it’s been too long without some angst

i want love to love me back
i want two way conversations
i want love to love me back
one that can handle any situation
i want love to love me back

I adore Mandy Moore. And I just feel like echoing that sentiment today. Leaving choir today, some off-hand comment led to me saying, “Boys don’t like me,” which is generally true, to which Catherine replied, “Oh, they do,” to which I replied, “No, they use me and abuse me,” which is largely true as well, so Catherine said, “But they like you for that,” and then I said, “I’m just a toy for boys.”

A wholly uninteresting story, I know.

I don’t quite adore school this semester, though that’s mostly because I’ve gotten used to not having to do work, and this semester is going to be nothing but reading, researching, or going to work. Once again, I have three jobs. I’m crazy, and I can’t quite figure out why, except that I seem to hate free time. I don’t know where I’ll find time to write or read books, but I’m trying. I also want to finish some songs and make recordings, at least Garage Band-y ones, so that I can feel good about that. It should get easier since I’ll be taking piano lessons again (!).

Now, if the weather could just cool off and if I could stop having morning asthma attacks while I bike…

(New playlist up!)

oh, summer

New playlist up. The theme is obvious, but that doesn’t make the occasion for it any less wonderful.

there must be someplace here

I am my own worst enemy. I am that because I am my own worst student, which is the number one reason why I cannot be a teacher like everyone else in my family. Who am I to tell people what to do if I can’t tell it to myself? How do you tell yourself, “Do as I say and not as I do?”

I had this vague idea for a short story for awhile and then today during my lecture on recording contracts I began writing it. I’ve already revised a bit, I have a pretty clear picture of the world it takes place in, and I actually have a somewhat complete plot arc, when usually I rely on characters and a couple distinct scenes to get me writing and just hope for the best. I have a free night tonight and a nice, easy day tomorrow with my nice, easy new job, a fairly nice and easy Spanish essay to write, and hopefully nice and easy sight singing to learn for my singing test Thursday. It’s a night for writing, and it’s been so long since I’ve been stress-free(-ish), headache-free, and health problem-free. I have candles lit and two of them smell delicious, I have my late night writing playlist, “eine kleine nachtmusik,” going through my fake vintage radio that is actually an iPod dock, and I’m ready to go. I want to be writing. I am writing.

But I’ve lost the thing in me that used to make me write for hours on end. And I’ve gained something new since I was 12. This Mac has the Internet. I have stuff I want to say. Right now, as I write this, I’ve run out of the bloggy inspiration I had for a moment and I want to go back to the story, where the next line of dialogue has been running through my head for at least five minutes. But I feel absolutely compelled to waste time, procrastinate, and not create. I’ve become a writer who doesn’t like writing. Or something. I hate my generation. I hate multi-tasking and lack of an attention span.

But this story. I think it may be a good one.

I’m going to go write that line of dialogue, and then I’m going to waste more time updating the playlist section, since I didn’t have a March one at all. Fail. Then maybe I’ll get back to doing that thing I always talk about doing.

lovers

February playlist up. Guess what the theme is.

so this is the new year

Sipping licorice tea, listening to the soundtrack to “Cadillac Records,” revising my “resolutions.” New playlist up.

añoro

New playlist up for October.