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thebrowngirl
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Name: Simone
Birthday: 9/30/1985
Gender: Female
Interests: Rockin' out at the office, becoming a blog whore, flip flops, tripping in my flip flops, nature, drinking water, punching boys in the nuts when they piss me off.
Expertise: Read the last line from above. =)
Occupation: Student
Industry: Entertainment
Message: message me
Member Since:
4/11/2005
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| I've come to the conclusion that xanga entries may be waaay better than facebook notes. Mainly because the whole world won't be notified when I decide to say something. I also feel that I have to watch what I say on facebook. That ain't cool and if you really know me, you know that I'll say whatever I feel like saying. Mind you, the opinion may change in five minutes, but all things change eventually.
Here's my rant for the day. Theatre folk are strange. I asked someone I was working with backstage during the Mad Woman show if I was strange. For awhile, I've been feeling like the coloring book page in a box of jigsaw puzzles. I love performing and when performing with other people, it's awesome. However, backstage..may be a different story. In the midst of lively, vivid, creative people who are like this all the time, I'm the "normal" one, which doesn't help when trying to get along with people. In the world of everything outside of the arts, I'm not. I hate being in the gray area.
Lately, I have been very emotional, so excuse me for any incoherent rantings and goings on.
Why can't every man be as wonderful as Boyfriend? It's traditional to compare every man with your dad. Alas, my dad, as awesome as he can be sometimes, he has a severe problem with emotional stability and power and he takes it out on me alot. I'm very much the person that reacts to how people speak or act towards me. If you're nice to me, I'm nice to you. So, here's the thing: Dad will be really nice and everything is pleasant with me and him and then he'll do something childish, like eating something that I specifically said was for someone else then say that whatever is mine is his, and when I get upset, he gets even more upset with me which makes me furious. Two minutes later, he'll act like nothing happened and I'm supposed to go along with him. Growing up with this has kind of made my emotions go crazy and sometimes it feels as if I'm not capable of doing anything right.
Boyfriend loves me unconditionally and with the exception of two or three days, he is always nice to me. Even those days when I'm bitchy as all get out. Even the days when I don't want to be around anybody. He understands me when I'm not making sense and he helps anyway that he can. He respects my independence and my individuality. He doesn't make me feel guilty. 80% of the time, I'd rather be with him then anybody else. Last night, I asked him why he gets along with his family and I can't get along with mine. Sometimes an outside observer can see things better than the people involved. Boyfriend says it's because there is always constant conflict in my family. Not a day goes by when someone is not angry with someone else and it's usually my parents. He said that when my parents fight, even when they're playing, it just goes back and forth and nobody stops it. They both want to win. And it seems with the new house, there has been even more room for conflict. Maybe having to deal with this created a similar conflict between me and my sisters. Even though I love them, I don't particularly like them and they feel the same with me. I don't really speak to them and they only speak to me if they need something. Boyfriend feels that most of the conflict comes from Dad. He said that the things he does, a normal dad would never do. Maybe it's all the drugs from the seventies. Maybe it was the war. Maybe it's because his family relationships suck. Whatever it is, it's pretty fucked up. | | |
| I've always had a problem with shoes. My wide bayou feet refuse to be friendly with cute shoes and a long time ago, I used to buy really cute shoes. Long, tiny heels, ankle straps, maybe a few bejeweled sequins - those were the shoes I bought because they would be liked by everyone when I went out. No matter how much I hated them, I knew somebody would want them.After wearing them once, I would give them to my sister and buy another pair that I think would do. They never fit. They never will fit. No matter how hard I would squeeze my ginormous toes into any given pointed heel, I would always end up walking for 15 minutes and sitting down for hours. Eventually, I gave up and bought shoes that were comfortable and that suited me. They might not have been the most gorgeous, the loudest, or the tallest..but they were right for me.
In a way, my story about shoes is kinda describing my life as of right now. Substitute shoes for people and you pretty much got the jist of it. I see untouchable, shiny footwear all the time and they're beautiful in the window or on the overpriced shelves. You have a Cinderella moment and try them out. It doesn't take you long to figure out that even Cinderella must have felt that those glass slippers were so fucking overrated. | | |
| Mind you, I really like the tv show (I'm addicted to crap tv), but Jesus! Those bitches are meeeaaann. In a way, that show makes me feel good about how I was raised. I didn't have the best and my parents are pretty hard, but at least I know who I am is not determined by a bottle of hair dye, how many diamonds are encrusted into the bottom of my sneakers, and a tv show.
Today was my first day of textbook classes (meaning I need a textbook for the class) and it wasn't that bad. Jonette is in my Comm. Theory class which I'm thankful for. She's very entertaining and nice. I don't know how well I'm going to be able to read a map in geography class. I tried to read a map once in JROTC...and it wasn't good. I got my group lost in the woods. The regular theatre folk plus a few newbies are in playwrighting class with me and we have an assignment due next Wednesday. It's supposed to be a dialogue between two people about us (the writer). They're going to be read in class. The problem is, I really hate assignments like this. I'm not that interesting. No broken bones, no trips to the jungles of forgotten nations, no romantic hot balloon rides because I'm afraid of heights. Driving excursions are definately out of the question.
I'll think of something and when I do, I'll post it.
I wish everyone a fantastic school year. Make it like no other year before. | | |
| No, this is not a joke.
I recently did something really, really dumb and now I have to pay for
it. Don't wanna get into details but it involves a wall and
a car.
Last night, the Catholic, although he was just kidding, was suggesting
selling my canvas paintings. I didn't think it was such a bad
idea at all. I'm not that bad of a canvas painter and so far my
list includes:
a) people's names in blue with a checkered border, background lime green. Also comes in song lyrics.
b) a really complicated canvas that is mainly triangles with no two colors touching each other. It's a koi in the water.
c) the silhouette profile of Beast (black), from Beauty and the Beast, on the background of a huge yellow rose.
I have also accomplished sketching Audrey Hepburn in "Breakfast at
Tiffany's." umm...basically if I can look at a picture of something, I
can do it or try to do it. Simple shit would be 6 bucks and
complicated shit would be 10.
It's a great gift giver to someone who likes girlie junk or for someone who needs a room makeover, FAST.
much love to all.
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| Sometimes you fall in love.
I thought today was going to be a regular, draggin' ass Saturday -
waking up to the Catholic with lots of kisses and talking about unusual
morning topics. We made breakfast and we learned that cinnamon
should never be added to scrambled eggs, unless you like sweet things,
but eggs are more of a salt thing. We watched Queer Eye for the
S.G. which wasn't our choice because someone jew'ed the remote
control. We're more of a Project Runway couple. We b.s'ed
around then we got ready to go volunteer at the circus. We were
under the impression that we would be doing something before the show
in order to watch the show for free. We were hoodwinked and I
didn't like it.
We took tickets then we had to count all those
damn tickets with their strange people germs and we had to divide
them. I was upset. He was stressed. He's my
rock. I told him that I liked him. He told me that he loved
me. I ..said..WHAT? Excuse me? I'm sorry, but I
wasn't expecting that. Especially in some shitty ass room with
two tables specifically reserved to counting circus tickets. This
was the place where I had my senior tea party thing before walking onto
the Hump floor to get my diploma.
We looked at each other during the pregnant pause
and he said "That wasn't supposed to come out." I said, "It was
meant to come out. You told me that you were going to say it when
you were ready and you're ready now." We cried a little bit
because we were so happy. I hugged him and we laughed and cried
and I told him "I love you, too." Then we laughed and hugged some
more...and then the talkative man who assigned us the ticket counting
came in...awkwardness was created and Cap'n Talk became Mayor
Awkard. He left quickly.
It wasn't romantic. It wasn't moonlight
and candles. No thoughtful planning and conspiring with
girlfriends. It was a total shock and completely unknown to both
of us. It was perfect because it wasn't perfect and we
aren't perfect and
whenever we try to make perfect moments, it always turns out
badly.
That's who we are.
We're the couple that has a code for holding
hands. We're the couple that argues about different points of
views. He's right, I'm wrong. I'm right even though I'm
wrong. Our PDA is illegal. He thinks a romantic song to
sing in the morning is ZZTop's "She's Got Legs." He loves my
mom. I love his green eyes. He braids my hair and he lets
me shave his. We split grocery bills. I sleep with five pillows.
He sleeps with one. He kisses me good-bye. I spank him
hello. He stresses about grades. I like music and celebrity
gossip. We dance when we cook. He doesn't like it when I
drink and I don't like it when he lectures about my margarita in-take
of the night. We want to take trips and we want the best for each
other. He's too tall and I'm not tall enough. He twirls me
when we dance. I pay for lunches. We think that the Wizard
of Oz is fantastic. He has a secret crush on Selma Hayak (it's
b/c she's brown like me) and he knows that I want to do Jason Mraz
(only after him, of course.). We love each other the most the
though. We do. If you don't believe me, just ask one of us.
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