Everything about this song is amazing. The sound, the lyrics, the musician. His moves are off the chain. On a randomly related note, this makes me wanna go read some Oscar Wilde.  Honestly, he seemed like a really nice man. . . . with questionable principles. How is this related to Julian Casablancas?  His album was inspired by Oscar Wilde's essay lengthily titled "Phrases and Philosophies for the Use of the Young."  Say that five times fast. I swear, every time I watch this video I catch something new. That's what I like - layers - and people who break through today's vacuosities. I think I just made up that word. But I like it and it gets to stay.

Keats and Yeats are on your side. . . .

I've been thinking a lot about this poem. . . I don't know why.  Once in a while, it'll just pop into my head like a song normally would.  Maybe because I've been thinking about the pursuit of beauty and its futility.  Even the aesthetes found the aesthetic fleeting.  It's still a beautiful poem.

I'm dressing up for this one.

Bellatrix Lestrange, baby! (Well, that's the only person my brown latina self can pull off, really. . . or maybe Parvati. . . Sirius Black?. . . ooooo! Rowena Ravenclaw!) 

Mexican Hot Chocolate

It's like the best effing thing to ever occur in human history. I ain't talking 'bout no Abuelita stuff.  I for the life of me can't get that shiz to taste good and have always pretended to like it at family functions and, generally, just hispanic social gatherings. Nooo, I'm talking about the real deal. The cat's meow; the bees effing knees. Now, I can't point out a specific brand. (Mainly, because all the instant brands here in Cali are just. . . bleh. . . ) But every once in a while there's a little restaurant here or in Tijuana that makes it so. . . it just blows your mind. It. blows. your. mind.   Why am I writing so passionately about hot chocolate from Mexico? Because I really want sommmeee! I'm sick like nobody's business and I feel like the only prescription is Mexican Hot Chocolate.  Maybe if I rub my cup of Theraflu, a genie will materialize and transubstantiate my gross medicinal concoction into cacao and cinnamon laced bliss.  To torture myself even further, I found the best Mexican Hot Chocolate photos I could find on the interwebs.  I'm kind of ok now because my friend brought me some orange juice.  It's funny how my moods change.

images via  here, here, here and here

Truths by Roald Dahl

I've been so busy lately, it's hard to let those good thoughts slip away and give in to the more self-serving (aka selfish) ones. I need to work harder at being lovelier and get my priorities straight.

image via here

Vacation!

 

So, I'm only a few weeks into school, but I am SO longing for a Greek vacation right now.  I've always wanted to go. All the travel shows I've watched about it titillate my senses.  (I use the word titillate any chance I can, by the way.)  Those white-washed walls, cerulean oceans, blue roof tops, and that ancient architecture. . . . someone needs to get me an all-expense paid vacation to Greece STAT! I think I've figured out a solution - I'll just get a rich Greek boyfriend a la Paris Hilton.  There. Problem solved.

Les bons hommes du Radiohead are helping me through the tedious task of re-reading a ridiculously convoluted paper on Baudelaire. Woe is me. The first words to my short response: "To be honest, I had a really hard time understanding this article and was confused as to what exactly Johnson's point was at times." Just shows you how clever I am. Yes, sarcasm was intended.

Doctor Quien

It's such a torturous wait for the next season. I miss Matt Smith, Rory, and Amy goshdarnit! I need them back to comfort me while I'm dealing with this cruel world.  I'm one of those American fan girls that only just converted into "Whovianism" or whatnot mainly because I think Matt Smith is insanely adorable.  In my defense, however, I had heard about "Doctor Who" loooooong before the 11th Doctor, but didn't know where to start with a show that has, I don't know, 30 something seasons of history behind it.  Plus, I've always found David Tennant creepy, so sue me.
My inexperience aside, I think Matt Smith is an amazing Doctor.  He's got the right blend of quirky charm, nerdiness, and awesome and Amy the right mix of feisty, likability, and attitude. They're perfect! Oh and Rory! Dearest Rory! He turned my heart to mush when he stood guard at the Pandorica for thousands of years to protect his love.  I need to re-watch this season over again. It's going to happen before the Christmas special.

image via here

When things don't go your way

I'm starting my Applied Anthropology on a bad note.  I missed something on the syllabus so I guess I'll be turning in some work late.  Well, what can I do? The damage is done.  All I can do is e-mail my professor and hope for the best.  Here's to better luck next time.  Night time is for sleeping, so I guess that's what I'll do. 
image via here

I HAD to post this

I love Toupoutous!

I love the "Avez-vous déjà vu?" cartoons.  Even if you don't speak French (which I hardly do), they're hilarious! They're basically little French cartoons that give you an impossible scenario and ask you if you've seen it.

~ Like this one which asks: Have you ever seen. . . a newcomer in the land of Toupoutous?

These particular Toupoutous evoke the racist bigots in this country (I'm addressing you, Teapartyers) and just racist bigots in general. . . in a hilarious way of course. Humor always makes a statement that goes down easy. They should show this at the next Tea Party gathering.

~ Have you ever seen . . . the most imperfect crime? I think this one is by far my favorite one.

Rough Translation:
Old lady : Ah! No! My nephew who is going to inherit my collection of cameras!
Murderer: Ay! Oh, shit.
Dispatcher: You've called the police. Hello? Hello?
TV: Help! Murder! Police! Come! I'm going to get killed!
Dispatcher: Hold on! I'll send a car!
Cop: What's happening here? . . . Mom!
Old lady: It's him.
Murderer: No! It's not me! I have an alibi! I was at the movies!