No, I'm Not

Two Roommates "Happy Holidays"

Midnight City

I'm sitting in the blattic (it's the attic of the dorm across from mine. Doesn't it look like the kind of place people go to die?) and it conveniently has no windows. I don't know how late it is (it's 8:36 actually), so I can't decide if I should be tired or not.

There's about no one on campus. It's really weird.

Sometimes I forget it's not always like this. I have to remind myself that what's normal is people I know and love walking around and being loud and studying and doing young people things.

Lately, I've also forgotten what it feels like not to be sick. I have a gross cold! But, it's getting better.

I just laughed out loud at the memory of Taylor Robinson falling up the stairs junior year!

My stomach kind of hurts and I like math, but I don't really feel like doing any more problems.

I am excited to go home the day after tomorrow. I really hope the sun is shining in Houston because it forgot to in Austin today.

Maybe it's time for me to skidaddle outta here... Writing this makes me feel like I've been isolated in a far-off place or in a submarine or something, and I'm sending out messages to people back home. Maybe that's a sign that finals should be over now.

Blah.

let's all go to sleep
get some shut-eye
and return home
to hang up our shoes by their laces
pause and notice how they're more worn than the last time we were here
pause and let our brains push energy through the pathways
down the axons the electricity sparkles
reenergizing
pause for a long moment
turn the long moment into a nap
we are tired
and happy to be going home

We're Only Here to Find the (HAPPY) That Lingers After

This past semester I've taken to doing things that people happen to think have a high risk of failure. It really doesn't matter whether there is actually a high risk, or less of a risk than society thinks, or more of a risk than I think. This is about people and their perceptions and how it affects their actions.

I think it scares people when someone beats the odds -- it holds them accountable. When someone beats the odds, it makes others feel guilty (if that's the right word) for not taking chances themselves. It completely derails statistics and diminishes our comfort in them.

Why are we so afraid of failure? I was afraid of failure. Am I still afraid of failure? Of course I am. But it's different now, I suppose. Well. I know that if I'd listened to statistics and "people" and my knees that shook in the face of these high risks of failure, I wouldn't have the rewarding life I love thus far. I wouldn't have this lovely greek-less, writing major, texting filled, burnt orange etc etc life.

Nelson's Way

"There is nothing like returning to a place unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered."

~Nelson Mandela

Well. True dat, homes.

Only been home for 12 hours and here are the ways I've noticed in which I've altered.

1. I eat twice as much.

2. I swear twice as much.

3. I can run on half as much sleep.

4. (This one makes no sense) I offer people random food items of mine that they would never want. I was drinking from a plastic cup of water and asked my friend mid-sentence if she wanted some. I was eating a Cliff bar and mid-bite asked my friend she wanted a bite. What is this? 

5. My appreciation for good, delicious food has sky-rocketed.

6. My hair is infinitely more messy.

More to come...

Burn Brighter

"People tend to judge based on appearances and give value to looks, whereas the true value is in the meaning of what those surface images reveal."
-Trenton's essay (he doesn't know I did this...)


I like this because it doesn't discredit looks and appearance. I personally can't discredit those things. It is an unrealistic and frustrating thing to attempt. I like this because it defines the true value in looks appearance.

I Can Feel The Static

I wear clothing like costumes. What I'm wearing reflects the particular persona I want to take on on that day, in that minute, that moment. If I'm upset about what I'm wearing, it's not because I'm self conscious about what someone's thinking. I mean, I really don't give a frick. I'm upset because I'm wearing someone else, and not what I'm feeling. I never managed to teach myself to "fake it" (which sounds like it'd make me genuine, but really it means I'm moody), so wearing the wrong thing can certainly be a frustrating thing. On that note, I'm getting up from my desk and changing out of this adorable dress and into my slouchy, lazy Nike shorts and a t-shirt.

Won't You Shine, Shine On

Let's take a little break from the intense and the depressing 

and talk about happy things. 

You know what makes me happy?

this song:

Zorbing by Stornoway

and this song:
5 Years Time by Noah and the Whale

Instagram

Glittery Eye Shadow and Dazzling Role Models

Perfect Weather

Spider House Coffee and Thoughtful Decor

(My new form of meditation) Live Music

Treats With the Sweetness of a 1000 Smiles

Mother Falcon

Studying Amidst the Sun and Grass (photo by Murphy Carter)

Statement Pieces and Expressive Fashion

Cookies and Livers

Everybody's Feeling Warm and Bright

I have trouble equating pain and happiness. They aren't two extremes on the same scale. A human being is not a scale to begin with. Oh, God, no. Pain and Happiness -- and anger and giddiness and sadness and all the other things we go through for that matter -- equate only as different states of consciousness. They encompass you, bleeding into your thoughts and your heart. What's funny about Pain and Happiness is the difference in how conscious you are of the other's existence while in one of the two states. When you are happy and life is swell, there is always some part of you (or maybe this is just me) worrying about a change into sadness or another negative emotion. Even if it's small, there is a piece of my consciousness refusing to take it for granted, because it is so worried for the moment when another emotion becomes more prominent. In Happiness, we can still remember so clearly Pain. However, Pain is often associated with hopelessness. I mean, hopelessness is never founded. I swear to you, things will always get better. And yet, when we are suffering, we forget the warmth that is Happiness. It can be unimaginable. I hope that someone in pain reads this and takes my word for it: Happiness, like it always does, will come around. We are beings of adjustment and peace, so things will naturally fall together or apart until you reach peace again.

Look With Your Eyes Open

When it comes to my post titles, I choose the song lyric in which its correlation to the post content is clear to me and not at all to the reader. I have a purpose behind this madness, albeit a rather selfish and strange one. Paradoxical as it is, it's to maintain a little bit of "personal" in my here posts. As in, you can have my thoughts and discoveries, but a small part of it -- how that piece of song relates to that thought or discovery in posts-- is still completely mine. This is dumb. It's a blog. It's why I created said blog. Duh, the point is to launch my thoughts and discoveries into the world. It's my choice. But still. In the ways of my eloquent and impressive lexicon, "IDK. Whate'er."

All that hullaballoo being said, let's get down to business. Post title: "Look With Your Eyes Open." Despite all that I just rambled upon, this one actually has a meaning for you to understand. Allow me to explain. Last Wednesday was a beautiful day, and I was on a beautiful walk to class... Not that I noticed. Why? Because I am always locked up in the theater of my mind's eye. As some of you know, I am an extremely visual person, but only in the sense that I see what my mind is thinking, and not so much what my eyes are seeing. What a tragedy! (Not to mention a safety hazard.) I am surrounded by nature's finest and I don't even notice. Even as I was walking and thinking this, I had my head down watching my mind's eye's images of what was surrounding me as I was being surrounded by it. It was bizarre and I felt like a crazy person as I constantly had to remind myself to look up at the beautiful around me.

Your surroundings are as beautiful as you notice. Look up and breathe it in; let it run through your system and make you More.

All Safe and Sound

Being indispensable. That, my tired and worn brothers and sisters, is what we're all worried about. Hot damn. No wonder we're all a mess with our mirrors and grades and socializing beyond human capacity. We want to be wanted and missed and needed. We want to know that if we were to disappear, it would matter.

Well. On that note, you should probably tell the people that are indispensable to you that they are indispensable to you. A lot of people don't know that about themselves. Isn't that sad?

Oh, and chances are, you're a lot more indispensable than you think.

Have a freakin' unforgettable day.

Down To The Station Where You Live

you make your own happiness

Alabama, Arkansas

Sometimes, When Sailors Are Sailing

"Children never forgive injustice. They forgive heaps of things grown-up people mind; but that sin is the unpardonable sin."
-Virginia Woolf

I don't know what to think

For Every Life

I'm in the library. I'm in the library as my friends study around me and it's quiet and we're doing our thing and I can't help but feel like I'm a part of something.

We are beings of community, aren't we? Beings of belonging and knowing that we matter and are important enough to be included. We need it, I think, although I'm not sure why. I just know that we do. I know it makes us feel warm. That's the word for it, I'd say, warm. Not in the cheesy way, but in the peaceful way. I'm not alone. I. am. not. alone. What a comforting, peaceful, warm thing that is.

We Dangle Our Feet From the Highest Places

And it's a home that wakes you up at 2 a.m. when someone yells "I LOVE THIS CITY" to the sky outside your window. It's a being that is so in love with itself that never mind what you think, we're going to have a freaking good time. It's the smell of exhaust, oranges, sweat and live music. It's a book that uses the F word so passionately that its definition changes in your mind. It's a hole in the wall of tofu, Vietnamese subs and Mexican chocolate milk for the vagabond in all of us. It's a road of courteous scary drivers, risk-your-life-everytime-you-hop-on cyclists and many, many overheated pedestrians. It's a dance that grooves and jives to its own beat and the beat of live music every night everywhere.

It's Austin, TX.

Well I Heard There Was A Secret Chord

At what age are we officially allowed to know what we want?

Or maybe the question is, at what age do we really know what we want?

To Start Our Own Peculiar Ways

It's so strange to me how different we perceive something when we're comparing it to something else versus when we're just perceiving it standing alone without any comparison. Perhaps this is just me, but whenever I compare something, it loses a lot of its worth because I start to see only what it's lacking or, on a more positive side, only how much better it is than something else. If I look at something without comparing it at all, even what was better that the other thing seems to have so much more good. That doesn't make any sense. Let me explain it in a different way: pretend object A gets 50 cool points and object B gets 40. Looking at this way, object A really only gets 10 cool points and object B gets 0. However, if I were to look only at object A, it would get 50 and object B would get 40. I, for whatever reason, seem to appreciate things more when they stand alone.

More than that, if I'm comparing two things I only notice the qualities that they both have and then compare them. How unfair is that to the thing that has an amazing ability that doesn't even get noticed just because there's nothing to compare it to?

Where am I even going with this? I don't know. I guess it just goes back to the whole College thing. A few weeks ago, I realized that as I was meeting these new, fabulous people, all I was doing was comparing them to each other, to my friends from home, to the perfect person. No matter, I've learned my lesson and, in that, have learned another cheesy life lesson. Swell.

Things I've Learned and Thoughts I've Thought in College pt. 1

After exiting the dorm shower: Am I cleaner or dirtier than when I entered?

There is always more to person than their frat clothes.

If there is free stuff, go.

Fliers are your friends.

TAs, bikes, birds and squirrels are not your friends.

Studious honors kids in the living room do not care about becoming your friend.

Dance Anthem of the 80's

It is inevitable that you will change in college. Your life changes, drastically might I add, and we are what our lives make of us. What we learn and come to know depends on what our lives have taught us and shown us through different people and situations and locations and time periods and so many more life-altering factors. What we know and how we know to act determines who and how we are. For example, someone knows and acts out Syrian culture because they are familiar with Syria. So, back to college. Different situations, new situations, different information, new information, different people, new people.... different us. We are altered because our lives are altered.

Listen With Your Ears On

Want some music suggestions from a practically pro?

http://bonsairecords.blogspot.com/

You Got So Much To Do And Only So Many Hours In A Day

Our top priority today was preparing for the Harry Potter 7P2 midnight premiere! Erika, Laura and I went on a search first thing this morning for the cinema so we could buy tickets for everyone. Eventually, we figured out that the cinema was in the mall. Yep, there also happens to be a mall within a 30 second walk of the apartment. Get this, there's ANOTHER H&M in it and it's huge. I died. Anyway, the mall appeared to be teeny from the outside but was GINORMOUS. It went on and on and had a library and a swimming pool and so many awfully named stores (who names a shoe store SHOESTORE? Was it so hard to come up with something even mildly creative? Do you think you're being creative by not putting a space between the most straightforward description of your store? What if I interpret it as SHOES TORE? That's really bad advertising.) and some great gelato. We eventually bought the tickets and the whole trip was interesting, amusing and a success!

Kelly has had her eye on this art gallery so, after a delicious brunch of twice baked potatoes (thank you, Amber), we went! It was really small and sadly only featured one of the pieces Kelly wanted to see, but someone who worked there gave her some advice regarding places in Paris to see street art. In the meantime, I decided I was thirsty so Ale and I left and walked down the street to get a water bottle. We ended up stumbling into this little garden area outside of some apartments that was quaint and beautiful. Everything here is beautiful and unique and a piece of art, even the people. It fascinates me. In Houston, things look practical and efficient and, at their best, pristine and modern. Here, however, lies history and careful creation and everything from small bridges to huge churches is grand and dazzling. It blows my mind that people live here, grow up here. Haha I hope that makes some sense! Anyway, we returned to the group but not before passing some people bouncing on HUGE rubber tubes (as in, floating n the river tubes) big enough for a smart car. Not exaggerating.

It was decided that time for shopping Part 2 (Part 3 for me) had come, so Laura, Kell and I got right on top of it. It was fun. We went into some unique, quirky stores and the best part of it all was the sales. Not to much say on that that I haven't said already!

Of course, after a day of exploring, analyzing, stumbling upon and a lot of shopping, we were ready for dinner. My dad had recommended this restaurant and sent me off to Paris with the address in hand. The trip there was, like most of the things we do, comical. It was at a time when the metro was completely packed, so you can imagine what it was like when the whole thing came to a slamming, unexpected halt in the middle of tunnel. The (best) most unfortunate incident was when this poor woman fell on this poor girl in a way that placed one of her flailing hands directly onto the girl's chest. The girl looked violated but was trying to hide it, the woman looked mortified, Kelly and I looked like we would die from laughter. I swear up and down that I do not usually laugh at things like people walking into poles or molestation, but I cannot help it for whatever reason! The metro picked up and the rest of the long trip there was rather uneventful. The restaurant was really cute and, get this, had English menus. Half of us looked at a chalk board and ordered the filet mignon and the other half off of the menu and ordered the pork tenderloin. Surprise! Same thing. We're just idiots. Ale and I also ordered this tomato and basil mousse which was odd (duh), but I'm glad I got it... It was something new and interesting! For dessert, we had the best dessert we've had thus far. It was amazing. We got two things (and multiples of each): creme brulee and chocolate cake with chocolate lava on the inside. The creme brulee was the best I have ever had in my life, so you know it was good. By the time we all walked out, our stomachs were aching with being too full and it was time for HP7P2.

The movie was great, probably my favorite, but we'll discuss that later. The other Harry Potter fans in the group agreed and Amber used her wand to keep us safe on the 30 second walk back home.

But It's The Life You Lead

Yesterday was our day for shopping. And while we didn't accomplish as much of that as we had planned, it was still another good day. We started off by hitting up the flea markets in a part of town we drove through in our taxi on our way from the airport. It was a place of character, my friends. We began in your typical flea market: souvenirs  clothing you would never buy, jewelry you sort of look through, odd trinkets from a random part of the globe, etc etc. After we tired of that, we stopped for a snack of french fries and hydration at a pizza restaurant and I embarrassingly ate twice as much as everyone.

Kelly was determined to find the flea market from Midnight in Paris, so we decided that was our next mission. We walked a few blocks and actually found it! It wasn't really a flea market so much as a lot of small shops selling vintage clothing and really, really odd furniture. It was so neat! I felt like I was in another world or at least another time. Something that I, and I think the other girls as well, really love about this trip is how different it is than your typical tourist trip. We enjoy more than just famous sights, we enjoy getting (the metro is always an adventure) there and the little incidents that happen and taking the time to do things like finding the flea market from a movie. That probably doesn't make a lot of sense, but I'm basically trying to say that I'm really tha)nkful to be here! Aaaaaaaaaanyway, back to the story of the day. We finished up there and started heading home when we made a stop in the leather jacket store for Kelly. Let me tell you, leather jacket stores are never to be taken lightly. Ale and I had a hilar time picking out things for ourselves. There were quite some hard choices to make! How do you choose between a magenta leather man jacket, tight leather pants and a sweet fur vest? You don't. The only reason we didn't buy anything was because we couldn't buy it all. Kelly, however, actually found something that she liked and got it.

Finally, we got back to the apartment to make a snack of chips and spinach dip (thank you, Eri and Ale) before (baha) going out to dinner. I wasn't feeling very well at all so I made sure to get some greens at the grocery store when we stopped there for spinach dip ingredients. The grocery store trips, believe it or not, always end up being a good time. This time, we got creeped on by the grocery bagger; he asked Ale for her name (duh, she said Kelly) and her age (she said 15...12...10. I'm 10).

The snack was a good one and held us over until dinner, which was yet another great time. We met up with Alvero, one of Ale and Erika's friends from their French class, at Notre Dame and all walked to this Mexican restuarant that Kelly's uncle recommended to us. Alvero. What a character. He is from Spain, but is staying here for the summer, and is a huge fan of all things Lady Gaga, Glee, Dexter, Kelly Clarkson and the Dixie Chicks. He really was so funny and interesting and nice. He told us about how he loves America and shared stories about his host families here in France and in Philadelphia. Needless to say, he made a great seventh member.

We ate dinner and went back to Notre Dame where we watched an entertaining (in many ways) number of street performers. We started at the fire baton twirler (what are they called, really?) who had almost setting a girl on fire (awkward) as part of his performance (it was one of those "member of the audience, please come up" moments). I did not enjoy this bit at all. Rather, I turned around and glanced over my shoulder to make sure he hadn't killed the innocent tourist girl on accident. Ale and I discussed for quite some time what his origin was. We decided he was Egyptian but went back and forth between that and Moroccan for a little bit. When he was done, a fun group of four young ghetto dancers were up for a turn. We decided they were extras from "Step Up 3-D." One of them was rather disturbing. He refused to walk upright and instead would hop around like a gorilla. WORSE, he went up to a fellow dancer and nuzzled her leg and she proceeded TO PET HIM. What? It was eerie, to say the least. We enjoyed their performance and proceeded on to the roller skaters. Their big trick was going really fast off a huge ramp and flying in the air over bars and then bystanders. Who was one of the chosen bystanders? Our one and only Amber. Laura got a picture of it all, so look forward to that.

It was then time for us to retire to the apartment for an early night in of cards and sleep!

And You Know That When The Truth Is Told...

Yesterday (sorry... I fell asleep before reporting about our day!) was our day for Versailles. It started out at an early 8:30 and after a small breakfast of either nutella and bread or croissants, we were on our way. The metro there was a 30 minute ride and I didn't get hit by the door at all! I was very careful about it. As we decided that we were ready for a snack/meal, McDonalds, Starbucks and a little Parisian cafe came into sight. Ale, Erika and I chose McDonalds and the other three went for Starbucks. The McDonalds.... Well OMG. I hate to be the girl that's excited about the McDonalds, but it's really not my fault... Erika and Ale's excitement was contagious. It was huge and fancy and had a little McCafe and I laughed and laughed at all of that. We got some food and headed over to Starbucks to meet with the others, but (awkward) they were about to get food from the little restaurant so we were those people eating McDonalds at Starbucks sans Starbucks. Then, awkwardest of all, we got kicked out of the restaurant (after we were done) because we didn't order anything even though we were sitting with people who ordered something. In a huff, the three of us sat on the bus stop bench and had some entertaining conversation.

Fed and ready, we made our way over to Versailles. The lines were crazy long. And, yes, I said lines. There was a huge line to buy tickets and another to actually get in, but we made it go buy fast being the interesting and amusing girls that we are. While in a deep discussion with Ale regarding crazy Arab women parties, there was a commotion among the other 4 girls. We quickly found out that a bird had pooped in Erika's hair. I'm sure you're not surprised to hear that I (and Ale) burst into laughter like immature bullies. It was hilarious. About 20 seconds after all of this, a women who worked there warned us about birds pooping on people who stood where we were. Bahahahaha. Anyway, Erika was a good sport about it all and we cleaned her up. I was happy to find out that she was not mad about us laughing at her. We got through both lines and were finally allowed into the awesome (and I mean that in the "inspiring awe" sense) place that is Chateau de Versailles. The walk through was both fascinating and entertaining. Fascinating because, just as a friend back home told me, it really made history come alive. It was crazy huge and bled wealth and extravagance. I mean, of course it did, but I never could've imagined to what extent. Anyway, I enjoyed that aspect of it. Entertainment-wise, well, let's see. There was the little boy who, despite his mother's screams and the metal chain, decided he was tired and just took a seat on one of the chair's in the king's sitting room. When his mother's yells reached a new level of desperation, he became a rebel and ran across the room, slammed his hand on the organ and ran back to his mother. That's a story they'll be telling for a long time. Then, there were the mobs and mobs of foreigners all clutching those audio guides as if they were whispering the secrets of life. At one point, Erika was completely surrounded by a group and couldn't move. I died laughing. I got really excited when we found a mob of my people, the Arabs. Last but not least, Ale accidentally tripped a man and he flew and caught himself right before falling flat on his face. He immediately turned around and glared at at the place where he tripped and then stomped off. I didn't start laughing (I'm not that horrible!) until Ale confessed to it being her fault. We made sure to make stop at the gift shop before returning to the apartment to nap.... We were exhausted!


For dinner, we stayed in and made pasta with tomato and basil sauce. Then, for dessert, we went on a search for creme brulee and chocolate cake! At the last minute, we decided not to stray far and randomly chose a place. Luckily, it was amazing! I was so excited and, on top of that, Amber really liked creme brulee after trying it for the first time. The cake-eaters were pleased as well and it all turned out to be a successful outing after a long, tiresome but great day.

Claire and Trent, it was so lovely to skype with you.

Song of the day (a classic haha)- Bass Down Low by The Cataracs

You Got Your Passion, You Got Your Pride

The day started off with a slightly earlier start, but still embarrassingly late. Granted, the Disney girls desperately needed their sleep so it was certainly excused! Amber had a good birthday, and it was such a treat to celebrate her 18th with food, fun and adventure in Paris. After we all had a nice breakfast of nutella sandwiches, coffee and chocolate milk, Kelly and I went to Etam for some quick shopping while the other girls got ready. I was in awe of the place; it was huge. I spent some time just walking up the staircase with my mouth wide open... it was, oh, 8 stories? During check out, it was a relief to have a sweet (and gorgeous) cashier after yesterday's terrifying ones. As pathetic as it sounds, it really brightened my day!

We returned as quick as we could to the apartment to meet up with everyone and really start the day as a group. It was a really quick walk which is pretty common for a lot of the things we do here. The apartment has a really great location.... 3 H&Ms, remember? We dropped off our purchases and it was finally time to go out and about in Paris. First thing first, we needed to figure out money for Amber and Laura and find a bank. Before telling you a fun little tale that happened during the walk, I need to explain one quick thing. I don't know why, but there are a TON of random waist-high poles here everywhere. Laura, sweet Laura absolutely crashed into one and sort of stumbled back (thank God, she didn't fall). It was hilarious. I made sure to warn her about every single one I saw afterwards. For whatever reason, she found my helpfulness not helpful as much as she found it annoying? Whate'er.

We got the money all sorted out and decided to get some Arabic food at a restaurant that Ale and Erika had tried once before and enjoyed. The food was good and pretty authentic. To get there, we passed through this neat area with really cool street performers. When I get home (internet here isn't good enough to upload pictures), I'll put up the pictures I took of the three of them. We spent the rest of the afternoon just walking around Le Marais (same area as the Arabic restaurant), an area much like Houston's Montrose. It was filled with cute, unique shops and we were quite entertained. There were bakery's with creatively shaped breads to stores with really cute skirts (Erika, Ale and I all got the same one and plan on wearing it one the same day haha) to a calligraphy shop where I got Claire and Trent little gifts! Haha we even went into the Nike store because I thought I might find something there for my sweet little brother. Before we returned to the apartment, we spent about an hour sitting and chatting in a coffee shop where Erika got a "milkshake" and Kelly found out that a "mochaccino" does, in fact, exist.

The evening proved to be much more amusing than our relaxed, pleasant afternoon! We donned warmer clothes, grabbed some blankets and took the metro for an evening at the park next to the Eiffel Tower. The metro smelled, well, horrible. I almost gagged, but we made the best of it and it turned into a lot of laughs. Now, about the Eiffel tower. Let me tell you, the place was hoppin'. We were not the only ones with this great idea for there were so many groups having a good time. This provided a fun atmosphere and it ended up being a really nice evening with a really great view! Of course, pictures will be provided. We stayed long enough (about an hour) to watch the lights twinkle at the beginning of the hour, and then went home to get something to eat for dinner and, duh, not to miss the metro before it closed. I, probably out of karma for making fun of Laura, got smashed by the closing metro door. Everyone went "ooooh" and it was pretty darn awkward, but it certainly humbled me. Sorry, Laura. Once back in our area, we were on the hunt for food! First, we stopped at McDonalds where Erika got fries. The... manager? (he was dressed in a suit but certainly worked there) was very excited by the fact that we were foreigners. Upon hearing that we were from Texas, he said, "shook norees?" Which I SOMEHOW managed to understand. He was saying, "Chuck Norris." I responded, "Chuck Norris!!!!!" And he, in his excitement, did a few karate moves. It really was a great time and we promised to return tomorrow. In order to feed the crepe craving bunch (Laura, Kell, Amber and I), we hit up a little cafe close by. As we were all waiting for the crepes to be made, I got a new boyfriend. So sorry, Trenton. The 40-year-old Arab man making our crepes proclaimed his love for me. I mumbled, "love ya, too" and blushed. He then asked me for my name (I said Kelly to save my own rear) and he asked (jokingly. All of this was a joke) what I was doing afterwards. When I mumbled a response about a hotel with angry parents, he pretended to rip off his shirt and join us. It was all slightly creepy, but his affections paid off later when we were harassed by a strange man mid crepe enjoyment and I beckoned him (no joke) and he came and got the guy to leave. Amber enjoyed yet another nutella treat and has come to love the stuff! How thrilling. We are now home and all getting ready for bed! Goodnight and sorry for the length of this one!

Listen! God Only Knows cover

Take Your Phone Off The Hook and Disappear For Awhile

After a nice, long nap, we decided to go to a free concert in which a French rock band entertained us with their mediocre music in which every song started out uniquely only to end up being the same song. The people attending the concert were entertaining as well; they were characters to say the least and had rather amusing habits. Eventually, our stomachs starting rumbling and we scidaddled to a dinner of crepes and sandwiches. It was lovely. We then went dancing last night at 9:30. The Parisians dance quite magically. It's a series of head bobbing and shoulder shaking and the crazy ones have almost violent hand motions/seizure-like movements. We got back at 11:00 and were asleep by 11:30. It was much needed rest!

Today, four of us (Kell, Amber, Erika and Laura) went to Disneyland Paris in honor of Amber's birthday. Out of exhaustion and a craving for shopping, I decided not to go. Instead, I spent a magnificent day with Alejandra. She is funny and witty and very easy to talk to. I woke up pretty late (whoops) and after a breakfast of a nutella sandwich and milk, we were off to H&M. Let me tell you, there are so many H&Ms here. It's so exciting. Ale and I were enjoying our day of leisure until the evil check out lady at H&M refused to take my credit card and informed us that we had "one owah" (one hour) to get money and come back. Our search for an ATM was a stressful one in which we repeated "we have one owah" over and over again to ourselves in hushed tones. One was found, and all was well and purchased.

After getting some great things there, we went to Zara and stopped at the supermarket.  For dinner, we randomly picked a place and intended to find this supposedly really good place for creme brulee (recommendation courtesy of google) after a good meal. We ended up just staying at this restaurant for a dinner of steak with pepper sauce, french fries, salad and a dessert of creme brulee. The creme brulee wasn't the best I've had to say the least, but the dinner made up for it. It was delicious and filling and warm and exactly what I needed! In fact, it was so good that we took the rest of the group back for dinner upon their arrival about 3 hours later. They waiters remembered us and were so excited to see us back so soon and with friends. While our waitress (the second time around. The first time waiter loved us and was a sweetheart) was scary (the people here have very little patience with my awkwardness), everyone seemed satisfied. On our way back home, we grabbed some nutella crepes (yum) and retired to the apartment for a night of much needed relaxation and chatting.

But Then If You're So Smart, Tell Me Why Are You Still So Afraid?

After being delayed about an hour (sorry for about 293847397 goodbye texts), we began our nine hour flight. It was.... rather uneventful. I did that thing about 40 times where you don't think you fell asleep because it was so light and horrible, but time has passed, so it must've happened. There were two magical little babies that provided much entertainment for Amber and I for they were cute and lovely. Finally, we arrived. The airport was more like a funhouse filled with odd ways of transporting people. Instead of escalators, they had these terrifying electric ski slope-esque things that made you almost fall. THEN, they had this giant center room area filled with all these tubes that we went in to get across the airport. I took pictures.

Finally, we got to baggage claim. Let me tell you, there is nothing like a foreign country to humble you. I am not a shy person nor do I lack confidence (sometimes too much confidence, I'm sure), but I became a soft-spoken, hesistant person here.

Then, Kelly got coffee and a treat. I broke out my cliff bar. Just so you know, Trent, it was delicious. 

The ride was long, but entertaining. Amber was mistaken for a moment and saw a speed limit sign saying 90, got very nervous that we were going to speed to the death, and then remembered the whole kilometers thing. It was amusing. There was a small incident on the way. The question involving the incident is, "did we hit the biker or did the biker hit us?" He was fine, but there was some yelling.

While waiting for Erika and Ale to come back from their French class, Amber posed an iteresting and terrifying question, "Wouldn't it be funny if this whole time they were in Paris, TX and we came here and got stuck here?!" Funny indeed. There was another incident in which I loudly yelled the apartment address number to Kelly and was overheard by a creeps Parisian man. We immediately assumed we were about to get "Taken," only to realize that we weren't being very subtle American girls to begin with. We've survived thus far.

Now, after a nice lunch, I'm off to nap and then we will go celebrate Amber's 18th birthday! Happy birthday, Amber!

P.S. Claire, buy your AWOLNATION tickets.

A favorite plane tune: All I Need by Awolnation

Slow Down, You Crazy Child

Off to France France France yet again-gain-gain! I am in a preparation frenzy (Molls has heard all about this... I'M STILL SORRY), which is frustrating considering I am all packed and ready to go! After a 9 hour flight with friends Kelly, Amber and Laura (Laura will actually be on another flight at the same time), we will land in Paris to visit Erika and Alejandra for ten days! I am so excited. I don't know what I want to do first.... eat creme brulee, go shopping, go to the Louvre and stare at my favorite sculptures for hours, eat more creme brulee? Anyway, I'm rambling now, but, maybe this time around I will actually put up the pictures I take in France instead of just saying that I will! Until then!

P.S. While last year, I played Home every day and stole lyrics from it for every blog post title, I've found a new song for summer 2011. Granted, it's a little odd considering I'm going to France, but oh well, it's still wonderful.

Listen away- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZdiXvDU4P0

I Know I Will Hear What I've Heard Before

"Is it wrong, wanting to be at home with your record collection? It's not like collecting records is like collecting stamps, or beermats, or antique thimbles. There's a whole world in here, a nicer, dirtier, more violent, more peaceful, more colorful, sleazier, more dangerous, more loving world than the world I live in; there is history, and geography, and poetry, and countless other things I should have studied at school, including music." 

— Nick Hornby (High Fidelity)

Don't Fix My Smile, Life Is Long Enough

Lo and behold, Trent Walker is an amazing writer. Despite knowing him for quite some time, he managed to keep this fact hidden from me. However, he sent me something that he wrote, and I just have to post it here. Read it as an introduction or first chapter in a book.

It's like an itch on the bottom of your foot that you can't scratch because your tennis shoe won't allow it. Your in a public place so all you can do is wiggle your foot around allowing the sole to gently rub against your sock causing a slight abrasion to your skin, soothing the itch to a minimal level of satisfaction. Five minutes later, it's back. All you want to do is sit down, in the middle of wherever you are, rip off your shoe and scratch. Scratch until the itch is gone, then put the shoe back on and happily go about your business. But this would cause people to stare, wondering why you're sitting on the floor without shoes on, touching your feet. This is a problem. When does it itch so badly that you begin to not care? I suppose its up to each individual's personality, self esteem or social concerns. Well, what if that itch were something less simple and the people watching were more important? The people watching could be your family, friends or anyone whose view was significant to you. Say, for instance, that itch was one of adventure, boredom, philosophy or passion. At what point does someone say, "Screw it, it itches too much." I'll tell you, that point changes throughout our lives. There is a critical period for freedom, for adventure. Just like the critical period for learning. We all know what that is. They say your mind is a sponge when you are a toddler and its the best time to learn how to speak, read, or write. Well, I suggest that there is a point of no return for our sense of freedom. I'll give it a number just for throwing around's sake. We will call it 18. That's a good number. If you don't take your shoe off and itch your damn foot before you are 18 then your chances of ever itching your foot exponentially decrease from that point onward. Now, I will admit, that is a bold claim based loosely on hardly any facts at all, but hey, how old are you? If you are young enough to wait around for facts then by all means, do so. Just keep wiggling your foot around if you have the time. Not all of us have that luxury. There's a deadline for adventure. Now don't get me wrong. I'm not telling you to snort the next line or you're dead. Don't let this little theory affect your drug usage. That's not my goal here. My goal is to tell you my story. My story of adventure is, I hope, an inspiring one. This is an experiment and you are a patient. In a few years, the results will be published. The Times will read something like "Critical Period for Adventure Theory Proven, Author a Genius!" or "Crack Pot Theorist Scams America into Buying Book and Running Off." Either way, you are going to have an adventure. Get ready. Have you ever seen the bored loser spin a globe, stop it with his finger, and go on vacation to wherever it landed? Screw that. What if his finger landed somewhere boring? No. That is dumb. Where do you want to go. I'll tell you where I wanted to go.

Do the Panic

I was going through my messages to Ellee and found this one. It made me smile, so I thought I'd post it. It was written in the last month or so of school.

------------------------

Sweet Ellee, Sweet Ellee!

How I love you so much. 

Oh Ellee, Sweet Ellee. Gosh, I'm growing up. I spent so much time running, hurling forward and now it's that time where I pause and step back. Turn around, take a glance, what will I miss? Slowly my steps are faltering, I'm second guessing my pace. Maybe I should sit back and enjoy this a little more.

It's funny how God has people work in my life. Just as you helped me adjust to being here, in this red-coated, Mustang-loving, strange little nook, you're helping me leave it, move on and enter a whole new stage of being.

I can't decide who I want to be in college, if I had to decide now. I think a little more of me, give or take a few things. I'll take myself less seriously, but trust my gut more. I want to give out love the way an unhygienic 4-year-old passes out germs. I want to cook more, judge less and be able to sing. I know, I know, it's not for me to know or decide. But I can't help but wonder, who will Lana be in a year?

Gah here I am again. These questions, no answers. All that I know is that every decision I make now affects Lana in a year. So, that makes me wonder, what are my decisions like now? Maybe I shouldn't've talked so angrily to my mom, to Holly, to the lady at Kroger... But I'm happy for my studying, my loving, my helping. Gosh, I've got a little bit of this, a little bit of that. Good grief, who knows what's going on, I'M SUCH A PERMANENT MESS.

Love,

Lana

No One Does It Like You

It's an average summer afternoon. The temperature is the average much too hot, I'm an average amount of bored and my stomach is hurting at an average level due to the sickening piles of junk food I've been consuming at an ungodly rate.

Usually, at about this time, I open up my friends' blogs, thinking I'd read some average things. After reading about Molly's fancy-pants new job, Claire's witty tales of Europe, and Danika's creative art adventures (just to name a few), I smiled to myself as one of the greatest feelings came over me:

I'm so excited to have the coolest friends ever.

If....Why?

I saw this sign. I loved it. I took a picture!

Sail

The Archipelago Of Kisses by Jeffrey McDaniel

We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't
grow on trees, like in the old days. So where

does one find love? When you're sixteen it's easy, 

like being unleashed with a credit card

in a department store of kisses. There's the first kiss.

The sloppy kiss. The peck.

The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch. The we

shouldn't be doing this kiss. The but your lips

taste so good kiss. The bury me in an avalanche of tingles kiss.

The I wish you'd quit smoking kiss.

The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad

sometimes kiss. The I know

your tongue like the back of my hand kiss. As you get

older, kisses become scarce. You'll be driving

home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road, 

with its purple thumb out. If you

were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's

red door just to see how it fits. Oh where

does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile.

Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling.

Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss. 

Now what? Don't invite the kiss over

and answer the door in your underwear. It'll get suspicious

and stare at your toes. Don't water the kiss with whiskey. 

It'll turn bright pink and explode into a thousand luscious splinters, 

but in the morning it'll be ashamed and sneak out of

your body without saying good-bye, 

and you'll remember that kiss forever by all the little cuts it left

on the inside of your mouth. You must

nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights. Notice how it

illuminates the room. Hold it to your chest

and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a

special beach. Place it on the tongue's pillow, 

then look up the first recorded kiss in an encyclopedia: beneath

a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C.

But one kiss levitates above all the others. The

intersection of function and desire. The I do kiss.

The I'll love you through a brick wall kiss. 

Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth, 

like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones. 

'Cause We're Moving On and We Can't Slow Down

Dear Memorial,

I leave you with this- my senior speech:

In my car, I have a towel, a few broken CDs, a neon ski jacket, some seashells, too many discarded Starbucks cups, and two or three plates and spoons. To say the least, I am a messy person. While I admit that this is true, I must also elaborate on another side of me entirely- a side obsessed with organizing, categorizing and labeling. I don't mean literally; 

I don't have a label gun stashed away or anything, it's more like categorizing or labeling big things, like groups of people or individuals... mostly, trying to categorize myself. We all deal with this in high school, the "who am I"s and all that. The funny thing is, while we all (eventually) find that no one fits into one category and that we are all unique and special, etc., etc., I figured out something even more ridiculous and peculiar. I, in fact, found that I was a walking paradox- full of absurd contradictions and constantly fitting into opposing categories all at once. Maybe, in reality, I'm just a bad categorizer. Or, just maybe, I had found my first example of the many to come reflecting my paradoxical nature- a messy person with organization OCD.

Although I play it off like it's something I laugh about, I'll be the first to tell you that it was definitely something I struggled with on my identity quest. I spent the beginning of high school trying, like a typical freshman, to build up this image of myself that I so desperately wanted, and that I had decided would bring me happiness for the rest of my years here. I know you all know what image I was going for- the artsy, mysterious, doesn't need to try to succeed girl with a killer music taste and edgy clothes. While I cringe at all of that now (what's a killer music taste, anyway?), it really was what I wanted and strove for. You can imagine the horror and confusion I felt when I found myself wanting to belt out "I wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy" or feeling the need to tap my foot along with the beat of Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl." Being an extremely dramatic person, every time one of these things would happen, I feared that I had multiple personality disorder and would immediately change the song to something I thought was cool. Eventually, I admitted defeat and accepted the fact that I loved the tacky and the ridiculous almost as much as what, in my opinion, is beautiful, meaningful art and entertainment.

As usually happens with an epiphany, I found that this contrast applies to my life in more serious ways than just what I have on my iPod or DVR. There is contrast (but not conflict) within my own home, between the two people who raised me- my parents. Take my father, a man from small town called Bryan, Ohio, who married my mother, a middle-Eastern woman from Damascus, Syria. This union landed me with a label I've had since birth, and a label that most people find peculiar: Arab-American. We live in a world where it is acceptable for Americans to play internet games dedicated to "shooting the Muslim" and where Arabs refer to George Bush as an idiot with ears too big for his small brain. Culturally, I witness two very different views as well. For example, here, I go to the pool where I and all my friends wear bikinis; there, it is indecent for me to wear shorts too high above my knee. As a child, this confused me, and there was so much that frustrated me because I didn't understand. But, as a young adult, I feel I, personally, could not have been blessed with a better ethnic identity. I now enter the real world with a deeper understanding of cultural differences, compromising, and respect for others than many will ever have in their lifetime.

Time and time again, I found contrast and paradox. My friends! My choices! My meals! Who else goes through the drive-thru for french fries on the way to the gym? I found people constantly in shock at my decisions and preferences, always saying, "I never expected you to... when I thought you..." Always with a confused look. And, never did I hear this more than regarding the people who I love and spend time with. It's natural for people to assume that you are close with those that are like you. Some, like I did, even assume you should automatically dislike a certain category of people because there's just no way it would work between your stereotype and theirs. For years, I thought this was the case, with one person in particular, and it was this person that I thought of when I realized that my life as a paradox bled into my social interactions. Many of you know her- she is blonde and fabulous, successful and wise; her name is Molly McConn. For years, I hated Molly (to be fair, she wasn't too fond of me either) until, God forbid, we had a conversation. We are now best friends, and, in the end, found that we were similar, despite how much we seem to contrast on the outside. From Molly and all of my best friends who are so different than her and so different than me, I have learned more than I ever will with a closed mind and an arrogant attitude.

Perhaps this is something we all face- the things we do and feel that we don't understand about and didn't expect from ourselves. Yes, I admit that being a walking paradox is hard. Often, I end up confused, flustered and, at times, feel like a hypocrite. But, in the end, I wouldn't change it for anything. Every time I embrace something I never thought I would like or feel, I become a little more humble and a little more at peace with myself.

Sincerely,

Lana

I Climbed the Tree to See the World

It's the middle of the night and I so desperately wish I was asleep - school tomorrow, tests, pressure, expectations, smiles, etc, etc - how badly I want energy for all of it. Alas, I am awake, and it is one of those strange moments in the 24-hours where time has no business controlling me, and I am free to think outside of it. 

After closing my eyes for the third or hundredth time, I allowed myself to think about something that terrifies me, that I refuse to think about and refuse to acknowledge: old age. While usually I get sad and fearful at the thought of the very old, I found myself smiling in wonder and awe. These people did it, they did Life, they made it this far; in one of those strange moments where you let your imagination shamelessly wander, I found myself shaking hands with an old person like a celebrity and saying, "Congratulations, can you tell me all about it?" When I sensed that I was okay at this point in my train of thought (I, for the first time ever, did not have a panic attack at the thought of being very old), I imagined what it would be like to be old myself, and I got excited at the thought of having so much to think about, a lifetime's worth of things to analyze and ponder and change into wisdom. My mind wandered on and I found myself thinking about how "leaving a legacy" after you die is more complex than having children and making sure your genes stick around for a little longer; we leave a bit of ourselves on this earth in a thousand different ways. I thought about how I personally wanted to exist still on this earth after death and I realized that I want to live on in words, in writing. Maybe on this blog, maybe in a book, maybe in letters I will hide all over the world for someone to find. Anyway, I'm rambling now, but this is the way of my thoughts and who am I to tell them to stop and pull themselves together at this hour, huh?

If you ever find yourself awake the way I am, maybe you can think a little bit about Life with a capital L, where you'll be and what you, just you, want out of it. Maybe you'll find, like I did tonight, that it's so much more complex and a lot less harsh than you thought. Or maybe you'll get lucky and fall asleep before it all comes crashing down on you like feathers, saving those thoughts for another bittersweet sleepless night.

I'm Looking for a Dead End Song

Before today, I never fully understood the concept of forgiveness. I always found it beautiful, but I never understood how it worked; it's just not logical. That's not to say that it was hard for me to forgive someone, it really wasn't, but I just never understood how our hearts and minds allowed for forgiveness. 

So, I think I've figured out what forgiveness means to me. Earlier tonight, I was thinking about a stupid (though it wasn't at the time) fight between the lil' headitors (Dani, Claire and I! We finished the Yearbook tonight! I'm so proud of the 3 of us!) and our teacher, and while the reasons I was so mad (love ya, Harty) are completely valid, I couldn't bring myself to care anymore. Why? Because my love for her completely outweighs anything negative I felt during that fight.

To me, forgiveness is when your love for someone infinitely outweighs any anger, hurt, resentment or anything of the sort. It's the moment where those negative feelings become work, and you're just happy they're around. I don't think you can work towards forgiving someone, I think it happens naturally when you fall back in love with them.

Anyway, just a random thought. I'll probably be editing that idea once I gain some more perspective. You know what I won't be editing, though? The Reata 2010-2011. Because it's finally over.

These Times When Everything Slows

One, throw on your swim suit. Two, grab that book you've been meaning to read and that playlist you've been meaning to listen to. Three, don't forget Claire! (Four, make fun of Molly.) Count 'em one, two, three- my morning ritual for the next four days. This week is Spring Break and I'm heading to Ixtapa along with a big group of senior hooligans and our families. I cannot wait for the feeling of the sun shining on my face, not worrying about what time it is, and being to sleep and eat whenever I feel like it. The last few weeks at school have been tough on all of us, so I'm so excited that we're getting a well-earned few days in the sun to run around like idiots and be merry!

Wherever you are and whatever you're dealing with, I hope this week is kind to you. I hope you take the time to focus on you and your need for relaxation, for alone time, for sleep, for laughing, for vitamin D, for quiet, for music, for anything and everything you love.

So You Can Sing This Song

So, my good friend Danika showed me that Blogspot now let's you have Pages! I copied her (she made a bunch of art pages) by making one about the pictures I've been taking this year for my Photography class. It's the tab under the blog title called "My Attempt at Photography." All year I've been slaving away to get some sort of grasp on the art of photography and even though my work is still laughable, I cringe a little less at my photos now! I wanted to add some flair to this blog here of mine so I'll post some of my favorite pictures of the ones I've taken so far.

Something I've learned about Photography this year is how it actually is an art form. While I always appreciated a good picture, I had a hard time grasping the concept of a photographer as an artist... but now, I get it more. It's not about being able to push a button or change the settings on a camera; it's about being able to create a world within the frame of photograph, much like a painter creates another world upon a canvas.

Anyway, taking pictures is super fun and a wonderful way for me to take a step out of my own reality. Take a look for some amusement.

We Can Unwind and Just Be Free

"At least we know that if we die, we lived with passion."
-Will Pugh

I read this quote recently and, like most things I write about, it made me stop for a second to think. Live with passion. What does that look like? Is it a fiery red dress? Something like mischief in the eyes? A way of walking or holding oneself up? Maybe. Or maybe it's something completely different that you can't see, but know is there. I believe you can tell when someone lives with passion. They're the kind of person that draws you in because something about them excites you. I'm not talking about chemistry, that exists between two people. I'm talking about those people who you have a conversation with and have to do a double-take to see if there really was light bursting from within them or if that was just their personality, their soul. Those people who seem confident in themselves and in their destiny, not worried about Life and the many ways it holds you back and tears you down. I'm not saying they never break down, or get scared or tired. They just keep pushing forward, even if it feels like swimming through concrete. They're the kind of people who you can't help but wonder if they have private, giggling conversations with Life. If they and Life just sit around and gab about the things that make them laugh or make them think. They love Life and, more than that, they trust it like an old friend.

I think we all have the potential to be that person brightly spinning, flying forward 'till death do us part. We all have a life, it's just a matter of truly making it our own. To me, it's just like developing a new friendship into something you can count on- it takes time, honesty, a level of comfort, the ability to compromise and a whole lot of breakdowns- it just happens to be a relationship not with a person, but with Life.