backyard crowing


a writer yet

i've gone bonkers not listening to music for so long. i just think that out of respect for both leila and her grandfather, i shouldn't play anything. i've never had anyone so close to me pass away yet, so i don't know how she would feel about turning on the stereo. it's as if all means of pleasure (or my pleasure, at least) should be neglected in place of a pursuit of greater understanding. why did he kill himself?

i walked around campus today with my headphones on, contemplating my own funeral. i thought to myself, "surely i would want a happy funeral. one where everyone could dance and remember the joyousness of my life, the great love i had for music and writing and travel." surely.

but what good is that if your relatives would bawl through the whole thing? when i hear the disco hit "shining star", the last thing i think about is people crying their eyes out. and yet that is what i would want for these people; sans tears, of course. what good is making your family unhappy with you even when you're six feet under? well, or in an anatomy laboratory. i want my body to go to science. then perhaps i'll be able to look down at medical students (or even mere physical anthropology students, like myself!) and smile as they learn where the zygomatic arch is located. i love that word, "zygomatic," probably because it makes me sound intelligent.

and then i had another revelation: what if in my will i forbade anyone from wearing black or grey to my funeral? sounds like a plan! oh, and i'm not wearing a white wedding dress, either. my bridesmaids will wear whatever color and style they look stunning in. if i have a myriad of friends, why not let their true colors show? they're a rainbow, so they should dress likewise/accordingly. and as for wedding pictures, who cares if we don't match? with so much beauty in one frame, who would care?


my recent thought about myspace:

ever met anybody who's NOT in your extended network? neither have i.

if you don't think that's funny, then you might also think (like my dad) that this isn't funny, either:

"Does Cinco de Mayo always fall on May 5th?"

Yes. Yes it does.


a girl on xanga commented on one of my entries, asking "so, journalism? is that really what you want to do with your life?" my response:

yup, methinks this is it, the last time ima change my major. my mother has had enough of all my fickleness! and i think this is it for me, the right place. i feel like no matter what, i need to write, and being a journalist means getting paid to write. i figure it's a better option than waitressing while working on my great american novel! at least this way i'll have some practice, and some crazy real life stories to get inspiration from.

choosing a major is like getting married. you need to date several different prospects before you settle on one, because you may spend (and one typically hopes, in the case of marriage) your entire life with that person. so take your time and choose wisely.

"It is our choices that affect who we are, far more than our abilities."
- Albus Dumbledore

so, even if i can't write, i am a writer yet!

- Friday, May. 05, 2006


lovesounds - futuresex


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