ineedhobbie

Why do most hobbies cost money? Why can't the world we live in reward our creativity by making fun things free? Painting, photography, crocheting, and even make-up all cost money. I think the one hobby that I have access to, and is also free is writing. The Art of WORDS. But I think I am real shit at it. Even if I write on and on and into infinity I will eternally be shit. So the cheapest and I guess easiest hobby that probably won't make me feel good about myself is the Art of WORDS. I will surely get my moneys worth, $0. What can I possibly put into words that is as beautiful and thought provoking as a picture or a yarn mitten? It's not like there's an Etsy for nice words. So what am I to do? I have that creative writing minor so I should really just go for it. Inhale. Exhale. Words.

eenie meenie miney mo

i once punched an ugly ho

she was fat and cheap as shit

i shoved her face into a pit

she spat out dirt and turned to me

"you're a shit writer, cant you see?"

I know fictional ho, I know...

the motivation to move on

If I try to look back at my past relationships and flings like the big events that they were and bring them to the now, they are blurry. They are globs of wet paint poured out on to a canvas, mixed and muddled. There is no timeline, no beginning and end. The brights stand out as much as the darks. There is the color obsession mixed in with the color love. The color agony mixed in with the color laughter. Shame and purity. Some minuscule colors escape to their own private corners of the canvas and are very clear and vivid and I remember them well. But I cherish the whole painting because I can call it my own.

Blergy blerg

According to my last entry date it has been SIX YEARS since I've written anything here. Holy shit... the entries angsty teens write! Had to delete some of that. Embarrassing right? Well, I'm not too ashamed. We've all felt something, come from somewhere, been hurt by someone. But on to new shtuff. Grown up me is going to start to do things. Different things. Last we spoke I was barely in college. A tadpole if you will. A tadpole in a shit swamp of malt liquor, indica, infidelity, an identity crisis, and piles of books.. almost as big as the pile of debt I have now acquired. But back to my aquatic metaphor.. This tadpole is now finally a graduate; A graduate toad HA! As of May 2012, I now have a Bachelor of Arts in more or less words, film. An intimidating and creatively challenging art form that I still do not feel cut out for (puns puns puns). But I remember how it made me feel to finish a project. That feeling has stayed with me. It's weighed me down.. in a healthy way. So now I move on to mini projects. Whether it be poems, photos, finger-painting, or shitty rants, I'm keeping busy. So let's dance, people. Life is happening!

Runnin the Distance

I know.. lame title..
considering I wrote almost half the paper the morning it was due, and the fact that I was the only one in the class who recieved a 50/50.. I think I did okay. :)

Running the Distance

She ran past the two girls in front of her, increasing her speed little by little. Her breath came continuously, in a very distinct pattern. Her eyes either kept to the ground or out straight in front of her, but never wandered. She concentrated on the amount of space she took when taking one step ahead of herself. Even though she felt the weight of exhaustion taking her down, nothing was going to keep her from winning this race. She was too strong. She held her head straight but felt the strain in her throat and she gagged; she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She could feel the two runners gaining on her. She sped up, eyes on the big yellow sign that said “Finish”. With pain filling up every area of her body, and tears welling up in her eyes, she crossed that finish line in first place and never looked back.
I remember watching her run at practice. She had such determination and drive. No one dared get in the way. I often wondered what must be going through her mind when she ran. She wasn’t the greatest runner, you know. She joined the cross country team a little late in the season and had to catch up pretty quick. She developed a pretty nice pace after a few weeks. I never once heard her complain about anything. She always seemed ready to run and never once second guessed any of the coaches. Deep down, I admired her. I wasn’t one of the greatest team members. I had my bad days where I would complain and get mad at the coaches and end up cutting the work out short. But this chick always seemed to want more than what was given to her and I respected that. She was very encouraging and brought a light on to our team that made everyone closer to each other. We felt united and as one. I envied the kind of personality she had. It made me want to be a better person. Even though she was no Olympic runner, she had the heart of one and that was something I strived to have.
In most of our lives we see people we often want to be like or envy for one reason or another. And often, that person has made a difference in our life whether it is their dedication to something or just the fact that they’re the sweetest person you’ve ever met. There is something about these kinds of people that make us feel a little bad about who we are but at the same time make us want to better ourselves. It’s like when you see their face, the world never seemed so happy and care free. If we had more people like that here, think how nice of an environment we’d live in. That kind of attitude would be contagious.
It’s an endeavor, you know? Wanting to be a better person. Maybe that girl on the cross country team had never thought that she’d impact someone’s life by just being.. being herself. She did make a difference. Maybe when I see her again I can tell her.

The Virgin Suicides

I'm working on finishing the book.. but the trailer for the movie looked really good so I'm going to watch it now.. right now. (bought it off amazon)


..then I'll blog about what I thought of it. I hate to ruin books but other than reading, watching indie films is another passion of mine.. so kill me for selling out. I'll finish the book!

For a first time author, this guy did pretty well.. the imagery and metaphors he uses are brilliant. A good amount of it is explicit, but nonetheless, unusually remarkable. The story is told through one of the five young men obsessed with the sisters. The part I am quoting is narrator, Tim, describing the homecoming dance he went to with his friends and the girls.

“They were flushed by the time they got to us, damp under the arms and giving off heat from their necklines. We held their sweaty palms, turning them under the mirrored ball. We lost them in the vastness of their dresses and found them again, squeezed the pulp of their bodies and inhaled the perfume of their exertion. A few of us grew brave enough to insert our legs between theirs and to press our agony against them. In the dresses the Lisbon girls looked identical again, as they flowed from hand to hand, smiling, saying thank you, thank you…”

oooo.. fun facts :O

Did you know?

1. One third of our lives are spent sleeping.

2. In your lifetime you will spend about six years of it dreaming. That is more than 2100 days spent in a different world.

3. Everybody dreams. Just because you don’t remember your dreams it does not mean that you didn’t dream

4. We dream an average of one or two hours every night and we often have four to seven dreams in one night
5. Five minutes after the end of a dream, half the content is forgotten. After ten minutes, 99 per cent is lost.

6. If you are snoring then you cannot be dreaming

7. The word dream stems from the middle English word, ‘dreme’ which means joy and music

8. Men tend to dream more about other men, while women dream equally about men and women

9. Dreamers who are awakened right after REM sleep are able to recall their dreams more vividly than those who slept through the night.

10. Research has shown that during REM sleep men experience erections and women experience vaginal blood flow no matter what the content of the dream. In fact, ‘wet dreams’ may not coincide with overtly sexual content.

11. People who give up smoking have longer and more intense dreams

12. Toddlers do not dream about themselves. They don’t appear in their own dreams until the age of three or four

I had a dream that I was running away from someone who was trying to kidnap me.. and here is how it was interpreted:


A running dream is basically a dream of escaping a certain situation, person, or thing. If you succeed in running away from, or elude a pursuer, then you will be able to change those things in your life that has you 'on the run'. If you dream of the desire to run but cannot get your feet to obey it shows a lack of self confidence and perseverance on your part. Try sticking to your guns and see how much your life will change.

abducted - You are being controlled by circumstances or another's will.

Kidnapped - If you dream of being kidnapped or abducted, you are being controlled by your circumstances or by someone in real life.

Running - Something in the dreamer's life is difficult to face, and the dreamer would rather run away from it than face it. If such a situation is not readily recognized by the dreamer, looking to the other symbols in the dream should give the answer.

It's a world full of cynics
Who say to stay alive in it
You gotta stick with what you know
But the soul is always aching
For the heart to start taking
A chance by letting go

So let go
Let go
Sometimes the hardest thing to believe is the truth
Attempt to place our lives into your hands
Confide in what you'll do
Cause sometimes when you're trying to sleep
And all your doubts and your faith don't agree its cause
Sometimes the hardest thing to believe is the truth