Nada Surf

Excerpt from my livejournal two nights ago:

I forget I have this to be honest.
Living back in San Diego after four years is a trip.
You still feel the same feelings.
You still see the same people.
But there is so much in between the gap of 18 year old me and 22 year old me that hardly anything is actually the same.

Last night was Miguel's last night home (I had no idea he'd been here nearly 5 days) and they had jam sessions. It made me feel strangely, that people could think of lyrics right on the spot.
Of course they looked to me but I said nothing.
There was so much happening in my mind. So much feeling I've put off feeling, just to search for a cliche of a lyric, to say anything just to join them.

Nobody changes but nobody is ever the same either, how is it that you can have both?

Before I went to bed, I played Damien Rice and started forming lyrics but rather just sang one of his songs. "Cheers, Darling"... How do people feel so much with so little words?
In my head I relive those things I tried to get over, but perhaps I just suppressed them. Maybe that is my form of "dealing" with situations I don't want to deal with. How do you "deal" with things that you have no control over?

I have no idea where I'm going with this.

Cheers, darling...


Today Zenia came to visit me from LA and she brought special baked good treats and everything was wonderful. I need to learn more about San Diego, I find it very strange that I know so little about a place I've been for roughly my entire life. Thank you smart phones.

Thrifting was a semi bust. Purse and camera for $6 and then Japanese barbecue. Then Fashion Valley and then cupcakes and lattes.

And nearly dying on the car ride home due to fog that came out of nowhere!!!!! What in the world. So we are back at my house and she is on the longer couch and we finished watching Louis CK's stand up which was hilaaaarious!

New Years Eve. What will you be doing? What do you wish you'll be doing? I know where I'll be...but more importantly where I wish I was.

nueve meses

In the amount of time it takes for new life to begin, I'm still trying to forget the one that existed before this. The one I knew every day for three years. And all the miles and seconds in the world that pass by can't erase each now meaningless memory. Truth be told I found a home in you, and perhaps I should be grateful for that. I read a novel about a girl in hell who said her handicap was thinking. Well, then I suppose mine is feeling.

I think I've been fooling myself by saying it hasn't gotten easier. It obviously has. Some days I forget it ever happened. But then there are those days. Those days like today where the universe decides it is time to relive it, and remember each instance that brought me to where I am today. I can picture every last memory that I wish I never had, and it consumes me so much sometimes that it gets hard to breathe.

And then I get a butt-dial and I am so entirely grateful that I can forget for only a moment that I was ever hurt.

(It is freezing. I ate soup earlier. I burnt my tongue. Soup is so delicious.)
(Some of the most foul things I've ever heard have come from my stepdad's mouth when he's playing Madden alone in his upstairs bedroom.)