Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Sort of Late, SxSW

So...a couple of weeks ago, Texas people & hipsters, you may or may not have noticed that your social networking feeds were full of statements like this:

Whoo! I'm so drunk right now! Was that a camel? #sxsw

&

OMG, I just had breakfast tacos with the entire cast of Casa de mi Padre! SxSW rocks!

&

The violin monster just threw a LIVE jelly fish at me, luckily a homeless man who was pissing himself walked by right at that moment! Austin is weird yet wonderful!

OR

God, I hate this time of the year. All these hipsters filling up the seats at my favorite obscure vegan custard shop. Fuck SxSW & please don't move here, out of towners.

At any rate, South by South West happened & I was there for parts of it & it didn't suck.
I got to spend some quality time with Solo & Darlene & watch Solo perform his first SxSW set.
I got to have some really good donuts in Roundrock.
& I invented a new game! It's called hipster, homeless, zombie.

If there's anything Austin has a lot of, it's breakfast tacos, homeless people, and hipsters.

SxSW allows these three things to get together with music, film, and free alcohol. It's a fucking party.

& while I was standing around on the street, I realized the distance between hipster to homeless person is just a matter of dirty beards and mental illness. The distance from homeless to zombie is really only a matter of life or re-animated death.





So basically you can only play this game if you're a little drunk, otherwise it's more than a little insensitive.

The best rule for playing is that it's almost never a zombie.
That leaves you with homeless person or hipster;
at first it may be hard to tell the difference. Common ground between the two include; dreadlocks, beards, tattered clothing, many layers of clothing, smoking pot in public, mustaches on women, fanny packs.

is it talking to itself? Does it stop and give you advice about putting your beer in the front basket of your rental bike? Is it barefoot? Homeless.

is it wearing wayfarers? are the tattered clothes or layered clothes tattered and/or layered ironically (see also: vintage)? Is it wearing TOMS? if you listen in on its conversation and it's trying to out-obscure the group of people it's with, it's definitely a hipster.

Now, go forth & play!
Happy Humpday!



Tuesday, March 27, 2012

FotoBlog

A good place to start this post is to say that I really recently got an iPhone.
Where I'm going with this is that I've been instagramming the shit outta everything, ever.
I love it so much.
& I had a pretty spectacular last four days, so I've been spamming my instagram followers with my nonsense.
(& also: if you have an instagram account, let's be friends! I'm @laurelczimyoung!)

So, I now present my weekend in Instagram.

FRIDAY
My friend's crocs on campus

A Church swarming with Indian Paintbrushes off of FM1209 @HWY 71

A closer look.

A chandelier at my sweet sorority sister's wedding venue. 

Fast friends at the rehearsal dinner.

The wedding venue, at night & upside down. 

SATURDAY

Aside from attending what was arguably the best wedding I've ever been to, I also met Solo's parents for the first time. I had crab cakes with mustard and veggies, they called me smart. 
I didn't take any pictures, though. 

Then, the Wedding: 

The beautiful bride, getting ready. 

The lovely Clements, their first dance. 


Solo & I, some photobooth fun. 
& then some. 

SUNDAY
We stopped off HWY 6 for some leisurely thrifting.

This furry little guy reminded me of the caterpillar in Labyrinth that says, " 'ello!"

My Thrifting Purchases:

A fly sculpture made from a deactivated grenade that I'm giving my brother as a birthday gift. Don't tell!


Little ceramic donkeys. I named the one on the left Pistol & the other, Tabasco. 

A throw just to add some color to my living area.  
Not sure how many washes till it's clean, so far just once in hot water with LOTS of detergent. 

Solo also bought some cassette tapes and an Emerson 1434 but once we got it home, it didn't work. :(
We returned it & used the money to buy candy & movie tickets to 21JumpStreet, which was super funny & the perfect end to an amazing weekend with Solo. 

Hope you had a great weekend, also, Reader(s)! 

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

In the midst

It's times like this when I've got some major thing looming over me and reminding me of my impending doom that I can't get off facebook.
Not to be melodramatic, but at the moment, all I can think of really is the fact that I'm abdicating some responsibility or another--
like I've been spending way too much money,
like I've fallen miserably behind in my studies,
like I've taken on Solo's own difficulties and worry about them more than I worry about myself at the moment, but namely that I've got a pretty sizable paper due this afternoon that isn't nearly where it should be.

To keep the panic at bay and distract myself from the a fore mentioned impending doom, I logged onto my facebook where I was drawn by vanity to look through the glossary of my tagged photos.
What's going to sound even more vain is that I actually liked what I found there.
Not in the sense of--wow, I'm super hot! but in a way I consider much more profound.

A little over a year ago, on the drive home from my final day of first semester law classes, I suddenly realized I was happy. The feeling surprised and overwhelmed me. I was actually living the happiest moments of my life and I don't think I've come down from there since.

Reader(s) I was and am still a late bloomer.
My awkward phase ran from birth to present day.
My whole life, people kept telling me that high school would be the best days of my life (bitter lies), & then it was college (failure!), and then people said getting my law degree would fucking suck & I believed them. & even though it does suck sometimes, it's actually been really great. I love San Antonio; I love feeling like the degree I'm working towards will make me feel fulfilled, important, part of something greater than myself; I love the new friendships I've formed and the fact that I was able to get closer to my dad & brother.
A big part of my happiness now is that I am, for the most part, pretty happy with the person I am & the circumstances of my life and those are things I wasn't really ever invested in before.

Realizing I was now consistently happy led me to believe that I'd never actually been happy or that everything in my life before 2010 was crap.

Looking through my tagged photos made me realize that I'd falsely come to that conclusion.
I remembered a time in my life where I'd blow off classes to go sit in my favorite professor's office and listen to him talk about his trips to the desert, his cat, his wife.
I remembered the ridiculous classes I took to fulfill elective hours; puppet making, painting, forest ecology, diseases of the world.
I remembered how proud I was to be part of a sorority and moreover, how very real the love I had for my pledge sisters was.


I remembered how much I've always loved Darlene ever since 6th grade DARE class & how lucky I am to have met such a true friend (who lets me and my boyfriend sleep on her living room futon during spring break because we have no where else to go & lets me repay her in donuts).
I remembered little things I loved back then--the sound of the train passing behind my house, the elm trees on campus, the blackberries growing in my front yard and the bunnies that lived under the blackberry bush.

How could I have ever forgotten that even though I was not a happy person then I still loved my life?

The best explanation I have is that I was just taking everything for granted because in the midst of it all, I couldn't see how happy I actually was.
As great of a revelation as it is, it's also kind of sad: I was really almost so blind to the fact of my happiness that I forgot to enjoy it properly & I can't go back.
It's crazy to think that right now I could be happy beyond my wildest imaginations & not be able to fully grasp and digest it.

The best I can do now is to just try to be much more grateful for everything.
I know I'm loved & looked after by something beyond my comprehension & much greater than myself.

& before I forget, that adorable girl in the photo up there pretending to advertise her love of carpet munching is tying the knot this weekend. I'm a bride's maid & literally so happy I could vomit (that or it's jitters from the energy drink). It's rare to think anyone actually deserves your friends but I am confident there is no one more capable of loving her than her betrothed.

Before I go, I'd just like to share a recent email exchange between the two of us:
Her: blah blah blah, wedding details (I might be paraphrasing).
Me: cordial affirmative response (more paraphrasing).
       & also: my new phone's autocorrect keeps changing your name to tits! Just thought I should share.
Her: wow, that IS a smartphone!
           --tits. *

*It should be mentioned that once I almost convinced our sorority that her official nickname (for line jacket purposes) should be Tits McGee. That, regrettably, fell through.


Tuesday, March 13, 2012

I stole this.

I watched the movie NINE once & for some reason when Marion Cotillard sang, "My husband makes movies" I felt disturbed.

During a long drive home late last night, I played that same song & realized it bugs me because it's basically what it's like to date a serious musician (or other artistic, obsessive types).

So, with a couple of tweeks here and there, I made it relevant to my own situation.
Readers, I give you, "My boyfriend makes music."

My boyfriend makes music.
To make it he lives a kind of dream
In which his actions aren't always 
What they seem.
He may be on to some unique romantic
Theme.
Some men run baths,
Some rule the world, 
Some earn their living baking bread.
My boyfriend, he goes a little crazy
Making music instead.

My boyfriend spins fantasies,
He lives them, then gives them to you
All.
Like Michelangelo, he paints his private dome,
But can't distinguish what's his work & what's his home.
Some men sell stocks, some men punch
Clocks,
Some leap where others dare to tread.
My boyfriend, as writer and producer,
Makes up music in his head.

You & I together, who we once were,
Number one genius and number one fan,
You & I together, who we once were,
Passionate woman in love with this man,
Long ago, so very long ago,Once we two were,
Cute guy in a band, the lawyer; his lover,
Young girl with dreams and a life of her own,
Then we had no end of worlds to discover,
Singing together all night on the phone.
Long ago, someone else ago, 
How he needs me so,
And he'll be the last to know it.

My boyfriend makes music.
To make it, he makes himself
Obsessed.
He goes for weeks on end without a 
Bit of rest,
No other way can he achieve his level
Best.
Some men read books, some shine theirshoes,
Some retire early
Some stay up to dream and muse. 
My boyfriend only rarely comes to bed,
My boyfriend makes music instead.


My boyfriend makes music...

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Composure

I lament the fact, sometimes, that blogger is a place where people expect you to write things.
Posting up pictures and quotes here is unacceptable.
(Unless you're a fashion blogger).

But something that is recently very important to me is this quote I came across on a friend's facebook:



Nothing gives one person so much advantage 

over another as to remain always cool and 

unruffled under all circumstances.

-Thomas Jefferson


Composure is something I've lacked in the past.
I react very passionately about everything.
& then I realized that a good amount of the time, people are dicks because they want a specific reaction from you.

So my new thing is thoroughly considering how to react before I do it.
Reacting less passionately.
Reacting less rashly.
Reacting smarter.

& I think it's already working out for me.

Selling a fairy tale

Recently, a friend commented on my facebook wall expressing her happiness that I'd found someone who loves and respects me. She was very happy for me that I'd finally found true love.
& I accepted this congratulatory statement with poise; but also admitted that Solo & I had been fighting.

Reader(s), I'd like to tell you the absolute truth about Solo & I.
He is but a figment of my imagination, except for when he's a Japanese Body Pillow & then he's a pillow that I hold close & pretend is a person.
That's not true, but this post is going to be of the somber variety & I needed to get at least one joke in.

The truth is that what Solo & I share is flawed.
In more ways than one.

Do I love him? Inconceivably so.
Does he love me? Yes.

But relationships require so much more than love.

He & I have all kinds of problems as a couple--distance, trust issues, baggage.
We've broken up twice (both of which lasted only long enough for us to talk through the fact that we still wanted to be together).

& so what I'm saying is: yes, we're happy. MOST OF THE TIME.
I honestly don't know if he's the one or just one of many.

& I just don't want to sell you guys a fairy tale that's just going to turn into a couple of rags & rodents at the stroke of midnight. Or whatever happened to Cinderella.

You guys deserve full disclosure: what Solo & I have is far from perfect. What we have is very real; full of triumphs and also plagued with tragedies.

So now you know.