I’m not sure I’m ready to write about it. I’m not sure I’m ready to admit it. I’m really not ready to do much. It is difficult to work, to be human and Back on Track when the pictures are still in their frames and aside the dresser, waiting to be hung up and hammered into a future, an apartment for us.

Christopher says I’m cold. Says I am taking the breakup too well. That I must’ve not loved him. Well, this is for him. And for me. I can’t communicate well through spoken word, I have to write at times like these. This is so you can see I’m not heartless.

The nightstand is empty, the one I didn’t want and begged you not to get. I’m never sober much these days. I try to blur the nightstand and the pictures and the parts that are left to pick up and sweep up. Double vision blurred is better than seeing the situation clearly. Minds numbed makes cutting you out of my brain a little easier.

Being friends and roomies still makes shit harder. The cut has to be more precise, you see. Cut around the friendly chap chit chat and only hollow out the me and you and a mini van parts.

Remember the woods? I can’t remember what we used to call that place. I can’t remember a lot about those happy times, perhaps that is why I was so unhappy. I feel like they are ghosts. I want them back though. I do.

You seem to think it was only your future that has imploded now. My plans are mushed too, my plans for me and you and us. I try to focus on the good parts and focus on staying friends because if I allow myself to open this up, I will be out of service for quite awhile.

This is my first breakup. You were my first kiss. You aren’t really going anywhere, and knowing that I’ll never completely get over you is perhaps the first step.

I am just as lost and scared as you are.

You get alone enough to realize just how screwed up you really are. You see your lack of efforts, your failures. Comfort is gone. Normalcy is gone. Your human security blanket has left you– or rather, you have left it– and for what?

For independence, for the unknown, for feeling scared shitless enough to feel alive again, for the breaking down of playing house and the chores that have rhythm, the rhythm of the same conversations coming and going and coming again, not like waves because that would sound cliche, the forbidden cliches drilled as the enemy from years of training. For me. For you. For tropical storms and getting lost and for all the Coming Homes. For destroying thyself in order to rebuild something new. Something stronger. Strength is everything, and without the security I’ve had for four years now, it is difficult, very difficult, but something about it feels necessary, and perhaps worth it, but that is to be seen.

http://www1.pitchfork.tv/videos/shad-the-old-prince-still-lives-at-home

There have been many times when music has changed forever. Ashley cited Run DMC and Aerosmith.

And even earlier, I suppose “I can’t get no satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones and The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show. These have been large events in history, yet no one, other than Perez Hilton, I think, has mentioned Snoop Dogg’s jaunt / journey to India to change the face of modern Indian music. This is big people! If the infusion of hiphop and indian pop occurs with enough positive reinforcement from fans, India could be catapulted to the top of modern music in the world. In the past, Indian music has provided inspiration for many American hip hop artists, and now these events are being solidified. Just think of Dr. Dre’s “The Next Episode”; listen for that Sitar-inspired guitar lick which loops throughout the song.

How do you think this will effect American culture, if at all? Any predictions?

Footloose by Essie

I had my first manicure and pedicure today and I loved it. I got painted in Footloose by Essie, which is just about my newest favourite colour ever! Oh shit, there I go with the British spelling again. Rather than change them, because there are bound to be many that slip by, I’ll just explain: I write online shopping guides for the UK part of Shopwiki.com and currently I do so 40 hours a week, so British spelling has become a weird habit when I’m tired.

School starts for Chris and I on Wednesday. Yes, this Wednesday. I’d like to say that I’m excited, but I’m not really. I pretend I am so that way I stay positive, positive what I’m not sure. Positive that I’m full of shit I guess. I’m excited for learning, but when you go to a school like Hunter and you literally take 10 times the amount of core classes as major classes, it’s nothing worth being excited about. My major is 24 credits. I need 120 credits to graduate. AKA I have about 92 credits worth of crap I frankly don’t care about. Thus I am not very excited. Plus it means that I’ll not only have homework to do, but I’ll have to juggle a full-time job with 17 credits. And I’ll have to explain why I’m sick half of the school year. Again. And people won’t buy it. Again. I really don’t understand why I can’t just take the tests and do the papers and have that be my grade. It pisses me off to have a 4.0 GPA if you just count tests and papers, but because of attendance and other retarded things, it ends up a 3.8-3.9. I don’t see why I have to come to class to hear some old fart or grad student lecture about something that I obviously grasp enough to never get lower than an A on a paper or exam. School sucks. It really is a waste of my time. I wish I didn’t feel that way, but I frankly can’t tell you a single thing I have learned in college.

Oops, there goes positive. Let me rephrase this:

I am sooo excited for school! Hooray! Let’s dance.

Cheers and beers,

Ashley

Who needs TiVo when you have MiRo?

Link: Get Miro Now

Turn off that old cathoid-ray tube television and give it up for Miro!

Overthrow the monarchy that is your cell phone company and use Bite SMS!

Never had time to finish this. But think about it, being able to have other companies to turn to, to make your cell phone work, is democracy in action!