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I did that once... - March 17th, 2009 [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Sarah

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March 17th, 2009

Hollywood Ugly is not Real Ugly [Mar. 17th, 2009|10:51 pm]
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[Current Mood | blank]

I'm watching "The Princess Diaries" right now, and although I love this movie, I have to say that I am perpetually offended by the notion that Mia's initial look is somehow "ugly." Probably because I possess the same look. Curly, frizzy hair; thick glasses; bushy eyebrows: this isn't ugly, it's normal. And regardless of the amount of bad extensions and fake glasses, you cannot hide the fact that the actress is still Anne Hathaway. She will ALWAYS be beautiful. What bothers me most is that the hairdresser character physically breaks her glasses. Even if Mia DOES wear contacts, she still needs her glasses for the trip from the bathroom to the bed, etc. Symbolically, he not only breaks her glasses, he breaks her as a person. It's not different than "Taming of the Shrew" inasmuch as one male character (why are they always men?) turns a female character into a more socially optimal version of herself.

The point is, unless we, as a society, accept that beauty comes in all shapes and sizes and forms, it will keep shrinking until no one else will fit. I think we have all felt as though our looks just don't cut it by today's standards (I know I do frequently). It's not right. You are all beautiful in your own right, even if you don't fit into the Playboy Centerfold standard.

I'll write it again. YOU ARE PERFECT JUST THE WAY YOU ARE. Frizzy hair, bad vision, bad eyebrows, bad skin, weak ankles, dry elbows, wide hips, WHATEVER. God (or Allah or Buddha or Vishnu or whatever) wouldn't have made you as you are if not for a reason.

Peace, Love, and Fluffy Puppies,

Sarah
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Unedited Remix on the Radio [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:02 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Mood | sad]
[Current Music |Everly Brothers - "Dream"]

The things you used to laugh at
Now seem so overplayed and trite
And sadness clings to the air
Out of mind's not out of sight.

It's a cloudy Monday morning
When it's cold and humid all at once
And the salt air mixes with sewage runoff
Of tomorrow, you haven't a hunch.

This isn't what growing up was supposed to mean.
Where is your family, where is your life?
The Very Own Kitchen that was once so inviting
Now means you're somebody's wife.

This isn't what growing up was supposed to be.
You were supposed to be a better person than you were,
But now you're just another authority figure.
The woman you hated? You're her.

Maybe it's just exhaustion
Or some dormant sickness pressing,
But the jokes that used to sound so funny
Are now one step below depressing.
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Synopsis for the greatest movie ever written (which I will write) [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:03 pm]
[Current Music |The Killers - "Mr. Brightside"]

It'll be a black comedy set in the 1950's about three estranged brothers (Clive Owen, James McAvoy, and Gerard Butler) and their live-in cousin (Ewan McGregor) who learn to love each other after the oldest brother (Clive)'s wife dies. Kate Winslet, Emma Thompson, and Cate Blanchett play the romantic interests. Megan Fox will have a cameo as the wife who dies. Also, each of the four male leads will experiment with his sexuality at least once, and one of them will be forced into the closet at the end (to keep it with the times). It will be a metaphor for racism.
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What is a Feminist? [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:04 pm]
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A feminist has big boobs. A feminist has small boobs. A feminist has medium-sized boobs or one that's bigger than the other.

A feminist has brown hair or blond hair or red hair or black hair or racially Black hair or no hair or hair of strange colors. A feminist has brown, blue, black, green, hazel, gray, and any combination thereof for eyes.

A feminist is short, tall, fat, skinny, in-between, anorexic, bulimic, binge-eating, nutritious, vegan, carniverous, lacto-ovo, kosher, and allergic to all kinds of foods.

A feminist is Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, Middle-Eastern, Indian, Pacific, Native American, Eskimo, mixed, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Taoist, Baha'i, Agnostic, Atheist, Humanist, Deist, male, female, transgendered, gay, straight, bisexual, asexual, questioning, left-handed, right-handed, ambidextrous, without hands, without arms, without one or both legs.

The truth is, if you believe that women and men are equal in potential, you are a feminist. End of story. And no one should believe otherwise.
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Backup Generator [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:04 pm]
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You're my backup generator
my spare battery, the tire on my rear fender
my favorite pair of jeans that never fails to fit just right
And I love you for it.

You're a cold glass of milk next to my lips
spaghetti and meatballs, the New York Times
the last five minutes of any chick flick ever made
And I trust you for it.

But I've become a jagerbomb, and you're still a screwdriver
I'm lucite stripper heels, you're a pair of keds
I'm Hendrix at Woodstock, you're still Buddy Holly

As time wears
the memories of kisses in the backseat of a station wagon
will fade into bittersweet obscurity
and false fondness
for your fingers caught in my ponytail

The truth is, my dear
I'm destined for more than your white picket fence
more than your laugh track smile
It's not wrong
It's just not what I'm looking for anymore

I need a backup generator sometimes
But mostly I'd rather be in the dark.
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copypasta from facebook [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:05 pm]
Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the application then click post).

1) I still haven't fully accepted the fact that I'm in college and about to turn 20.

2) I am absolutely fascinated with the 1950's and 60's. There's so much of a contrast between the mainstream, "Leave it to Beaver" culture and the radical subculture. I've even started learning some of the 50's music on guitar. Chances are, my first novel will be set in this period.

3) I literally have no idea whether I'll be at CofC or back in GA next year, and I'm obsessing over it.

4) I have a growing love affair with feminism, if you can't already tell. I'm in the process of starting a chapter of Zeta Omega Eta (Trinity College's feminist sorority) on whichever campus I wind up at.

5) My dream is to retire to a self-sustaining farm where my future family and I would grow all our own food. We'd have farm animals, but only as pets, no slaughtering allowed.

6) I don't drink at school (I'm an RA, and getting arrested for underage drinking is a great way to lose my job), but I LOVE to have White Zinfandel when I'm home.

7) I've never really had a "real" relationship per se. I've dated a few guys, but I was too young to count it.

8) I'm a virgin. I'm not planning on waiting until I'm married, but I do want to wait until I'm in a stable, healthy relationship. I don't see sex as the enemy, like a lot of people do. I just haven't ever been in a situation where I thought "Wow... it would be a great choice I would never regret to have sex with this person right now." That's it. I get defensive because people make assumptions when they find out you're a virgin. I'm not ashamed of it, either.

9) I'm addicted to coffee in a bad way. I've considered giving it up, but it's my one vice, so I can live.

10) I get homesick a lot. I know it sounds strange, but it's true.

11) Sometimes, I'm truly ashamed of the way I used to act back in Middle and High School.

12) I've never forgiven the people who used to bully me as a kid. I don't think I ever will.

13) I have a severe addiction to celebrity gossip. My blog (OhNoTheyDidnt) is literally the greatest thing ever.

14) I feel much more beautiful in no makeup, jeans, and a t-shirt than I do all dressed up. It's taken far too long for me to realize that. Hence, I'm putting the makeup and heels away for the time being.

15) I hate clothes as a rule. If I'm alone, I'm not wearing pants. Period.

16) I make a mean vegetarian chili. Actually, I'm making some for the chili cook-off at the Homecoming tailgate on Saturday (shameless plug).

17) Most of my songs and poems are about the same three or four guys. If you read closely, you can usually tell who is who.

18) My birthday present to myself is going to be a nice, well-fitting, goes-with-anything, sexy bra. I need it and I deserve it, quite frankly.

19) My personal religious beliefs are kind of strange. It's kind of a hybrid of Judaism, Deism, and Buddhism/Hinduism. I believe in an omnipotent, omnipresent God who makes things happen for a reason. I don't think that there will ever be a physical Messiah, but that the concept is a metaphor for the point at which people will coexist peacefully. I believe in Heaven and not Hell, because I think that every person is inherently good. I also think that animals have souls and exist in the same Heaven as humans. I think that souls sort of recycle and go into other bodies after their body dies.

20) My screensaver is a series of pictures of hot guys and cute animals. It's amazing.

21) My addiction is writing. In fact, I think that most writers are addicted to the high of writing. That's why so many wind up addicted to drugs and alcohol.

22) I really like how awkward and strange I am. I think it makes me unique, and I'd rather be hated for being unique than loved for being the same as everyone else.

23) I love animals more than the normal amount. That's why I'm a vegetarian. Closing in on 6 years, btw.

24) I'm scared of getting older.

25) I feel so blessed to have found such good friends as I have so early in life.
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Tribute to my Tits [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:05 pm]
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also: ballad for my boobs
also: poem for my pecs
also: ode to my areolae

these breasts are big breasts
they need room to breathe.
they don't fit into
tiny tank tops. these breasts
are free breasts.
they don't like to be contained.
box them in and they'll
fight back. these breasts
are magical
spiritual
omnipotent breasts. these breasts
have been known to
take a man and
break his little neck!

based on "homage to my hips" by Lucille Clifton
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Phoenix [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:06 pm]
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From you I learned:
how to flirt
how to cry
how to smile
how to kiss
how to burn.

And burn I did.
Until there was nothing left. And yet
I still come crawling on back
through the ashes
through the soot
through the embers.

I will crawl and crawl
until my knees are bloody and torn.
This phoenix won't rise from the ashes
once I'm gone
I'm gone.

And through all the one night stands
the flame will reveal
all that you learned from me.
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Yo-Yo [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:06 pm]
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[Current Mood | rejected]
[Current Music |The Beatles - "Help"]

Push me away, and just when
I'm ready to let go-
pull me back again.
Spinning violently until the cord
nearly snaps.

I'm your yo-yo, am I?
Beware the string
ready to break.

Always your plaything and nothing more
I'll pretend you're nothing to me.

You don't even know
why you're playing.

Fuck you,
and your idea of romance.

I'm breaking free.
Free from your puppy dog eyes
Free from your pouty lips
Free from your toothy smiles
from your high-pitched laugh
from your husky Hellos
from your hip-bones.

But I'll keep dragging my battered
body back
til there's nothing left for you to throw.
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I can't help picking at my cuticles [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:07 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Mood | complacent]

at age ten I first wore lipstick
brushed my hair straight to perfectly
compliment the nouveau-luscious
color of prepubescent lips

age fifteen I spent
hours picking the perfect outfit
worn under fluorescent
lights in attempt to showcase
my budding chest.

age twenty I throw up a ponytail
sniff-test my jeans and spot-check
my t-shirts before I hustle
out to debate Dickens

it's not the journey
but the destination
I was beautiful all along
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Things I love [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:08 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Music |Sam Sham and the Pharoahs - "Li'l Red Riding Hood"]

pretzels dipped in vanilla frosting, fingerless gloves,
spiral-bound notebooks with tearaway sheets,
buy-one-get-one-free coupons, handwritten letters,
popping pus-filled pimples, breastfeeding mothers,
sugary coffee, french fries with ketchup,
pickled ginger,
sleeping topless, brushing teeth,
staplers, framed photographs, white grape juice,
mockumentaries and musicals, bad pop music,
stand-up comedy, good books, white wine and fireplaces.
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Ten Percent [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:12 pm]
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[Current Music |The Beatles - "I Want to Hold Your Hand"]

Last night, I saw a video
of a boob job.
Two seconds in, I had to turn
my head away. But, I still got
a good glance at the nerves
and the milk ducts
and the tubes
whose purpose is unknown
until you expel a baby from your womb
and give up your life to it.

Even with my eyes closed
and my head turned,
I could hear the beep of the heart monitor
the drip of the IV
the squish of the pink-red-brown flesh
inside this poor woman's tit.

I ached in sympathy.
I could feel the knife cutting open my nipples.
What was this masochism?
Glorified by the supposed beauty of fake breasts
rounded and supple
but scarred and empty.
The same heart beating beneath them
as did when they were barely A-cups.

I was always told not to judge
a book by its cover.
But I think sometimes, the cover is just hiding
what the book really means to say.
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Poll [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:13 pm]
Agree/Disagree:

Boys are worse about teasing based on looks than girls, particularly around puberty. Discuss.
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Delta Flight 1993 [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:13 pm]
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He couldn't have been much older than me.
Pixelated fatigues,
pants tucked into his boots.
If I hadn't know any better,
I would have suspected
that I shared a class with him once upon a time
or that he date a friend.

I watch him kiss a girl goodbye – his daughter? --
all blonde curls
and dimples.
Something in my throat
stops my breathing.
Was he coming or going?

He hands the girl
to her mother.
She wipes away a tear.

Suddenly, I feel as though I have walked in
on a stranger in the dressing room.
My face flushed
with shame at witnessing
such an intimate
moment.

I think about whispering a “thank you”
filing past him while boarding
the plane to Atlanta.
But, at the end
I choose to stay silent.
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Ceasar Salad [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:14 pm]
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I think I've forgotten
what it's like to be in love.

It was a shiver
down my spine
started at the neck
and splayed downwards
to the hips and thighs.

It was a knot
in the pit of my stomach
that stayed
until it burst into butterflies.

I know this isn't it.
But what it is
has yet to be determined.
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Exit 6B, just over the Chatahoochee River [Mar. 17th, 2009|11:15 pm]
[Tags|, ]
[Current Music |Buddy Holly - "Peggy Sue"]

Sixteen minutes until midnight
there's nothing on the radio.
Driving home from this winter's
timeshare in the fourth circle of Hell.
All I want is a coffee

or to curl up in bed, cover my head
with the plush blanket.
To sleep and
not wake up until 3 PM,
when the afternoon sun has past its prime.

I see a cross on the shoulder
of the highway,
covered in roses and teddy bears
and my stomach freezes.
Someone died there.
I never thought about it before, but
Jesus Christ, someone died there.

This car has probably passed those rose-covered crosses
a thousand times, without chills
or acid rising in the throat.
And I know it's not his cross,
this boy who I grew up with.
He wasn't even in the country
(let alone on Georgia 400)
when he died.

We were never told the full story,
those of us who grew up in that classroom.
Our parents threw us together every Sunday,
hoped that we learned something.
Wasn't it ironic, then,
that they kept the facts from us?

He was always the asshole.
I hate to think it, but he was.
His blond bowl cut obscured his eyes
which I just knew were laughing at me.
He was the seven-year-old with the runny nose.
The ten-year-old who smelled.
The thirteen-year-old who mumbled through his Bar Mitzvah.
And now, the twenty-year-old, first to die out of all of us.

As the car slides into the garage,
I wonder,
can I sleep long enough to forget.
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