Thursday, March 7, 2013
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Love
"All that said, ladies, is Sean the only guy to say something to a girl he didn’t mean when he was making out? No. He isn’t. Men should not be listened to in this situation. If he tells you he loves you when you are both hungover arguing over what food to eat for lunch after you made him “go for a walk” that felt like a vampire crawl while you are wearing yoga pants (again), then he loves you. Love is going on walks that provide no caloric benefit to men who eat and drink like Vikings just because it makes her happy." - Lost Angeles Blog talking about "The Bachelor"
Friday, January 18, 2013
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
By Mary Schmich, originally published in the Chicago Tribune, June 1, 1997
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.
Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
By Mary Schmich, originally published in the Chicago Tribune, June 1, 1997
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
king of anything
Keep drinkin' coffee
Stare me down across the table
While I look outside
So many things I'd say if only I were able
But I just keep quiet
And count the cars that pass by
You've got opinions, man
We're all entitled to 'em
But I never asked
So let me thank you for time
And try to not waste any more of mine
Get out of here fast
I hate to break it to you babe
But I'm not drowning
There's no one here to save
Who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
You sound so innocent
All full of good intent
You swear you know best
But you expect me to
Jump up on board with you
Ride off into your dellusional sunset
I'm not the one who's lost
With no direction oh
But you won't ever see
You're so busy makin' maps
With my name on them in all caps
You got the talkin' down just not the listening
And who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything
All my life
I've tried
To make everybody happy while I
Just hurt
And hide
Waitin' for someone to tell me it's my turn
To decide
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything
Who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything
Let me hold your crown, babe
Oh oh
Ah
Stare me down across the table
While I look outside
So many things I'd say if only I were able
But I just keep quiet
And count the cars that pass by
You've got opinions, man
We're all entitled to 'em
But I never asked
So let me thank you for time
And try to not waste any more of mine
Get out of here fast
I hate to break it to you babe
But I'm not drowning
There's no one here to save
Who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
You sound so innocent
All full of good intent
You swear you know best
But you expect me to
Jump up on board with you
Ride off into your dellusional sunset
I'm not the one who's lost
With no direction oh
But you won't ever see
You're so busy makin' maps
With my name on them in all caps
You got the talkin' down just not the listening
And who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything
All my life
I've tried
To make everybody happy while I
Just hurt
And hide
Waitin' for someone to tell me it's my turn
To decide
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Oh (oh oh oh)
Who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything
Who cares if you disagree
You are not me
Who made you king of anything
So you dare tell me who to be
Who died
And made you king of anything
Let me hold your crown, babe
Oh oh
Ah
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
love, save the empty
Little girls don't know how to be sweet girls.
Mama didn't teach me.
Little boys don't know how to treat little girls.
Daddy didn't show me.
Face down, on top of your bed.
Oh why did I give it up to you?
Is this how I shoot myself up high,
Just high enough to get through?
Again, the false affection.
Again, we break down inside.
Love save the empty.
Love save the empty, and save me.
Sad boy, you stare up at the sky
When no one's looking back at you.
You wear your every last disguise;
You're flying, then you fall through.
Again, the false attention.
Again, you're breaking inside.
Love save the empty.
Love save the empty, save me.
Love save the empty.
Love save the empty.
Stars feel like knives,
They tell us why we're fighting.
Storm, wait outside.
Oh, love, hold us together.
Love, save the empty.
Love, save the empty.
Love, save the empty.
Love, save the empty, and save me.
And save me.
Mama didn't teach me.
Little boys don't know how to treat little girls.
Daddy didn't show me.
Face down, on top of your bed.
Oh why did I give it up to you?
Is this how I shoot myself up high,
Just high enough to get through?
Again, the false affection.
Again, we break down inside.
Love save the empty.
Love save the empty, and save me.
Sad boy, you stare up at the sky
When no one's looking back at you.
You wear your every last disguise;
You're flying, then you fall through.
Again, the false attention.
Again, you're breaking inside.
Love save the empty.
Love save the empty, save me.
Love save the empty.
Love save the empty.
Stars feel like knives,
They tell us why we're fighting.
Storm, wait outside.
Oh, love, hold us together.
Love, save the empty.
Love, save the empty.
Love, save the empty.
Love, save the empty, and save me.
And save me.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Rosa's Favorite Things
my birthday is coming up... if you so happen to become a millionaire between now and then feel free to purchase any and all of the following for moi.
1) Diamonds are a girl's best friend.
From Tiffany's, of course. Diamonds are appropriate for a 25th birthday. That's like a milestone. No?
2) bags, bags, bags
LV's Wilshire GM
Chanel Classic Quilted Lambskin Medium Flap Shoulder Handbag
Chanel Medium Shopping Bag
LV's Neverfull MM
3) I'm not just a fashionista
4) but I like clothes...
A shopping trip at Bloomies, anyone?
Theory Cheyne Long-Sleeved Dress
Hunter Wellies
DIANE von FURSTENBERG "Della" Dress
Burberry Brit Cinched Waist Removable Hood Anorak
Theory Derika Giraffe Burnout Top
MUST have this white suit! (As featured in Something Borrowed)
5) And I'm a geek...
5) And I like watches.
1) Diamonds are a girl's best friend.
From Tiffany's, of course. Diamonds are appropriate for a 25th birthday. That's like a milestone. No?
2) bags, bags, bags
LV's Wilshire GM
Chanel Classic Quilted Lambskin Medium Flap Shoulder Handbag
Chanel Medium Shopping Bag
LV's Neverfull MM
3) I'm not just a fashionista
4) but I like clothes...
A shopping trip at Bloomies, anyone?
Theory Cheyne Long-Sleeved Dress
Hunter Wellies
DIANE von FURSTENBERG "Della" Dress
Burberry Brit Cinched Waist Removable Hood Anorak
Theory Derika Giraffe Burnout Top
MUST have this white suit! (As featured in Something Borrowed)
5) And I'm a geek...
5) And I like watches.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
hold you in my arms
When you came to me with your bad dreams and your fears
It was easy to see you'd been crying
Seems like everywhere you turn catastrophe it reigns
But who really profits from the dying
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
When you kissed my lips with my mouth so full of questions
My worried mind that you quiet
Place your hands on my face
Close my eyes and say
That love is a poor man's food
Don't prophesize
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
And I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
So now we see how it is
This fist begets the spear
Weapons of war
Symptoms of madness
Don't let your eyes refuse to see
Don't let your ears refuse to hear
Or you ain't never going to shake this sense of sadness
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold on forever
And I could hold you in my arms
I could hold on forever
It was easy to see you'd been crying
Seems like everywhere you turn catastrophe it reigns
But who really profits from the dying
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
When you kissed my lips with my mouth so full of questions
My worried mind that you quiet
Place your hands on my face
Close my eyes and say
That love is a poor man's food
Don't prophesize
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
And I could hold you in my arms
I could hold you forever
So now we see how it is
This fist begets the spear
Weapons of war
Symptoms of madness
Don't let your eyes refuse to see
Don't let your ears refuse to hear
Or you ain't never going to shake this sense of sadness
I could hold you in my arms
I could hold on forever
And I could hold you in my arms
I could hold on forever
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