i never have anything to say anymore. i like to put amusing conversations with my friends here mostly these days. they serve as nice mementos to look back on when i forget that things will be okay.

4:00Izzy
the game
centipede
best game ever?
4:01amEmily
oh
4:01amIzzy
well not the best
but it was a game
4:01amEmily
haha
most games are games
um
4:01amIzzy
not all games
some games are traps.
4:02amEmily
yes, but most games are games
as opposed to shoes
or tables
4:02amIzzy
I disagree, shoes are hardly ever games.
sometimes tables can be games though.
4:03amEmily
refrigerators can be games
and chairs
so why not shoes?
4:03amIzzy
not freezers though.
4:03amEmily
no. too cold.
4:03amIzzy
it's in the rule book.
4:03amEmily
duh

conversation with tom

tmueth 1: I'm trying to get Gilad Shalit to be a trending topic on twitter, but I guess [Farrah Fawcett's death]'s more important than a kidnapped Israeli soldier on the third anniversary of his kidnapping.

you mah wingman: sigh

you mah wingman: tom, you're looking for love in all the wrong places, honey

you mah wingman: just saying

tmueth 1: That makes no sense

you mah wingman: it makes perfect sense!

you mah wingman: you're using twitter for things that people don't use it for

tmueth 1: I'm just trying to get Gilad recognition outside of Israel

tmueth 1: And besides, Hamas sucks

you mah wingman: yes, and my point is that you're not going to get that recognition on a goofy-ass little pseudo-social networking site

tmueth 1: You're unkind.

you mah wingman: i'm not unkind, i'm telling the truth

tmueth 1: That is unkind.

you mah wingman: you're a pussy

you mah wingman: okay, now i'm being unkind

you mah wingman: i'm sorry

you mah wingman: :)

the times, they are a-changin'

"you're a literary snob, but you pull it off lovably."

-best text anyone has ever sent me. courtesy of lilly wang.

god, i haven't written in this thing forever. pretty soon after i wrote that poem about finding love that i posted last month, i met a boy. we dated for a few intense, fast-paced weeks, and then we broke up. this poem was the start of some ugly aftermath:

there she dangles in girlish melancholy
waiting for someone to come and
validate what's clearly already valid
her parched self-image wonders
about the good that only the eyes of
others can see in her
lingering in limbo, she sits tight for
whatever man will come along and
pick her up off the floor

yeah, suddenly, "love is power" doesn't feel so true anymore. it's weird to think that just a few weeks ago, i was so full of hope and hard-gained joie de vivre, and in the blink of an eye, it was all gone. i feel like i'm at square one again. square one being me at 16, just beginning to go to parties and get drunk on weekends, so unaware of what life had to offer me. cynical, cynical, cynical. for the first time in my life, i was lucky enough to spend 3 weeks expending all the cynicism i'd pent up over the years, and just when i felt it was finally gone, BAM. i know this stuff happens to everyone, and that my melodrama only allows the situation to be even more lame and ridiculous than it already was, but damn if this isn't the worst a member of the opposite sex has made me feel in a long time.

let me take a second from all this bitching and moaning, though, to clarify this whole fiasco for you (if anyone is even reading this). as much of a victim as i take comfort in pretending to be, i'm not one. this boy drove 30 minutes to my house, sat me down on the porch, and told me how he felt. he told me he wants to stay friends, and that he was sorry, and he left when i told him to. so really, i can whine about this breakup as much as i want, but i will never, ever be able to justifiably paint my ex as somebody who did something horrible to me because he didn't. i just wanted to clear that up so that i don't make it look like he's an awful person, because that would be a huge lie and a disservice to a person i still love and think is great.

moving on...this post was really supposed to be an update on the happier things that're going on in my life, but i guess i had more on my chest than i realized. anyway! my birthday was this past friday. i turned 19. my mom, sister and i went to an animal shelter to look at some dogs because we were kind of, sort, very vaguely considering getting a new one. we came home yesterday with mona. she's a 4-month-old mutt, and she's kind of the love of my life. pictures later. i'm all emotionally fucked up now from being so melodramatic in this stupid post.

hope you're doing well. i'll write soon.

same bat time, same bad flannel

i heart the sexy people blog.

also, here is some poetry. i wrote the first stanza with magnetic words on my brother's fridge a few weeks ago when i was visiting him in manhattan, and i never got around to writing the rest. enjoy.

love is power
but only if and when
it lives in its truest form
not in the form of lust,
nor of petty infatuation
(though the discrepancies
can often fool even the
most impassible of hearts),
but in the incarnation that
it finds the most familiar: that
of the thing that manipulates the hearts
of the blase many, the tired fools who
think they know best
and it contorts their emotions
till they bear no resemblance to what they
were before
so, if love should find you
don't try to fight it off or ignore it till it
leaves, for it will not leave
all it wants to do is live inside your being
and take control over you, regardless of whether
or not that desire is mutual
because, if and when you allow it
to live in its truest form,
love embodies, exudes and is power.

iiiit's showtime!

the music man opens tonight. i just tried to eat a waffle, but i was too nervous and i only finished half of it. i'm blogging right now because i'm scared shitless and i don't want to think about it.

also, here is my hair for the show:



guess who's sleeping upright for the next two nights.

:)

favorite. song. ever.

Re: moment of zen

while we're on the subject of conservative earth hour, today's moment of zen is brought to you by my dear friend tom: