The Strokes and The Killers. Two bands that come up TOO FUCKING OFTEN on my Pandora playlists because I like that overall genre of music and have too many "similar band" stations.
I actually used to love the The Stokes once upon a time. Went through a mini-obsession actually. But sadly, one day I woke up and decided that my love for Fabrizio Moretti, Nick Valensi, and Albert Hammond Jr, (and the remaining bandmate whose name I can't remember) had died, in retrospect, most likely due to overkill.
And there was that thing that one boy said, but let's not get into that because I want to ride the high as long as I can.
*insert sarcastic and bitter sneer here*
The Killers.
Once upon a time I thought they were fantastic. I remember when they first started out I felt so smug because I knew about a great band that no one else did. Hahaha, dear (proverbial) god, I've always been a music snob, haven't I?
I probably dislike them because they're so fucking mainstream now.
What a douchebag.
Nay, douche-nozzle.
Now my gift for you for reading the shizz above:
(the unremixed version is better but this is much more upbeat)
About Me
- Sharlovely
- El Segundo
- Make art not war. I drink copious amounts of tea. Slaughterhouses make me cry. I am obsessed with food, and as such, I eat constantly. Music makes me loose control.
Showing posts with label failure. Show all posts
Showing posts with label failure. Show all posts
Pahahaha
I find it highly amusing that all my daydreams concerning my impending relocation to New Zealand fail to include actually going to school and attending school. They all involve socializing, traveling, and more socializing.
Lulz, daddy dearst would blow a fuse... XD
(Currently listening to an awesome smash up of Bloc Party and DFA 1979 - Luno)
Lulz, daddy dearst would blow a fuse... XD
(Currently listening to an awesome smash up of Bloc Party and DFA 1979 - Luno)
Stars Among Planets
I feel like there are certain people in life that in memories will shine brighter than others, and no dipshit, I do not mean family and close friends.
In my case, looking back at all my eighteen years of memories, there are three people from my childhood and three people of my recent past that stand out (Lets call them persons A through F).
Some of these people have geniunely affected my life, and some are just lost friends/aquaintances that randomly find themselves in my thoughts. All are people I don't think I will ever forget.
Person A: Matt Something from kindergarten - he had Patrick Dempsy like hair but was blonde. He was also very flamboyant and my first crush. What is noteworthy is that I can't imagine him growing up. When I try to do so, he grows up to be a cokewhore and a wasted individual. I don't try anymore.
Person B: Kymberly Something from standard one - a very shy little girl. Also one of the nicest girls I had ever met. I distinctly remember that she would wear a pink headband with a bow and a cream coloured cardigan. I think I googled her once and actually found her. I am so creepy. (OH, and I wrote a journal entry about her when I first came to the States, and I remember the teacher absolutely refused to accept her name spelling, told me I spelled it wrong, and made me change it while simultaneously sparking the breaking of the spirit).
Person C: Anita the Korean girl - She wasn't a mean girl, but she gave me my first taste of how mean the world could be when she told me my religion wasn't real and that Christianity was the only real and true religion in the world. I was six. And left very confused as religion was crucial to my being at that age. It wasn't all bad, as it gave me my favorite memory of my grandfather (to whom I confided and who comforted - without condemning/speaking negatively of her in any way).
Person D: Kay - Sure she's a close friend, but even if we were to loose touch I would never be able to forget her. Not until after 2027. (NOT a random year).
Person E: That foreigner that got deported - I feel like we will be friends for a long time to come. Arguing for most of that time, but underneath it all, there is an inexplicable understanding. Even when certain phrases won't translate.
Person F: Juan McSexonlegs - the infatuation is still there. I find myself randomly making up scenarios in my head in which we run into each other in the far future (or I contact him) we hit it off. Troubling though are the characteristics my imagination has chosen for him...miserable, lonely, suicidal, alcoholic, etc. I also randomly wonder if he's alive because he has to be or because he wants to be.
In my case, looking back at all my eighteen years of memories, there are three people from my childhood and three people of my recent past that stand out (Lets call them persons A through F).
Some of these people have geniunely affected my life, and some are just lost friends/aquaintances that randomly find themselves in my thoughts. All are people I don't think I will ever forget.
Person A: Matt Something from kindergarten - he had Patrick Dempsy like hair but was blonde. He was also very flamboyant and my first crush. What is noteworthy is that I can't imagine him growing up. When I try to do so, he grows up to be a cokewhore and a wasted individual. I don't try anymore.
Person B: Kymberly Something from standard one - a very shy little girl. Also one of the nicest girls I had ever met. I distinctly remember that she would wear a pink headband with a bow and a cream coloured cardigan. I think I googled her once and actually found her. I am so creepy. (OH, and I wrote a journal entry about her when I first came to the States, and I remember the teacher absolutely refused to accept her name spelling, told me I spelled it wrong, and made me change it while simultaneously sparking the breaking of the spirit).
Person C: Anita the Korean girl - She wasn't a mean girl, but she gave me my first taste of how mean the world could be when she told me my religion wasn't real and that Christianity was the only real and true religion in the world. I was six. And left very confused as religion was crucial to my being at that age. It wasn't all bad, as it gave me my favorite memory of my grandfather (to whom I confided and who comforted - without condemning/speaking negatively of her in any way).
Person D: Kay - Sure she's a close friend, but even if we were to loose touch I would never be able to forget her. Not until after 2027. (NOT a random year).
Person E: That foreigner that got deported - I feel like we will be friends for a long time to come. Arguing for most of that time, but underneath it all, there is an inexplicable understanding. Even when certain phrases won't translate.
Person F: Juan McSexonlegs - the infatuation is still there. I find myself randomly making up scenarios in my head in which we run into each other in the far future (or I contact him) we hit it off. Troubling though are the characteristics my imagination has chosen for him...miserable, lonely, suicidal, alcoholic, etc. I also randomly wonder if he's alive because he has to be or because he wants to be.
Oh, sad day...
Top Chef is one of my favorite shows. I love watching (almost) every aspect of the show. I watch repeat episodes happily. I'll sit in front of the telly and watch six hour marathons without realizing where the time went.
However in tonight's episode, they went to a farm to pick up their ingredients. Including the meat ("protein") ingredients.
Yep, right before they slaughtered the animals to put in their pots and pans, they got to do a little meat (oh sorry, I meant meet) and greet with their ingredients/poor defensive less little animals raised to die. (Well, technically they met the family and friends of the unfortunate few who got fed to Padma and Tom's guests.)
So sad.
D:
However in tonight's episode, they went to a farm to pick up their ingredients. Including the meat ("protein") ingredients.
Yep, right before they slaughtered the animals to put in their pots and pans, they got to do a little meat (oh sorry, I meant meet) and greet with their ingredients/poor defensive less little animals raised to die. (Well, technically they met the family and friends of the unfortunate few who got fed to Padma and Tom's guests.)
So sad.
D:
Its Painful to Realize...
How incredibly naive, ignorant, and childish I am at times.
I am 18 years old.
Legally I am an adult, but those who know me would prolly argue otherwise... as demonstrated by my usage of 'prolly'. In any case, I am on the precipice of adulthood; shouldn't I be at least a bit disillusioned by life by now? Shouldn't those fantasies of traveling, doing nothing in particular, financial security regardless of whatever I end up doing or not doing, finding true and pure love have passed by now?
Well, they haven't. I constantly dream of a life full of smiles, hidden intimate moments, and just pure satisfaction.
Sometimes this juvenile optimism makes me even more aware of my lack of experience in 'the real world.'
I hate being so optimistic, sometimes if only because to avoid the condescension that others so lovingly bestow on my being.
Good times.
:/
I am 18 years old.
Legally I am an adult, but those who know me would prolly argue otherwise... as demonstrated by my usage of 'prolly'. In any case, I am on the precipice of adulthood; shouldn't I be at least a bit disillusioned by life by now? Shouldn't those fantasies of traveling, doing nothing in particular, financial security regardless of whatever I end up doing or not doing, finding true and pure love have passed by now?
Well, they haven't. I constantly dream of a life full of smiles, hidden intimate moments, and just pure satisfaction.
Sometimes this juvenile optimism makes me even more aware of my lack of experience in 'the real world.'
I hate being so optimistic, sometimes if only because to avoid the condescension that others so lovingly bestow on my being.
Good times.
:/
Lucky Afterword
Lucky, by Alice Sebold, was an interesting read... to say the least... The 244 (PATTERN!!!) page memoir chronicles Sebold's rape as during her freshman year at Syracuse, and its aftermath (effects, trial, etc.)
But to tell the truth, it's not worth reading until page 234 - the riveting aftermath begins. Only in those few pages, one really sees how fucked up Sebold's life really became (whether her life would have taken a different turn were it not for the rape is an argument for another time). From a heroin dependency to promiscuity to alcoholism, the aftermath is ironically the most sobering part (lulz; aren't I punny?) of the novel. It was so moving that those rare waves of gratitude came a-coming for the overprotected and 'inexperienced' I have led thus far.
It also made me feel not sorry but just much more aware of all those people I know who may lead an exhilarating but all in all unhealthy and unhappy lifestyle (which I foolishly covet at times). And these are young people who quite literally have the rest of their lives in front of them. There is nothing glamorous about spending one's days slave to the drink, waking up in unknown places, surrounded by violence, and even worse, expecting the violence, the heartache, the pain, and misery.
I refuse to believe that life is supposed to be like that; life is only what one makes it out to be. Call me an optimist, but don't you dare to call yourself a fucking realist.
Read the afterword and discuss it with me. I've gotten to the point where I'm so frustrated that I can't bother with even trying to articulate my thoughts into a comprehensible argument.
I might write a book review like I had orginally set out to do later. No promises.
Oh and I should mention that there is someone in particular that has incurred the frustration. He doesn't know. Nor does he know I care. I don't know if he cares that I care.
But to tell the truth, it's not worth reading until page 234 - the riveting aftermath begins. Only in those few pages, one really sees how fucked up Sebold's life really became (whether her life would have taken a different turn were it not for the rape is an argument for another time). From a heroin dependency to promiscuity to alcoholism, the aftermath is ironically the most sobering part (lulz; aren't I punny?) of the novel. It was so moving that those rare waves of gratitude came a-coming for the overprotected and 'inexperienced' I have led thus far.
It also made me feel not sorry but just much more aware of all those people I know who may lead an exhilarating but all in all unhealthy and unhappy lifestyle (which I foolishly covet at times). And these are young people who quite literally have the rest of their lives in front of them. There is nothing glamorous about spending one's days slave to the drink, waking up in unknown places, surrounded by violence, and even worse, expecting the violence, the heartache, the pain, and misery.
I refuse to believe that life is supposed to be like that; life is only what one makes it out to be. Call me an optimist, but don't you dare to call yourself a fucking realist.
Read the afterword and discuss it with me. I've gotten to the point where I'm so frustrated that I can't bother with even trying to articulate my thoughts into a comprehensible argument.
I might write a book review like I had orginally set out to do later. No promises.
Oh and I should mention that there is someone in particular that has incurred the frustration. He doesn't know. Nor does he know I care. I don't know if he cares that I care.
Five Finger Discount
So we were in Aardvarks today and I accidently stole a pair of sunglasses. (Yes, accidently!)
I kinda tucked them onto my top and like between my boobs in between trying on different pairs of glasses and totally forgot that they were there. I only realized they were still tucked in my boob after we had driven away.
And I didn't feel too guilty then, but now I do.
And prolly worst of all is that I regret not tucking the cuter, super retro/60s' white ones in between the girls. EPIC FAIL.
(kinda what the white ones looked like, but they were more square)
I kinda tucked them onto my top and like between my boobs in between trying on different pairs of glasses and totally forgot that they were there. I only realized they were still tucked in my boob after we had driven away.
And I didn't feel too guilty then, but now I do.
And prolly worst of all is that I regret not tucking the cuter, super retro/60s' white ones in between the girls. EPIC FAIL.
(kinda what the white ones looked like, but they were more square)
(you can see the top of them; but not the cute leopard print sides^^^)
Dear Diary...
Elvin scored his first goal today. And of course I wasn't there to see it. Am not sure whether to blame myself for not being more involved in general or them for not inviting/telling me about the game.
:/
:/
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