Expression in it's Finest Form

There is a tide in the affairs of men.

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

On such a full sea are we now afloat,

And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures.

Julius Caesar Act 4, scene 3, 218–224

I would like to tell you that I randomly stumbled across this in my many studies of Shakespeare, but that would be a lie. And I'm feeling honest today, so I won't subject you to any unnecessary fibs. I have this obsession with vintage episodes of One Tree Hill. They come on twice a day on The Soap Network and although my TIVO only holds 40 hours of programming, I record each and every one of them. I didn't enjoy the series when it first came on in 2003...I was too bitter about Dawson's Creek ending and I had no time for a wannabe second rate version of my beloved DC (even if Chad Michael Murray was starring in it...paging James Van Der Beek!). The really annoying thing about these reoccurring episodes is that Soap Network decided to have no organized format in which to air these, so they basically skip around all week. Monday, Nathan and Haley are tenth grade virgins road tripping to Texas, and Tuesday they're married with a five year old son. This doesn't bother me...I can follow along, but it drives my husband f-ing crazy. Not that this problem stops him from watching them every night with me. This being said, I can't take the credit for the "tide in the affairs of men" idea. It comes from the oh-so-wise Lucas Scott, who quoted it on the show. I don't have anything to say about the words themselves, but about how beautifully they all flow together. Read it out loud, you'll see.

On a lighter note, as some of you know I've completed the single highlight of my life (the Twilight Saga) and since I no longer have a reason to exist, I've decided to throw my energy into this thing that I'm doing. Although it's a little out there, it's just one more way to express myself.

Everyone Does It:

1. The 6 year old boy at Target had no problem at all expressing himself. As he was pushing his 2 year old sister around in the cart (parents no where to be found of course) he grabbed a bottle of fabric softener, threw it on the ground, and walked away. Translation: "Mom, Dad...you never pay any attention to me....maybe you'll notice me if I burn this mother down."

2. Two "skater boys" were standing in the middle of North Star Mall playing rock-paper-scissors. You may think this is semi-normal, but after each round whoever won was rewarded by bitch slapping their opponent. In the face. Hard. Really guys? In the middle of the walkway, in front of BCBG? Get real. Translation: "Hey, let's get people to notice us...they wouldn't look at us otherwise." Or maybe I'm the fool-their dad probably freaking owns BCBG.

3. Will wears a Dallas Cowboys hat on game days. Yesterday, while following me around the Juicy Couture outlet, a fellow wife-follower approached Will, ESPN phone in hand, and yells, "Damnit!" We looked over, and the Romo lover says, "ain't no WAY we're making playoffs..." Will was probably pretty relieved to be speaking to a kindred spirit. The guy then explains that his phone automatically texts him when someone scores. Annoying? Not for this guy. Translation: "Although you have that Cowboys hat on expressing YOUR love, I have this nifty overpriced ESPN phone that alerts me when our team's getting CRUSHED." Translation Option 2: "I can't believe we're in this bubble gum prissy store...let's bond."

What is it that you do?

Consider it a Gift...

Saturday Night. Will's watching the Bourne Ultimatum. I'm blogging. Haleigh's listening to Flightless Bird, American Mouth by Iron and Wine. Well not really, but you should be. The song is deliciously amazing. I haven't heard one in a while that makes my body actually physically feel something. The last one that had a similar reaction would probably be John Mayer's Come Back to Bed. I used to literally feel my heart crushing when that one came on. Crushing where I'd frantically grab for the ibuprofen in the glove compartment and swallow four of them with my spit if no liquid or Nyquil was available. Thankfully that particular Mayer masterpiece never really had radio airtime...but I'd occasionally put it on in the car while I was feeling masochistic. Which was more often than not. Come to think of it, I think I conveniently lost that CD. No wonder I've been feeling so good for the past two years. There haven't been many songs that do that to me. Call me melodically-emotionally challenged, rigid, whatever. Another would be The Blower's Daughter by Damien Rice. Love at first hear. Friendly advice, click on over to itunes (I'll reimburse you later), go to Limewire to steal it, or run into Best Buy, create a diversion, hurdle the security bars and run...just listen to it. I haven't even bothered looking up lyrics for Flightless Bird. I wouldn't want to ruin it with lyrics. You'll hear the magic, trust me. Youtube it if you don't want to spend the dollar. Just get it in your head as soon as humanly possible.

A couple more for your enjoyment:

1. Hometown Glory by Adele

2. Warning Sign by Coldplay...welcome back to earth if you haven't gone through a phase of obsessiveness for this one.

Oh no, I'm blogging about music. How Kanye/Samantha Ronson is THAT?

until later-

tay

Changes Beyond Me

I'm fairly certain that my emotional levels rate somewhere in the top one percentile of biggest cryers. I cry about everything. Movies are of course a give in. Anytime I talk to my mom about something important I cry like a maniac. I usually tear up when I see my best friend's baby, Blake, do something amazing and new (like walk, laugh, etc.) But mostly it has to do with really stupid shit. My most recent tear encourager has to do with President Bush leaving the White House. Anyone who knows me can vouch that I don't deal well with change (see previous blog regarding my entire life shifting 180 degrees), but this one takes the cake. I'm really proud of myself for quietly ducking in the corner after Obama won and gracefully accepting the fact that maybe it's time for me to support him. This is coming from someone who was planning every detail of my move to Prague when the news came that he would be our new president. Get me the hell out of this country! But when I finally calmed down, I realized that all these dems had to live with President Bush for the past 8 years, I might as well suck it in and get passed it. This didn't mean that I was dialing the 800 number to order his "commemorative coin" or whatever, but it did mean that I would put my faith in God to take care of our country. So President Bush, welcome back to Texas =)

Getting Robbed for the Sake of My Sanity

Taylor's Rendition of Walking into the Unknown

Jump from a cliff, hold your breath, count to ten.
Make sure you're still alive. Just ignore the blood. That should stop eventually.

I'm going back to school after 3 years of coasting along with 2 classes a semester. Something had to give eventually. And here I am giving.

I do well with lists.

Sacrificial Offerings for my Bloodsucking Future Degree:

1. Giving up my cozy thousand square foot apartment. Not that I don't want to live at the Lake House, which is amazing and big and open and all hardwoody and stuff, but putting my sister into spastic cleaning and organizing mode just because we're coming is probably not what she had planned for her Christmas vacation. The guilt sinks in. Basically, she's a saint.
2. Damier Azur Galliera PM. Self explanatory.
3. Currency in the form of bi-weekly direct deposits.
4. Being 23 seconds away from high-end shopping, restaurants, movie theatres, Starbucks (ouch) and of course, living 10 paces from my sister and brother.
5. Working in an office worthy of it's own show on Comedy Central.
6. See below pic of desired Betsey Johnson dress. Try prying it from my dead, lifeless grip. Just try.

Later, depending on my mood, I might return to list the positives of all this. There has to be positives right? Right?

Jumping on the Blog Bandwagon.

I'm new to the blogging world. I anticipate that I'll be welcomed with open arms.

By the way, anyone who feels obliged to contribute to my New Years Eve dress fund, feel free so I can put this little piece of heaven on my unworthy body.

As Frank Sinatra croons on our 101.9 work overhead speakers, I just realized it's Christmas Eve and it doesn't feel like it. Same ol, same ol. What will it take for me to get into the Christmas spirit?
Some Things I've Attempted:
1. Hanging brightly colored glass balls on a 7 foot fake tree.
2. Handmaking a wreath for my front door with my best friend last year. I even paid the ultimate price...I burned the shit out of my hand with a glue gun.
3. Purchasing a two dollar collection of Christmas tunes at Walgreens. Personally I thought it was a good deal.
4. Buying hats. This one's self explanatory. Meanwhile the temperature in San Antonio remains at 65 degrees. Enter me with my hat.
5. Watching Home Alone. I woke up 3 hours later with the menu screen blaring with Kevin's obnoxious scream. Not as cute as it once was.
6. Inserting an IV of Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte into my veins. This was the most dissapointing of all attempts. It was my constant, my back up. I put too much faith into this, which upped the dissapointment meter a notch or two.

None of this helped. I will soon return with a solution.