gravity-burst.

pen pals.

mommy dearest is legit friends with her childhood pen pal. nearly a 50 year friendship. from my grubbing on gerber days til this day i receive presents from her and her husband (usually books, and usually very good).

she’s a little ahead of my mom technology-wise and has fully upgraded to being proficient with e-mail (while i still struggle to assist her with microsoft word) but they still send cards and letters back and forth. when i was in 5th grade, her daughter got married. my ma and i attended the wedding.

i like thinking about the stories that emerged in those 50 years. what type of things they must have shared. one suburban virgina girl with one rural philippine living girl. not status updates, not tweets, not phone conversations. just raw storytelling. even to the most similar modern equivalent of a pen pal, i doubt it touches that. 

seeing this growing up, i think i’ll always find an intrigue in relating/storysharing with strangers.

heck, i was so eager to have a pen pal at such an early age i had these care bears “stamps” (which were really stickers that looked like stamps) before i even understood the concept that stamps had to be bought, but my grandpa let me put them in the mailbox anyway because he thought it was cute. i ditched diary writing early, discovered internet forums and “blogging”, and probably spent an unhealthy amount of time on 56k connection while important calls never got through. young, naive, and looking for a different story i guess.

thinking of sporting a much more muted russell westbrook look with this zodiac blouse. thoughts?

i close my eyes to dream…

and maybe i can run beyond what my esteem can see. (via lyve)

deconstructing the rationale of ‘selling out’.

worst argument in music. yes, i still believe in music, in its art form, in its appreciation, in how it resonates in a human being. but the reality is, not everyone is on the same boat. it’s not that i don’t think that that’s a pathetic way to listen to music, but the truth is not everyone is goo goo ga ga over every music detail.

i would love others to react the way i do toward music, although it’s not my job to impose that. and calling anyone a ‘sell out’ is the easiest, ill-conceived scheme to put a music argument in your favor, as if simply saying it requires no back up. it garners a quick emotional, nostalgia is the only way to exist end all be all response. and this statement is coming from one of the most nostalgia-driven creatures on earth, yours truly.

have you read any “he’s a sell out” “she’s a sell out” “they’re sell outs” type arguments? these pieces are rarely followed with specified reasoning and rather, filled with ambiguous scrutiny. details are equivalent to the fulfillment of drinking skim milk. that, and the explanations are short-lived. actions leading to the point of ‘sell out’ labeling is much more varied in comparison but produces similar reverberation. give me subtext, give me access to discourse, let’s hit a turnpike for cryin’ out loud. i think this is shitbag music, you don’t, let’s conversate.

i love music in a with all my heart, dig into my bones way but i’m also fully aware of the grind… looking for money where money isn’t. attention and recognition can also be interchanged with money.

which remains a non priority for some, but it’s a reality of the industry. how quickly will you run to fame and fortune if it’s handed to you on a silver platter? this is the exact reason i’ve never given nicki minaj shit. not a fan, but i’ll get down with some hooks. to her credit though, she doesn’t claim to be hip-hop and clearly lines out her lack of support pre-barbie when she did ”keep it real” and instead chose to chase where the money’s at.

jay-z has voiced similar sentiments.

artists don’t get the support and y’all getting mad when they make a change to get support?

the zipper narrative.

zippers are tedious.
zippers get stuck.
zippers take time.
zippers break.
zippers separate.
zippers can’t handle wear & tear.
zippers aren’t magnets, buttons, or ties.
zippers ruin perfectly perfect things like this.

if macgyver

could put a rest to my everyday self-doubt issues and angry mornings with his can-do spirt, household chemical proficiency, and swiss army knife voodoo still standing by his deprived of the involuntary violent urges beliefs… in advance, i fucking applaud that man. he’ll have a literal hell of a time, but i’ll applaud him. and buy him a shot.

need to cut the habit of writing with superlatives.

and speaking with excessive “like”s.

haiku for 04/22/12.

string meditation
roam karma’s cello aguas
and interval thieves.

when you watch shit like selling new york.

i’m pretty certain that lifestyle’s beyond a lot of us so i watch for kicks. i’m also a house hunters watching hustler, the possibly more within-reach type of viewing pleasure but still heavy with WHAT THE HELL DO YOU DO FOR A LIVING AND WHAT DO YOU HAVE YOUR INVESTMENTS IN kinda wonder.

that’s how they should start the show. ayo, this guy? this is what he does day to day.

in this time i think, we tell kids be what you want to be and dreams will come true if you do this and that and the money doesn’t matter and all that lofty fluff. it’s true in certain respects, but not for the not-so model majority. this isn’t more money more problems. i think we could all use a couple more benjamin franklins to pay off bills or just live fucking comfortably. forget the materialistic connotation of the following but maybe the thing to do is to instead show youngens this is what you need to do to get that. maybe blunt and vague is key.

tried to sit and drink eying this one teenage love affair

across from us without cracking up. this moment made into a movie would have ‘she’s playing hard to get’ by hi-five swell in the background. complete with cheesy dance moves, geometric vests, and keyboard adornment.

tacos aren’t the same without you, but we’re still planning a taco crawl in your honor.

advice for the nervous (help me!).

i’m awkward in person, plain and simple. i honestly believe this is the reason above all else why i haven’t landed said big girl job with a real salary dinero and that my friends stay friends with me 1) to make fun of my awkward 2) for connects or because i’m their personal chicago magazine 3) in order to swindle music 4) by default, on several levels… either option, i say, overshadows all the weird so they accrue some sort of “hey, she’s really cool at heart” goggles. (only 1/2 kidding)

formal interviews are the worst, on the receiving end, but even more on the giving end. i especially hate video recordings because they are tangible evidence of any incompetences. for work i’ve been pretty lucky to get away with writing/conducting interviews in a leisurely fashion. i’m still awkward during them, however it’s easier to prepare when there are no set guidelines and i can speak in a way i’d have a normal convo with a friend, except about food and some pr fluff. anything else, i clam up.

i hate formal — wish we could do away with it. let’s do ripped jeans and tossed hair and snapbacks or something, sipping beers instead of sitting uncomfortably with notes and fake pleasantries. god, i really reeeeaally hate formal.

boss man is convinced i’ll be fine considering he scheduled this heart attack waiting to happen, but i am aware of my limitations and can predict a robin scherbatsky “but um” type game to come from the raw video. sometimes i feel it’s about time to invest in a few self help guides, ones that scream “how to not forget what to say when you’re nervous as shit!” and maybe that 100 ways to boost your self-confidence crap, too.

bottom line: this interview is in 14 hours (2 hours after the retail job 9-2 shift), with a fairly big-name chef, and shit’s gonna get recorded when i already voiced that i don’t think that it’s a good idea and we’re still going with it anyway. here’s to hoping i survive. chica needs attention/pointers/words of encouragement, puh-leaze!

(and dude, what do i wear to these things!!!!!?)