My Mother was a Rose: June 2011

Sunday, June 5, 2011

We Rattle in the Back of Your Head Where You Keep Your Broken Toys

When people are exhibiting PDA a little beeper in my mind gets louder and louder. This beeper is attached to my gag reflex, which is attached to my eye-rolling abilities, which then connects directly into my sourpuss face. My beeper gets more and more loud if the couple producing their play of Nasty Affection is a) old b) making noises and c) ANYWHERE NEAR ME.

I have decided when I'm older that I will never do as many dishes I do now. I come home from roller derby to see that my family has overstocked the sink with dishes that look like they contained mashed brains and guts being blown up. When I live alone, it's pizza, sandwiches, and salad. Simple as that. No nasty "DID YOU MURDER SOMEONE!?" stuff in my pots and pans, no sir.

If I had to haunt the earth after I died, I know where I would go. Not in a psychiatric ward or my old house or the place of my beloved. ...I'm hiding in Quik Trip's bathroom. Simple, multi-purpose haunting reaching a wide audience in a clean setting--how neat is that?

Words I can never spell: sandwich (I spell: SANWHICH), sincerely (I spell: SINCERLEY) , humerus (I spell: HUMEROUS).

Words/Phrases I couldn't pronounce as a kid: Walrus (I said: WAAAHWUSS), M&M's (I said: AUNTIE EM'S), Goggles (I said: EYE BOILS), and Hold Me (I said: Holdjewme)

Seeing all those "Cartoonize" yourself apps on Facebook make me wonder...on Bugs Bunny's profile, does it say "Humanize Yourself"?

There is no such thing as tacky tourist items unless you live where these items are being sold.

French phrase of the day:Tous mes lecteurs sont paresseux

Saturday, June 4, 2011

"Home is Whenever I'm with You"

There's something so appealing about owning your own home you get to exhibit and live in all those things you hold most dear to you. My favorite book is actually a photography journal of a man who goes into interesting peoples' homes. It's amazing all the odd things you can pick up about a person's life just by looking at where they live.

It bothers me when i go into peoples' clean "Better Homes and Gardens" type houses. You know the type. The place that is perfect, where you can't touch anything--a place dressed up without the appearance that anyone lives there. A home has to be full of character. If people don't want character in their homes, they should live in a hospital.

In my favorite book, the one aforementioned, there's a girl who has her shower smack-dab in her kitchen. I find that irrestibly cool. I once read of a woman who had a beach house who took all her showers outside. I find that just as cool, but a lot more frightening, given the winter months would be awful to be naked in. If it were me, I would have a clawed bathtub in my room. Above it, three cabinets full of soap, bubble bath, and cheesy beach towels. President Taft was so fat that he had to have a custom made bathtub. It could fit three whole men inside of it. I wouldn't mind a fat-man's bathtub. Mainly because I would sleep in my bathtub frequently. I find that sleeping in bathtubs helps when you're sad. I get this notion from a Beatles' song called "Norwegian Wood."

Another odd thing I want in my room is my bed on the floor. I got that from watching the Grudge. Even when the Grudge is screaming in the main character's face, I couldn't help to notice how awesome it was that Japanese people sleep on the floor. My bed would be crammed with lots of cozy (eight! nine?--inside joke, folks) quilts and dozens of stuffed animals. I already have six on my bed...I'm a little obsessed.

I also have a deep appreciation for window seats. Perfect for reading. Plus, a great view makes it even better. Beach house? Ocean view. City apartment? People watching. Country cottage? Scenic garden. If I ever own a garden, I want a fountain in it. One that people throw money in and one that I can jump in whenever I darn well please.

I already love my room, though. It's got baby blue walls, which Seventeen Magazine says make you sad, but I'm so addicted to baby blue that I feel happy as soon as I walk in. I've got a vintage telephone that's yellowing and i pretend to call people on. I've got a bookcase stuffed with novels and magazines. I've got a sombrero hanging from my closet door. I write on my mirror and tape quotes to my dresser. I've got a cluttered Marilyn Monroe calendar that I talk to when I'm trying to look pretty. I've got a picture of my grandpa waving at me and a random picnic basket on top of my drawers.... I'm blessed to live in quirkiness.

Point is, I love imagining my perfect house, but I'm so content with mine right now. I'm content with life in general <3

A Thought I Had in a Shower Smelling of Ylang Ylang.

There are so many things we all want to do. We always say "When I grow up, I'll do _____." Why can't we live now, I wonder? What are the precise roadblocks that lie in our way? Transportation? Permission? Money? Ability? I want to live my life with no boundaries in a world where impossible is history and dreams come as fast as blinking. I know that isn't how it is, but I also know, when I get old, I'll say, "When I was younger, I should have done _____." And that fact bothers me. It's an unchangable annoyance in my life.

Danunnunnunnunnana

Hello my few followers. You see that 27 followers thing? It's a lie. I think I have two. This greatly saddens me. There's nothing worse to a writer than a visual decrease in readers. If, perchance, you're out there, Dear Lost Readers, make yourselves known, for my sanity and my slipping pride.

In less than a week, this old fart of a blogger is turning 17. I have several mixed feelings about this, most of them not that great. But, I'm trying so hard to make the most of this developement of my life. And one way of doing that is being materialistic.

MY BIRTHDAY LIST (I don't put this to tell you what to get me, I put this to show you the little hope in me that maybe there's fairies that can see this.)