One Degree

There are so many things I blame, but the dots all connect back to me.

Disappearing until further notice.

Love the Way You Lie

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
Well that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
Well that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

This song really surprised me. I think is the closest thing to a love song that Eminem's ever done. What makes it even more remarkable is that this duet about an abusive relationship features Rihanna. It's an interesting blend of anger from Eminem's rap and lament from Rihanna's vocals. I can't relate to the lyrics -- I've never been in this sort of relationship -- but I can only imagine how powerful this song might be to somebody who has gone through the same thing.

HOLY KLEENEX BATMAN

Before I ignite in an explosion of uninhibited celebrity adulation, I would like to clarify that I am generally monogamous in my obsessions. Meaning, with the exception of food (which I will willingly eat anything, except for overloaded sweets and the Big Three: Bananas, Taro, and Sea Cucumbers) and music, I usually direct all my fawning and love towards one thing rather than spreading it out amongst many of the same category.

Oh, I suddenly remembered. You know what else I refuse to eat? Lamb. Not only because my Chinese zodiac character is a sheep, and that would be bordering on cannibalism. But to prove my point:

Honestly, how can you even THINK of eating this bundle of cuteness? I could probably dedicate an entire post to discussing my struggle with converting to vegetarianism this year, but that will have to wait another day, since I'm getting very off-topic. Anyways...

So before you deduce that I am stricken with some debilitating groupie syndrome for the Badass One, do keep in mind that this unharnessed energy cocktail of teenage hormones is all being channeled into one celebrity crush, and do keep in mind that much of the appeal of going apeshit (my new favorite word) about the Idol is that I get to unleash my inner lunatic without much consequence other than being judged by what few readers may discover this blog. (And usually, those few readers already know me well enough to shake their heads dismissively and engage in a Sound-of-Music-esque nunnery rendition of, "Ohhh, how do you solve a problem like Sophelia?")

And now, may I present...

Sophelia's Highly Scientific Analysis of T.O.P.'s "Turn It Up" MV
(ignoring the fact that she doesn't understand a lick of Korean)

0:00-0:10 - HOLY KLNEEX BATMAN IT'S T.O.P.!!!!! IN A CHECKER SUIT!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Wait. What is up with that leotard chick beating that drum? For T.O.P.'s sakes, she's not even on rhythm with the beat. Fortunately, the ever-empathetic Sophelia will give her the benefit of the doubt and assume that her disgraceful off-beat-ness is due to her extreme nervousness of being in such close proximity to the Badass One himself.

0:17 - Oh dear T.O.P., was that a moaning woman ensnared on a spider web? Is he like Zeus, except instead of transforming into such un-Badass things like a white bull or a shower of gold, he descends down to Earth for humanly courtship as a pincered arachnid, luring unsuspecting female prey into his web and binding them with the silk of his spinnerets for later devouring? Don't even answer that question. (Wow. That was awkward.)

0:21-0:24 - WHAT THE HECK? MORE SLINKY WOMEN IN LEOTARDS? Every minute when the camera's not focused on T.O.P. is a minute of my life wasted -- especially when I am a straight girl with no interest in seeing a female leotard butt on Youtube. And let's disregard the fact that it is VERY LATE right now and I should be going to bed.

0:27-0:29 - ANOTHER ONE?! Okay, that's already the fifth girl I've seen in this video, and we're barely one-seventh of the way into this video. And what the heck is she doing?? Is that supposed to be a seductive dance? GIrl, please sit down. You are doing the Badass One no favors with your pathetic shimmy.

0:35-0:43 - Ignored commenting about the reappearance of three leotard girls, because Sophelia decided there's no point wasting her words on such insignificant beings. But then HOLY MOTHER OF GHANDI WHY ARE THERE SUDDENLY TEN OF THEM SWARMED AROUND HIM? Dude. Note to whomever produced/directed the video: hiring all these fawning women is a waste of your money. Ninety percent of the people who will watch this video are infatuated worshippers of the Badass One. We already know he is the most sa-WOON-worthy guy on the planet, so there really is no need to reinforce the fact with a harem of women around him. It's complete overkill. It'd be like Taylor Swift having cute fairies and princesses and unicorns in all of her videos. We get it. She's pure as the driven snow. Same with T.O.P. -- except he's too badass for cliched similes.

0:44-0:46 - WHO IS THIS CLOWN?? STOP OBSTRUCTING MY VIEW OF THE GLORIOUS ONE. What the hell, is she stroking his leg? BACK OFF! SHOO!

0:47-0:57 - Sadly, the brief glorious moments of the Badass One with his miniature tea-cup are interspersed with more fondling from the jester-slut and the two women sitting in his cup of tea. Sigh. From now on, Sophelia is going to stop commenting about all these women and will only commentate with regards to the Badass One himself.

1:06-1:07 - I'm having way too many WTF moments with this video. A set of false teeth? Pulling out the front tooth? Either this is supposed to be some sort of cryptic love letter to his fans, or I need to go see if somebody has translated the lyrics into English already.

1:12-1:16 - Poor guy. A line of like twenty women lined up around him like a slutty version of Da Vinci's "The Last Supper", and he has his head resting on his hand with a soulful expression that says, "Why am I surrounded by all these lowly beings? WHY, DIRECTOR, WHY?"

1:18-1:28 - NO!!! WHY ARE YOU RUNNING YOUR FINGERS ACROSS THE BACK OF THAT JESTER-SLUT! AGHHHHAHLALFDSJASAFDJSLJKAGASJKLHJKAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Disgruntled and sleepy, Sophelia heads off to bed. It is 3:30 AM and she has class in six hours. May or may not continue this scientific study tomorrow.)

Airplanes Pt. III Feat. Sophelia

Can we pretend that the airplanes

In the night sky
Are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now
(Wish right now, wish right now)

Let's pretend: it's the year 2015
High school Cinderella -- once caught in between
Sweeping the soot of the world or living out a dream --
Now she's seeing the world through a tinted limousine
Let's pretend Cinderella's risen to the top of her game
Stepping out downtown with the fans screaming her name
Never thought she'd be the one escorted to a movie premiere
By the celebrity she's been crushing on all these years
All these years -- remember back when it was 2010
What if Cinderella had never bothered to pick up a pen
What if she'd buried herself alive taking reqs for pre-med
Neglecting the words rattling inside of her head
Back when nobody ever remembered her name
She'd look out the window wishing upon an airplane
Shooting stars burn and crash but airplanes fly
But only if you've got the fuel to keep them up in the sky
Then maybe one day you'll wake up and find
Your writing devoured and praised as being one-of-a-kind
But don't forget dear, Cinderella can only reap what she sows
Nothing comes from daydreaming out the window, thinking...

Can we pretend that the airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now
(Wish right now, wish right now)

-- Inspired by "Airplanes" by B.o.B. feat. Hayley Williams

Sophelia's Top Five: Literary Male Leads

I don't know why -- perhaps it's the lack of having anything to occupy my time with besides spending it with my significant other (read: Organic Chemistry II textbook), but I have become an avid reader of blogs. You thought I was a religious blog follower before? I practically have a list of ten or so blogs I check daily -- and I'm still searching for more, since not all of them update every day. My latest favorite is http://www.foreveryoungadult.com, a blog written by adults who love reading YA. I don't really follow it so much for the YA, but the hilariousness of the posts keep me laughing. I don't even remember how I first found the page -- all I know is that I clicked on a link somewhere and ended up on FYA's Twilight Drinking Game page...

Score One for FYA.

Today, I spent more than an hour reading all the Twilight tagged posts on FYA, featuring a hearty amount of sparkly vampire bashing -- which led me to a ton of other hilarious Twilight-bashing links. One of which listed 34 reasons why the New Moon movie is better than the book (which was probably actually only 30, given how many times they repeated Jacob's abs). This reason however, was one of my favorites:

“Before you, Bella, my life was like a moonless night. Very dark, but there were stars –points of light and reason….And then you shot across my sky like a meteor. Suddenly everything was on fire; there was brilliancy, there was beauty. When you were gone, when the meteor had fallen over the horizon, everything went black. nothing had changed, but my eyes were blinded by light. I couldn’t see the stars anymore. And there was no more reason for anything.”

"The movie, thank god, dispenses with most speeches like this."

Stephenie Meyer? Could you come over and help me wipe the vomit off my keyboard? K thanks.

I don't know. Edward just doesn't do it for me. Neither does Jacob, despite his abs. And while I like to laugh at the expense of the Twi-hards like everyone else, you might say I'm hypocritical because I've had my own obsessions with fictional characters. So now I've decided to conveniently compile a list for y'all; R-Patz I'm looking at YOU. If you want to win over girls like me who are the epitome of cool, outside of the hormonal tween/teen demographic (though technically I'm still a teen, and in reality there are soccer moms out there who love you for reasons I cannot imagine), you need to learn from these five gentlemen I've picked out to teach you a lesson on how to be a swoon-worthy male lead, and not some sick and abusive sparkly popsicle.

NOTE: To simplify things, I only considered characters from books and did not consider any Disney characters. That would have been a different list entirely. And also, this list is entirely subjective (based on characters I've had crushes on in my nineteen years of life) and was created while I was half paying attention in class today. So please feel free to drop any names if I've forgotten anybody swoonworthy -- though chances are, if I didn't add famous names like Rhett Butler, Heathcliff, or Rochester, chances are I haven't read the book or I read it too long ago to remember the character very well.

ALSO: I am not including pictures because these guys look fifty times better in my head than any picture you might find on the Internet. Yes, allow me to remain blissfully delusional.

FINALLY: Before you all go apeshit (yes! I've been dying to use that word! AHEM.. anyways...) on me about why I haven't included Darcy, here's why -- I've never been attracted to him at all. He is infinitely better than Bingley, who is spineless puppet, but I still think Sophelia + Darcy would be a Bad Romance with a GAGA OOH LALA. Ahem. And now, without further ado:

Sophelia's Top Five: Swoon-worthy Literary Male Leads

5. Prince Charmont from Ella Enchanted

Intro: Char and I first met when I was a fourth grader doing a book report, and my mother made me read this book by Gail Carson Levine that she'd bought from the school book orders. (GOD I loved those things! They need like a college edition or something.) Never really liked princes until I came across Char, which I suppose is evidence that I really am a girl which makes him my obligatory prince crush to cover up the fact that I never had a crush on any of the Disney princes as a kid.

The Hook: Okay, being a prince is part of it. But not only that, Char is kind and thoughtful and chivalrous without acting patronizing and misogynistic. How many guys do you know will give you a centaur as a gift the second time you meet him? Not only that, he'd totally appreciate my whacked out sense of humor. Not only would we slide down banisters together in his royal palace, he'd probably laugh at all my stupid jokes.

What Edward Could Learn From Him: Dear sir, if you are so strongly attracted to a girl, there is no need to do stupid things like leave her mysteriously and then let her get all suicidal and psycho and then when you mistakenly believe she's dead, you threaten to commit suicide by revealing your sparkling glory to the world. Char loved Ella right from the start, and he never left a doubt about it. Girls like me can't stand flirting games with all those rules about signaling or playing hard to get and whatnot -- we are too oblivious for that sort of crap, so don't pull an Edward and start flipping out when we sit next to you in Biology.

4. Laurie from Little Women

Intro: Oh, Laurie. I threw a fit when Jo rejected your marriage proposal, and then I threw an even bigger fit when you went ahead and married Amy. Honestly, if I get to write a sequel to Little Women, ignoring the fact that Louisa May Alcott has already written one, I'm going to maroon you and Jo on a secluded tropical island where you two engage in a clandestine extramarital love affair filled with epic adventures such as staging wickedly awesome plays starring the island natives. I don't care much for Fritz, and Amy can go bugger off. (Really, I don't know if I could ever forgive someone who throws my unfinished novel in a fire... even if she were my sister.)

The Hook: Laurie would be a blast to hang out with. He'd act out all the stupid stories I write, and we'd have the time of our lives coming up with crazy things to do. Besides, did you know Christian Bale played him in the 1994 movie version? As in, He-Who-Has-One-of-My-Favorite-Voices-Ever Christian Bale? Sa-woooon.

What Edward Could Learn From Him: Gee Edward, how would we spend our down time together? Gazing lustfully at each other in the forest? I can't keep up with vampire baseball when all you guys are ridiculously athletic, and I don't think you watching me sleep every night counts as quality time together. Find some hobbies, dude.

3. Wes Baker from The Truth About Forever

Intro: Since high school, I've read my fair share of Sarah Dessen books, but Wes takes the cake -- hands down. Though I liked Dexter's personality, for some reason I never pictured him as particularly physically attractive in my mind, and I wasn't fond of Owen's patronizing views on music at all. Not only is Wes supposed to be ridiculously gorgeous (with a badass tattoo!), more importantly he is artistic, understanding, and patient, and get this -- he can totally relate to the female lead, Macy.

The Hook: Honestly, what more do I need to say other than the fact that he is the original SA-WOON? Not only that, I completely respect this honorable guy -- not only does he break-up with his girlfriend before trying to start anything with Macy, he also doesn't act like a complete asshole after Macy rejects him and instead chooses Jason, who is the most ridiculously pathetic and clueless boyfriend in literary existence -- by that point, I wanted to smack Macy upside on the head and steal Wes for myself. HELLO? JASON OVER THE ORIGINAL SA-WOON? WOMAN, ARE YOU MAD? If I were Wes, I'd probably spiral into depression wondering how in the world I lost to that pansy.

What Edward Could Learn from Him: Despite the fact that Wes is supposed to be undeniably gorgeous, that's not what makes him the Original Sa-woon in the hearts of many. Wes is empathetic. That scene when he holds Macy in the hospital when she breaks down after she remembers how her father died? Classic. All those scenes where Wes and Macy talk openly about their secrets to each other through the Truth game? Even better. How much do you really know about Bella? How many times have you two actually sat down and had a heart-to-heart without you telling her she's your morphine, your lamb, your blah blah blah? If you REALLY knew her, you would have known she'd gone apeshit (YES!) after you broke up with her -- because she apparently literally cannot function without you.

2. Ren Honjo from Nana

Intro: Okay, so I kind of stretched things a bit by considering Nana as a book. But really, how can I not include Ren? Discovering Nana and consequently Ren was probably one of the highlights of my high school experience. Where do you think I got the idea of Rhys from, huh? Not only that, I-who-never-cry-for-fictional-characters was on the brink of crying when Ren died. Say what?

The Hook: First of all, in general I like guys with short hair. Even if Takumi hadn't been a Grade A asshole, I would have never been able to get past the hair. Secondly, I love all things badass (coughT.O.P.cough), and if Ren existed in real life, I'd have a hard time picking between a champion of badassery between T.O.P. and Ren. I love T.O.P.'s voice, but Ren and the guitar? Oh lord. And sure, Ren and Nana's love for each other is bordering on psychotic possessiveness, but you still have to admire the guy who is still so madly in love with a girl he hasn't seen or heard from in years. Think about it -- a rock star of Ren's caliber would be surrounded by adoring fans and fawning groupies and beautiful celebrities -- and he still remained infatuated with the girl he left behind when he went to pursue his dreams? That is IMPRESSIVE, good sir.

What Edward Could Learn from Him: Want to be dark and badass? Take some notes on this guy.

1. Gilbert Blythe from Anne of Green Gables

Intro: I loved Anne Shirley. She was funny, imaginative, and smart; I wanted to be her best friend. So the fact that Gilbert Blythe is my favorite character in the book means you can imagine just how supremely awesome and godlike he is to be able to top Anne Shirley. Gilbert has been, and always will be, my number one literary crush.

The Hook: Oh lord, I could sing praises for this guy all day. Not only is Gilbert handsome (tall, dark hair, gray eyes) and smart (he and Anne were always vying to be the top of the class) and maybe even a little cocky at first, he is so genuine. He makes the mistake of calling Anne "Carrots" on the first day and gets a slate broken over his head, but instead of denying any wrong doing (well, maybe not at first), he really tries to be make amends with Anne. That scene where her boat sinks and Gilbert rescues her? Oh, you have no idea how badly I wanted to chuck the wooden panels of the rotting boat at her when she refused Gilbert's request to give up old grudges and be friends. And have I mentioned that he's selfless? Gilbert gave up a teaching job that was closer to home and recommended Anne to the employers, so that she could take care of Marilla without having to give up Green Gables. AND he's a doctor? WHERE ARE ALL THE GILBERT BLYTHES IN THIS WORLD? Or, more importantly: WHERE'S MINE?

What Edward Could Learn From Him: Edward, if you could dye your hair black, wear grey color contacts, and be smart and accomplished AND treat your girl as your intellectual and social equal, then you might actually have a chance to be on my Top Five, but there's no way in hell you're getting anywhere near Gilbert.

Oh dear. This list took longer than I expected. Honorable Mentions include Dickon from The Secret Garden, Mr. Knightley from Emma, and George Cooper from The Song of the Lioness quartet.

Rosey

Ring around the

rosey is fifteen going on sixteen but feels like ten going on twenty, straddling somewhere between the little girl with her rosebud lips in an O upturned towards the sky and the demure lady resisting the urge to fling her umbrella aside and stamp alongside the raindrops in their feverish dance across the city streets. she stands beside him as he holds the umbrella for two of them and she cannot stop herself from thinking of those sugar-spun kisses in the rain she's seen in those starstruck movies, but saccharine is so out of style (though she can't help but wonder if her first will taste sweet like caramel drizzled atop a chocolate and vanilla sundae, or tangy like chilled raspberry lemon sorbet). she remembers when she was a kid, how she'd keep the beautiful rainbow swirled lollipops encased in their plastic wrapping because they were too beautiful to be defiled by her little catlike tongue, and yet curiosity killed the cat and she'd try a little lick here and there until she'd find herself with nothing left but headless lollipop sticks. it's like that with him sometimes -- she wonders if the taste of his lips will fill that hunger of hers or if he'll disappear before she'd ever feel full. it's not enough for her when she can't tell if or how much he cares; he'd given her

A pocketful of

posies earlier this afternoon but she doesn't like the flowers much, not when the fragrance devours his scent and fills her lungs in a leaden perfume overdose. still, her hands reach into her pockets from time to time to feel the silken petals brush against her fingers, as if she's afraid the scorching scarlet-blush fever he's infected her with will leave her with nothing but a handful of pepper-grey

Ashes,

ashes spilling out of her pockets like Hansel's breadcrumbs, though she imagines a line of wild flowers sprouting out of the dust behind her. suddenly it feels as if every inch of her skin is burning and so she runs out into the rain as the cool moisture breathes over her and he calls out her name as she splashes in the puddles and for an instant she thinks he thinks she's weird, but then he casts the umbrella aside and runs after her and then they are ten years old again, catching the falling dancers with their rounded O's and darting tongues, not caring that their clothes are soaked through like translucent insect wings -- (her eyes trace the contours of his chest and his follow the curves of her body and both are not shy) -- and when he holds her hand for the first time, she almost passes out from the electricity. the rain is falling, he is falling and she is falling and

we all fall down.

Beast

if i ever date a boy
i want him to take me to the theater

not the movies

a theater with red velvet seats
gilded arches of swan necks lifting the
stardusted ceiling to the moon and the stars
with divas draped in fabrics and jewels in all the colors
you'd find at the marché de plein air
in the crates of fresh fruit, ripened, glistening --

my mouth waters

with dashing baritones -- the vibrato throbbing
in unison with the pulsating red rivers
flowing under my prickling skin
i want to take that deep, lulling voice
wrap it around my bare shoulders on a summer night


that's what i was thinking last night
as i sat on the balcony
watching the beauty fall for the beast
and as the enchanting little girl beside me
strummed arpeggios across my heart strings
with her staccato giggles and allegretto chatter
and i thought of him -- that one who sits beside me in class every day
-- an idle, subconscious thought --

but then you came back to me that night
and as i awoke from that wretched dream
all my memories of you
poured down like a torrential rain storm
drowning within me

and though i know my heart has enough love
for a child of my own
i don't know if
i can ever learn to open myself up again

9 o'clock

sensual generator of its part, singing poison
petals and vessels in the nets of nets, beating
stolen
entangled

God help me, I've come undone

sensual generator of sliding fields, fabricating glass
occupancy of whispers motioning
glass whispers of whispers beating
gestures of thought rending
pure

out of the light of the sun.

Pagan Poetry

I first listened to Bjork about two years ago. The only reason I looked her up was because I had been madly obsessed with OLIVIA at the time, and OLIVIA had cited Bjork as one of her biggest influences. People say that with Bjork, you either love her or hate her. I have to say I disagree though. I've tried listening to a good number of her albums, and I've definitely been unable to sit through quite a few of them. But on the other hand, the songs of her that I do like -- I think they're freaking amazing. My favorite album would be Vespertine. The whole album reminds me of winter.

"Pagan Poetry" was one of my favorite tracks on Vespertine. It's notorious for having a controversial music video -- you'll see what I mean if you watch the uncensored version yourself. I didn't realize until today though that the song is about a woman preparing herself for marriage and for her lover -- and suddenly, the lyrics make so much more sense. The song is deep -- much deeper, much darker, and much rawer than anything you hear on mainstream radio these days.

To me, Bjork is untouchable. I've listened to a couple of Bjork covers -- I like Death Cab for Cutie and I like Bjork's "All is Full of Love" but those two combined just don't cut it for me -- and I'm convinced that nobody can do a decent cover of a Bjork song.

The video I've posted is a "Pagan Poetry" cover by Further Seems Forever. I still say Bjork's version is still better by far, but this is the best Bjork cover I've ever heard. The instrumentals are cluttered, but this guy's voice is pretty good.

Okay, obligatory weekly/monthly/habitual music post is done. There's suddenly something else I want to blog about, but it has nothing to do with Bjork. Peace out.

Matisse

when i came home two weeks ago
i saw you for the first time in two months

but it felt like i hadn't seen you in decades

you still recognized me, struggling out of my mother's grasp
to jump into my lap
and lick my face
but i knew something was different.

you, who used to race around the house like a white lightning ball of fur
lazed the days next to the glass sliding door
as the sunlight kissed your paling wet nose and stroked your fur

(i could never look at you for too long under the sun
the brilliance of white would have made me
blind)

you, who used to tumble up and down the stairs chasing my mother's footsteps
would whine at the foot of the stairs
waiting for somebody to carry you up

you, who never tired of energy during our neighborhood walks
would sit in the middle of the sidewalk, refusing to budge
until i picked you up and carried you home

i write of love so often
mainly of the romantic unrequited sort
but i think is the first time
i've cried while writing a post

you always knew when i was crying
you'd find me, wherever i was
and lick the tears off my face
as if you could absorb my pain

is it wrong for me to be crying like this
when i realized today that
you won't be there to lick my tears
the day that i cry for you

La Rousse

Though I like Paramore and their flame-haired chanteuse, Hayley Williams's got nothing on Shirley Manson, the original redheaded rock goddess and lead singer of Garbage. I happened to watch a recent interview she did on Craig Ferguson's show earlier in the week, and dammmmn -- for a 43-year-old, she looks almost twenty years younger. (And she got married recently! AND it looks like Garbage might be back together!!) I ended up watching all of her interviews on Craig Ferguson's show on Youtube -- really, at this point my ideal TV show would be to have Shirley Manson and Craig Ferguson bantering back and forth in their Scottish accents. They are HILARIOUS together.

Shirley's just one of those girls I think I'd love to meet in person. I looked up her Facebook page and I've read some of the notes she's posted. Who knew she loves Silversun Pickups and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs? Guess who else loves Silversun Pickups and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs? (Hmm... let me guess... which band is on the header of this blog? And which band's song title is in the About Me section of this blog?)

I suppose it might be considered "creepy" or "weird" that I've spent a good chunk of the afternoon reading her posts, but it's amazing how much you get to know somebody by reading their writing. She's classy as well; she wrote a post defending Taylor Swift, noting that Swift's detractors jumped all over her when she wasn't pitch-perfect at the Grammy's, but they forget that Swift carved her way to stardom on her own terms as a legitimate songwriter. And considering my own recent reflections on Miley Cyrus, I agree with Shirley a hundred percent.

And she writes poems!!

A STAG

A stag stands his ground on a lothian field
Caught between Morta and Artemis
Locked in bitter combat
Who shall be queen of this waste land ?
Sod wet and heavy as he waits
Head cocked on high alert
Watching rain pelt dirt
And the birds pecking

God is nowhere to be seen
Late for his shift
In an unsurprising no show
He goes unmissed
We curve inward against the wind
And wrestle our rage into points
Sharp as glass
That could rip the wrist
Faster than you can blink

Red granite etched in gold
Nestled there alone
Row upon row of cold grey stone
You stand out a mile in death
As you did whilst you were living
Bright as a smile and a little rude
In this most somber of settings

Satisfied that all is in order
We bundle ourselves and head home
A straight hit along the old edinburgh road
To cups of tea and shortbread biscuits
Everything in its right place
But with something missing

The stag snorts and lets leash
A plume of steam
From each wide nostril
Mystical cryptic beast
Stamps his feet
And holds his ground


S.A.M 2010

Sigh. You know what would be awesome? If I could have a dinner party with Shirley Manson, OLIVIA, and T.O.P. all at the dinner table and we'd all understand each other perfectly because there would be no such thing as a language barrier. They are all such funny, charming, inspiring musicians -- I can only imagine how freaking awesome the dinner conversation would be.
------------------------
//edit//

It suddenly came back to me -- how I ever found Garbage in the first place. She was still my debate partner then. We were in the debate room listening to her iPod, and I fell in love with Garbage's "Why Do You Love Me."

There's always these little moments when I suddenly remember that Sophelia was once Juliet Kitteridge and that she was Rose Mortmain and how it all fell apart like a tragic retelling of Violet and Claire and how sometimes I see our old photographs and wonder what went wrong. I remember how we wrote vignettes to each other in e-mailed letters, and how I was still in the phase where I imitated Francesca Lia Block, but Rose had always been real. Always, always.

The Setting Sun

Some days, I regret it. I regret that it ever happened, the way I let myself become diseased and mutilated by this virus that is paradoxically so intimately tied to human life. But then, there are those days when I revisit those vignettes and letters I once wrote to you (yes, you are no longer worthy of the capital Y -- disregarding the contemplative Why) and when I see those pretty words strung into lovelorn sentences, I can't help but think of a dazzling jeweled choker baring its diamond teeth around a fragile neck and then I wonder where all my beautiful words have gone, as if you sucked them dry and left me with nothing.

On Teenage Stardom

Really now... WTF IS SHE WEARING?

I'm a little baffled by my extreme dislike for this girl.

Though I tend to read sites like thesuperficial.com or gofugyourself.com and chuckle at the snarky comments the bloggers make about celebrities, I am actually rather ambivalent about celebrities. I get pissed off when people write disrespectful comments about celebrities who have passed away (Heath Ledger, Brittany Murphy, etc.), because really? If you don't personally know him or her, you shouldn't be the one to judge. Likewise, people may bash on the Jonas Brothers, but really? I don't know them personally, and so I don't care -- to me, feeling any real emotion towards them, whether love or hate, is acknowledging that they have some sort of impact on my life -- and they honestly don't. And I don't particularly listen to pop music, so you can play as many Jonas Brothers songs to me as you want, and I won't be able to recognize any of them.

But Miley? No such luck. I was doing pretty well at first -- never watched an episode of Hannah Montana, never listened to any of her songs, other than the fact that "The Climb" was mixed into DJ Earworm 2009 Remix.

Then "Party in the USA" entered the scene. Like a plague riding in on infected rats, it entered houses, cars, and dormitories on MP3 players and radio waves until I couldn't walk anywhere on campus without listening to Miley's voice. Even worse, it was one of those songs like Rihanna's "Disturbia" that infest your brain to the point that the tune is stuck in your head for hours, even though you don't particularly like the song at all.

And even then, I didn't hate Miley. I didn't like her song, and that isn't really legitimate grounds to dislike a person. Heck, I even took her side at one point early in her career, with this photograph:


Yes, the infamous Annie Leibovitz portrait. In fact, I am even more amazed by this photograph now that I'm looking at it two years later. This was back when she was still the spotless girl-next-door. People were appalled, claiming it bordered child pornography. I scoffed at that accusation. My aesthetic tastes are much more European than American, and so I thought it was a beautiful photograph of a pretty girl. When I look at it now, that's not all I see anymore. I see the fragility of a girl at the brink of stardom, vulnerable to losing herself and growing up too fast.

I confess: out of curiosity due to all the fervor in the blogosphere, I went to Youtube and watched the music video for "Can't Be Tamed." Oh, how I laughed. I laughed at the hilarity of Miley Cyrus as a giant peacock-like bird-thing that scares off bemused spectators by going into a dancing frenzy. I laughed at the nonsensical and rather juvenile lyrics. But mainly, I laughed at how hard she was trying to prove she had grown up.

Perhaps if I wasn't relatively up-to-date about Hollywood, then maybe I wouldn't even care. I think much of the reason my impression of her is so sour is because of all the stories I have read about her that appall me. In a recent interview, she confessed that she didn't listen to pop music (even though that's her genre of music... disconnect?) and that she can't stand musicals. Here's an excerpt of what she said:

"My 13-year-old self would have beaten up my 17-year-old self because she would be like, 'You're a sellout!' But that's not what it is. It's not dance music that's just about, 'Ooh, I'm in the club and everyone's looking at me.' It means something. I'm not just sitting here trying to sell glitz and glamour...because no one lives that life. A lot of pop songs are super shallow, but this music isn't."

I'm trying my best not to be cynical, but if her songs aren't shallow, how on earth are they deep? "Can't Be Tamed" seemed like an excuse for her to parade around her blossoming sexuality, and the song lyrics weren't exactly enlightening either. As for "Party in the USA", she confessed that she's never even listened to Jay-Z.

There are a lot little things about her that I don't like, but one of the things that bothered me the most also makes me wonder if there's more at work than just cynicism. And that thing is The Last Song.

I haven't watched this movie, and don't particularly intend to. I am not a Nicholas Sparks fan, but that is another story entirely. What really irked me about the production of this movie is what happened behind the scenes. Basically, this movie was written for Miley. Disney, wanting to help her break-out into older audiences, approached Nicholas Sparks and asked him if he had a novel in mind that would work for a film adaptation. So, Sparks ended up writing the screenplay for Miley to star in, and then finished the novel afterwards.

So why does this tick me off so much? There are thousands of young, rising actresses out there waiting for their big break. It is very likely that a handful of them could have nailed the role better than Miley. Obviously, Miley Cyrus has the connections and life isn't fair, so get over it. But the fact that she got this starring role not out of particular acting ability but as a way to further advance her marketability annoys the crap out of me.

In the end, I feel like maybe I don't actually dislike Miley Cyrus, the person. Obviously, I don't particularly admire her decision to skip out on college, but I can kind of understand because logically it makes sense for her to cash in on her stardom while it's still so monstrous. And I feel like if she'd gone to my high school, I wouldn't like her very much. I respect girls like Dakota Fanning and Emma Watson, who still maintain as much of a normal life as they can outside of stardom.

No, I'm starting to think I dislike Miley Cyrus, the product of Hollywood marketing and exploitation.