Thursday, March 31, 2011

Today, When I Can't Get Tired

2 am
A "brite liner" ahead of me,
A made bed behind.

A blank blinking cursor
Blipping across the screen
As I tit and tat and
Punch and push the keys.

Joined a gym
Jumping for joy
Just a tad nervous
Cause I asked the guy
To really kick my ass (stupid).

But I'm looking forward to it
Cause I like to be pushed and pulled (up)
And crunched and curled
And so breathless I'm sick and
Wanna cry......

Couldn't keep concentration
Pretty much sums up the day.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Rude Boy & A Self Portrait

So, I woke up feeling skinny this morning, feeling all cute and sweet and stylish. I go to school. This holds up for about--mmm--three to four hours.

Until this jackass from my film class comes in. I can't stand the jerk. And I am not a name caller (unless of course I am driving and in a hurry to get someplace that I want to be, then every other person driving safely at the speed limit is a bad word) but this guy really brings out the worst in me and I hate it.

The guy either has a disorder and has no filter or he's just a douchebag, ok?

So, I am in class, feeling spiffy. I have new people sitting next to me. I am, however, tired from studying until the wee hours of the morning and waking up just a couple of those hours later to get to class for an exam.

And in walks "rude boy" as I refer to him. (No, really, I do.... ask my friends). He strolls up and sits in the chair next to me. And then rolls it behind me to talk to the guy on the other side. Banter is had where a line that I had in this fun little project comes up and is laughed at and repeated. I don't mind, I enjoy making people laugh and this had been the purpose of the line. It's great, it's memorable and that is what an actor of any level wants: someone to get their communication.

But then they get into actual conversation and I ask, in legitimate kind consideration, if he wants to switch seats with me so he can speak to this guy to my right. And rude boy says no and makes some snide remark about how he thinks he'll just stay behind me because I enjoy it so much. He follows this up with "Besides, you love being the center of attention, don't you"?

I'm not a rude girl, so I kind of smile despite what is really going on in my mind "you cheeky little fucker........." and so on.

Eventually he rolls to his actual seat and then he looks at me and says--pronouncing my name incorrectly--"Hey Mar iss suh your eyes are red"
"Huh" I ask, just wishing I hadn't heard him right.
"Oh, I said your eyes are red"
"I'm sure they are."
"Yea... they are.... need some sleep or something?" he asks with this big freaking grin on his face because he knows what he's doing. He's 17 years old and he acts like it, for sure. He is also evil. No question about it.

So, I'm grinning out of that I'm-so-angry-that-I-am-not-displaying-the-right-emotions reflex and I say "Yeah, actually I do".

There is a long pause and then he says "And you aren't even going to look in a mirror or anything to fix it huh? Cause you're the feminist girl who doesn't want to be like all the other girls who check themselves out in the windows and get to a mirror as quick as they can when a guy tells them their eyes are red."

Little fucker!

"Nope", I say.
"You really don't care what you look like, huh? That's cool".

And the rude boy surfs the internet during class, checking out a whole lot of women's photos on Facebook, watching himself on the computer's webcam making faces at himself when the teacher is directly in front of him. And while I fume.


Of course I care how I look and up until that point I felt sexy and confident and I knew that allowing myself to even be bothered by his behavior was going to get me in trouble and bring me down, but I allowed it, sadly.

And I ended up drawing his little post-it note portrait of "myself" tonight when I arrived home. All the 'worst' parts of my physical body that I most want to work on. And I take a photo with my iPhone to make it look cool, and I show it to my mother and she gasps.

She thinks it's beautiful. She thinks it's actually her and not me at all. She tells me she wants to frame it "no, really" she says. And she doesn't blow smoke up people's asses.

I still don't feel thin, like I did this morning, but I do feel beautiful again.

Thanks to my mom.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Sometimes A Girl Is the Worst Story-Teller Ever

Sometimes a girl has nothing to write but she does it anyway to keep her mind off of everything that she knows she really ought to be doing.

Sometimes she writes so much in a night that she can't really gather any thoughts that are of any particular substance, but she writes anyway because she feels like if she doesn't her "writer's fuel" might be gone at some point soon and she needs to keep producing. Even if she isn't a pro.

Sometimes a girl types something and erases it and starts a new line because she thinks it's just simply a good idea.

Sometimes a girl wonders why the class mate who commented on her English essay that one time doesn't seem to read her stuff anymore just because of a difference in perspective. Especially when she reads that girl's stuff all the time FOR a different perspective.

Sometimes a girl wonders why she starts every paragraph with sometimes and feels silly for doing it so she tries to devise other ways to start the next paragraph.

And finally she changes it. But she gets stuck and can't figure out where to go from there except to talk about her "new" Cinderella slippers that make her feel like a princess even though she isn't sure that she likes that her super red toe nails show so clearly through the little shiny transparent plastic webbing of the jellies.

Sometimes a girl wonders WHY IN THE WORLD she taught her dog to bark and whine when she used to be such a quiet, polite little thing. And then she's glad that she knows she will not regret teaching said nine-year-old dog to give kisses...even if it did take an entire year.

And sometimes a girl has an itch on her leg and knows that when she types about it, that should be the end of the blog for the night because really she should be (erase) doing Geology or film homework....................................................................

The end. Tonight I am the worst story-teller ever.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

I Have Decided...

To start wearing more skirts and dresses.

To travel somewhere new this year.

To make a point to get to Cambodia sooner than later.

To join a gym this month.

To fully embrace my inner Princess & wear my clear Steve Madden jellies often

…especially to Disneyland.

To embrace that I simply will ALWAYS be young at heart.

To not even try to “act my age”.

That I am perfectly okay not being a Carrie Bradshaw.

That I really am a Charlotte.

To always ask the questions that I am afraid to ask.

That no matter how much I love anything else, I will always love the idea of day being a mother, even more.

That it is a great thing to have never slept around.

Oh! And that I’m getting an iPhone today!

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

A Little Bit Of Everything

"There's a little truth behind every just kidding,
A little curiosity behind every just wondering,
A little knowledge behind every I don't know,
And a little emotion behind every I don't care."

~author unknown

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Hokey Poetry

When you’re happy and you know it

You write sad.

When you’re unhappy and you know it

You write glad.

When you’re neither

Then you show it

You realize you’re not a poet

When you’re tired and you’re writing

You write bad.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Diva Dog

She sits at my feet
Not obediently, mind you.
No, actually she stands!

Did I already say she's at my feet?
Sorry I was distracted.

She's standing there,
Staring from below
And I know what she
Silently asks for, shaking
Shivering, slow-moving tears
Slipping from her eyes.

I tell her no and she whines
A high pitched
Little shrill of a demand.
"turn your phone on
Vibrate. You know the
Itty bitty chime sound
Terrifies the heck out of me"
Like the wind
And the click of a timer
And the sound of bread
Coming out of a bag
Or the ding of the toaster
When it's done.

I ignore the plea and
Her ears move back
Her lids grow closer together
In a depressed little squint
Directed at me.
I am the cause of her pain.
She lets it be known.

I glare at her resentfully
I bought this phone
For the sound capacity
And freedom
I'm not going to silence it
For a shaking, tiny being.

I won't turn it off.
Not yet at least.
I'll let it go off
A few more times
Just to show her
Who is boss
And then eventually
It'll go back to vibrate
Like it has been
For months.
Because of my diva dog.

Friday, March 18, 2011

No Offense

No Offense, but

You look really tired today. Or sick or something. Yeah, you know, you’ve got these dark circles under your eyes. I mean, they’re kind of there all the time but today they’re especially dark and you just look like you could really use some rest or something, you poor thing. Here, I’ll get you some coffee.

No Offense, but

You might want to wear a bra with those kinds of shirts. I mean, it makes all the other girls a little uncomfortable because sometimes your nipples poke out or you can see how dark and big your areolas are because the shirt you’re wearing is so thin and white. I mean, we all are totally envious. We all wish that we could have perky little breasts like yours. We’re all like ‘I’m so jealous of that little bitch, she’s so cute and stuff’. I wish all the guys looked at my breasts like that at work, you know? It’s okay, though, I mean it’s really not a big deal. No, no, don’t be embarrassed…………do you want to wear my sweatshirt?

No Offense, but

Have you gained some weight? I could have sworn that you wore those very jeans last month and they were a smidgen baggy. I could tell from how they hung on your butt a little bit (not that I was looking, though, because you hardly have one at all). But now they’re, like, tight. I mean TIGHT. Like, they’re crawling up your butt crack and I think you have a little camel toe going on. You still look good though! I mean, you’re beautiful no matter what weight you’re at, I could just tell is all. Cause normally you’ve got that anorexic your-head-is-too-big-for-your-body thing going on. Maybe it’s kinda’ good you have a muffin top!

No Offense, but

I do’nt really get what your saying here in this S.A. Its a little jumpy here and I don’t like this word as much as I like those other ones. I mean why do you need to use such big words. I don’t no, maybe it’s just me but it makes people feel stupid. But then over here you using too simple of egg samples and it’s about the writing level of a fifth grader. And you’re opinions come acrosst much to strongly. Mine are better. Yours make you seem superficial and like you’re a racist. Just try to tone it down a little bit, maybe. Put a little espanish in here. Or ybonics. I think that could make this a lot stronger.

No Offense, but

I think it’s pointless to say ‘no offense’ before such a rude statement filled with such vague and broad generalities. Nobody likes how that makes them feel and everybody hates when it is done. I’m not tired and I’m not sick, in fact I am over-rested and I thought my makeup looked excellent and I felt radiant. But thanks for the concern. And I am wearing a bra. It’s flesh toned, has an underwire and is a push up with padding. But I’m glad to know you think my breasts are saggy despite the $5000 I paid for my breast lift about 6 months ago. But I guess my breasts match my pants….or at least they used to. It’s not called a muffin top, it’s called expecting. I haven’t told anybody yet but I guess the secret’s out now! I hope you’ll throw me my baby shower and let me know how obese I look when I’m two weeks over due. That would be just swell. And I appreciate the critique. I think you totally got what I was saying in my college level research paper on how speaking one language at home and then taking English classes in school can cause a huge disability in how people give and receive communication cross-culturally. I definitely see how adding (e)Spanish or Ebonics could totally prove my point. I think I’ll keep it the same, though. No offense.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Morning Coffee

I want to be
Somebody's morning coffee
Where the best part
Of waking up
Is me holding their cup.

Cat and Mouse

A feline tries on a gray mouse’s skin

And is trapped beneath a way-too-tight stretch

Like a boxer fights, true cats won’t give in

But the mouse’s skin makes her heave and wretch

So the cat disrobes from the gray mouse fur

Slips into mouse whiskers, two ears, a nose

Sees Tomcat and thinks he’s there to chase her

But a tuna fish can has his male mind closed

So Tigress takes off each little disguise

And Tomcat becomes her pretty gazelle

He’s fearful and runs from his sure demise

And in the ending it’s Tigress who’ll fail

See, life is a game of the cat and the mouse

Especially when species want to play house.

Written 3/16/2011

Three Men

This kid, he needs:

To wash his balls. They smell like old chlorine. He turns his chair and wind blows wafting, slowly in my sad direction. It enters my mind and makes me quiver, from my hairs to the nails on my toes. He swings back around and the stench is gone. I can hardly take anything more.

This guy, he needs:

To brush his teeth. They smell of bitter coffee. It’s sat on his tongue all day long, waiting for Listerine. It filters through his dry flesh of lips and whispers to the hairs of my nose. Like a foreign gas it enters the chamber where the scent makes its humble abode. It makes me cough, it makes me gag. I’d move if it wasn’t too rude.

This thug, he needs:

To shut his mouth. It just keeps yapping on. About violence this, about violence that. I’m sure he isn’t jesting. He’s got those looks, a little threatening, y’know those evil eyes. They look at you on your insides, finding the wires for breaking. I’d say ‘shut it’ if I wasn’t too scared.

written 3/16/2011