Even a casserole can scream.

We Real Cool
By Gwendolyn Brooks

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

for those of you who think you are invincible.  

Thanksgiving.

Happy Thanksgiving. I needn't repeat my thanks for they are the same every year.
I've just finished Howard's End. It further strengthened my dream to retire in the European countryside with my vegetable patch and an annoying chicken.

Recollection in R.E.D.

I think it's my favorite color.

 

It's easier to share when everything's free.

I know my Literature SAT Subject Test score now.

I don't know how I quite feel about it. I didn't study at all, I didn't plan to. I simply enjoyed those weekends leading up to the test free from anxiety.

And well, I did well. Not extraordinary, but okay to suffice.
It makes me wonder the importance of SAT tests. I used to study religiously, every single weekend for years and years and years, praying that my efforts would be worthwhile. And, they were...to a certain extent, anyway.

Sure, I've heard stories about people who didn't study at all, and received a 2400, but I never put that to heart. It's difficult to comprehend that in a world which values hard work and effort, SAT are the complete opposite. No college will ever know how hard you worked or how many days you spent studying, they only care about the results. Come to think of it...that's the same way with grades. Colleges don't know how hard the teachers are or how difficult the material is at your school, they simply care about the percentage.

And well, I understand that bit. There's a massive pool of applicants, how else can you dwindle it down? But, it's so hard to work so hard and not be the very best you expected yourself to be. Maybe I'm just an optimist, or a perfectionist, whatever you call it, I have a major flaw.

In my life in its entirety, I've always based happiness on grades. It sounds horrible, I know, and all I want to do is just freeze the thought in mid-air. But I just can't let it go. I know that when I get a rejection letter, I'm always going to blame myself in a "I'm smart, but just not smart enough" sort of light.

What have I done to prove that I deserve to living the life I'm living? To go to school everyday while other kids (be it in third world countries or not) dreaming about going everyday single day of their lives? I know other kids will try harder, and succeed. Why didn't God let them take my place?

Know why my favorite show is Skins? Because they're living lives more fucked up than I could possibly imagine. In some way, I find security. Too bad it's just a show.

You are a prisoner in a croissant factory and you love it.

 (via luxirare)

Lines for the Fortune Cookies
By Frank O'Hara


I think you're wonderful and so does everyone else.

Just as Jackie Kennedy has a baby boy, so will you--even bigger.

You will meet a tall beautiful blonde stranger, and you will not say hello.

You will take a long trip and you will be very happy, though alone.

You will marry the first person who tells you your eyes are like scrambled eggs.

In the beginning there was YOU--there will always be YOU, I guess.

You will write a great play and it will run for three performances.

Please phone The Village Voice immediately: they want to interview you.

Roger L. Stevens and Kermit Bloomgarden have their eyes on you.

Relax a little; one of your most celebrated nervous tics will be your undoing.

Your first volume of poetry will be published as soon as you finish it.

You may be a hit uptown, but downtown you're legendary!

Your walk has a musical quality which will bring you fame and fortune.

You will eat cake.

Who do you think you are, anyway? Jo Van Fleet?

You think your life is like Pirandello, but it's really like O'Neill.

A few dance lessons with James Waring and who knows? Maybe something will happen.

That's not a run in your stocking, it's a hand on your leg.

I realize you've lived in France, but that doesn't mean you know EVERYTHING!

You should wear white more often--it becomes you.

The next person to speak to you will have a very intriquing proposal to make.

A lot of people in this room wish they were you.

Have you been to Mike Goldberg's show? Al Leslie's? Lee Krasner's?

At times, your disinterestedness may seem insincere, to strangers.

Now that the election's over, what are you going to do with yourself?

You are a prisoner in a croissant factory and you love it.

You eat meat. Why do you eat meat?

Beyond the horizon there is a vale of gloom.

You too could be Premier of France, if only ... if only...

My Life is half complete.

I have just watched Harry Potter Part 1.

This is not November.

Luxirare is taking a little trip to Italy through her posts. Confession time: these posts have kept me alive through October and this part of November. I simply hate dreary weather.

There's no doubt about it; Luxirare is my favorite blogger of all time. Her photographs are portals that transport me to the beauty and vibrancy of old Italia.

This is not November anymore.

November Inspirations

(dcist)

ivajean

When you see this...

it will blow your mind.

How beautiful the tree breathes through barren branches

I love how everyone from high school is going their separate colleges. After we shake off the leaves of high school, we enter college completely naked, ready to absorb everything it has to offer. It feels so strange that the next chapter of my life is in less than one year. Am I ready? What if I'm not done with soul searching just yet?

Consider this medication without the side-affects

I think everyone should recognize the importance of blogging. Every time I have something to say or am inspired by something or am mad at something, I can expose my thoughts to this alternate galaxy and suddenly feel so much better, as if all the muscles in my back are loosened. I'm sure it's the same way for all bloggers. We all share that knowing smile that our blogs rescue us, to some extent. It lifts us up and plucks us into a blank canvas, a forum created just for us to express. It's almost close to magic. 

I guess all I'm saying is: if you don't have a blog, you really should. It'll open up a world you've never stumbled upon before.

I'm totally not cliche, I swear.

Yes, I have a pet peeve. I hate it when people quote from teen fiction. Or from Taylor Swift. It is so annoying on so many different levels. Like, pick up a Keats, much?

But, I'm making an exception.

Remember in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (the movie) when Lena dives into the ocean, only to be saved by The Amazing Kostas? Remember what she had said beforehand? That she couldn't understand how someone, like Bridget, who had lost everything could still move on with life, while she, who had lost nothing, could feel so sad?

Well, really, it's true! In reference to my life, anyway. If some guru asked me if there was anything I would change about my life, I would totally reject any notion of altering it...

But the sad part is, I've never really lost anything. Ever. Well, maybe some loss and minor setbacks. I know, boo hoo, what the hell is this sheltered chic complaining about?! True dat, but I've always wondered what it's like to not have an amazing family, friends, everything I could imagine. It's not sweet, I'm sure, but it's an experience, nonetheless.

Physically, I don't think I could alter my life in any way, but I could help someone alter theirs.

That is why I plan to join the Peace Corps (or some other goodwill organization) after college and before graduate school. I want to go to a place completely free from modern obsessions, somewhere where there is no concept of time. It's a big shock, for sure. But I plan on helping someone improve their life, someone who hasn't had the same privileges as me. Just imagine, I will be turned into an indie, into world peace and environmentally sustainable clothing!

The Real Difference between Parisians and New Yorkers

(via Cup of Jo)

     Aren't these too cool?