No Ordinary Childhood

So, that was my backyard for the first seven years of my life. That’s right, I had redwoods in my backyard. I hail from Northern California which, in my opinion, is the prettiest part of the state. The first seven years of my life were spent in a California state park. To be more specific, Big Trees State Park was my first home. My father was even friends with Smokey the Bear. Most kids need to go to the zoo to see bears, but all I had to do was leave salmon out in my dumpster.

My surroundings taught me so much which made me into a very untypical upbringing. I could name at least thirty different kinds of trees and flowers by the time I was seven. I could recognize poison oak when I was three. I played with my Barbies on the front lawn and would have to run inside when I saw a bear peering out from the forest. I couldn’t fathom how people could live in a suburban setting with houses so close to each other. Campfire shows were my favorite and I knew which park employee put on the best show and sung the best songs. I could tell you the perfect way to roast a marshmallow and how many it took to make you sick. I went to a normal public school, but after my homework was done, I got to play in the woods.

We left that place and moved down the mountain about ten miles. So much new stuff happened in my life then. My dad got a new job as a corrections officer and I started a new school. I had to make new friends and get used to living in a new house.

Years went by and I still went back to Big Trees. I participated in summer programs until I was in middle school and still ran around the park like it was still my home. But, as the years went on, people changed. My dad’s former coworkers were moving onto bigger things. I no longer knew the entire staff. Instead of people knowing my name, I had to introduce myself. It was frustrating. They treated me like just another guest. Didn’t they know who I was? Didn’t they know that I spent more time here than they had?

I still make drives up to Big Trees. Though now I have to pay to gain entrance, it still feels like my home. It was the place where I met my best friend and learned to ride a bike. I even made my film debut there! Seriously folks, go buy the documentary on Big Trees at the visitor’s center. You’ll notice there’s a very blonde haired child playing with puppets and using a Native American drill thing. That’d be me. I’m famous.

The park holds so many memories. It hurts me now to think that it’s one of the California state parks that is in danger of being shut down.

I feel very fortunate to have the opportunity that I did. I gain a forever appreciation for nature and the simple beauties that it possess.

Now, aren’t you jealous that my first hometown was one of the most beautiful places on this earth? It’s okay if you are. I’d be too.

Sing Me a Song

Best friend, Firestick Fi, called my attention to this song last spring. She told me that a good guy friend of hers wanted to sing this to the girl he one day falls in love with. I recently stumbled upon this song and since then have played it 10 times in a row. Someone want to sing this to me? You really don't even have to love me.

It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp

I want to start out with an advisory:
I’m not making this shit up (I honestly don’t know how one can)
All of these quotes are not edited
My father really does love me, I swear

“The Po-Po is all up in the hizzle, fer shizzle!”

That, my friends, is how father announces his arrival from work.

He goes by Papa Gangsta Pete or sometimes he asks for us to call him “Diddy, just Diddy.” It’s how he signed my 16th birthday card.

Let me point out at this point that my father is also a fifty year old balding white male....
I’m not sure if he thinks that by being born in Sacramento he’s somehow “hood”

Everyday questions, statements and gestures are given unordinary responses:

Me: Hey Dad, do you know if Mom’s working right now?
Papa Gangsta Pete: My Biotch is downstairs doin’ her bizness.

Me: How was work?
PGP: I kicked it with my homies out on the yard.

Me: Barack Obama won!
PGP: Barack O’Bizzle is up in the White Hizzle!

If I give my dad a hug, I get mixed results:
“Don’t touch me, I have inmate juices on me!”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Don’t git all up in ma grill.”


I have fond memories of me running down the soccer field when I was seven and my father yelling out to me, “If you don’t make goal I’m going to rip your heart out and shove it down your throat while it’s still beating!” After I missed that goal, my father would then proceed to yell “I wanted a boy!”

Relax!


My father has never laid a hand on me which is why, he claims, that I never listen to him anymore. Oh, but you should have seen the looks the soccer moms gave each other. I’m sure they secretly contemplated calling CPS most nights. Speaking of wanting boys though; apparently I had a brother. He died tragically though. Actually, he died tragically many times. He fell off Half Dome, fatally ate a mysterious food, died from not wearing a helmet on his bike, etc. Any normal father would have told his children not to do something because it was dangerous. I, instead, got the “that’s how we lost your brother” phrase. Why aren’t there any photos of said brother? According to my dad “it was really hard on your mother so we had to destroy all of his possessions and photographs.” While, we’re on the subject, my father also claims to hate boys and that they are “the spawn of Satan.” Also if a boy was to ever touch me I would “get pregnant, contract aids, drop out of college, live in a trailer park, and die.”

I’ll constantly remind him that he didn’t have to have children. But, then I get, “Oh, I really didn’t want to. I was only out for a good time. You and your sister are just the bi-products of unprotected sex.” Then I retort with “Why did you keep me then?” He claims it was for the tax deduction.


Papa Gangsta Pete loves getting a reaction out of people. He’s that obnoxious person who stands in lines and makes jokes loud enough in hopes that other people will hear them. He’s notorious for laughing at his own jokes. When I sit the living room and read a book, he makes noises to amuse himself. His latest fetish is trying to touch my nose ring. I got it pierced my fifth week into college and didn’t bother telling him until Thanksgiving. He wants to know if I’m concerned about my breathing and if that’s why I felt the need to get a “third nostril.”

Family gatherings become a circus. When Skipper and Papa Gangsta Pete team up, there’s no mercy for anyone. Both of them have the same humor and can rally a cynical joke like no other. Not even Baby Dol and Secret LuLu stand a chance from sarcastic comments about how their parents are going to abandon them.


Now to the shock of many people, my sister and I have turned out quite normal. The Dol claims it was my mother’s good karma. In my personal opinion, there needs to be more people like my dad in the world. Maybe not exactly like him, but most things. You see, my father has a really positive outlook on life. He’s the one who’s inspired me to be carefree and not to take things in life so seriously. I know right, an honorary Crip member is inspirational? He’s taught me to joke around and we feed off each other’s energy. He’s an amazing person and an amazing dad.


If you still doubt the authenticity of this blog, please consult Polly, Skipper, or The Dol, I’m sure that they will confirm what I have just said. If you’re lucky, they’ll probably shell out some embarrassing stories about my youth.

So don’t be a playa hayta and keep it real.

This blog was cross-posted at: http://www.ifyoubelongedhere.com/

Love and Bollywood?

I’m a girl.
I like boys.
Let me say that differently: I love boys.

I love the way most of them smell.
I love the way they talk.
I love the way they smile.
I love how they try to outsmart other boys.
I love how they try so hard to impress you.
I love the way they hug.
I love how they kiss.
Oh, how I love boys....


But, do I want a boy?
Yes and no.
I might want one for awhile, but do I want the same one forever?
I still have no idea...

You see, I have this issue:
I don’t do commitment.
I can’t stand clingy people and I can’t stand being held back.
I almost view relationships as an extra job and I don't really feel like I want to work at one.

Why do I have this issue?:
It's not that I've ever been hurt and I could have easily had a boyfriend in high school if I really wanted to. It's just because I'm so darn indecisive and get bored easily. How do I know that I won’t be this way when it comes to marriage?

Speaking of marriage, this is how my wedding is going to go down:
-Short ceremony where I will don bare feet.
-Crazy amounts of calla lilies and hydrangeas.
-None of my bridesmaids dresses will look alike and they won’t be hideous.
-My dress will be simple yet extremely flattering
-Imagine a reception with bollywood dancing.

Lots and lots of dancing.


You know the end scene of Slumdog Millionaire?
Yeah, that’ll be my wedding just without the slums and probably the million dollars.

-I will rock out when Electric Feel by MGMT is blared and hold my husband close as Green Eyes by Coldplay plays.
-Then, for your entertainment, I’ll rap Atmosphere.
-Finally, unlimited champagne and a five tiered vanilla wedding cake.

See how easy that was for me to spell out?
It’s obvious that I’ve put some thought into it.....

The idea of loving someone forever still sounds wonderful, but I’m not sure that I have it in me. I’ve never fallen in love. I’m really afraid to. There’s never been a moment where I’ve not been in control of my life. People tell me that I need to let go when I think that I’ve found the right person. Also, considering my lack of dating experience, I don’t think that I want to marry the first one that I fall in love with. I fear that then I’ll be missing out on something. I fear that maybe I’ll never get to do the things that I wanted to do. Maybe I won’t be missing out, who knows.

Seriously though, marriage is a big deal. My parents have done it for 22 years and, as gross as I find it, they still express to each other how much they love each other. Marriage is legally binding and seems like way too much of a contract for me to ever handle. Like to even get out of it you have to sign more contracts.

I want to experience love and a family, but do I really need marriage for that?

This post was cross-posted at: http://www.ifyoubelongedhere.com/

First Impression

There are certain things about people that instantly make them cool in my book.
Those first impressions are pretty important.
So, things that will make you a pretty awesome person to me:
(Give yourself a point for each one)

1. Owning a Mac
2. Being born in November (i don't think i've ever met a person i didn't like that was born in november)
3. Being liberal
4. Traveled far away
5. Can play guitar or piano
6. Claim green as your favorite color
7. Can argue
8. Can speak another language fluently
9. Can ride a unicycle
10. Reading

I'll add to it eventually.

odyssey

530 wake up call.
6 am check out.

vampire weekend?
x3 please.

dear los angeles,
your traffic sucks.
go play in it.

i wanted to lay down in the bed of wildflowers.
too bad it was located between the 99.

leaky gas station roof.
thank you attendant for making sure it missed my car.

windshield became a graveyard for insects.
the birds were spared.

BREAK

keep trucking up north.
humboldting.
best friend and high school friends.

then lets go back down, down, down.
down to mountain home.
down to slo town.
down to san marcos home.


back in skull county, for only a moment.
i love spring break :)

Man, I Love College

No, I really do.
Just lately it all seems like too much.

I'm not good at making life changing decisions.
This past weekend I did some soul searching.
I think that I want to pursue a double major with Mass Media and Political Science.
Or at least Mass Media with a minor in Political Science.
Maybe minor in French.
The idea of broadcasting and journalism intrigues me.
I also want to join the Peace Corps for two years.
I don't care where they stick me, as long as I get to do something constructive.
I want to go big in life.
Sometimes simplicity bores me.

This all dawned on me this weekend along with my endless piles of homework.
I also realized how much I have changed in the past year.

I'm not as uptight as I used to be.
I don't judge people anymore.
I've realized my stance on important issues.
I can do things on my own.
I actually enjoy an 8 hour drive.
I'm actually a smart person.
I'm happy being single.

With only a few days left until break, lets home I can keep myself sane enough to finish this work.

Never Will I Say "Because I Said So"

i often think about how i want to raise my future children noah, leif, chelsea dagger, charlie danger, fern, jayne, and sebastian. i also tell myself that i want to do the exact opposite of what my parents did.

now, i'm going to give them some credit because i think that i turned out pretty decent and that i have wonderful parents.
i mean i did make it through high school without getting pregnant, driving drunk, flunking out, OD'ing from heroin, and worshipping satan. i also made it into a very decent college.

however, i look back at it and realized that i figured out a lot of things on my own. i've always credited myself with having strong pair of morals and ethics. additionally, my perception from right and wrong are very keen.

i never had the "birds and the bees talk."
a lot of what i learned was through school, girlfriends, and cosmopolitan. (yes, i read cosmo when i was 13 and i thought it was really risque and that i was a rebel for doing so)
though i was extremely uncomfortable about the topic with my parents, i look back at it and wished that it happened. i think that they were just as uncomfortable about talking about it as i was.

i know that if i ever got pregnant right now, i wouldn't tell my parents. i would get an abortion and never speak of it with them. i know that they would forgive my reckless decision, but in the back of their minds they'd never think of me the same.
i hate disappointing people and my possessing my parents' trust is something that i hold dear to me.


but i don't want to be like that with my kids.
i don't care if they don't think of me as their best friend, i just want them to trust me.
i want them to know that it's okay to mess up and that i won't trust or love you any less if you make a mistake.

i want my kids to get in small types of trouble.
i want my kids to join whatever club they want.
i want my kids to have plans every weekend.
i want my kids to succeed.
i want my kids to love life.

i feel like i was too cautious as a young kid.
i wish that i was more reckless and more daring.
i don't want to deprive my future kids of that.

Eenie Meenie Minie Mo?

Gruesome, right?

A lovely friend of mine happen to post a link very similar to that on my facebook.

http://dontclickthis.whatingods.name.nyud.net/murder-bears.jpg?ref=red

That lovely friend also knew that I happen to advocate for the saving of polar bears.
He also knows that I harbor a soft spot for cute creatures (i.e seals, kitties, baby pandas)
The photo completely contradicted my beliefs.
It made me realize that I am a walking contradiction.

I hate when pedestrians walk in front of my car like they own the place when I'm driving in a parking lot.
However, I do it all the time.

I push for peace.
Yet, I find the concepts of war interesting.

I would love to be someone's wife.
Oddly, the idea of committing myself to one person forever terrifies me.

I protest Wal*Mart.
Sadly, half of the things I own come from China.

It's not that I think that I'm a bad person for this planet- that'd be a lie.
I mean not the brag, but I do go out of my way to make sure my carbon footprint is minimal.

I have reusable grocery bags.
I drive a fuel efficient car.
I try to do my laundry at night.
I constantly turn off lights around my apartment.

All that makes me good, right?

What I'm getting at is that I'm incredibly indecisive and still have no idea what the hell I want from life.

I don't know what I want to do as a career, yet I know that I need a job to survive this world.
I have 3 1/2 years before I graduate.....
If I had my way, I'd just bum around and travel. You know, chill in Bali, improve my French in Switzerland....
Mags said that it worked out for Jack Kerouac.
However, I don't believe that I'm creative enought to write poetry or brave enough to do LSD in order to be the modern version of him.

Help me please?
What should I be?
What am I even really good at?

In the end, there is one thing that I do want: Happiness.
I think that I'm pretty good at doing that.

Cafeteria Catholic

Before I begin, let me clarify a few things.

I am not Catholic.
My father was raised that way, but I was never dunked in water or ate crackers given to me by a priest.

I don't believe that I can fully classify myself as a Christian because I don't believe that a man built an arc to rescue all the world's creatures from a flood. If that's the case though, tell me what happened to the unicorns or those dinosaurs!!!! Seriously the world could have used a mythical creature like the unicorn to brighten up the lives of it's inhabitants.

As Polly Poppins puts it, "ENFP's do things the way that they want to. It may not make sense to others, but it sure does to them."

I am participating in Lent. But by no means am I Catholic. I looked at Lent as more a stamina builder. If I could go 40 days without candy and Starbucks, I could do anything. However, being ENFP, I made some modifications. As I am not allowed to have candy until Easter, baked goods are perfectly fine. I mean I don't consume them on a daily basis anyways. Some might classify ice cream as candy. I say "nay." My best friend is a Christian and she reminded me that Lent is practiced more so as a sacrifice to God then an excuse to start eating healthy. But honestly, I don't think that I'm being selfish. I drink those Starbucks Fraps without an once of guilt. It was high time that I try to kick the habit.

Only 34 more days to go......

Weekly Tunage

"Graveyard Girl"- M83

The opening slightly reminds me of The Cranberries' "Dreams"

The Jungle

No I don't want your free study bible, but thanks for asking for the 9th time today.....

Maneuvering  my way through my college campus during passing period has become somewhat of a skill.  I'll also have you know that it's a jungle out there.  I now know trails that bypass the most hell stairs and shortcuts that allow me to sleep in a few minutes longer.  Soliciting doesn't bother me too much, it's just when people are just so god damn persistent about it.  The Free Study Bible people are the worse.  Seriously, they're like hyenas.  They travel in packs and constantly yelp at you.  They like walk in front you and make sure that you can't miss them.  I try to pretend like they don't exist, but pieces of fluttering paper in your face is kind of hard to ignore.  Sometimes I purposely start texting people as I enter the pit where they all dwell.  Also, there's like eight of them set loose at one time so it's nearly impossible to get to class without being pounced on.   Those Greenpeace people and frat boys aren't too bad.  Usually they're quite pleasant and don't try to suck you in.  Actually, I lied- Greenpeace sucked me in a little bit.  It was those pictures of polar pears on melting ice caps that got me.  I rate the Free Bible People up there with our College Republicans and the gypsies that I encountered in Paris on being on the same level of annoyance.  Nothing is wrong with being a Republican as I have some very best friends who are.  However, the one's on my campus would yell out asking why I was voting democratic implying that I was dumb.  I am a Democrat, but I will not try to convert you to be one so please don't try and convert me.   If you're going to try, a suggestion would be to learn to correct spelling of "Barak" Obama.  

Opening the Box

I can't say that I've ever been one to write out my thoughts or my feelings.  I tried the whole journal thing thing when I was ten, but even then I didn't write what I completely wanted to say for the fear that my deepest darkest secrets would be exposed.  Seriously, when people found out who you were crushing on, it was one of the most devastating things that could happen to a ten year old.  Well, maybe it was just me but I thought the whole purpose of having a crush was never letting the crushee find out.  Also let's be frank- I am probably one of the least emotional girls that I know.  I can't find a deeper meaning in poetry and the only movie that I have ever cried in was Jen Aniston's dog flick, Marley and Me.  I frowned upon high school relationships and avoided them at all cost.  Even in college the idea of being in a "committed relationship" scares the shit out of me.  Hell, I sometimes think that I'll never be able to get married because I fear that I'll be bored of the person within a few years.   So why the hell am I spilling guts over a site that the entire world can access?  It's simple:  I really don't give a fuck anymore and it's on The List.