but you're still with me in my dreams.

I love it. When the sun is shining, beating down on my legs, somewhat threatening to increase the shade of my already too-dark tan. When the shorts and skirts come back, when the winter coats get shelved to the back of the closet. When the flowers start appearing on the block with no rainstorms to hurt them, only pure sunshine. It’s not that I love spring; it’s more like I can taste summer already, two or three months ahead. In fact, spring is probably my least favorite season—the bipolar weather with pouring rain one day, sun the next; the stress of APs and tests and second semester; the laziness that only grows when summer is just so close. Summer isn’t my favorite season, even. As much as I love the sun, it gets a little too hot in California and chewing ice all day can get old. And the award definitely doesn’t go to winter (maybe if we actually got some decent snow, I would like it more). No, my favorite season hands down is autumn. The reddish leaves that burst in multicolor (pretty rare to see here, actually), the initial excitement of going back to school (stress the word “initial”) and the flood of holidays and breaks. And autumn, at least in California, comes with absolutely perfect weather: hot during the day and a cool breeze at night. Kind of like right now.

I really like the new Hush Sound album, Goodbye Blues. It’s nothing new, just the same old Hush Sound. I always loved the combination of Greta and Bob’s voices on songs. The new Flo Rida album is pretty horrible…a lot of the songs are literally carbon copies of “Low”, and half of the songs feature a popular artist because Flo Rida evidently can’t do it on his own. Still, “Roll” with Sean Kingston is pretty good, although highly repetitive (but aren’t they all)? I’ve been obsessed with the “D.A.N.C.E.” cover that Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly did. If you knew me during summer, you knew I was so enamored with the original (do the dance, the way you move is a mystery). Get Cape does the song justice (I couldn’t help it!) by giving it a really different twist, like the best covers do.

Sometimes I wish that we could all read each other’s minds. I know it’s one of those things that would have extremely negative effects, and people would have to start controlling and repressing their thoughts so others wouldn’t read into them and be offended. Our minds are so dangerous, and so powerful, because absolutely anything can happen in there. There are no inhibitions, no fear, and no punishment for thinking whatever we would want to, as long as we don’t act on them. But imagine if everyone knew what you were thinking? The communication barriers would be struck down, and honesty would be the only policy. We’d have to learn to deal with the truth; we’d come to weed out the true friends from the false; we would understand our faults completely and let others know what theirs are. Of course, it would be nice if I could be the only one reading other people’s minds, but that’s just a superpower I’ll never be able to have.

But what really brings up this whole topic is how terrified we are to act upon our own feelings. Maybe this is just me, sometimes shy and too scared to speak up, but how many times have you wished you’ve said something, wished you’ve told the truth, wished that the other person knew how you really felt? All the time, I wish that I were a better communicator, that I could be open up more to people. That people actually knew who I was, and I wasn’t just hiding beneath this bitchy exterior that really, isn’t me (okay, maybe a little). That I wouldn’t sit here, writing about how I wish all these things, but that I could actually be telling people about it, or maybe actually changing for the better. But I also worry, is it too late? Has the opportunity already passed me by, and saying something now would just be futile?

I want to be more open with you, tell you things that no one else ever knew. But more than being scared of telling it all, I’m scared that you wouldn’t understand. Tell me you would.

the television steals the conversation.

listless, unenergetic, bored, waiting. counting down days i didn't know i could spend, with ways i couldn't comprehend. fun just seems so far down the line, with months and months to go before i can sit down, breathe, and feel the world around me instead of pretending to pore over books for goals that i say are mine, but really aren't. i could celebrate right now, and i'm trying, if my attempts count as anything. this is all too typical coming from this age, this place, this time. but really, just because everyone else feels it doesn't mean the emotion becomes trivialized. but we're all in it: we all whine (and brag) about the lack of hours in our sleep. we tally up scores to the best of our ability. and then there are those seniors getting accepted, and we try to empathize, to feel happy for them, when in our selfish minds all we wonder is "will i be accepted when the time comes?"

it's a nice feeling, when you rediscover music you used to love, songs that were just so good and yet were cast aside but newer loves. songs that when you come upon once again, you spontaneously burst into song just because you can't help but doing so. songs that make you do you air drum with your head banging, your body shaking. songs that know who they are; albums that you should already know that i don't feel like reiterating (i guess this is my elitism kicking in).

i can't picture the future from here. people and events come and go, but all i envision are the same people who've been there always. i want to make room for newer things...and i'm trying. believe me, i am trying.

turn it, leave it, start format it.

What are you supposed to do if you just want to lie in bed, counting the time by days, not minutes or hours, and sleep until you wake up and actually feel okay? Yet life still breezes past you; it doesn’t stop or trip or catch a breath. Life is one amazing runner in a trillion-mile marathon. Unfortunately, I’m only clocking in at mile 16 and this is another one of those times I’m walking, dying for a drop of water. I realize I’m making a big deal out of just another time I’m ill this year, but let’s face it: this headache really fucking hurts. I don’t know where this phenomenon comes from where I feel like something is bashing my head with a hammer, both sides (maybe that’s a little too hyperbolic). Not to mention, I have an impending sneeze that refuses to come out as well as a pretty bad cough.

Here comes the regular music paragraph; I think I’ll just constantly keep it as the 2nd paragraph of every entry. I finally downloaded the rest of Tegan & Sara’s So Jealous, and what do you know? It is, simply put, candy for my headache. I used to detest Tegan’s and Sara’s voices, but like everything else, they grew on me and now I absolutely adore it. Goldfrapp is also pretty good, but so far I’m not discovering anything particularly amazing about them. Jamie Cullum, however, is really good—listen to Twentysomething. I’m also listening to “Technologic” by Daft Punk on repeat; yes, I know the song is super old and everyone knows it but hey. It doesn’t make the song any less good. And “Stop & Stare” by OneRepublic…I don’t know how that band does it; I really thought they were just a Myspace one hit wonder who hit it big because of Timbaland, but all their singles are actually turning out to be super catchy; the kinds of songs that make me want to update my iPod, even if it means unchecking the entire Honorary Title album (my iTunes is way over the max capacity of my old-school iPod).

I’m just too tired to wax poetic on anything today, so I’ll leave with this: when you become a parent and your kid is a shitty driver, don’t yell at them and stress them out while they’re dying unless you want to, you know, die.

give me a lifetime of security.

People are really more intelligent than they seem. Just because the grades don’t add up to over a 4.0 GPA; just because they’re not all in honors classes; just because they aren’t churning out the right responses to the right questions…school is only one thing. Personally I respect a good debater a hundred times more than I respect someone who gets the good grades. There are people out there who can convince me to agree with them in just a few, concise sentences. People whose observation skills just astound me, even if they're usually negative reflections. These are the ones who might not be the valedictorians, but they’re incredibly sharp and way smarter than one would think. Seriously, some of us have to realize we are not just our grades, or our test scores, or our extracurricular activities. There’s a lot more to us than what the college admission officers see. Keep that in mind for the upcoming year.

Somehow, I always feel obligated to discuss music when I open this Blogger window. Duffy is a Welsh singer with her album, Rockferry, coming out this Tuesday. She has a solid voice, and backed with jazz, the album is pretty great. Apparently, her and Adele are being called the new Amy Winehouses. Adele sounds more like Winehouse than Duffy does (actually, Duffy doesn’t sound like her whatsoever), but truthfully Adele just reminds me of Missy Higgins. No big, they’re both good. There’s also Search/Rescue, who happens to be a combination of the members of Acceptance and Gatsby’s American Dream. Their album The Compound is a gift from God if you’re one of those people who miss Acceptance like crazy (man, were they good). What else? Love in the Club feat. Young Jeezy by Usher is #1 on iTunes. What do you know? Mixtapemaestro is incredibly perceptive, two months in advance. Suckers.

The newspaper came out yesterday. I’m always caught off guard when people give this underhanded compliment to me, saying “Normally I don’t like the paper, but your articles are really good!” I don’t have low self-esteem or anything, but I don’t get it. I read the entire paper, including my own articles that I’ve already read multiple times, and nothing about my articles is more stellar than everyone else’s. But I’ll gladly take the compliment.

That also reminds me. There was an article on impostor syndrome, which I didn’t even know existed although I have all of its signs. Impostor syndrome is when people internally think they don’t deserve the success they have achieved, and they convince themselves that the success was luck, timing, or another factor other than themselves. You know what? That’s me. The exact definition of me. I always prepare for the worst. After a test or an audition, I constantly tell myself, “I know I won’t make it. I know I failed. I know I did badly,” even though I know it’s not true, although I’m sure it’s not true sometimes. Preparing yourself for failure is easy, and never disappoints—at least not as much as preparing yourself for success does. Imagine this. If you were expecting an F and got a F, the impact wouldn’t be as bad, right? But say you thought you got an A, and you actually failed. The devastation is horrendous. But the best feeling, and one that happens pretty often to me, is expecting the F and getting the A. Maybe it’s for these amazing moments that I continue to have this impostor syndrome. Regardless, I found it funny there were other people out there, not just in high school, who played these mind games. People who play the game their entire lives.