Friday, December 25, 2009
I'm not exactly sure how to describe my mother, she's kind of like a bi-polar product of the 60's and 70's. Bi-polar in the sense that she'll go and protest war and dolphin killings (The dolphins were my idea) but she'll also sit back at home plotting horrible revenge on others.
She's an extraordinary human being. She spend most of her 20's and 30's taking care of touring bands, many of which were very famous (some still are). She made sure nobody was too drunk (or high) to get on stage and do their job.
You'd think raising children would be a breeze for her.
She's never really treated me like a child, which has it's up's and downs. On one hand, she pretty much sees me (and) treats me like an equal. Which is great because I can talk to her about pretty much everything. On the other hand, because she sees me as her equal she sometimes expects me to be more independent then I actually am.
It's an odd relationship.
Anyway, she's pulling the old "out with the old! In the with new!" Mentality for the new year, which would be fine. Except this year she actually means it.
She's re-arranging the house and talking about colleges and traveling and other things I should be doing.
It's seriously freaking me out.
I don't usually do well with change.
Anyway, my question is - What do you guys want to change/do this year?
Here's my list:
Start in one of the many dog-training schools.
Be out of New England Next Winter.
Host at least one showing of "The Cove" somewhere in Rhode Island. (www.thecovemovie.com)
Make it so I can visit Hopi at least twice a week.
Get several allergy tests so I can stop getting constant lung-infections. T_T
I have several others, but these are the big ones.
What are yours?
Monday, December 21, 2009
It’s been a long time since I finally made a plan for what I want to do with my life.
I decided I wanted to train dogs.
Not just any dogs though. I want to train Personal Protection Dogs and Security dogs.
I’ve met several of these types of trainers in the past, and I’ve seen their dogs. I can see myself working with them and never ever getting bored.
Anyway, I looked into Dog-training Colleges and such. None of it really caught my attention. Most of them are just over-the-net services that you can send money too in exchange for a diploma, and with the ones I’ve found so far they mostly teach basic obedience and problem solving.
Don’t get me wrong. Obedience is obviously the ground work for everything else you want to do with your dog. But I can’t really see paying thousands of dollars to learn how to do things I (and my dogs) already *know* how to do.
This put me in an odd position. Even while being home schooled everything seems based on tests/diploma’s. So not having a piece of paper to back me up with whatever career choice I make is actually a bit frightening.
Anyway, I sent out a resume for a couple of animal-based companies around the state to start myself off. Most of them were doggy daycares/training centers, which - while not exactly what I want to do would help me gain more knowledge and a better idea of what to do.
I also contacted the adoption agencies I’ve been working with over the last couple of years, offering to train their foster dogs in the basic commands. This was more for me to have something to do with my time, and also to help the poor dogs. I know for a fact how hard it is to adopt an adult dog that doesn’t understand sit or stay.
So, I’m sitting here, wondering exactly what my next step is, when my mother comes in and tells me I’ll be DJ-ing for a bunch of young home schoolers for a party. (Something that was totally random to me)
So, I invite several friends, Bunny backed out because we were/are fighting, but Trina agreed to come along with me.
After setting up and starting some music for the young -tiny- children. We sit back and relax. The kids were wonderful, and made all of us feel old. Eventually three other girls in our age range show up, and I invite them over to sit with us so they wouldn’t feel so awkward.
Trina left early, and I had time to get to know two of the girls my age, One of them named Lucy.
Anyway, hours later, as we were packing up and preparing to leave we talked about other times we could get together, what parties we were going to, what groups we were involved in and the conversation eventually turned towards dogs (mine being in the car as my mother ran in to talk to someone).
The following conversation ensued:
Me: *something about wanting to be a dog trainer*
Lucy: Oh! My Step-dad trains dogs.
Me: Oh, does he have a company or...?
Lucy: Yeah. It’s called Solid K9 Training.
Me: YOUR STEP FATHER IS JEFF GELLMAN?!?!?!
(At this point I would like to mention that yes. I know MANY dog trainers by name, having never ever met them. But Jeff has a largish company in RI and is very very well known in the dog training communities because of his...odd training methods. I’ve heard lots about him. Many great things. His dogs are always well trained. Some bad things. He’s arrogant, ignorant...blah, blah,blah. This being the dog world, which seems to be one of the most back-stabbing worlds there is, you can only take bad things said about someone very lightly.)
*Back to the conversation*
Me: Of course I know who he is! I was going to contact him about helping finish up Uma’s training!
Lucy:....would you like to go to one of his demos?
Lucy: I can probably get you in for free. It’ll be really fancy at one of the Hotels down town, cocktails and stuff.
So yeah...thats pretty much what happened. It was probably one of the most exciting things to happen to me in months. Thats a sad thought. Lets not dwell on it.
Anyway! I’m going to one of Jeff’s Demo’s in January!
And, I’m introducing Lucy to another Homeschool group I’m involved in called Voyagers, which should be fun.
So theres my short update.
I haven't been blogging much, things have been really busy over here in New England, and I really haven't had much to say. But I'm going to be typing up a few little updates a bit later.
I'm currently busy deleting everyone I don't actually *know* off of my contact lists, I've ended up will a bunch of friends-of-friends or random other people I've met once or twice, anyway, I'm sick of random IM's or texts or comments and all that other junk you get while having accounts on the interwebs.
If you ARE one of these people and I'm no longer on your AIM/facebook buddy list (yes, I AM blocking you people), you can stalk/contact me on my twitter page here: <3
It's a terrible stalking tool seeing as I NEVER update it. But It's a good way to get in touch with me.
Anyway, I'll be updating a bit later, lots of exciting news.
In the mean time:
Heres a little video from the other day, it was Uma's first snowstorm. (The German Shepherd in the Orange)
Monday, November 23, 2009
I’m sitting there, after stepping in when it was much too hot, hot enough to kill off the first two or three layers of skin but not enough to scald.
I’m sitting there, thinking how, no matter how much I scrub the damn tub, a tug that’s older then my sixteen years, It’s still going to be dirty. The walls of the shower are still not going to be fully painted, but chipping, the places that should be chalked aren’t. Another problem I can’t fix with cleaning is the fact that the tub is too small, or the fact that it will constantly drain even when you use a stopper, or the fact that I can hear much richer- I’ll-tell-you-all-about-my-designer-clothes-as-I-bitch-at-you neighbors yelling at each other through the bathroom wall.
I hate my apartment.
So I’m sitting there, thinking about everything that is currently stressing me in my life, I’m failing school, I’m behind in my Nano, My dogs are depressed, My house is dirty, my mothers thought on what she wants to do in life jump around like a flea on a hot plate, I’m still single, No, I can’t eat a pork chop without Shake and bake, that’s another thing, I’m too weak to stay a permanent vegetarian, my friends are worried I’m dying, oh and my uncle.
Yes, this blog is about to turn into a story about my uncle. Be prepared.
At this point I’d like to give you a little insight on how close I am to my uncle:
I’d like to say that if he drove off a cliff, somehow got pinned down, was still alive, and slowly withered away over the course of days from dehydration in the hot Texas sun, you wouldn’t see me crying.
It sounds cruel, but unfortunately it’s true.
I’ll be turning seventeen in ten days, and my uncle will be flying out. Why would he do that when I dislike him so much?
Wellll…. that’s another back-story.
My uncle, bless his heart, is insane.
He’s in his thirties, is a fundamentalist Christian and makes Weapons of Mass Destruction for a living.
If you can’t see what’s wrong with that sentence then you’re one of them and nothing I say from here on out will make any sense to you.
So, I’d like to say I don’t know my uncle very well; all I know about him is that he’s very good at treating people like shit and then pretending nothing happened. In fact, after many hours of therapy my therapist has found then many of my current mental and emotion issues (the whole wagon full) stemmed from the rejection I received as a child by my family. At this point I’d like to mention something, my mother is a Heroin addict,
who had issues bonding with her children. I’m sure the drug’s just destroyed those important bonding brain-neurons or whatever. But having a mother that doesn’t give a rats ass about you does leave you with a few problems. Most of which I’ve gotten over.
My grandmother has raised me since birth, so she received the title of ‘mom’. So whenever (if ever) I talk about my mom in this blog, she’s actually my grandmother.
Seeing as she is technically my grandmother, and his mother, my strained relationship with him just gets more and more complicated.
Anyway, as far as the rejection goes I’ll use the example of my uncles wedding, which was several years ago.
I was younger and naïve. Having been raised under the guise that my uncle loved me a whole bunch, and was generally a super-awesome-not-a-total-asshole- type of person.
I’ll start at the Airport, my mother and I flew to California for a week and a half so that we could be involved and help out and do all of those things your supposed to do when someone in your family is getting married.
We’d never met his wife, and I don’t know how to describe her. She’s a Californian, bleach blond, fundamentalist, who is way to good to talk to people like you, and if you look at her wrong, she’ll probably throw a tantrum and start crying. From the minute I met her I began to understand the definition of ‘passive aggressive’
From the minute we stepped off of the plane she didn’t say a word to us.
No. Seriously. My mother tried to give her a hug and she covered her chest and took a step back, glaring. She said nothing. My uncle made the excuse of her being ‘shy’. Shy my ass.
She was pretty much one of the most unwelcoming people I’d ever met, and having met her mother and father, I see where she gets it from, but still think she should have been beaten much more as a child. If not for anything but my enjoyment.
Anyway, that night we were brought to a small supermarket, to pick up a few things for the hotel with a kitchenette so we wouldn’t have to constantly eat out.
The car ride was pretty much made in silence. What with the wife being shy and all. We were later dropped off at the hotel with plans made to have dinner the next night. I realize now I forgot to add that we hadn’t seen my uncle in years. He’s always much too busy to bother with the little people in Rhode Island. What with us being lower class citizens and all.
Anyway, the next day My uncle and the wife were busy making last minute wedding plans, making favors and checking decorations and fun family things like that. Fun family things we weren’t invited to attend. We were invited to a cookout that night to ‘meet the new family’. After a fiasco with a rental car (which in the end we weren’t allowed to get because of the lack of a credit card, my mother had the cash, but the wife shook her head no, and we couldn’t use his) We were driven to the wife’s families house. After being yelled at and not allowed to change into the clothes we’d bought for the occasion, we looked like crap.
The ‘family’ it seemed, couldn’t be bothered to show up it seems, as the wife’s sisters and brothers didn’t attend. The wife’s mother and father were there, as well as one of her nieces and her nephew.
Her father, who was watching a game on TV couldn’t be bothered to stand and greet us, he is also a fundamentalist Christian and lives under the rule of “women were put on earth to serve man”. This leads me to believe he has a very small penis, and I wonder if his wife didn’t have to cheat on him to get the children she had.
He lounged about on his couch, ignoring us. My uncle introduced us to everyone (remember, the wife doesn’t talk). And then, they were celebrating the nieces birthday, coming out with a large gift and a long speech about how they could never forget about her birthday. I’d probably never ever felt so out of place. It added insult to injury that the bastard couldn’t call on my birthday. Ever.
Anyway, after the gift giving I was ordered to put on my swimsuit, which, being shy and scared out of my mind made everything seem ten times worse.
The wifes father was spending his time trying to bait her into an argument, knowing that she was a Liberal. It had been right after Ray-Charles had passed, and when my mother mentioned the shame of it, he replied with “Why? It’s one less nigger in this country”. He also mentioned, knowing that my mother had been the production manager for Willie Nelson for several years, how much joy he’d get if someone got their act together and ‘blew the redneck up’.
During all of this I was hanging around the edge of the pool, seeing as I can’t swim. The wifes niece motioned me further in, and promptly proceeded to try to drown me. I never actually admitted that to anyone until today.
By the time dinner was ready, I was crying and soaked and terrified. As ‘punishment’ by the family for being childish I was made to spend the rest of the night eating alone in the families kitchen. My mother looked to tired to do much, other then put forth mock courtesy.
I can pretty much trace the moment my childhood died to that moment, sitting in the kitchen staring at the families marble island. Realizing that everything wasn’t sunshine and rainbows, everyone easn’t your friend because you met them on the playground, and also, most people just sucked.
Anyway, the rest of the week I spent pretty much alone (as we weren’t invited anywhere else) trying to wrap my young brain around what I did wrong, and what I’d done to deserve such terrible treatment from strangers, and worse, my own family. This led to a severe mental breakdown, so severe that I didn’t end up going to the wedding (which my mother, in the end, was givin the wrong directions too – by the brides father) My mother had friends close by, and at some point during the week they had invited us to stay with them, instead of the hotel. I spent most of the time there in the guestroom or the on the couch crying.
The family was lovely and eventually took us to Las Vegas, in a wonderfully generous and marvelous attempt to cheer both my mother and myself up. Sadly, even the sight of gorguese wild big cats and beautiful dolphins couldn’t help me.
My childhood was over, and a slow painful emotional breakdown had started.
That trip also led me to my eventual conversion to Atheism. Half of it was probably just to spite him and his god, the other half claimed that no god would make a child feel so terribly unwanted.
I don’t think my mother ever told my uncle how hard I had taken his wedding, or any of the other times he’d treating the both of us badly. After all, she still loves him terribly, and he gets defensive and refuses to speak about anything that he may have done wrong.
Anyway, back to him coming back for my birthday, my mother has been pleading/begging/praying to see him. You see, my mother has been sick for several months, and at three times during those months, we were all scared she would die. He never flew out, he continued to call at 6AM, waking her up from her much needed rest, he left me with all of the responsibility of taking care of her. Which I was glad to do. I really was. But when you have a family, you shouldn’t have to go at these kind of things alone. Basically, he continued to be the selfish, arrogant person I had learned he was.
So, as I said, she’s been begging to see him. “I don’t have the time ma” he’d tell her. Finally he agreed to allow HER to go and visit him after Christmas. Now I’m sure his wife (who STILL won’t talk to us) heard the news and was quick to pack his bag.
He sent my mother a text message saying “I’m flying in for Brianna’s birthday. I’ll be there the 20th, leaving the 22nd”
That was it. No “what are you doing for Brianna’s birthday?” No “Can I come out? Are you busy?” No “Does she really really hate me, and will my presence destroy any chance she has at having a good time?” No nothing. Just more selfishness.
My mother danced around the house for ten minutes. I, who am a very private person, who hardly ever cries, began crying in front of our handyman, who awkwardly patted me on the shoulder and joked, “Don’t you wish you were me? You could run away”
Run away indeed.
I moaned, I groaned, I cried, and I saw how much that destroyed my mother. Because all she ever wanted was for us love each other. Lets add guilt to my list of things that are stressing me out.
Anyway, I guess I wrote all of this to help get past my feelings about him. He’s coming, and I can’t help it. He’s coming ‘for’ my birthday, but leaving at 9AM. It shows how much he knows me. I don’t wake up until at least 9:30. I’ll be civil. I’ll be nice, and for two days I’ll pretend that we’re a nice, loving little family.
I’ll hate him on the inside.
For the sake of my mother.
I’ll just wait for her to die or become delusional, before I tell him exactly how I really feel about him.
Just like a good daughter should.
Monday, November 9, 2009
I'm sick and tired of rejection.
I'm sick and tired of going out of my way for people who can't bother to give anything back.
I'm sick and tired of never feeling like I'm pretty enough, or smart enough or capable enough.
I'm sick and tired of letting my past rule me.
I'm sick and tired of telling anyone anything about me.
I'm sick and tired of being alone, no matter what.
I'm sick and tired of crying.
I'm sick and tired of the fact that no one gets Schrodinger's Cat.
I'm sick and tired of not being considered.
I'm sick and tired of trying to help you.
I'm sick and tired of not receiving the apologies I deserve.
I'm sick and tired of fake friends.
I'm sick and tired of not being able to let go.
I'm sick and tired of hearing about you.
I'm sick and tired of feeling like a failure.
I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I can't be sick and tired anymore, it's killing me slowly.
I'm getting over it. I'm getting over everything.
The real me will be back.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Or how far you run,
Or how fast you run,
You can't escape.
You can change your number, you can move, you can meet new people, you can try to forget.
But no matter where you go or what you do
You can't outrun yourself.
Because no matter what you do - You're still right there.
Monday, November 2, 2009
And that’s just off the top of my head.
But I know other people have a lot more wrong with them they I do. It’s also mostly true that I’m considered normal, with normal problems. Being the one that deals with them I have to say that the idea is actually scary.
Obviously I’m a lot better off them some. What with kids my age blowing up schools or gang-raping girls or killing puppies. I mean, there have to be some things that are seriously wrong with them.
So looking at the list of things that are wrong with me, I have to wonder (Seeing as I’m normal) how we all keep moving and getting on with all of it. The world is a place full of wrongs and here we are all, well, all wrong.
So, instead of doing a NaNo this year like all my friends, I’m doing a self-study of my life and myself so far. Maybe I can find out where all my wrongs come from and maybe come to peace with some of them.
I’m going into this with a fake bright attitude. I have a lot of demons I’ve been avoiding facing, and I have to say I’m not too happy finally getting around to it. But I think this will be a good thing for me.
I’m running a little late so I’ll have to catch up.
I’m starting tomorrow.
See you then.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
So, it’s been a pretty rough year for my favorite bands and musical artists. I guess most of us could say that, with celebrities dropping like flies these days.
Anyway, as some of you know I was a huge Panic! At The Disco fan, when they still had the exclamation mark. I never had that chance to see them perform live and I guess that’s alright. But when Ryan Ross and Jon Walker left the band I, like many others - took it pretty hard. Panic At The Disco is still performing, with Brendan and Spencer, but it’s not the same. It’s not Panic! It’s not who I grew up loving, and it’s not something I think I’ll ever enjoy.
Recently DJ AM died of an overdose. Do I have to say anything else there?
Today, Armor for Sleeps vocalist and front man Ben Jorgensen made an announcement on his blog explaining that Armor For Sleep was no more. I’ll be honest; I got on the Armor bandwagon a bit late. I discovered Ben and his crew in 2005 during their release of “What to do when you are dead” I then moved back into “Dream to make believe”. I never saw AFS live either, and I guess that’s always going to bug me.
Armor for sleeps website hadn’t been updated in forever, there were no known plans for a tour or a new album. Ben’s twitter consisted more of what he was eating for lunch then what music he was playing, and that was okay. Because nothing was definite. I knew that they were probably over. I accepted that. I wasn’t sad that I wasn’t going to hear anything new or see them live. Because no one said “It’s over”.
Not until today.
I realized today more then ever before how close some of us can get to the music we listen to. How, who ever is writing those songs or playing that awesome guitar riff is able to make you feel that they know what your going through and that it’s okay to go through it.
I can’t count how many times listening to AFS got me through tough times, bout’s of depression, anger, sadness the generic teenagers lot.
I’m not sure when I started turning my music, - or the people that write it - into a friend. Into something that I can relate to better then anyone I know. But I did. Maybe that’s okay too. Maybe that just means someone over in AFS land did their job really well.
I guess I could yell and cry (done that already) and whine about how they could do this to us, how they could just abandon us without a last tour or a last album or some sort of big goodbye. But I won't. Because, like friends - bands grow up, grow out and move on. Maybe someday we'll see Ben doing a solo Pop Album, or doing a duet with Fergie.
But until then I'd like to thank Ben Jorgensen, PJ DeCicco, Anthony Dilonno and Nash Breen for making awesome music. You and your music meant more to me then I could ever express in words. AFS will always be a friend of mine.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go fall asleep to “Car Underwater” on repeat.
“Believe the news, I'm gone for good…..”
Monday, October 26, 2009
Cobra Starship in Hell.
August 31st 2009.
Last night I attended one of the oddest concerts I’ve ever experienced. Cobra Starship was playing a tiny local venue as their last stop on their “Hot mess across the US" tour.
A friend and myself arrived around 2PM to hang out, meet some new friends and of course, watch the bands as they unloaded. While waiting in line, we noticed several band members, Victoria Asher (CS), Ryland Blackinton (CS), Alex Suarez (CS), Andrew Goldstein (TFNB), Ryan O‘Connor (TA) and Seth Johnson (TA) milling around outside. Opening bands, the Audition and the Friday Night Boys were doing all they’re own set-up. Roadies were nowhere to be seen.
Everyone involved in the tour looked just about ready to collapse. However, most of the band members who were greeting fans were still able to be courteous, attentive and overall polite. Ryan O’connor, the drummer for The Audition looked as though he had a drumstick lodged in a very painful area of his anatomy. Maybe he was just tired.
Gabe Saporta eventually made an appearance (to the joy of 200+ screaming girls) and was immediately surrounded by people waiting for autographs and photos. Most of my time in line was spent right by the loading dock (it’s actually a door, but lets sound professional here). Alex, a girl I met in line, Bunny, and myself spent most of the time holding the door open (it only opens from the inside), telling band members that they could in fact bring they’re various instruments through said door and did not, in fact have to walk half a block.
Through this door the three of us ‘met’ and talked to several band members. At one point, Victoria Asher showed up looking just about ready to die, but was still as polite as ever when approached by a fan and given a gift.
Just as Gabe was getting surrounded, Alex Suarez (Bassist for CS) came out and leaned just outside the door frame to watch the commotion. We got into a conversation about being surrounded in such a way, by fans that just want to touch you, and if he ever got scared with that kind of attention. He said he hadn’t.
That was another small thing that bothered me. None of the bands on the tour had any noticeable security. I’m not saying that they should have 20+ bodyguards and bomb-sniffing dogs. But a couple of bouncers would have been nice.
Anyway, after several hours of waiting and 2 pizza’s we were allowed into the club.
First off was DJ Skeet Skeet. I’d never been to a concert that opened with a DJ, so I was surprised at what a great job he did. He knew exactly what songs to play, and exactly what to say to get us pumped. Given the chance, I would defiantly go to a club and see him again.
After about a 45 minute warm up with Skeet Skeet, The Friday night boys took the stage. After not-so-legally downloading their album “Off the deep end” the night before, I was really excited to hear them live. The album has wonderful lyrics and the vocalist Andrew Goldstein has a voice that could easily be compared to Jonathan Cook or Nate Smith (Forever the sickest kids, Mercy Mercedes). Overall the album was pretty generic for a Fueled by Ramen boy band, The first two songs, Permanent Heartbreak and Stupid Love letter are both pretty good songs for the heartbroken, while others on the album Molly Makeout and How I Met Your Mother show that they also have a lighter tone.
Having said all this I would love to tell you how much I enjoyed seeing the group live. But I can’t. Out of all of the concert’s I’ve been to I can honestly say The Friday Night Boy’s Performance was one of, if not the absolute worse performances I’ve ever heard, they were having extreme technical difficulties. So I can’t exactly blame the band. The first two songs they played had the bass up far too high, and the vocals way to low. When they finally realized how many people in the audience had headaches, they did turn it down. Which left us with the drums. Oh, dear sound manager…where art thou?
Club Hell has great acoustics, so the band could have gotten away with playing the drum acoustically, or if anything, having the volume on the microphones down very, very low. Unfortunately, no one realized this. Which made it so we still couldn’t hear a word from the vocalist. By the time the set was over I wasn’t the only one with a pained expression on my face. I did catch a drumstick though. Which kind of didn’t do anything to make up for it. I did go over and buy their CD afterwards though, you know, to make up for the whole illegal downloading thing.
Next up was The Audition. All I can say is wow. Daniel Stevens is amazing. His voice is amazing, his attitude is amazing, and everything about him could simply be summed up with the word amazing. I’ve seen maybe one or two other singers with the amount of stage presence he was capable of. He reminded me a lot of Travis Clark from We The Kings, and anyone who has seen Travis live will know exactly what I mean. There are very few singers capable of completely drawing you into their own world. Daniel is definitely one of those singers. They did a quick sound check, and after spending five minutes talking over our heads and making hand gestures to the sound guys in back - had none of the problems the previous band had dealt with.
The music got all of us jumping, excited, and over the headaches and the grumbling. At one point, a girl in front of me had written ‘Guitar pick?” on her arm and during one of the songs, Daniel gave her an odd expression and grabbed her wrist to read it closer, he smiled at her and made a motion at her to wait for a bit. Two songs later he slipped a guitar pick into her hand. It was sweet to watch.
I suggest that anyone who can see the Audition live go do so, or at least check out their Myspace. I can see this band getting big really quick, and it looks like it’ll be fun to jump on the train that is The Audition.
After the Audition left the stage it was empty. For about an hour. I don’t know who decided in having such a long intermission, but it wasn’t fun. Everyone became restless and bored waiting for Cobra to appear, so restless that I saw several people make a B-line to the door.
After about forty-five minutes people started moving things around the stage and everyone got excited. Unfortunately, Cobra wasn’t coming on. But DJ Skeet Skeet was back with a singer called Vita. Who may have been wonderful or terrible – we couldn’t tell due to microphone problems. We mostly heard Karaoke and saw Vita as she bounced up and down on stage. It was interesting.
Finally, after another twenty minutes it was time for what most of us had gone to see, Cobra Starship. I’d seen Cobra Starship three times in the past and was hoping for something just a bit different.
Everyone in the band looked tired, so much in fact that at one point during the set Victoria was leaning on a pillar on stage instead of doing her awesome hip-sway. Cobra’s Set consisted of songs from “While the city sleeps we rule the streets” and "Viva la Cobra!"
They played Send My Love To The Dance Floor, The Church Of Hot Addiction, Snakes on a Plane, The City Is At Way, Guilty Pleasure, Damn You Look Good and I’m Drunk, Smile For The Paparazzi, Kiss My Sass, Pleasure Ryland (as an Encore), Good Girls Go Bad, and Pete Wentz is The Only Reason We’re Famous.
I can’t say I was disappointed per say, because Cobra doesn’t disappoint, be it tech problems, weather issues (I did watch them at an outdoor venue during a tornado warning) or any other boatload of issues that can come up during concerts, Gabe and his crew always seem able to make it better. But I would have enjoyed it if they had performed more songs from the new album; I mean it was the "Hot Mess!" tour.
I made several observations while watching them perform, Gabe was as energetic and bouncy as always, but his voice wasn’t what it was say… last November. I know he ended up having surgery on his throat after singing with cysts and maybe that had something to do with it, or maybe it was how tired the band was. Either way, it was noticeable. He also left chunks of songs to the fans that I’d never seen him skip before.
Between songs Gabe talked to the fans a bit, and then made an introduction to his next song, he’s used the same intro live for several years, but it’s gotten re-worded and reworked as Cobra’s evolved. I think we can all relate to it, and it directly relates to the band’s attitude and what they’ve wanted to get across. Several times during the show Gabe mentioned what people in his network said he couldn’t do and what people in the music industry said he couldn’t do.
(I’m paraphrasing here)
“They said I wouldn’t make it,” But he did.
“They told me no one would listen to a band that didn’t have guitars” The Guitars were handed off to stagehands and Alex and Ryland took over a couple of Synthesizers.
But I think he made his entire point clear with his intro:
“In life, there will always be people who want you to fail, no matter what you do, no matter what business you’re involved in, no matter what you study, they’re gonna want to watch you fall. And the only thing I want you to remember when you see those people are the three words in this song. And those words are Kiss. My. Sass.”
PS: after the show I found one of Alex's Guitar Picks in my bra. Like I said, interesting night.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
While I don’t doubt at all that her experience was much more unpleasant then mine. I think both us would have preferred the whole bloody incident to have occurred to someone else.
What held the lack of surprises afterwards, after she’d been carted away in the ambulance, was the way people decided to make the night about themselves. As I watched several people complain about how loud she cried, or about what a baby she was or how people just can’t control the drama – the phrase ‘They eat they’re own” crossed my mind.
As I listened to a friend-of-a-friend tell her not so delightful story of how she broke her leg on a –legasp- mountain and –legasp- didn’t realize it was that hurt and –legasp- didn’t cry and –legasp- hiked all the way back down by herself, I looked in on my self and wondered ‘What the fuck are you doing with these people?”
Now, don’t get me wrong there were – a few – people that were sympathetic and dare I say it – human – about the whole thing. But most of the people there were just out for the attention.
I don’t think I ever really got it, using someone else’s misery to get off, to come out looking better. Just never got the appeal.
I realized a long time ago that in the long run people don’t really change. By age 12 we’re all pretty much at the point of no return. No refunds, no exchanges. As is. That’s it. Take your receipt and shove it.
So I’ve started looking at myself. Really looking at myself. Are there things I’d like to change?
Are they things I can change?
Some of them.
Am I happy with who I am?
Still working on that one.
What I do know, is that no matter who you are
– that person that needs to put someone else down to feel good,
- the person who will never be comfortable in they’re own skin.
- the kid doing anything to fit in,
- or the girl who decided a long time ago she didn’t need any help. Ever. From anyone.
You’re that person.
That’s it, that’s all you are.
Don’t like it?
Then prove me wrong.
Because I’m getting pretty sick of you assholes.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
They were just friends.
So she seriously wondered why the heck she was sitting there, 2000 miles away from home, in an exceedingly dusty parking lot. Waiting for him to come back.
She pressed into the door of his old rusted Jeep, which creaked in protest at being opened. Checked her cell phone again, nothing.
Giving the door a hard push, she hopped into the dirt, then slammed the door closed
Holding her cell phone high in the air, she proceeded to jump up and down, which did nothing but kick dirt up, which she inhaled – and quickly began to sneeze.
He smiled slightly at her as he approached, “Just one bed” he offered apologetically. She raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take the floor” he added sheepishly. She shrugged as he passed her to open the back of the Jeep.
“Doesn’t matter to me” She said, tugging one of her packs out from under the pile of of his stuff and shrugging it onto her shoulder.
He grabbed his own and led her towards one of the side rooms, she dragged her heels in the dirt and pouted.
That had been the most he’d said to her in the last thirty hours. She stared at him from behind, and noted that for once – she could honestly say he looked like hell. His usually well kept hair was unwashed and stuck out oddly, he had a strong five o clock shadow, and looked more then ready to pass out.
‘Then again’ she mused, ‘ I probably look just as bad’. They’d been driving almost two days straight and they were both exhausted.
Slipping the keycard into the scanner, he held the door for her with a mock bow. She smiled at him and he grinned like a little boy. It was the first real smile she’d seen out of him since she’d jumped into his truck two days ago.
Usually she couldn’t get a word in edge-wise with him. But this trip was different. His jaw was set into a tight frown, and she hadn’t been able to get him to relax no matter what she’d done.
She wondered what she had expected as she emptied her stuff onto the single queen size bed in the middle of the room. She’d hoped they would be able to catch up a bit – but they’d been drifting a part a bit recently. She chided herself silently while pulling out a set of clean clothes. His mother was dead. Why the heck would she expect him to want to bond with an old friend?
She sighed audibly and he turned from flipping through a menu on a small desk on the other side of the road.
“Don’t be sad,” he said softly. “This’ll be over soon”
She nodded, and the room went silent for a moment. He hugged her from behind and she stiffened. “I really do appreciate you coming with me” he offered.
“I wanted to come” she answered.
“I don’t know what I would have done if I had to come alone…” He trailed off and moved away.
She didn’t know what to say, so she stayed silent, then collapsed onto the bed.
“I’m gonna take a shower….” He told her as he headed towards the back of the room.
“u-hmmm” she mumbled snuggling a pillow.
Roughly ten minutes later he appeared shirtless in front of the TV. He looked better, she noted.
“You look like hell,” he teased, and she threw a pillow at him. He caught it, then gave it an odd look, gave the same look to the bed, then to her.
She sighed. Then shifted until the right end of the bed. “Get in” she ordered, and he did.
She woke up slowly, wondering why the room was so dark. He was snuggling beside her and tugging her closer. She rolled over, facing him. He stared back at her, startled and sheepish.
“What’s wrong?” she asked sinking back into her pillow.
He stared at her in silence for a moment, before shifting so he could rest his chin on her head, pulling her firmly against his chest.
She stiffened slightly, no longer use to the contact; she vaguely noted that he hadn’t really touched her in years, not since they’d broken up. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck she sighed happily.
“Had a nightmare” he whispered into her hair.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked
“No” he answered quickly. Then a moment later, “Don’t leave.”
Her eyes softened, and she placed a quick butterfly kiss just below his ear. “I can’t.” She teased. “You have the keys”
She shifted under his arm, “Lighten up.” She hissed slightly, “You hug me any tighter and something’s gonna break” She groaned softly when he retreated quickly to the opposite side of the bed as if burnt. He apologized quietly and rolled over, turning his back on her.
She huffed, wishing he wasn’t so sensitive, and wondering if he’d always been this scared of rejection or if it was new. Crawling over to him. She snuggled against him from behind, and tickled his ribs a bit, causing him to curl into the fetal position.
“I didn’t mean it like that…you can, we can cuddle if you want, just don’t hold me like I’m trying to run away okay?”
He didn’t move for a moment, but when he did she found herself pressed firmly against him, he nuzzled her hair softly and slid a hand under her shirt to rub her lower back.
She smiled brightly and nuzzled into his chest, yawning, “going back to bed?” she asked groggily, and he shook his head ‘no’.
She glanced up at him the best she could, remembering he’d been a born and bred insomniac for years.
“Want me to stay up with..” “No.” he cut her off firmly. “You sleep”
“K…” she mumbled, really already half asleep.
He watched her for several minutes, rubbing knots out of her back as he found them, he smiled down at her, truly happy he’d asked her to come with him, and he kissed her forehead softly, before drifting off to sleep himself.
She woke up to an annoying ring far off to her left, and she lifted her head and squinted when she heard him curse loudly beside her. She stared at him as he reached over to nightstand to grab his phone.
He glanced at the I.D. before giving her an apologetic glance.
She rolled her eyes as he flipped the phone open and greeted the person on the other line, keeping his eyes on her. She knew exactly who was calling from the look he gave her, the same look he gave her every time his girlfriend called.
Sighing, she threw her legs off the side of the bed and made to get up, but he grabbed at her wrist and made a movement with his head to incline her into lying back down. Jerking away, she closed the bathroom door on him.
Washing her face, she listened to him as he answered all her questions, how was he doing, where was he, had he started packing his moms things yet…no questions about her of course, and she wondered if he’d even said he was bringing someone alone.
She sighed and stared at herself in the mirror.
Wondering why she felt so bad for herself, why she felt so jealous.
They were just friends.
Monday, July 20, 2009
We’re the friends, the partial characters, the thieves, and the killers.
Life is an act, a show we don’t get recognized or paid for. A lifetime performance.
Something none of us auditioned for, but something we were thrown into, forced into. Like a set of blond twins with a couple of stage parents.
If there’s one thing I learned from growing up with a theater background – it’s that shows do not always go as planned. People forget they’re lines, costumes tear, and people break under the pressure.
Sounds a bit like life doesn’t it?
So, if you think about it – The world is one big theater.
The problem is that we don’t have a script to memorize, or a director to tell us what the heck we’re doing.
In the end- we’re the actors, the producers and the directors of our own lives.
Talk about a crappy metaphor eh?
I was told recently that I don’t know what I want to do with my life because I don’t know myself. I don’t know who I really am. Maybe that’s true.
But that got me wondering. Do any of us know who we really are?
We’re all actors. But we’re also all liars.
Everyone is a liar.
For no other reasons then the fact that everyone lies.
So the problem with life isn’t that we’re liars, or that we’re actors.
It’s that we’re both.
Because we’re all nothing more then lying actors, and we all have been since we could learn to talk – we’re good at it. Great actually.
Maybe it’s completely unintentional. Maybe you don’t even know you’re lying anymore.
Maybe you truly believe the character you play everyday is who you really are.
Maybe you never thought about it.
But take a day. Think about everything you say or do. Count how many lies you find yourself performing.
Does it feel like you?
Here’s the truth about the truth.
So we act.
We lie so we don’t get hurt. We lie so others don’t get hurt. We lie so the characters we play can stay characters.
So no one will know the difference.
So in the end - we’re all just really good actors.
Maybe we’re all so good we don’t even know who we really are.
But we better start figuring out.
Because in the end, all life is…
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Who decided I wanted to grow up?
Who knows how to make it stop?
I’ve been pretty nostalgic recently, not even for last year, when my social life was pretty good and I had lots of friends, I don’t think I even care about that anymore. What I do know is that I miss my childhood.
That’s weird isn’t it? A 16 year old wanting to be a little kid again. It’s usually the other way around isn’t it? Wanting to jump the next two years and finally become adults. I’m not like that.
I, myself, miss my construction paper, my crayons, and my snack time.
I miss the time when you really thought you COULD be anything, or do anything
I think I miss kindergarten most.
I mean, what do you have to worry about in kindergarten? Regular Milk, or chocolate…decisions decisions…
Remember being little, you never worried about anything, and your parents made most of your choices for you, which – if you didn’t like, you’d forgotten about the next day.
You could play with anyone on the school ground, there was no separation of stereotypes, no shunning, and – when you said, “you’re my new best friend” you actually meant it.
It’s almost terrible how fast we’re made to grow up in this country.
What with this whole twelve years olds with babies, and 9 year olds with cell phones.
I wish they told you life was going to be such a disappointment. Maybe you could make a decision about if you wanted to grow up or not.
Who would have left they’re naptimes and crayons if they knew how backstabbing, painful, disappointing and horror-filled, the world would be?
I know I wouldn’t have.
So, lets say your best days are that of kindergarten, and it just gets worse from there. Who the hell wants to last till middle age?
Just shoot us now. Lets get it all over with. Who wants to deal with another 20 years of crappy people, crappy education, job hunting, house hunting, friend hunting, hate groups, school shootings, environmental destruction and madness…. all the religious extremists and republicans running amok. Can someone buy me a ticket back to kidville please? What happened to worrying about how many pokemon you caught that day? I miss my freaking pokemon!
So, I think we can officially say that Brianna wants to go hang out with Peter Pan and the evil mermaids of neverland. (Speaking of which – yes Michael Jackson is dead, and no – I do not wish to visit his neverland…)
Anyone with me?
Friday, June 5, 2009
We get so used to it that we can’t be happy.
We feed each others darkness
We learn to fear the light.
We feed each others loneliness.
We cling to each other for comfort.
We encourage each others dismay
We need to feel better the then other
We allow each others nostalgia
We can’t look at the future.
We become dependent on each other.
It’s all we can do.
We feed each others pain
So maybe we won’t get hurt next time.
Dedicated to a certain soon-to-be-ex friend of mine.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
have they been proven to work at all?
Because when I go out and get smashed, I'm totally gonna remember those videos they showed us - and not drive myself home.
because our memories are so clear when we're drunk right?
Drinking impairs your judgment right? That's what they keep saying, can't drink and drive cause drinking impairs your judgment.
So I'm going to be able to judge if I'm too impaired to drive?
That makes SO much sense.
And you know what? That video would have been so much more dramatic if I hadn't seen a member of the victims family kill her husband on law and order last week. Who does the casting for those things?
Anyway, Drivers ed until the 17th, so I'll have late/no updates until everything settles down.
PS: there's a boy in my class that looks like William Beckett. It's kinda insanely adorable.
Friday, May 29, 2009
So, I started thinking about this in the shower this morning. I often start thinking really deep whilst in the shower. Anyone else? No? No? Are you sure? You’re lying.
Anyway, I started thinking about this cute worker at a local store. He’s flirted with me a couple times. Totally harmless, and very slight. But it’s there.
So what’s the problem with that? Well, he has to be at least nineteen, if not a bit older.
Le gasp. Mass hysteria. A nineteen year old flirting with a sixteen year old? That pervert. Someone call the police!
See what I did there?
I see nineteen year olds dating twenty-five year olds all the time. Never mind, the barely legal girls dating the creepy forty-year olds. That’s fine. No one says anything about that. She’s nineteen. So who cares?
But when you get a seventeen-year-old girl dating a twenty-year-old, or a sixteen-year-old dating an eighteen-year-old everyone freaks out.
So why is that?
Really, what difference does one or two years make? What is it about eighteen that makes anyone younger off limits? Who in America decided you became an adult at eighteen anyway? Do we have to run a maturity poll or something?
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying we should have 12 year olds dating 50 year old guys. I’m not saying we should go back to the old times where young girls got married at 13 and had two or three kids by age fifteen.
I’m talking about teens dating teens. Teens having fun with teens. Teens having S-E-X with teens.
If you pay much attention – you’ll realize that this whole ’18 makes you an adult’ thing is everywhere. Even in most teens. We’ll take my friend Bunni for example. Last year she dated a guy for a while, and eventually they broke up. She’s roughly a year and a half older then him. So when if dating him came up in a conversation she hurriedly exclaimed that she could never date him – seeing as she’ll be 18 this month, and the age difference would be ‘creepy’.
Huh? So being a year or two older is okay until your eighteen. Then it’s illegal and scary. Am I right?
So, of course this is more of a problem for girls. Most parents don’t ask their son’s how old his girlfriend is, it’s a question that comes up a lot more often for teenage girls.
So why is that?
Are parents just protecting their dumb, naive, teen girls from the horror’s of what could happen if they decided to one day wander off and play with the big boys?
And what about those girls that lie? Or disrespect their parents wishes? How could they?!
Don’t they know that as soon as a man turns eighteen he becomes bent on nothing else then raping and deflowering young naïve teen girls while they clutch desperately to- oh wait, sorry, that’s not true is it?
So how did this whole ‘no touching until your 18’ business start anyway? Are we as a country just being sexist? Thinking girls aren’t smart enough to make decisions such as these until that fateful day when they turn eighteen and magically grow a brain?
Oh! Of course. I get it now. It’s because, we as teenage girls – don’t know what we’re doing! That must be it. I mean, they teach us all about reproductive systems and STD’s in school, Sex in everywhere – from billboards to TV. It’s free allllllll over the Internet. We’ve all seen it, heard about it, or read it. And we’re lying if we say we haven’t. We know all about it. We just aren’t smart enough to be involved in it.
Especially with someone older then ourselves.
Because we don’t know what we’re doing.
We aren’t smart enough to lie about our ages. We aren’t smart enough to dress older, or act older. It’s not like we’re allowed to dress like sex on legs, talk about sex, or think about it. Wait… for god sake what’s wrong with us? We’re only teenagers! Where are our one-piece smocks? Where are our Catholic Abstinence only daytime cartoons?
No wait. Everyone calm down! It’s okay. We can act like that.
Because we don’t know what we’re doing.
Because we can’t be held responsible.
After all, if we end up dating and sleeping with that 18 year old neighbor we’ve known for who knows how long – it’s because he lied, and was too crafty for our slow teenage minds. It’s not like we knew what we we’re doing.
So it’s not our fault.
So we aren’t going to be held responsible for our naïve female actions…. wait, your kidding right? We ARE being held responsible? Since when?
Ahhhhh, Okay, the whole ‘sexting’ thing. So, we don’t know what we’re doing when we have sex – but we do when we take naked pictures of ourselves and send them all over the interwebs? Make up your mind already!
Sorry girls, you can’t be a porn star until your 18! Off to jail with you. Manufacturing Child pornography. What’s wrong with you girls? Sending it to boys all over school. Soiling they’re once clean minds. Shame on you!
All I’m saying is, lets all take a step back. Look around us. What does putting a bunch of 18 year olds in jail do for us anyway?
Does that make us safer?
Safer from what?
If you don’t want your teen girls to have sex, you should talk to them about it. If you don’t want them having kids – you should encourage in everyway you can the use of birth control and condoms.
But putting away her poor boyfriend?
Am I really the only one that thinks that’s a bit extreme?
And lets not forget those porn-sta- I mean students. What does putting them in jail do?
Save a kid from getting a hard-on in class?
Save the girl from future embarrassment as an adult?
After all, she must have all those shameful acts pushed firmly to the back of her mind – so far back she couldn’t find them if she tried.
That must be what juvi’s for.
It’s like a purification retreat.
Only without the vegan lunches and the meditation.
So, lets all take a step back here. Is this whole ’18 or older’ craze real? Is there any real reason for it?
Or are we, as a family, as a state, as a country –
Just completely and utterly brainwashed?
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
I don’t remember what I did yesterday. But I know I got a lot done. I know I went to a thrift store…. found some pretty cute stuff. I’m trying to bring the whole John Lennon era into my wardrobe. You’d be surprised how hard it is to find vests these days that aren’t horrid and covered in floral patterns. I did find a nice vest though - more pirate-like then anything.
I think I did some chores…. I’m ecstatic over the fact that I’m finally getting a dishwasher. I’m a terrible dishwasher, I always manage to get myself wet, I’m never able to really get the dishes fully spotless, and my hands have been getting chapped from all the hot water. Defiantly one of my least favorite chores.
I had my music lessons today. Guitar went pretty well. But I’m working on a song in my voice class, which has a high F note. This is at the top of my vocal range anyway, but for the last three or four weeks my throat has been bothering me. My voice teacher says it’s half stress and half posture- and I always thought I had pretty good posture!
I went to the barn today, mostly to get some of my stuff. It’s almost disgusting how quickly a place can change. I haven’t visited in about a month, and the farm itself seems like it’s dying.
Fences have already started being removed. Most of the horses are gone, and the grass – that’s usually kept short is almost completely overgrown. The spirit of the place seems sad. Lonely even.
Maybe I’m just too emotional.
Or maybe I’m right.
On a lighter note – it seems like I’ll be attending warped tour this year after all. A friend of mine is using it as her birthday gift and offered me a ticket. Yay.
I’ll be honest when I say I’m not expecting much. I always thought Vans was a rock show. What’s with all the screamo/scene bands this year?
Seems like my concert schedule is filling up pretty quickly.
I’d like to see Anberlin and Taking back Sunday in July.
Did anyone know Anberlin was Christian rock? I had no idea.
But when I found out last week all of their music videos and lyrics suddenly made a ton more sense…. Am I the only one this has happened to?
Warped is in July, But I’d also like to go see Boys like Girls with NeverShoutNever.
I know I’ll get a ton of flaming for this – but I honestly think Christofer Drew (NSN) has the potential to become one of the John Lennon’s of our generation. If the boy gets any more into love and peace he’ll start singing about being happy and holding peoples hand- oh wait. Huh.
Then we have the Blink-182 reunion tour in August. Who else is excited? Soooo they’ve only been on hiatus since 2005. That’s plenty of time for us to miss them, and you have to admit – while they’re new bands (Angels & Airwaves and +44) are good. They aren’t Blink.
So…there goes about 70 dollars for the next three months. I should really start saving…
It’s gotten to the point where this is totally a stream of consciousness writing type thing. So you’ll all have to deal with my odd ramblings for a bit. There’s no other way for my to blog for a certain amount of time (or pages) without just writing what comes to mind. It kinda upsets me that my life isn’t exciting enough for me to have three pages of stories to tell each day. Maybe if I bring my font size up to 14….but that would somehow feel like cheating….
Oh! I ended up making business cards yesterday (Thank you VistaPrint),I got sick and tired of having to write all my contact information out for people (Think Raven from questionable content) Call me lazy.
So I’m hoping to see the other Brianna Saturday at EarthFest, and I would like to wear the outfit she drew me in on my paper child. But it may be cold. Can’t wear short skirts and belly shirts when it’s cold. Eh - I’m sewing together a pair of fingerless gloves for it either way.
So that’s about all that I’ve done/thought about in the last two days. My iPod is officially dead, and when that fact truly sinks in I very well may cry. Not a little cry either. Think sobbing.
I’ve got a ton of chores and work tomorrow, then my last lesson at this barn. Hopefully Hopi won’t go into shock when he sees the saddle, he’s only been ridden three times this season. That’ll change soon. Think 5 days a week! Or….you know…3…at the least.
Thankfully I can take my trainer with me. It’ll be a longer drive for her – but she seems willing to do it. Thank god. It’s awful finding a trainer that’s both friendly, knowledgeable, and not a total basket case.
So, that’s about it for today, hopefully tomorrow will be more exciting.
Monday, May 25, 2009
So, I’ve been praying to God, Jesus, Aries, Medusa, The Great Pumpkin, Elvis, John Lennon, And whatever God takes care of computer problems – to save my photos.
After taking a ton of photos Saturday at Anime Boston – I get home last night, plug my micro-chip in – follow all those on screen instructions, and let all my photos download to my computer, then delete all of them off the chip. Turns out something went wrong with the download and Windows didn’t notice. Fuck you Bill Gates! After all the people with all the problems that come with using Windows, I am honestly surprised his life hasn’t been threatened.
Anyway, all my photos have been corrupted.
I’m running a program called Photo Rec or something, that’s trying to get everything back from the chip – so far it’s gotten stuff that I took over a year ago. Not helpful.
On a different spectrum of technological hell – My beloved iPod Crowley is slowly dying. We all know those things are made to break down within a two year period, and frankly I’m surprised this one survived to the one year, six month mark. After all, I’ve gone through five since those things came out. I’m not even hard on them. Thank you Apple for forcing us all to be little consumers.
Unfortunately, I can’t afford a new iPod at the moment. So I’m gonna have to work out my guitar lessons, my voice lessons, and my ENTIRE life – without my music. Pretend I groaned just there – cause I really did.
As for what I did today – I woke up around 11, because my mother wanted to know if I wanted to go out to breakfast. I said sure. Then promptly fell back asleep. This misstep resulted in a very disheveled appearance at a local Ihop.
I also realized how really gross pancakes smell. Has anyone else noticed that? I personally, can’t stand pancakes. I would really like too – kinda like eggs. They’re something I’d LIKE to like, but can’t. Anyway, back to the smell – it’s pretty gross.
After breakfast-, which consisted of myself, my mother, my dog, a neighbor and a bunch of onion rings – we drove out to Guitar Center to pick up a new amp.
I love Guitar Center, and I’m going to be totally honest when I say I don’t know any of my female friends that don’t.
Trina – who plays no instrument, believes the stores sole existence is to allow a place for girls to go watch attractive males play guitar.
We’ve yet to find any evidence that she’s wrong on this front.
I myself, find equal interest in both the cute boys, and the wall of Gibson guitars.
Have any of you ever been there? It’s really hard to pick what to look at.
Really. Really, REALLY hard.
So anyway, after Guitar Center my day turned pretty nostalgic. I was really hit with how much my life has changed since the same time last year.
Earth Fest in Boston is this Saturday. It consists of a bunch of local bands, and a bunch of new eco-friendly vendors giving away free samples. Last year I alone walked off with at least two hundred dollars worth of free stuff.
I went with several very close friends; all of us had a wonderful time, and vowed to go again this year, only with more tote bags for more stuff.
We don’t talk anymore. Well, they don’t talk to ME anymore. There was a big falling out in my group of friends late last summer. And only one or two have talked to me since, and only when they can get away with it – all secret like.
So maybe I’m not going after all this year. Or maybe I’ll bring some of my new friends. Either way – thinking about it completely ruined my day.
I’ve never truly understood how someone can let someone else influence them into treating other people like shit.
What’s with that?
So... right now I’m supposed to be spring-cleaning. But I’m still exhausted from my weekend, so I’m being lazy.
I hung my paper child up today. Took a certificate from Panda’s international I had gotten for one of my before- mentioned friends out of its frame. It was one of those deals where you donate a certain amount of money and it pays for food, or vet visits, or a certain toy for a year for one Giant Panda. I had bought it before last summer with the intent of giving it away as a birthday gift to my panda-crazy friend along with a stuffed panda and a tube of plastic panda’s in different positions. All three have been hanging around my bedroom for the last year…anyone want a tube of pandas?
So anyway, my adorable paper child (seen here) is now hung up behind my desk in a wonderful bamboo frame! I love it.
On a totally different note - I own a horse, he’s an appy and his name is Hopi. And I’ll be the first one to admit owning a horse is way too much trouble then what its worth.
Horse people are completely insane.
Don’t get a horse unless it’s staying on your property.
It’s like high school with whips, and way more therapy. Seriously.
So, I’ve gone to a ton of barns in RI so far. For the above mentioned reasons.
I started out in Escoheag, Rhode Island almost an hour and a half away from my home in Providence. (YES! I know! RI isn’t that long if you go in a straight line! But it is if you take a ton of back roads! ^_^)
I bought my horse from a ranch up there, not only did they sell me problem-pony over here but they also ended up using him as a lesson horse even though he was privately owned. Not knowing a close cousin of mine took trial rides there.
Off to Cranston Hopi Traveled.
The barn in Cranston was huge, and the owner was a typical Cranston women. Loud. Italian. Stubborn. Generally bitchy. But Hopi stayed there for about a year, before I decided to move him to a barn down the road that offered half board, because when you feed your own horse – they learn to respect you.
So we went, happily unaware of the living hell we were going to walk into.
You know how in a pack of wolves – they all fight for the dominate position?
Think that. Only with 40 year old women. One of which is bi-polar without meds and has a gun.
Soooo, back to the before mentioned Cranston barn we went one night – when we were almost physically attacked by a group of old, senile horse women who couldn’t ride to save they’re own lives.
As I said before, don’t get a horse without your own property.
Hopi and I got thrown out of Italian lady’s barn shortly after because “Those people down at Mikes are spreading rumors – and I don’t want to deal with the drama”
Oh wow. Thanks.
So, off to Foster Hopi went. He stayed in one barn for one night only, when after really looking at the stalls more closely, it was made very apparent that broken legs were easily a threat.
We then moved to a lovely place called Nordland. Where we’ve been for a little over a year now. It was one of those places you used to see on the Saddle club or similar TV shows. Everyone got along (mostly) the owner mothered everyone, taught everyone, the trainer was amazing – never freaking out or screaming, and everyone basically just went and enjoyed their horses.
But now, with the mix of a failing economy and several personal issues, the barn has to close.
Took me forever, but I finally found a place to go, I can afford it. I’ll be the only boarder at what once was a really high-class show barn – which still has all its equipment. It’s a good match for Hopi and I.
But its sad to have to leave a place you feel so close too. Even if you really aren’t.
So, anyway, they close in six days, and I’ve yet to find someone to transport Hopi. Or get a hold of the owner of my current barn for grain types and schedules.
Guess I know what I’ll be doing tomorrow.
Anyway, My program recovered everything it could. Got 19 photos out of over 300 back.
That’s Insanely depressing
Enough of my ramblings, I’m off to vacuum!
I’m gonna start this blog by saying, I’m a terrible blogger. I really am. Want a 40 page story on a serial killer? Yeah, okay. I can do that.
Want random notes about my thoughts and life?
Nooooot gonna happen.
But seeing as I’ve finally gotten around to getting this thing up I see it a shame to not use the blog feature, so here’s my first and possibly (although I’ll try to remember to update) only blog.
I stayed this weekend at Bunni’s house. Bunni is a complex, hyper, random, enthusiastic, sarcastic, obnoxious, multi-hair colored college student who lives up Northern MA.
She’s one of my best friends, and spending time with her is always an interesting (although sometimes a bit painful) adventure.
We never really plan what we’re gonna do when I’m up there. Most of the time I stay up there so we can both go to a Homeschool party that’s thrown once a month by a Local-Homeschoolers Co-op. So we hang around till its time to leave, party till its time to go home, make a lovely pot of Vodka pasta that we (usually) are kind enough to share with her amazing, and quirky family, then spend the next day in bed playing Kingdom hearts because we hurt to much and are way too sleepy to be bothered rising to meet the day.
Either that or we Concert. Bunni is my official ‘Concert Buddy’ who’s braved many a mosh pit alongside me.
This weekend we did neither. Fortunately or Unfortunately, I do not know.
Friday, I got to Bunni’s roughly around 3PM. Bunni lives in the woods.
Actually, Bunni lives in one of those houses that have horror movies happen to them. Yes. Happen. To. Them.
This is something I never fail to mention.
I walked up her long-ass driveway, which, until that moment, I had only driven up and met up with her amazing dad who was on his way out. We talked for a bit about the chickens, Bunni, and Darla, the resident cow who was always getting stuck somewhere, and I proceeded up to the house.
What is it with people who live in horror movie houses? Never locking they’re doors.
“OMG BRIANNA YOU DIDN”T KNOCK! YOU ARE SO RUDE!” Was how I was greeted when I walked up behind Bunni without her noticing.
We talked for a bit, and Bunni convinced me to put on her Formal dress or her ‘pretty, pretty princess dress’ as she calls it, it’s hot pink. And fluffy. Then she sits me down to a movie that she has picked special for this occasion. “it’s ten hours long!’ she informs me. To which I laugh. Thinking she’s going overboard. Bunni always goes overboard. Who would have thought that THIS was the thing she was being honest about?
Anyway, back to the real story.
This weekend was Anime Boston, largest Anime Con in New England, and while Both Bunni and I were wayyyy to broke to actually buy tickets so late, or stay in the hotel our friends ‘conveniently’ forgot to mention to us till Saturday afternoon (thanks, assholes) we decided to venture into Boston anyway, to meet up with a few friends, and generally enjoy the con experience, and laugh at bad cosplayers.
It started Saturday morning at South Station, where after purchasing half a dozen donuts for the trip, Bunni mixed up the weekend and weekday train schedules. And I realized I’d lost some of my con-intended cash. Great way to start the day eh?
But not all was lost!
Turned out that wasn’t at all a problem, and for an extra two bucks we could take a much more comfy and much less dirty bus.
When we got into Boston, Bunni decided she wanted to run real quick over to China Town to buy some Asian Candies, I wanted her to wait till we got to the con, but noooooo, Asian Candy was needed. Before I continue with this story I’d like to mention that I have very slight OCD about certain things. Like restaurants, and smells. I’m pretty high maintenance when it comes to where I’ll eat and sleep. Anyway, My OCD has led to the nickname of “Dommers” which is a cross between Hanners of the Questionable Content webcomic, and a Dominatrix (we’ll cover that story another time). Anyway, lets just say, dirty places and Dommers don’t mix well.
China Town + Dommers = Hell.
But anyway, what’s a little dirt and a couple nasty smells right?
Nothing Dommers can’t handle.
I’ve failed to mention up to this point that I’m also a die-hard vegetarian, fully for environmental and animal-rights purposes.
So, lets see.
Terrible smells, dirty food places, dirty….things, and live chicken/fish killings.
I was wrong before.
NOW it’s hell.
After about ten minutes of walking around China town and fighting with Bunni about my increasing J-walking (“YOU’RE GONNA GET ME KILLED! THE LIGHT DOESN”T SAY WE CAN CROSS!” “The nearest cars almost a mile away!” “But it sayssss!”)
I finally pull out my Verizon cell phone that has Verizon’s handy-dandy built in GPS system. (This is very important for the future of this story) do a local search, and find the store Bunni had been so looking for.
So, it’s also a fish market.
A small, crowded, dirty, smelly, live fish market.
Two panic attacks later, and several ‘BUT THE POOR FISH!”, Bunni finally has found all of her candy, and we check out. I later decided that the smell of China Town is something you don’t get off your clothes.
Unless you set them on fire of course.
So, after China town, we’re off to the Hynes center, with the help of the before-mentioned handy dandy GPS.
An hour and a half later and 2 miles we get to the convention center,
Or so the handy-fucking-dandy GPS says.
How Verizon in it’s infinite wisdom confused the Boston Convention center and the HYNES Convention center –which are separated by 3 miles and a bridge, is totally beyond me. But I digress.
Another 45 minutes later over 20 ‘don’t cross!’s, 50 ‘fuck’s, , 30 minutes of talking about how terribly angry we were at several different friends and acquaintances, we find ourselves on Mass Ave. May I also mention I’m still carrying that fucking box of donuts?
Back to arriving at Mass ave…
Thank the gods.
After another 30 minutes of aimless wandering, we found the convention center (which we knew was there all along, really).
Actually Bunni found it, she described it as follows:
‘And suddenly, I look up, and I see a very phallic shaped tower, pointing us home!’
Anyway, I call the other Brianna. Who, in my circle of friends is known as the other Brianna, to avoid lots of ‘Hey! I never said that!’s and ‘I never touched him!’s.
We told her we were in front of one of the various stores in the mall, and she said she’d meet us in a few.
While sitting in front of Franklin Covey, I’m randomly screaming at every really good cosplayer I see. (“stay cute!” “you’re the best Riku I’ve ever seen!” “You are beautiful!” *heart signs, heart signs, heart signs*) Because, in those situations, I have no shame, and I’m not at all shy. Unfortunately, this is also the same for Bunni.
I’d like to mention at this point that my friends are always trying to set me up. I’ve been single for a really long time and it’s ‘unnatural’ and apparently I’m ‘desperate’ wow. Thanks guys.
I’d also like to mention my extreme attraction and weakness for emo boys. I really, really, really really, like emo boys. Really.
So, as we’re leaning up against the glass windows of Franklin Covey, (much to the discomfort of the girl working inside) a very adorable emo boy walking by with a few friends. I point him out to Bunni, and comment off handedly about how hot he is.
Several minutes later (as we’re still waiting for the other Brianna) said emo boy, walks by again. Bunni, being too much like me for her own good yells, ‘SHE LOVES YOU!’ at the top of her lungs, and when the poor boy turns around she points to me. He made a heart at me and walked away.
Oh. If only that was the end of it.
But that comes later.
So, The other Brianna finally arrives in a wind of black lace and corsets. She then joins us in a mini-hate fest (yes, we ARE STILL sitting in front of Franklin Covey, only now there are three of us.) The other Brianna is an amazing artist, a talent that I myself will never possess; she rummaged through her bag as I was yelling ‘YOUR ADORABLE!’ at a random Riku, and pulled out two paper children, one of myself, and one of Bunni. They were absolutely adorable, and she got everything from facial expressions, to outfits perfect. Paper children are awesome. Brianna’s paper children rule.
After several minutes someone suggested we move closer to the actual con and maybe run-into someone we knew. I was still carrying a box with four donuts left. This sprouted an idea.
Less then ten minutes later, I’d given away 3 of the donuts that were left to cosplayers because ‘Your cute and deserve a donut!’ This was amazingly fun and I ended up buying another dozen donuts, because I really like meeting new people, and sometimes scaring them. We sat directly outside the convention center’s entrance to the mall, and handed out donuts
Brianna, (who had been TRYING to get me to sit still so she could draw another paper child) was given my camera and was put in charge of taking pictures of cosplayers with donuts. While Bunni, the other Brianna, and myself all decided who was adorable and needed a donut.
11 of those donuts went to girls. Just an FYI, you male cosplayers seriously need to step up your game.
About an hour and a half into our donut-escapade (come on we were VERY particular, and several people refused donuts, especially when Bunni tried to hit on them…I did mention Bunni is bi right? No? Well, it doesn’t matter much. But she did end up pouting because ‘all the good girls are taken!’) before mentioned cute emo-boy was walking by, and Bunni, who has no shame, took our box of donuts over to him.
The following conversation ensued.
Bunni: I’m bribing you with a donut, what’s your sexual preference and your relationship status?
Emo boy: Oh. Donuts. *picks donut* Straight and single.
Bunni: (at this point I’m behind her, curious as to what she’s doing): Good. Can you write down your number for *grabs me* my friend here. (Somewhere behind me the other Brianna is in hysterics)
Emo boy: Sure thing, do you have a pen?
Bunni: YES! I do! You can write on the donut box
(at this point I decide to be somewhat involved in my ‘love life’)
Me: You might…also want to write your name on that.
Emo Boy: oh. That’s right.
Bunni: Thank you! She’ll call you!
Emo boy-now-known-as-Tyler: Just so you know, I would have given you my number anyway; you didn’t have to give me a donut.
I now have a Donut box with a random boys name and number on it. Normally I would have been thrilled. If my crazy-ass friends hadn’t meddled. Darn Crazy ass friends.
So, At this point, the other Brianna is finishing up a second paper child of me (she’s agreed to do every emoti-con of me including captions) and is talking about what time she needs to get back inside for a swap meet, Bunni is making wedding plans. No. Really. Wedding. Plans. And I’m getting over the whole joy of donut giving, so I find 2 adorable 10 year old’s dressed as L from death note, and whoever the albino is from Death note. And give them what’s left of the donuts (apparently this crossed a line of creepy as Brianna decided I WAS that stranger giving candy to small children) Where WERE they’re parents anyway?
After another hour of hanging with Brianna and commenting on cosplayers, it was time to head back to south station before we missed our bus. On our long walk back, Bunni and I stop into a costume shop, which didn’t let you try on wigs without buying things (faillll) and stopped for lunch at Spikes Hot dogs, who at some point lost our order, Bunni, who at this point in the day was for some reason really P.O’ed ended up getting us free hot dogs, or veggie hot dogs in my case. Either way. It was free.
Hell has no fury like an angry Rabbit. I mean Bunni. Angry. Bunni.
So, after a small drama about which bus we were taking (I WAS RIGHT, just for the record) I ended up sitting next to a guy with the Boston Phoneix, and while he was pointedly ignoring me, and flipping through the pages I noticed a half page add for a ‘Boy’s like girls’ concert, featuring NeverShoutNever. Both of which are big favorites of Bunni and myself.
Plans were made by the end of the bus ride.
Bunni’s Brother, who at this point I had never met (he’s always away at college and doing high IQ smart once-was-a-homeschooler stuff) picked us up. Brid, who was still angry about whatever she was angry at, introduced us. “Brother, this is Brianna, Brianna – Brother”
An hour later we find ourselves back at Bunni’s house, after making a large pan of Vodka pasta, We sit down for the rest of the ten-hour movie. And eventually ended up going to sleep.
Sunday, I dealt with 6 hours of Bunni trying to get me to call emo-boy-now-known-as-tyler. And Bunni dealt with 6 hours of me trying to get her to let me use her computer to inter-stalk emo-boy-now-known-as-tyler.
“YOU DO NOT NEED TO STALK SOMEONE BEFORE YOU CALL THEM! It’s creepy and weird!”
“it’s like doing a back round check on a boyfriend!”
“Which is also CREEPY AND WEIRD”
“What if it’s a coworker?”
(Just FYI: His numbers unlisted, and I can’t find his last name.)
Inter-stalking is what led me to write this blog.
Well, everyone knows it’s easier to stalk someone via myspace then facebook. So I started up my myspace account, and after NOT finding emo-boy-now-known-as-tyler, I decided to actually start using myspace to help me in the future if I need to inter-stalk.
Is that weird?
Well, it’s 11PM now, I’ve gotten maybe eight hours of sleep the last two nights and I’m about to fall asleep. Next two me are the four bags I bought with me on my 3 day trip (pack light? That IS packing light.), the cover of a donut box, some wrappers from asian candy, my bus ticket, and several empty energy drink cans…I’ll pick it all up tomorrow. When I decided to get up.
Anyway here’s my first blog. Pray I keep with it.
So, who thinks I should call the-emo-boy-now-known-as-tyler?