I am my mother's daughter.

I learned that my father bares an uncanny resemblance to Nathan Followill when he was twenty-some odd years...... Glasses, beard, and all.

Not sure how to take this.




I also write my mother that I am busy and yada yada yada. She interprets that as I must need more underwear. I got my box of panties yesterday. I now have 7 reasons why I don't have to do laundry.





Hang me up to dry
The rain's wet outside.

Green Moon

I went to the Mobile Gas station, the one on Colman Street back in my hometown, to fill up my bicycle.

I go inside to prepay and to my dismay, there was nothing there. I look to my left and freeze. No attendant. No other customers. No unnecessarily overwhelming choices of gum*. That's when I really started to think something was up. I whip my head dramatically to the right. No rows of Smart food popcorn and other things that aren't too smart for you. No Doritos or Cheetos or Frito's.... Yes, the whole Eeetos family had been wiped clean!

I run outside. My heart was pounding. I put my hands on my knees as I pant to catch my breath. Opening a door and leaping four steps takes a lot out of you in dreams, I guess. If only I had filled it up sooner like my dad had told me to. A man is filling his truck up next to me. He looked a lot like Christopher Lloyd (just the taxi years), stonewashed jacket and all....Actually maybe it was Christoper Lloyd. Naaaah, whom I kiddin'? My dreams aren't that cool. Although one time I did have a dream about Izzy Stradlin, but that's a whole another genre-I mean story.

He doesn't stop starring at me as I hear him shout out, "Hey! Make fists with the socks." Make fists with the socks!! What does that even mean? I couldn't analyze the foreshadowing, if any, quick enough. I turn to run. Don't look back. Isn't that the number one rule when you're being chased? Or in a Twilight Zone episode, at least? An outspread section of the days newspaper danced by as the wind picked up. Yes. That really happened. I take a drawn out sigh and turn around. The waffle iron is all in place. Ready and waiting for me. Perfect. I place my blank CD on top and close the lid. It sizzled a little. That's how I knew it was done burning the song files. Yeah I never did get why its called burning to a disk either.

My back pocket's ringing. "Hello?" I made sure to pose that hello? as if it were a rhetorical question. Even in my dreams I manage to do things for no other purpose except with intent to gain bragging rights.... Kinda like the same way I feel about people who don't own a TV. They just don't own one so they can tell their friends who have TV's, that they don't own a TV. They miss Brian Williams, they just won't admit it.....I hung up. It was only going to get awkward.

I walk away from my iron because I am in my kitchen now. It's the old one with the rooster wall paper and orange tiles for flooring. My dream actually nailed that description pretty accurately, unfortunately. It didn't surprise me though because when I'm up at school and I'm trying to remember my home, I picture my old one, not my new one. I think I do that on purpose. It's strangely comforting. But comforting in the way musicians can have an obscure voice that you're distracted by it at first, then once familiar, becomes distinctly warm and charming, to the point where it sounds like you're listening to a photograph. Clearly my dreams fear change. They are also quite the egocentric, hubris monster. For once, I'd like to play second fiddle in my dreams.

Then I trip over the cactus lying in the middle of the hallway that had fallen over during the night... I wonder, if a cactus falls in the middle of a hallway, does anybody hear it? Needless to say, most anti-climatic fall ever! It's a dream. Couldn't I have at least tumbled over and splat on my face with my feet spilling up in the air, bent over my head when I screeched to an abrupt halt, like in a cartoon? Sometimes I wish I was in a cartoon. They are just so powerful how they can get away with anything and still be delightful. You would escape the mundane, while at the same time, be able to make such big statements and not be questioned at all. Plus I'd get to have an alter ego named Quailman, be freakishly blue, and never, ever forget my towel.

Completely ignoring the cactus, I make it where my parents bedroom would be in a hop, skip, and jump. Alright that was a lie. It was more like two hops and a leap. I turn the corner, and I was in my philosophy discussion class, only it had our bed room's carpet so I just accepted it. The scenes were just blending together like an MC Escher painting. I'm sorry, was I now in an i pod commercial? And cue indie artist about to run dry. But then music really did happen. Very faint at first but oddly familiar. I turn to my only friend in the discussion and ask why I wasn't aware of class today, as if it wasn't scheduled to happen. He didn't respond. Then he says to no one in particular, "My name is Jonas." He sang it just like Rivers Cuomo did too. Then I just hear, "I'm carrying the wheel." I couldn't hear anything in my life anymore except for the music. I found that funny because that song is my alarm. The TA who was there the whole time but I didn't see until now, went along with the discussion like usual. I had no clue what was going on and my frustration from lack of existence was growing exponentially. But it's okay, for I was gettin messed up on the music....

It's fun to think our dreams have a purpose. That they are trying to tell us something. I'm gonna leave this one untouched and walk away with one indisputable conclusion:

I need to change that alarm.

The weird part is, my snooze was only for 5 minutes.

Dreams are like moments on stage. What feels like hours, is really only a matter of minutes. You get to be betrayed by your senses. And still, they make you feel like you have everything AND nothing to loose.






* If it helps, do not buy Dentyne Blast Cool Lime gum, unless you'd like your mouth to taste like Pine sol.

Never say never to always

My second grade teacher shared with us this photo, explaining she was a refugee from Afghanistan. All I remember thinking is that place sounds like my blanket.

Isn't it strange how we remember the most insignificant events for no reason at all? Is it just random neurons misfiring in the brain? Could be. But I like to hope there's a purpose behind the irrelevant.

It's just a flash from the past. It holds no weight in my current life. I took away only select memories of my year in the second grade and I rarely revert back to them. So why was this kept and not discarded after years of being dormant? Why now? This image pulled me back to a place in time the way a song fools you to think you're still living an old life.

So much has changed since I was a little kid. Days have gotten shorter and my town has gotten smaller....... Also mushrooms and carrots have gotten tastier. SNL has gotten worse but Led Zeppelin reunited! Pants are still stuck in the 80's though and the Cyrus family is still making music that no one cares about.

I have 6 months left until I am no longer a teenager. But by my standard, I will be turning twenteen. I still have a lot of looking forward to do before I have more looking behind. I think the worst part about growing is realizing you are not unique. It's when these bats of perception come summoned to me that I just want to relive one day of my childhood. Anyday. Anyplace. I don't know much but I like to think know just enough. Just enough to see the importance of always keeping that kid inside alive.


Always.


So go ahead. Wear you pj's inside out and backwards to bed in hopes of too much snow to for anything the next day. Eat your frosty before your fries. Play padiddle the way it was meant to be played. Put up those whitty away messages on AIM about your day's events. And love, LOVE Blink 182 shamelessly. What is that they sing? Oh yes, "I never want to act my age again."




Since I passed second grade I've learned the story of Sharbat Gula. Two wars and three children later, she has the same eyes but different lives. I purposely strayed from an easily tangible political message provoked by this image. I don't want to remind how we are different when we are all human. And as humans worlds away the same thing that has been there to take care of her is here for me.


Time.

I'm sorry I'm late, I got lost in time

To be frank, I've stopped wearing bras.

I surely must be doing so because I want to break free.

But let's be curt, I simply don't have the time.



I'm so busy, I don't even know myself anymore.

The Red Head Said Your Fever's Yellow

I know you're out there somewhere.....

What is that song that starts off the same way as Hash Pipe and its not the batman theme song.
For months on end I've been loosing sleep over this.
If you know it......... DON'T DENY ME IT!
please?



Around my dorm is scattered different goofy faces made by Patrick Swayze in Ghost with unrelated thought bubbles attached......
If you didn't have a reason to come visit my room, well now you do.
Doors always open...... FIND THEM ALL!
i double dog dare yar



So I learned when you have to say a little someting about yourself, there are better ways than others.
Hi, I'm Mandy. umm I go to uconn. YOU'RE WELCOME STORRS, CONNECTICUT!



This happened a wee bit ago but it came up in a recent conversation, igniting my memory...... and I just can't keep this to myself:
My dad arrested Big Bird.