am the strong.
I leaned over you, and I softly asked with a smile,
"Do I scare you now?..I should"
And then your light was gone.


Dads birthday!

My dads birthday was on the 25th
Here are a few pics from the dinner
Papasitos :)
He kept telling people he was 98 lol

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Art and Madness?

Van Gogh cut off his ear.
Sylvia Plath committed suicide.

Numerous entertainers have overdosed on drugs–accidentally or otherwise.

Shakespeare wrote of madness in Macbeth, and hinted about it elsewhere.

Edgar Allen Poe was questionably depressed or bipolar.

Some scientists believe the connection is clear–where there is creativity, there is the potential for madness. One European study linked the same genetic mutation that insights creativity to schizophrenia.

It certainly seems that the creators of beautiful musical masterpieces like Mozart or Beethoven or breathtaking art like Picasso or Monet have a special vision or a different type of connection to another world. Some say it is because God is always speaking, and they are taking the time or have the ability to listen.

And of course there is the drug connection too. Do true creatives try and self-medicate with alcohol, heroin, or cocaine? Does their propensity toward drugs stem from wanting to expand their already wider ability to see the world in a different way–or a need to quiet the “voices” telling them what to write, paint, or sing.

Or do artists simply remove more of the social restraints that we and society have put in place from a very young age. We are a civilized nation, each of us fitting neatly into our roles and polite mores that have been dictated since our births.

Freud used “talking therapy” to get to what he considered to be the root of people’s problems. He asked that the filters be removed, even if it was momentarily, and to free associate, and say the first things that pop into our heads–even if they seemed crazy or frightening. Wild things were said! New discoveries were made about deep and mysterious problems. We would never say these things in normal everyday conversation–people would think we are….

What if we all tried to keep the filters down a bit. I’m not talking about the ones that keep us out of jail, but the ones that keep us from being embarrassed, or saying what we really feel, or doing what we honest-to-God want to do without the worry of hurting someone, disappointing someone, or being afraid and doing it anyway. Maybe that is the only difference from the creative geniuses and everyone else.

Is creativity merely the ability to keep these filters down? Maybe those who can control them are lucky. They can write or draw or make music–or in some cases, all these things, and put the filters back in place when they need to function in a social or familial situation. Are the poor souls who are locked away and forever confused between reality and another world simply lacking the filters at all?

At this point the jury is still out. Not all schizophrenics are artistic or creative, in fact some are simply and sadly paralyzed by what they experience. Not all madness is schizophrenia, and certainly not all artists are mad.

Some days I wonder if we are not all mad, but not properly categorized yet.

VIA Dea Lenihan

writing contest entry

Justice Of My Own 
By: Ariel Perez

A year had passed since he came into my life like a tsunami, destroying everything in its path and leaving the world in shambles. He left me in pieces. I couldn’t sleep, and when I did all I saw was him, all I could see was his disgusting body on mine, breaking me. I was on my way home from a late night out with my friends; I didn’t live that far and walked that path everyday. I loved the scenery that the park had, gargantuan trees everywhere, and big green bushes with flowers that resembled miniature suns. The world was breathing. In the spring it smelt of honey dew and freshly cut grass, I use to have picnics there every Sunday in the summer. The warm sun touching my pale skin always calmed me; no matter what was wrong with the world I had felt safe. That night I didn’t think it any different to walk that path, but he was there, and he shattered my world.
He came from behind me, grabbed a full hand of my golden hair and yanked me down to the dirt. I was about to scream for my life, I was terrified but he covered my mouth. I tried to fight back as hard as I could, I kicked him countless times trying to release myself but I guess that just pissed him off even more, because he pulled out a knife.

He looked into my eyes, I felt like a helpless animal waiting to die.

“Pretty girls don’t cry” he said in his raspy baritone voice.
I whimpered.

Even remembering the sound of his voice brought me to tears, I felt disgusting.

 He brought his knife to the left side of my face; he pushed and brought it down. I could feel the cold stinging steel separate my skin like butter. I jerked and my heart jumped but there was nothing to be done, there was no stopping this monster. My tears became waterfalls and did nothing but hurt the pulsating gash on my delicate face. I wanted to run, to get away but he was on me, a heavy weight of shame to come that would not release me. He began to rip at my clothes, tearing every stitch I had off me. I should have screamed, I should have fought harder, but I was afraid he would cut me again. I just wanted to survive, I wanted to live.

I wanted everything to just go away.

He put the knife to the other side of my face and I braced myself. He was using the knife for insurance, to make sure I didn’t move. Then he was in me. I wanted to die at that very moment; I wanted him to kill me so I didn’t have to remember. I tried to imagine I was somewhere else, anywhere but here. I tried to remember the beach, the cool feel of the ocean waves against my body on a hot day and how relieving it had felt, but his heavy grunting every time he came up interrupted my thought.  When he finished destroying me, he laughed a bit and said “thanks baby”, he punched me and I blacked out.

The cops ended up finding the bastard because of my description of him, it was burned into my memory forever. Joni Madison, I would never forget his face, his hazel eyes, his smell of car oil or his disgusting smokers’ voice. The detectives assigned to my case said they believed he was the one who hurt me, who destroyed me but they had no sufficient evidence to prosecute him. He left no DNA, there were no distinguishing marks on him like tattoos, piercings or scars, it was just my word against his and that was not enough. He was free, free to do what he pleased in the world and I was trapped in my crumbling one.

The first few months after my attack I did nothing but think of him, Joni Madison, Joni fucking Madison. He was all I could think about, all I could write or talk about; I wanted to make him suffer. I imagined different ways I would kill him if I ever got the chance. Torture. Starvation. Mutilation. Something that would take long, something that would let him die slowly, like how I’m dying now. I was obsessed, but what was I suppose to do. The cops couldn’t get him; he would do this again and again and again. I won’t let him do this to someone else, and I won’t let him get away with doing it to me.

I began to follow him, he was my prey now. Joni Madison worked at a car shop, fixing them, stealing them, selling their parts. He was a charming man, full of charisma and thought he owned the world. He was a player, he lied to customers, fixing their cars but breaking something else in it so they always came back. When he was in middle school he had a bad habit of “accidently” hurting girls, leaving them black and blue. He was a cheater, he had a wife and two kids who thought he worked late every night, but instead he picked up street walkers. Joni was allergic to bees; he hated milk and loved his oldest son. On Sundays he went to church to repent all his sins for the week, as if it made the world ok again. Joni told his wife I was just some crazed girl who was looking for someone to blame after a night of bad sex with a stranger. She believed him.

I followed him to work today, watched him scurry around to rip off everyone who came by. Men, women, elderly people, he didn’t care who he conned or hurt, Joni Madison always got what he wanted. I sat across the street at the coffee shop he went to every morning; he got a large black coffee with an extra espresso shot and some cinnamon. I sat for hours, just watching him move, I watched him live and breathe the air around him that he didn’t deserve.

Today would be the beginning of his last journey.

I waited till night had fallen; it was his night to close up the shop alone.

I came behind him silently, I was his shadow and he never saw me coming. He was getting ready to unlock his car door, head home to his naive wife to tell her how much he loved her. She didn’t notice the monster in him, but I did, I knew it. As I approached him I pulled out a handheld taser, I bought it a week after he had destroyed my life, I wanted to feel safe and protected. His body jerked around like a flag in a wind storm, his head smacked on his side window. It made a horrible cracking kind of sound and there was a slight smell of burning skin floating in the air. I smiled. I was in control of his body now. He laid there on the black concrete unconscious, moaning a bit, so I tased him again, his body jerked around again, I wanted him to suffer like I was. I wanted his disgusting body to feel every bit of torturous pain that my body had. I wanted him to die slowly and alone, I wanted to watch the life leave his eyes hollow and dead as mine had a year ago.

I wanted him to suffer.
I needed him to suffer.

I taped his hands and legs together; I put tape around his eyes so he would never see me, not till the end. I dragged him to my car and placed him in the trunk. He smelt of car oil, just like he did that night so long ago. He made a big thud, I didn’t need to be careful so every once in a while id hit him, smack him or give him a kick in the ribs hoping to break at least one.

I drove over to an abandoned building from the 30’s, it was about two hours outside of town and it was isolated. No one would find us, and no one would hear us. Everything was planned out so perfectly, he was always out late, sometimes days at a time so no one would be suspicious of his absence. And me, I’ve been off the grid for a while now, my alibi would be the fact that I’m homeless and don’t have the resources or the heart to do such a heinous thing. Me, a traumatized girl, helpless, weak and in dire need of simple comforting.

I opened the trunk to find him awake and already screaming.
“Who’s there? Tell me! Ill fucking kill you! I’ll get out and I’ll fucking kill you!”
I gave him a shot of sedatives; I didn’t need him to be awake just yet.

I dragged his heavy unconscious body over to the building; I had a bed there with straps for the arms, legs and the waist. I got it from the back of some psychiatric ward; it was just what I had needed. It was as if the world around me was okay with the thought of this soulless man being ripped from this world. He was but a cancerous sore to this world, he had to be exterminated.

I strapped the ingrate down, tight, there was no way he would even have a chance of getting away from me. He started to moan after a while; I waited till he was fully awake. He was moaning, fresh from his dreams into the nightmare of his new reality. He started to tug at his hands and legs realizing he was strapped down. It was a slow cautious tug at first, then it turned to hard hectic pulls, I could hear the utter panic in his heavy breathing. He was scared.

I relished in this thought.

“Where am I!!? Who are you?! I swear I’ll get out and I’ll fucking rip you apart! I..”

I gagged his mouth; I didn’t need to hear his meaningless words. I didn’t care what he had to say, I just wanted to hear the screams and the hopeless pleads.

I had a couple of things planned out for him; the last would be my finale.

I lit a blowtorch and stared at the color for a few seconds, and I smiled. It had finally happened. I was the destroyer now. I held a piece of wire clothes hanger over the flame, slowly heating it up till it started to turn a bit red. I ran my finger down his chest first, his last soft touch in this world. He tried talking, but it was muffled by the gag, he had no idea what was in store for him. I brought the hot piece of metal down on the middle of his naked chest, it burned his soft white skin off so easily, a small puff of smoke floated up from the welt and the smell of burnt skin began to fill the room. He screamed, he took heavy breathes and grunted, he sweat. He pulled at his straps with hope, but there was none to be found.  His chest heaved up and down, and his body gave out uncontrollable twitches. So I did it again, again and again, until his entire body was covered in burns, until he was crying. Sobbing! It was beautiful. I even went after the tender parts of his body, behind the ears, his neck, and his weapon. His face had long burn lines going down it, but not the eyes, I avoided the eyes. He would need those till the very end.

His childish whimpering echoed in the room, to think he once thought himself a manly-in-control-god-like son of a bitch, he was nothing now. Pathetic, trapped and on a one way road to hell with my help.

I got tired so I took a little break, and I needed him to rest for a few minutes too, I didn’t need his body to go into shock just yet. We had a couple more hours to have some fun together.

I sat down and poured myself a cup of hazelnut coffee, black. I sat back, slowly breathing the strong fumes in, and I wondered if he had any idea who I was. Was I the only person he hurt, or was there more like me? Worst off then I turned out. Or did he possibly consider himself a poor victim, being wronged by some demon in the shadows of the world. There had to have been more women, more girls refusing to leave their room in fear of the evil of the universe that he had brought on them.

This wasn’t just for me, it was for all the others that there undoubtedly were.

I went back to the area he was strapped down in, he was calm now. He had hope and I could smell it. I grabbed a bottle of gasoline and I started to spray it on his body. Every inch of his body was shining and doused in this potent and glorious liquid. He kept asking, begging, and hoping, but he would know soon.

I took his gag out, I wanted him to beg.

“Do you remember my voice Joni?” I asked with my soft voice, seducing and deadly.

“What? No. I don’t I’m sorry, but please. Please, just let me go dammit, I won’t tell anyone about this”

I giggled. I scoffed. And I smiled. “How could you forget our night Joni?” I said in a stern tone “Because I remember it perfectly. Don’t you?”

He started to breathe heavy again and tears came down from his blind fold, the coward.

“Why are you crying Joni? Do you remember what you told me?” I bent down to his ear so he could hear my perfect words whisper his last memory “Pretty girls don’t cry Joni”.

“No…no!” he said in a low voice “I’m sorry please let me go, I’ll turn myself in please just don’t hurt me anymore!”

I flicked a lit match onto his shivering body and he lit up like the night sky on Fourth of July. It was beautiful. The flames engulfed his entire body, slowly burning each thin layer of skin to his black and hollow core. All I could do is stare for the first few seconds, smile at what I had finally achieved. I tore the tape off of dear Jonis’ eyes, and I looked straight into them. I wanted my smiling and laughing face to be the last thing he saw in his last few agonizing minutes of life. He stared right back with his pleading eyes, screaming to the top of his lungs, screaming like I had never heard before in my entire life. And just when I thought the monster couldn’t get another breath out he let out another scream.

I sat down in a chair a few feet away from my prize and I picked up my coffee cup.

All he did was stare.

And all I did was smile.

 (c) HeyJude, Ariel Perez

Friday, October 19, 2012

Make yourself some spicy tomato soup!

So I am always making my spicy tomato soup and I really do think it it pretty awesome :] I'm a big spicy food fan so, if you're not all for spice, be careful! My mom tried it and started coughing lol she is really not a spicy person but said it smelled to good she had to try it. So here it goes! 

Start off with duh, Campbell's Tomato Soup, or Campbells Sun Dried Tomato Soup. Both are great, but i'm liking the Yellow a bit more :]

Poor in a pot along with a can full of water, stir and heat!

Now it's time for chopping. Bring out some onion and red bell peppers :] chop up a very good amount, or as much or little as you'd like :] I use a lot of both. 

Now spices! A few shakes of parsley, a couple of shakes of Cayenne Pepper for great spice,  a little of Mrs. Dashs chicken flavoring, a few turns of fresh ground pepper!

Stir well and bring to a simmer!

Now, pour and enjoy!

Its my favorite fall/winter soup to make :]

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Out of commission

I feel that writing wise, creative writing wise, I've been totally and completely out of commission. I have plenty of stories in my head and I write them up there too, but I haven't put a pen to paper for them. I don't know why, but when I do I just stop. Its not that i don't like what I have to write. Though I know I stick to writing mystery and horror, and have tons of stories in my head, quite good ones, I just cant seem to get them out. Killing off people in fiction when you cant punch them in the face in reality is what fuels my stories. And I definitely have not stopped wanting to punch people in the face. In fact the lost has grown. It just feels like trying to run through thick gummy dense mud, try as you might, you remain stuck. Hard core writers block? I have on the other hand been painting a lot. Everything like that happens to me in clumps. It sounds weird but it's how I describe it. Maybe I'll try to get some writing done soon. Or finish some of the stories taking up electronic space on my flash drive. I also haven't been sleeping well either! At all. Thus my writing this rambling non important post.

Monday, October 15, 2012

Burgers and chair burning

Took a trip over to the LaPorte for surprise delicious burgers :) I ate mine with spinach so I was pretty happy. Nic seasoned them and the were yummy! I've never really been out around there but damn it's pretty there. And the bay was so close, we took a ride in a golf cart and I got to see it :) saw sail boats out there and people water skiing lol. We were suppose to go to Renfest yesterday but surprise showers stopped us :/ it's ok though we are just going to go on a different weekend :)
The Fitz show on Saturday was pretty awesome too, minus the usual bs, it was great :) saw some other bands if never heard of either. Called NO! And The Jealous Sound, they were pretty cool but honestly I wasn't paying them too much attention lol. Hadn't seen nic in like two weeks so :) he had my attention.
Today is laundry day :|

Saturday, October 13, 2012

A day in the life!

Well today I went to pick out a pair if glasses since the year is ending and I'm picking up contacts too. I found these! Only like 60$ so yay good price! And they look like my dads, when he first joined the Navy and was a polywog lol.
Found this dress for 5$ :) super cute! Got it at Ross! I really love that store you find pretty great deal everywhere lol I also found this amazing purse for 40$ that I am obsessed with now, but didn't get it. Had to post a pic though! It's brand is called BigBuddha :)
So ya!
Going to a SecondLovers surprise show, they are playing with some band called NO! and TheJealousSound, never heard of them but people say they are great. It's free 21+ at Fitz, downstairs! :) I'll be going!

Monday, October 8, 2012

Thrift shop scores!

I have been having some luck at thrift shops lately and I'm loving it! The only other things I want to look for are some more sweaters, a brown purse and maybe some scarfs :)
I got two leather wallets, real, for 15$ together. The smaller one is for Nic, the longer tab one is for me :) I love it!
I found this green baggy sweater at a shop for 3$! And it's so lovely! And warm :)
And, I found these black ankle boots for 3$ too :) they will come in handy for the rainy and cold days coming.
I love saving money :)
And I love thrift store shopping!
Ok it's coffee time now!

Sunday, October 7, 2012

To read!

Yup, I'm in need of new books to read already :) just finished re reading my new The Great Gatsby book that nic got me and well I keep re reading The Perks of Being A Wallflower book. It's very good, go read it! And go read The Lovely Bones too! I'm always re reading that one. So I searched around and I think these are next on my list of to read!
I'm hoping they will be great :) especially the new JK Rowling book! I'm excited for all of them honestly!

Friday, October 5, 2012

Inspired again..

Well started a new painting tonight and finished it :) I painted over a old canvas, and I cut out tear drop shapes with thick pastel paper. Used those to trace over a drawing my nephew Antonio did when he was 3. I use to have him paint and draw with me. And I used those new cut out shapes on the canvas :)

I call it Childs Play :)

I'm starting a new one too. Painted a price of card board, sort of a deep rust red, it's drying right now. And once I finish my pastel flowers work, I'll paste it over the card board as a frame. :)

Monday, October 1, 2012

Black hair don't care!

So its been a while since I've posted, plus this weekend I was busy being with my man :) we hadn't seen each other for basically 10 days! It was like forever! He had a show at cactus music store, it was great, but it was so rainy lol and way too humid. But hey, it now totally feels like fall!! And it's October now! I'm excited for the Halloween show and for pumpkin carving! :)
Oh and my car window and mirror and now totally fixed! It's so pretty again!
It's also time to re apply for stupid FASFA that always messes up and my paper work is always lost. But, I'll try any way! Ill probably take all Hcc online classes, there's a possibility of moving during that semester :)
Oh and I dyed my hair back to black