"you carry people. you carry me." hey chuck bass, carry me, please!

Best. Gossip Girl. Episode. Ever.

True, that is an hour (well, more if you count how many times I had to rewind and rewatch...) that I could have spent studying for my Political science final tomorrow, but I HAD to watch it.

Gossip Girl is much more than a TV show for me. It's a part of my schedule. I wait all week for Mondays at nine o'clock. It's the highlight of my life. And I know it goes against everything I believe in, and I am just another victim of society's use of the media to dumb down the masses, but I don't care.

And after watching Chuck Bass Gossip Girl last night I have realized just how incomplete my life is. If you don't watch Gossip Girl, I feel so, so, so, so sorry for you. You are like someone who has only showered their entire life, and never known the luxury of a bath. Like someone who has only ever worn shoes from Payless, and never tried on owned a pair of Louboutins in a Saks fitting room.

(Hey CW, you should hire me!!!!)

And most of all, you are missing out on Chuck Bass. To be honest, he's the only reason I watch the show. His character's so deeply flawed, but saved, he's grown so much in two seasons, he's it's beautiful.

Damn you, Josh Schwartz. You have ruined me for real life.

good things don't come easy

I want to go to a park, lay in the grass, and see princesses and unicorns among the clouds. I want to see them and believe they're there. I don't want to pretend.
I want to write the book that's been floating around in my head for seventeen years, and I want you to read it. More than that, I want it to punch you in the gut. I want you to feel it.
I want to go for a run and feel the runner's high people are always talking about.
I want to buy my mother a house one day. A house with lots of windows that let the sunshine in, and a huge fireplace that will warm her while she watches Arabic sitcoms.
I want to be the best daughter, the best sister, the best friend.
I want to talk on the phone for hours and catch up, without once racking my brain for what to say next.
I want to get hopelessly lost without being hopelessly afraid.
I want to be able to give directions when I'm asked for them.
I want to know where I'm going.
I want to play video games with my little brother for a few hours, and jump on the bed with Ilyas until the springs break and all that's left is the mattress and the sweat and the rubble of remembrance.
I want to sleep outside and not miss my bed. I want to be okay with not knowing. I want to be comfortable in the dark. I want no more nightmares.
I want a bookshelf that reaches the heavens that holds all the books I've ever read, and all the books I want to read. I want someone to read beside me.
I want to read a poem to an audience, and I want them to know that I have given them a piece of me.
I want to buy ridiculously expensive shoes. I want to join the Peace Corps. I want to save the world.
I want to be girl that the song is about. I want someone to write poems about me, but then again I don't. I want to be the girl that can't be captured in words.
I want to take a road trip with no destination but away, and nothing but a full tank of gas and people that make me laugh.
I want to ride a Vespa down the streets of Italy. Write a story in a cafe in France. Backpack through Europe. Take a soul vacation.
Wear a hat without looking silly. Never take the bus again. Make the rules. Meet a boy. Be okay with being vulnerable. I want to play for keeps, and not just for the win.
Learn how to speak another language. Live in New York for a summer, move before it starts to rain.
I want to stop losing things, or maybe just lose less things. Replace those special earrings that I lost long ago. Find a way to go back in time, and then decide not to because I like where I am. Remember everything. Never forget. Smile and mean it. Find God and seek redemption. Wear hijab. Ask for advice.

I want to sing whenever I want, wherever I want, whatever I want, and as loud as I want. It would mean the world to me if you sang along.

What do you want?

Big City Dreams

I'm leaving this Saturday for SAN FRANCISCO!!!!
You all know that NYC is my favorite city in the world, but hellooooooo! This is San Francisco we're talking about!
It's the city if divinity, and celebrity, and golden sunshine. It sparkles and twinkles with an aura of fabulousness. And me being, fabulous, I am sure to fit right in.

We live in the Suburbs of a fairly large city on the West Coast, in a neighborhood where all the houses look the same, and the funnest thing to do on the weekends is go shopping. Or to the movies.
There's no glam, there's no WOW factor. I mean sure, there's the beach and the mountains and so many goddamn trees, but that's not for me.
I'm all about traffic jams, and pollution, and crowded sidewalks.
I'm all about poetry slams, and five dollar shows, and amazing outfits.
I'm about being spontaneous and taking pictures on the side of the Golden Gate Bridge.
So, you see, my heart is happy. I feel like I'm going home, somewhere I belong.
Because I feel too big for this city of mine.
I am ready to go be fabulous in a city with like minded fabulous people.
Wish me luck, World, I'm on my way home.

I need a job.
Actually, what I need is money, and since I'm not so keen on prostitution and drug dealing, getting a job seems the best way to do this.
I'm sick. Not physically, oh no, I'm fit as a fiddle. What I suffer from is Hyper reality. No girlfriend, I did not make that up.
Ever since I started watching Gossip Girl, and 90210, and all the other tv shows I would never admit to watching if you confronted me, I have begun measuring my own standard of living by their standard of living. Them being the TV characters. Not even the people who act them, but the people inside the TV.
I know I sound insane, but I can't help it! When I go to the mall and my friend says "Oh this dress would look so hot on you," I take one look and say "Serena would never wear that." When my cousin points at a guy and says "Oh, he's a cutie!" I take one look and say, "Oh him? He doesn't compare to Nate." My cousin looks at me baffled and says, "Huh? Whose Nate?" And I sheepishly hang my head, and mumble "Some kid from school."
So recently I have been looking through my wardrobe and I realized that NOTHING I own would be worn by the girls that go to Constance Billard. (Please don't ask.) So my sense of style has changed dramatically, much to the dismay of my mother's pocketbook.
She has realized that she can no longer take me shopping because my style now leans towards Very Expensive. Plus the economy.
Anywho. A girl of seventeen on the social scene of the Upper East Side (please don't point out I live in the Pacific Northwest) needs a wardrobe, and since my mother won't pay for it, the burden now lies on my shoulders.
So that is why I have to get a job.
So I can fit in with the people on TV.
My mother says that it's not a job I need, but therapy.
Retail therapy, anyone?

New Years Cheers? No, no. New Years Tears, you idiot. Hmph. Well that wasn't very nice.

For some reason New Years makes me sad.

I don't know why, but it happens every year.

You see, I usually spend New Years on the coach watching the ball drop in New York, my home sweet home. Well, not really. Errr.... fine. Not at all. But still. I've adopted it, you could say.

I even call my look New York inspired. My mom calls it radical, over the top, and sometimes, uhhhhgulyyy. Rude, I know. 

So every New Years I think about how uneventful the last year was. And how I'm not famous yet, nor have I saved the world. I haven't even STARTED saving the world, and it makes me sad. Because I've missed out on an entire year. 

My mother says that I'm only seventeen and that I can save the world when I'm all grown up. 

She's forgetting that I'm not very patient, and I really can't wait that long.

So 2009 will be my year. I'm absolutely determined that next New Years eve I will be thinking about all the people I've helped, and books I've written, and shows I've starred in, and I'll be content because at least I have done something.

The only problem is that I have no idea where to start.

The city that never sleeps

New York, to me, is a celebrity in her own rights. She's glitz and glam and all that glitters. She has that ethereal glow that transports her to some unworldy level. Not quite perfect. But only if you look hard enough. Everyone thinks they know her, but unless you've shared her space and breathed her air, you don't. New York, I want to know you. I want to become your most intimate friend. Tell me your secrets and scandals and I won't indulge anyone but myself. Tell me of your tragedies and your triumphs so that I may cry and laugh with you. I want to sing down your streets and dance in your rain.
New York, who ever would have thought? That the two of us with such different stories are chapters in the same book.
I hope you haven't gotten the wrong impression. I'm not some crazy stalker fan. New York, I am sincere and I think we could do a lot for each other.
You need me almost as much I need you.

Current song: New York, I love You by LCD Soundsystem

http://www.imeem.com/urbn/music/aEp2t6WD/lcd_soundsystem_new_york_i_love_you/