Impeach the Muffins

tumblrisforlulz: This new Levi’s campaign is brilliant. Giving...

Mon, 19 Jul 2010 23:38:47 -0400

tumblrisforlulz:

This new Levi’s campaign is brilliant. Giving me chills.

& click through to see the episodes, too. Good stuff.

Photo

Mon, 19 Jul 2010 23:24:36 -0400

My First Love

Mon, 19 Jul 2010 20:41:00 -0400

It seems only fitting that my 100th post should be about my favorite thing in the world.

My first love was writing, english.

This crazy germanic-I love you- we all sound alike- don’t forget your word order has a meaning- evolution of love and words. Harshness and soft butter. A sentence melodic as a car driving over gravel in the way that only your mother tongue can stir affection for something so forced, despised, shunned, enshrined, taught, and learned.

I have English in my bones. The poetry of its incessant chatter keeping me up at night and the whir of its chemical drawl putting me to sleep in class. I love it’s awkward shapes and the alliteration it lends shy smiles.

I feel it’s anger and coiled convoluted confusion. It flows like a river and upends like only words can. I adore the English language. It is sneaky, and it forces you to show what you mean. My favorite example?

Mad at and Happy with. What other language puts that much emotion in it’s grammar? Who else shows the loneliness of anger the one-ness of happiness in the basics of its structure. Magic is written on the tombs of this language I swear;

I love it so.

Day 19: A talent

Mon, 19 Jul 2010 20:26:00 -0400

Hee haaa okay so a talent?

I like writing. It’s just this silly little thing that holds so much power. It’s this deep swimming pool of symbols that, when arranged in the right order are so raw with meaning and intention. The fact that the entire world can be conveyed in a code that is universal in sense, each language with it’s own order or symbols, is something of such immense beauty that I find it impossible not to love.

According to Dictionary.com the first definition for talent is “a special natural ability”

I for a fact know that writing is special because in the most basic sense, it is bare bones magic. And natural. Writing comes naturally to me, it never occurred to me to not write, so I think that constitutes as a “talent” perhaps. Sortof? An ability? Well, I suppose writing is an ability because it is something that someone is able to do. So yes all in all a talent of mine would be writing. That sounds conceited, my apologies. :)

I was the favorite unicorn

Sat, 17 Jul 2010 17:20:16 -0400

I had a really crazy dream last night, but it was really this daisy chain series of dreams that were all interconnected by a strand of a stem. Unicorns.

Very rarely do my dreams tie in to real life in a semi literal sense, but unicorns is pretty related. A few days ago my friend Izzi texted me a doodle of a rainbow unicorn that she drew. In chem class myself and a few friends (okay Vivian did all the work) re-named everyone in our class so we could pass notes without running the risk of anyone knowing they were being talked about. My nickname, given by Vivian, is Unicorn.

So my weird dream begins like this: I am watching a movie on my mom’s laptop and I see my perfectly polished light pink nails on my hands as I grab a bar and crawl into a room. I am in the movie now, but it isn’t a movie this is all taking place. I am in a small well lit room at the bottom of a spiral staircase. A vintage television is on a sugar candy type twisted platform and begins to lower to eye level. A newsreel of past unicorn media coverage plays in black and white and Lady Gaga/Beyonce (she was both idk how but dreams are just like that sometimes) comes into the room with another girl and a boy. We are all people in appearance aside from a pearlescent horn atop our heads that is twirled like the lollipops at Disneyland. I am sitting on a patent leather pink couch and Lady Gaga/ Beyonce comes up to me and pets my head the other girl and boy are unicorns also, but I am her favorite because I am a girl and also because I got my horn by some natural magical means, whereas the other girl’s horn was artificial in comparison to mine, she was still a unicorn but she had to work in order to become one. The other girl was her least favorite. Lady Gaga’s hand rests under my chin and tilts my head up, I see Beyonce’s face and she says “There’s my favorite unicorn”

It’s all very odd and the dreams went on and on, lasting even when I was half awake. I forced myself to go back to sleep so that I could see what would happen next. The story had a plot for sure and the only challenge was staying asleep long enough to watch it unfold.

I ate breakfast at eleven :)

theprincessblog: (via sparklesandpretending) Day 18 - Whatever...

Sat, 17 Jul 2010 17:02:16 -0400

theprincessblog:

(via sparklesandpretending)

Day 18 - Whatever tickles your fancy

A song that makes me cry— or nearly

Sat, 17 Jul 2010 17:01:10 -0400

A song that makes me cry— or nearly

Sheer amazing-ness.

Sat, 17 Jul 2010 16:58:45 -0400

Sheer amazing-ness.

my god my little sister is epic

Sun, 11 Jul 2010 19:10:31 -0400

my god my little sister is epic

LONDON <3

Sun, 11 Jul 2010 18:52:16 -0400

matte about you

belly button

classy

my favorite

our awkwardness is genetic

my cuties

LONDON <3

(via arefriendselectric)

Sun, 11 Jul 2010 17:01:00 -0400

(via arefriendselectric)

(via mylifeasateenageblogger)

Sun, 11 Jul 2010 17:00:02 -0400

(via mylifeasateenageblogger)

Heart shaped bruises & toothpaste kisses

Sun, 11 Jul 2010 16:56:00 -0400

I want to be a cosmic princess made of constellations and rainbow stars and smooth sky and pouring velvet and a thousand wishes waiting for forever and never to come true. More faith than the candles on a birthday cake and more time than they ever guessed.

I want to glow all hours just a trip around the globe to catch my shine. I want to be indelible and impermanent I want to change and stay. A thousand stars that never were and always will be. The same thousand stars that last even when you are forgotten. The same stars and velvet and wishes that rain down on the people that never knew you, but will always know your stars.

She procrastinates... but at least she can bake

Sun, 11 Jul 2010 16:47:29 -0400

I am profesh at procrastinating. I have all my chem homework left. I haven’t even started. Good god. Oh well, I shall begin once I have finished this blog post.

Yesterday was heaven. My momma came back from her little vacation from work, since she is a bit of a workaholic she really did need a break. She picked me up from Maddie’s casa in the morning and we went to brunch and we went shopping and I had missed her so much it just felt amazing to be silly together. Then we picked up Belly Button from Dance intensive camp and we headed to vegan dinner. It was a mucho perfect day. We came home and I drew for hours and it felt really nice, drawing all sorts of fashion pics that I had favorited on tumblr. So splendid that I still don’t feel guilty about not doing my chemistry homework.

Sorry this is so “blah blah this is my blog where i talk about my life yada yada yada” I’ll stop with that now.

I keep thinking about Argentina and how much I am going to miss home, how much I love my family and my friends, and even though it is far from perfect and anything but easy, it is such a part of me that it will be hard to leave for a year. Okay, I’m still blabbing sorry bout that.

Thank god for good saturdays.

Onion Opera

Thu, 08 Jul 2010 02:03:47 -0400

So my darlings, summer is underway, and I spent the first week of it in London with my grandpa and little sister. I had an epic time and I definitely learned a lot! For one thing, I learned that Asian tourists are quite fond of crocs, in that kind of “crocs are totally fine to wear in public because we are Asian and stylish and adorable and we can pull them off without looking like tacky grannies” way.

I also saw my first opera. It was Tosca, and though I enjoyed it I have to say that I prefer plays to opera overall. It’s not that I don’t like opera, but I don’t love it either. My feelings toward opera can best be described as my feelings towards onion. Don’t love em, don’t hate em.

I saw a superdy duperdy amazing play called All My Sons, which was just so brill I can’t stop thinking about it. Well, at least when I’m not clogging my brain with Chemistry. Summer is not lazy or hazy or anything of the sort! It is work your butt off get and A in Chemistry so your mother loves you again (joking, joking) and you can avoid becoming a failure in life. The nice thing about taking it over the summer though is that I don’t have to take it during the school year when I return from Argentina. I feel uber proactive getting ahead and all whatsits.

Back to London—

May I just saw that if there was every a holy place for a snazzy semi-atheist gal like me it would most definitely be Topshop. It was heaven. Unique, daring brill-o fashion of high quality. The kind of marketing and store layout that makes you drool and dump your wallet on the counter while simultaneously calling citibank to open up a new credit card. Everything was beautiful, there was no war, all diseases were cured and the store was scattered with mating unicorns. It was magic.

Seriously though I have never been so excited in my life. I never want to shop anywhere else and it has furthered my plan to marry ~~Aaron Johnson~~ a British guy who isn’t married to and father of the child of some odd aged lady, and raise my child with some darling accent and send the to a private school with adorable uniforms and weekly museum trips.

The food too, the food was really really excellent, the British food - meh, but French and Italian and oatmeal mmmmmm. That was heaven. I think the only part of England I didn’t like was the plumbing. Twas crappy, ~~no pun intended~~ (who am I kidding that was totally intended), to say the least. I feel like it’s because of the sun’s pull on that part of the earth or something that gravity in a certain way makes it impossible for the toilets to flush normally! No se!

Anyways, besitos all around and best to the in-laws —-

Cordelia <3

p.s. I love you more than I love the squishy-soft sweatshirts at Victoria’s Secret!

Move to the city, lose all your heart

Tue, 06 Jul 2010 01:16:20 -0400

Summer is excellent. I am living it up with my bestie and watching Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging for the millionth time while trying to forget that I have to go to Chemistry tomorrow.

This is really totally random but it occurred to me recently.

It’s easy for people to dismiss the affect that divorce has on children as they grow older, especially if the divorce took place when they were at a young age. People often assume that because I was little when my parents divorced, I didn’t really understand what was going on and my life wasn’t terribly changed. It gets hard to defend the position that divorce has repercussions as powerful as the memories.

A few days ago my friend and I were joking around and I asked her to marry me. I slid the ring onto her finger but onto the wrong hand. She laughed a bit assuming I suppose that it was a mistake.

I genuinely didn’t know what ring a wedding finger went on. For some people this knowledge is as second nature as which hand they write with, because they see it every day. But not us darling children of divorce. A simple mistake with a big reminder that no matter how much we love our lives, something is missing. Not something I inherently want, just something closer to the definition of normal.

Thinking- thinking -thinking- humming - blinking droopy eyes- remembering breakfast - time for bed.

xoxox,

big hugs and kisses for everyone and their grandma,

Cordelia

lifeaintafairytale: (via -harrypotter) this is love. this is...

Fri, 18 Jun 2010 03:46:33 -0400

lifeaintafairytale:

(via -harrypotter)

this is love. this is life.

Summer

Thu, 17 Jun 2010 02:57:00 -0400

Oh dear god. finallly. Tomorrow is my last day of being a freshman, a title which I shall dearly miss.

But summer— oh yes. How I have missed you. I missed the way you never reminded me to change out of my pajamas, the way that you wore that permanent open invitation my my bestie’s house, and her’s to mine, on your forehead. I missed the way that you helped me invent recipes and eat cookie dough. I missed how obsolete binders were. I missed the magic of reading voraciously for days straight that you encouraged. I missed your blinding smile and tan line belated birthday presents. I missed what you made me.

So dear summer,

WELCOME BACK <3

(via loveraindown)

Mon, 14 Jun 2010 21:02:14 -0400

(via loveraindown)

Plans

Mon, 14 Jun 2010 20:56:00 -0400

I have big plans and big dreams but I am scared I will never be able to carry them out.

I want to be happy, but what college will accept a girl who says she is happy and loves to learn if she doesn’t have the perfect GPA to “prove” it? I know that I am pretty young to be concerned about college, after all my freshman year is ending is three days, not my senior one. I just, I don’t know. I want to be able to sit in bed for hours with my Walt Whitman biographies (birthday prezzies from my grandma) and I want to make charcoal drawings of my little sister and my best friend. I want to know the history of Henrietta Lacks like the back of my hand. I want to pull all nighters writing poetry and teaching myself guitar. I want to explore the world. I want to learn about people, about cultures, about life. I want to know how to make someone smile and then make them smile for hours.

But instead I sit in bed with a textbook spread in my lap, doing menial worksheets. I have teachers tell me that I’m not good enough and then I fall on my sword so that they don’t grade me any harsher in the future. I pull all nighters memorizing formulas and equations. I draw maps and ugly posters. I sit on the living room floor until I am numb studying flashcards. I go to school in a haze from lack of sleep, breakfast, eyeliner and coffee.

Why do colleges want this? Do they want this? It just doesn’t feel worth it to be unhappy in order to be successful. I know that I can have both. I can be a writer and be free, but I need to be successful in order to survive. I can’t make much sense of it. Thank god for summer, if the promise of sleeping until noon and drawing and writing and laughing and LIVING weren’t three days away i would surely go crazy!

Three Days ‘Till Freedom,

Delia :)