Tuesday, August 31, 2004
This just in ...
Dude, the Presidents of the United States of America will be on KEXP with John in the morning (11 a.m. Central Time). Woohoo!
Dude, the Presidents of the United States of America will be on KEXP with John in the morning (11 a.m. Central Time). Woohoo!
Thursday, August 26, 2004
I swear everyone dreams for a reason
One night at camp this summer I had a very strange dream. I dreamed that there was this hot new trendy plastic surgery in which people were getting their eyes removed and replacing them with large plastic plain black shiny pupils, basically making everyone look like Power Puff Girls.
So in the dream I had the surgery. And then within a day later, I regretted it so much. My heart was broken. I wanted my green eyes back. I went to the surgeon who performed the operation, and he told me they didn't keep the old eyes, and they didn't have the technology to make me new ones. I couldn't see like I used to. I didn't look like I used to. I missed everything about my eyes that I had never even noticed affected my life.
I experience the strongest, most horrible pangs of regret I had ever felt. The dream haunted me for days. I kept trying to figure out what it meant. I didn't understand at first for obvious reasons: the strangeness of the whole thing, plus the fact that in my dream I was one of the first people to have the operation, and the idea of plastic surgery kind of grates on me. I don't think I'd ever do it. And I don't think of myself as a trendy person -- at least not the kind who does things so spontaneously just to do them first like that.
I had to interpret the dream, for my own sanity. I searched my past for a familiar association with the feeling of regret. I wanted to trace back to my earliest experiences of that kind of loss. I came up with this:
When I was about 5 years old, I had an Ewok. It was my favorite stuffed animal. Then, one miserable night, my sister got sick and threw up all over it -- and my Cabbage Patch doll. It happened right around the time we were getting ready to move and my mom was cleaning house. So when she asked me if I wanted to keep it or throw it away, I said throw it away. She asked me if I was sure. She said she could wash it, but I told her no, just throw it away. (I swear I have a point here and this story isn't about yack.)
A few years later we were getting ready to move again, this time out of state, from Illinois to Florida. My mom was going through what to take and leave behind, as we did many times, and we came to my Eeyore. I had a stuffed Eeyore, big enough for me to hug, just like the Ewok. And it had a Velcro tail that would fall off and you'd have to put it back on. Eeyore was my favorite stuffed animal. I think I chose to throw it away because I was sad about moving. Then I remember being in Florida, crying in my new bedroom because I was lonely and I missed Eeyore.
This is a lot less funny in writing than it was when I first realized it, but anyway, it was especially funny when I relayed these parallel epiphanies to Tom. I met Tom at camp. I called him the Silly Brit, mainly because he told crazy stories that made me laugh my ass off, and he was from England. He is the only person I've ever sat down and told the history of my love life, from first love to wherever the hell I am, six years later. We sat one night on the extra long pier with the views of the mountains I've spoken of so much, the ones my memory is trying to hold onto while at the same time hoping they'll slip away gracefully. I told Tom more about me in one breath than I'd probably ever told anyone so spontaneously, and he looked at me that night and said, "God. I could tell by you it would be complicated, but I had no idea it would be that complicated."
Tom told me that night I had to think more in black and white. I hardly listened because I've always sort of had a passion for gray. I like irony. I like inconsistencies. I think variety is the spice of life. I like confusion because in a way clarity sometimes seems like the end when it's only an illusion.
Tom always had answers. He said I need to be smarter about getting rid of things. He said I was right to get rid of the Ewok because it was no good anymore. He said I should've held onto the Eeyore because it was perfectly good.
On my last night off, before coming home, I sat on that pier again with Tom, or rather, I was sitting on it by myself listening to Cake, and he walked over with Haley, another counselor. We walked down to the dock and stared up at the stars. A tear rolled down my cheek and I said, "You know, Tom, you said a lot of sensible things to me that I didn't take so sensibly. Thank you."
One night at camp this summer I had a very strange dream. I dreamed that there was this hot new trendy plastic surgery in which people were getting their eyes removed and replacing them with large plastic plain black shiny pupils, basically making everyone look like Power Puff Girls.
So in the dream I had the surgery. And then within a day later, I regretted it so much. My heart was broken. I wanted my green eyes back. I went to the surgeon who performed the operation, and he told me they didn't keep the old eyes, and they didn't have the technology to make me new ones. I couldn't see like I used to. I didn't look like I used to. I missed everything about my eyes that I had never even noticed affected my life.
I experience the strongest, most horrible pangs of regret I had ever felt. The dream haunted me for days. I kept trying to figure out what it meant. I didn't understand at first for obvious reasons: the strangeness of the whole thing, plus the fact that in my dream I was one of the first people to have the operation, and the idea of plastic surgery kind of grates on me. I don't think I'd ever do it. And I don't think of myself as a trendy person -- at least not the kind who does things so spontaneously just to do them first like that.
I had to interpret the dream, for my own sanity. I searched my past for a familiar association with the feeling of regret. I wanted to trace back to my earliest experiences of that kind of loss. I came up with this:
When I was about 5 years old, I had an Ewok. It was my favorite stuffed animal. Then, one miserable night, my sister got sick and threw up all over it -- and my Cabbage Patch doll. It happened right around the time we were getting ready to move and my mom was cleaning house. So when she asked me if I wanted to keep it or throw it away, I said throw it away. She asked me if I was sure. She said she could wash it, but I told her no, just throw it away. (I swear I have a point here and this story isn't about yack.)
A few years later we were getting ready to move again, this time out of state, from Illinois to Florida. My mom was going through what to take and leave behind, as we did many times, and we came to my Eeyore. I had a stuffed Eeyore, big enough for me to hug, just like the Ewok. And it had a Velcro tail that would fall off and you'd have to put it back on. Eeyore was my favorite stuffed animal. I think I chose to throw it away because I was sad about moving. Then I remember being in Florida, crying in my new bedroom because I was lonely and I missed Eeyore.
This is a lot less funny in writing than it was when I first realized it, but anyway, it was especially funny when I relayed these parallel epiphanies to Tom. I met Tom at camp. I called him the Silly Brit, mainly because he told crazy stories that made me laugh my ass off, and he was from England. He is the only person I've ever sat down and told the history of my love life, from first love to wherever the hell I am, six years later. We sat one night on the extra long pier with the views of the mountains I've spoken of so much, the ones my memory is trying to hold onto while at the same time hoping they'll slip away gracefully. I told Tom more about me in one breath than I'd probably ever told anyone so spontaneously, and he looked at me that night and said, "God. I could tell by you it would be complicated, but I had no idea it would be that complicated."
Tom told me that night I had to think more in black and white. I hardly listened because I've always sort of had a passion for gray. I like irony. I like inconsistencies. I think variety is the spice of life. I like confusion because in a way clarity sometimes seems like the end when it's only an illusion.
Tom always had answers. He said I need to be smarter about getting rid of things. He said I was right to get rid of the Ewok because it was no good anymore. He said I should've held onto the Eeyore because it was perfectly good.
On my last night off, before coming home, I sat on that pier again with Tom, or rather, I was sitting on it by myself listening to Cake, and he walked over with Haley, another counselor. We walked down to the dock and stared up at the stars. A tear rolled down my cheek and I said, "You know, Tom, you said a lot of sensible things to me that I didn't take so sensibly. Thank you."
Tiny Cities Made of Ashes
Oh my gosh! This soundtrack is going to rule. To think it has an amazing acoustic version of one of my favorite Death Cab songs, and a Postal Service cover of "Against All Odds." And Broken Social Scene and shit. Have I died and gone to heaven? I tuned in just in time to hear about it. Do you see why I love Seattle? And while we're on the subject, you should check this out too. OK, good bye now.
Oh my gosh! This soundtrack is going to rule. To think it has an amazing acoustic version of one of my favorite Death Cab songs, and a Postal Service cover of "Against All Odds." And Broken Social Scene and shit. Have I died and gone to heaven? I tuned in just in time to hear about it. Do you see why I love Seattle? And while we're on the subject, you should check this out too. OK, good bye now.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
She said she just might be a damned fool
Delirious on her own happy gas ambitious dreamy thoughts
I met with my advisor today and I'm totally stoked. I'm getting my Associates in Commercial Music Management, and a certificate in Small Business Management. Old Cara would have thought I was such a tool for studying business, but I suddenly can't see myself doing anything else. In the next few semesters I'm going to learn how to run a business, how to produce and promote records, how to book shows, and I can even learn how to play drums and shit at school if I want. It's such an awesome mixture of performance and production and business and law. I'm pretty damned excited about it.
Woohoo! And through the school I can get paying internships at labels, which kicks ass. Of course I have to complete some coursework before I can jump into that, so instead I decided to try to join a Street Team or something. My first attempt was a letter I wrote to Saddle Creek Records.
Anyway, I'm not stopping there. I'm going to try to do some other stuff, but wish me luck! :)
Delirious on her own happy gas ambitious dreamy thoughts
I met with my advisor today and I'm totally stoked. I'm getting my Associates in Commercial Music Management, and a certificate in Small Business Management. Old Cara would have thought I was such a tool for studying business, but I suddenly can't see myself doing anything else. In the next few semesters I'm going to learn how to run a business, how to produce and promote records, how to book shows, and I can even learn how to play drums and shit at school if I want. It's such an awesome mixture of performance and production and business and law. I'm pretty damned excited about it.
Woohoo! And through the school I can get paying internships at labels, which kicks ass. Of course I have to complete some coursework before I can jump into that, so instead I decided to try to join a Street Team or something. My first attempt was a letter I wrote to Saddle Creek Records.
Anyway, I'm not stopping there. I'm going to try to do some other stuff, but wish me luck! :)
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
Euphoric Sobriety
Last night I found out I can seriously booty dance and I think I taught a couple guys how to as well. We went to Nasty's, this dope hip-hop bar with a small dance floor, and DJ Mel kicked out some old and new school jams to make you shake it while reminiscing seventh grade crushes and smiling. I can say I had a good time.
I'm a songwriting fool. I've written like 10 or 12 songs now, and I've learned probably almost as many covers. I have between four and six songs I definitely want to record, and I wrote three of them this week. I'm thinking about doing an EP and hitting up some Austin labels. I'm at least practicing a lot because I want to start doing open mics here real soon.
God damn I don't think I'll ever fully realize what going out to the Northwest this summer did for me. I found a style finally. I'm writing cheesy poppy dork rock: think Weezer, Green Day, Buddy Holly, Letters to Cleo. It's simple and happy and fun. Totally not the music I pictured myself writing. All right, I feel like I'm totally braggin' on myself when the truth is I'm just so happy.
I've told a couple friends this recently but I'll just restate it for the whole world (or the five people who read this) to know: I'm living out of a suitcase, sleeping on a mostly deflated air mattress in my living room. I'm almost pennyless, and I'm happier than I have been since I can remember.
Cheers.
Last night I found out I can seriously booty dance and I think I taught a couple guys how to as well. We went to Nasty's, this dope hip-hop bar with a small dance floor, and DJ Mel kicked out some old and new school jams to make you shake it while reminiscing seventh grade crushes and smiling. I can say I had a good time.
I'm a songwriting fool. I've written like 10 or 12 songs now, and I've learned probably almost as many covers. I have between four and six songs I definitely want to record, and I wrote three of them this week. I'm thinking about doing an EP and hitting up some Austin labels. I'm at least practicing a lot because I want to start doing open mics here real soon.
God damn I don't think I'll ever fully realize what going out to the Northwest this summer did for me. I found a style finally. I'm writing cheesy poppy dork rock: think Weezer, Green Day, Buddy Holly, Letters to Cleo. It's simple and happy and fun. Totally not the music I pictured myself writing. All right, I feel like I'm totally braggin' on myself when the truth is I'm just so happy.
I've told a couple friends this recently but I'll just restate it for the whole world (or the five people who read this) to know: I'm living out of a suitcase, sleeping on a mostly deflated air mattress in my living room. I'm almost pennyless, and I'm happier than I have been since I can remember.
Cheers.
Friday, August 20, 2004
And you're Mary Tyler Moore
Dude, I told you Billy Idol was the man. Check this out. You have to watch the flash intro, I tell you what.
This is for my homies: I'd like to give a shout out to my boy Matt who pimps them dreadlocks so well. Thank you for the happy chords. :)
I wrote a song this morning. A whole one, complete with lyrics and happy chords. Damn it feels good to be a rock star. I haven't written a song in two months, and I really like this one. It's this happy, romantic, oldies-esque song. Very Buddy Holly.
Speaking of Buddy Holly, I told my roommate my birthday is the same as his and she told me her birthday is the same as the Incredible Hulk's. Do you see why I love her?
Here's another reason:
Yesterday I was surfin' the Net and I let out an "Arrrr" like a pirate, just one of my goofy Cara reflexes or something. I didn't even realize I did it, and she was in the kitchen and she goes "Matey." So then it became this like when I say "Arrrrr" you say "Matey" kinda thing. "Arrrr!" "Matey!" "Arrrr!" "Matey!"
Yep, just a little details for ya about the rock star life and how it is lead. Haha.
Dude, I told you Billy Idol was the man. Check this out. You have to watch the flash intro, I tell you what.
This is for my homies: I'd like to give a shout out to my boy Matt who pimps them dreadlocks so well. Thank you for the happy chords. :)
I wrote a song this morning. A whole one, complete with lyrics and happy chords. Damn it feels good to be a rock star. I haven't written a song in two months, and I really like this one. It's this happy, romantic, oldies-esque song. Very Buddy Holly.
Speaking of Buddy Holly, I told my roommate my birthday is the same as his and she told me her birthday is the same as the Incredible Hulk's. Do you see why I love her?
Here's another reason:
Yesterday I was surfin' the Net and I let out an "Arrrr" like a pirate, just one of my goofy Cara reflexes or something. I didn't even realize I did it, and she was in the kitchen and she goes "Matey." So then it became this like when I say "Arrrrr" you say "Matey" kinda thing. "Arrrr!" "Matey!" "Arrrr!" "Matey!"
Yep, just a little details for ya about the rock star life and how it is lead. Haha.
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Dancin' with my se-elf
Billy Idol's the mother fuckin' man. I don't give a shit. Counting cursewords out in script, yo. Oh, yeah, and I like this chick's blog. She cracks me up. I want to be her friend. This "hot guy" too.
I'm such a dork. I'm so dorky that I'm just now hearing Comfort Eagle and falling in love with it while wondering why it took me so damn long when I've been knowing how much Cake's other albums kick ass.
So much music in the world. No wonder my obsession with politics is slipping away. You can't obsess over everything. I tried to explain it to Liza last night. She made the point that she was glad Martin Luther King, Jr. didn't feel that way. But you see, I don't think he could have felt any other way. I think that's a whole nother conversation. To me it has more to do with destiny than anything else.
Oh, and Randy, thank you so much for the Pinback album you gave me long ago. I listened to the whole thing today for the first time in months. I only brought half my music to camp with me and I don't know how it got left out of the "essential" pile when I was packing but it was nice to come home to.
All right damnit I'm logging off to go live some life. Peace.
Billy Idol's the mother fuckin' man. I don't give a shit. Counting cursewords out in script, yo. Oh, yeah, and I like this chick's blog. She cracks me up. I want to be her friend. This "hot guy" too.
I'm such a dork. I'm so dorky that I'm just now hearing Comfort Eagle and falling in love with it while wondering why it took me so damn long when I've been knowing how much Cake's other albums kick ass.
So much music in the world. No wonder my obsession with politics is slipping away. You can't obsess over everything. I tried to explain it to Liza last night. She made the point that she was glad Martin Luther King, Jr. didn't feel that way. But you see, I don't think he could have felt any other way. I think that's a whole nother conversation. To me it has more to do with destiny than anything else.
Oh, and Randy, thank you so much for the Pinback album you gave me long ago. I listened to the whole thing today for the first time in months. I only brought half my music to camp with me and I don't know how it got left out of the "essential" pile when I was packing but it was nice to come home to.
All right damnit I'm logging off to go live some life. Peace.
Paint a picture with my hands
I'm listening to the Maroon 5 album right now and I absolutely love it. I'm such a loser. Ha ha.
The other night I went and saw Coffee and Cigarettes. I like how when I described it to a friend he said he'd probably rather smoke and drink coffee than watch a movie about it and I agreed with him although neither one of us smokes. I was so cranky when I saw it anyway, though. I totally just wanted to go see Napoleon Dynamite. I love laughing. It's all I wanted to do that night. Instead I watched people drink coffee and smoke in black and white. I was mildly entertained. It did have Steve Buschemi(sp?) and Bill Murray and Iggy Pop and Tom Waits and stuff. So that was cool. But I was sleepy and we caught a late show so I became irritated trying to catch some Z's in the movie theater chair.
So Liza (my roommate) goes jogging-ish at this park here several times a week and I went with her last night and really dug it. I decided at camp that I wanted to start running when I got back and she's trying to work her way up to running the five mile trail. We did three miles of it last night and afterwards I felt great. We got free water from Starbucks after and then went and had a couple pitchers on the porch of some bar where we could bring her doggy.
I'm the puppy's aunt, we decided. It's so cool: Liza has a five month old little black puppy mutt and I love it so much. And she loves me back. She's laying on the couch right now and she's so friggen' cute!
I just got in a really good mood all the sudden. Maybe my late morning coffee kicked in; maybe it's the Maroon 5 jams. Ha! Never can tell. But peace out until I have something even newer to say.
I'm listening to the Maroon 5 album right now and I absolutely love it. I'm such a loser. Ha ha.
The other night I went and saw Coffee and Cigarettes. I like how when I described it to a friend he said he'd probably rather smoke and drink coffee than watch a movie about it and I agreed with him although neither one of us smokes. I was so cranky when I saw it anyway, though. I totally just wanted to go see Napoleon Dynamite. I love laughing. It's all I wanted to do that night. Instead I watched people drink coffee and smoke in black and white. I was mildly entertained. It did have Steve Buschemi(sp?) and Bill Murray and Iggy Pop and Tom Waits and stuff. So that was cool. But I was sleepy and we caught a late show so I became irritated trying to catch some Z's in the movie theater chair.
So Liza (my roommate) goes jogging-ish at this park here several times a week and I went with her last night and really dug it. I decided at camp that I wanted to start running when I got back and she's trying to work her way up to running the five mile trail. We did three miles of it last night and afterwards I felt great. We got free water from Starbucks after and then went and had a couple pitchers on the porch of some bar where we could bring her doggy.
I'm the puppy's aunt, we decided. It's so cool: Liza has a five month old little black puppy mutt and I love it so much. And she loves me back. She's laying on the couch right now and she's so friggen' cute!
I just got in a really good mood all the sudden. Maybe my late morning coffee kicked in; maybe it's the Maroon 5 jams. Ha! Never can tell. But peace out until I have something even newer to say.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
She said it's damn fine
I'm here. I am home.
My car cooperated. It even went 90 some, but no speed could have brought me here fast enough. At one point the road twisted and I dreamed awake about jumping out and flapping my arms just to get here faster.
I made it in two-and-a-half tapes. The road was a rock 'n' roll show, littering my head with excited screams. Rather than fighting it I let it all out. Catcalls and all.
It's damn fine to be alive.
I'm here. I am home.
My car cooperated. It even went 90 some, but no speed could have brought me here fast enough. At one point the road twisted and I dreamed awake about jumping out and flapping my arms just to get here faster.
I made it in two-and-a-half tapes. The road was a rock 'n' roll show, littering my head with excited screams. Rather than fighting it I let it all out. Catcalls and all.
It's damn fine to be alive.
Monday, August 09, 2004
The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.
~Eleanor Roosevelt
I am inspired tonight. Ellen's post about her adventures and their dreamy counterparts really hit home with me. I've been thinking about that lately. I've been thinking about growing up. The acceptance of the contradiction between the who you are and who you wanted to be, along with where and what you would be doing, is the greatest adventure for me now.
With so many friends getting married and having children I have had no choice but to think about it. Robert Fulghum wrote that when you reunite with others you have the biggest reunion with yourself. He said people go to high school reunions to see who they were. I think it's a really romantic idea in a way.
I've been thinking about all this and a million other things. Last summer I wrote about going to bridal showers. This summer I went to a baby shower before camp, and as soon as I get home I am leaving in a day to go to another wedding out of town ...
I used to be bitter about the differences. The contrasts between where I wanted to go to college and where I ended up; the contrasts in high school between my friends' family lives and my own; the contrast between what I couldn't do that they could.
I only recently started to ask myself exactly what about all this was pissing me off. Honestly, I thought about it thick and thin, and I don't want what they have. Not now. I am happy with the things I have done. I could plot all the actions I have taken on the map that led me here, and I could speculate as to what other routes would have brought me to the same place, and I have, but I think I'd rather enjoy where I am and play my guitar.
Everyone gets their own life to create. There are always so many choices. I'm making mine, and they're making theirs, whether they have to do with career, family or politics.
It took so much for me to get here while it took so little. I bought a ticket. I boarded a plane. But to get to a destination everyone must come from somewhere. And when you are afraid, you just have to have faith.
I have a lot of faith in Cara. When she goes to Austin she's going to tear that city up with her fierce dreams.
~Eleanor Roosevelt
I am inspired tonight. Ellen's post about her adventures and their dreamy counterparts really hit home with me. I've been thinking about that lately. I've been thinking about growing up. The acceptance of the contradiction between the who you are and who you wanted to be, along with where and what you would be doing, is the greatest adventure for me now.
With so many friends getting married and having children I have had no choice but to think about it. Robert Fulghum wrote that when you reunite with others you have the biggest reunion with yourself. He said people go to high school reunions to see who they were. I think it's a really romantic idea in a way.
I've been thinking about all this and a million other things. Last summer I wrote about going to bridal showers. This summer I went to a baby shower before camp, and as soon as I get home I am leaving in a day to go to another wedding out of town ...
I used to be bitter about the differences. The contrasts between where I wanted to go to college and where I ended up; the contrasts in high school between my friends' family lives and my own; the contrast between what I couldn't do that they could.
I only recently started to ask myself exactly what about all this was pissing me off. Honestly, I thought about it thick and thin, and I don't want what they have. Not now. I am happy with the things I have done. I could plot all the actions I have taken on the map that led me here, and I could speculate as to what other routes would have brought me to the same place, and I have, but I think I'd rather enjoy where I am and play my guitar.
Everyone gets their own life to create. There are always so many choices. I'm making mine, and they're making theirs, whether they have to do with career, family or politics.
It took so much for me to get here while it took so little. I bought a ticket. I boarded a plane. But to get to a destination everyone must come from somewhere. And when you are afraid, you just have to have faith.
I have a lot of faith in Cara. When she goes to Austin she's going to tear that city up with her fierce dreams.
Sunday, August 08, 2004
She said her life was saved by rock 'n' roll
Sometimes all you can do is smile. And right now I'd rather do that than write even. But I just want to let you know that's what I am doing right now.
The most interesting aspect of this smile is what lies behind it: hope for my future.
What is that, you say? A happy, optimistic, forward-looking 23-year-old? Better than that, an unafraid Cara?
Yes.
I came to Seattle lonely, depressed, scared, broke ... shall I go on? I bought myself a ticket to save my life. And it fuckin' worked.
I am cured. Better than cured. I have learned how to dream again. Like the kind of dreams I had in high school math.
And I'm eating up happy thoughts with a spoon.
Remember earlier this summer when I was talking about wanting love in my life in as many ways as possible?
Check this out:
I am moving to a city I love -- Austin
... to study something I am passionate about -- music business
... and I'm going to hang out with people I love -- like my friend Eric whom I have known since I was 12 and others who are awesome, not to mention the raddest people who are going to be my friends as soon as I meet them.
Woohoo!
And there are a million other things. A million. But I think I'm going to tell you about them when I do them rather than making declarative statements about what all my plans are, and there are many. The coolest part is that I don't actually have a plan at all but for the first, honestly the first, time in my life I like me and I like where I'm going and I know whatever it is that I really want to do I will do it.
I'm coming home Friday -- to Texas that is. And I'm looking forward to it more than my birthday at the moment, and just for comparison's sake you should know that I make a big fuckin' deal out of my birthday every year, like parties with many, many people kinda deal. Uh-huh. I look forward to it a lot.
Oh, yeah, and I'm flying out of Portland and when I get home I'm adding some more tacks to my maps when I unpack.
... and that sorta rhymes. Ish.
That is all. G'night.
Sometimes all you can do is smile. And right now I'd rather do that than write even. But I just want to let you know that's what I am doing right now.
The most interesting aspect of this smile is what lies behind it: hope for my future.
What is that, you say? A happy, optimistic, forward-looking 23-year-old? Better than that, an unafraid Cara?
Yes.
I came to Seattle lonely, depressed, scared, broke ... shall I go on? I bought myself a ticket to save my life. And it fuckin' worked.
I am cured. Better than cured. I have learned how to dream again. Like the kind of dreams I had in high school math.
And I'm eating up happy thoughts with a spoon.
Remember earlier this summer when I was talking about wanting love in my life in as many ways as possible?
Check this out:
I am moving to a city I love -- Austin
... to study something I am passionate about -- music business
... and I'm going to hang out with people I love -- like my friend Eric whom I have known since I was 12 and others who are awesome, not to mention the raddest people who are going to be my friends as soon as I meet them.
Woohoo!
And there are a million other things. A million. But I think I'm going to tell you about them when I do them rather than making declarative statements about what all my plans are, and there are many. The coolest part is that I don't actually have a plan at all but for the first, honestly the first, time in my life I like me and I like where I'm going and I know whatever it is that I really want to do I will do it.
I'm coming home Friday -- to Texas that is. And I'm looking forward to it more than my birthday at the moment, and just for comparison's sake you should know that I make a big fuckin' deal out of my birthday every year, like parties with many, many people kinda deal. Uh-huh. I look forward to it a lot.
Oh, yeah, and I'm flying out of Portland and when I get home I'm adding some more tacks to my maps when I unpack.
... and that sorta rhymes. Ish.
That is all. G'night.
