Friday, September 30, 2011

Yes, Man: A Year Later

Oh. My. Holy. Cow. Batman.

A year ago I was watching Yes, Man with my baby's father. And now after calling my mom to wish her a happy birthday, I can hear my grandparents in the living room watching Yes, Man after my suggestion.... And they are laughing and it makes me glad that our generations can find common ground in comedy.. And I want to cry happy, nostalgic, melancholy tears. How ironic..... Yes. How ironic indeed.

Life came knocking on my door.. And I answered with, yes.

-- Desde Mi iSoul

Thursday, September 29, 2011

Bridesmaids & Loving Myself Just The Way I Am

So! A quick hello before I am off to apply to a University! True to plan, I went by and got my blu-ray copy of Bridesmaids and I can't wait to watch it tonight!=) I loved it in theaters and I'm downloading my digital copy nyah!!!

A friend asked me yesterday what does "blog" mean... and Why would I want to "do that" as in "write whatever on the internet that anyone/everyone can read about.."
After replying because I want people to read what I have to say, he still asked, "but why...?" So, I grumbled, "Because I'm pathetic and lonely!" He retorted, "Why would you talk negatively about yourself like that?" Exasperated I said, "WEll! You didn't like my first answer, so I had to think of some kind of response to pacify you!"

So, when the world doesn't understand you... Don't change your answer. If they get it, they get it. If they don't, they don't.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Revisiting Inception

So..... Here I am again. But this time watching Inception. Again.

And I notice... that Cob says, "don't jump... don't take a leap of faith.."

But don't people usually say to take a leap of faith with things?.... Isn't that what "They" say?...

and like in ElizabethTown.. who is "they?"....

And is what "they" know right, or is what I know right?....

I'm rambling. My brain is all jazzed up. I'm going to go relax. Night peepsters.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Brooklyn's Finest

I am having an off day. I have slipped back into my insecure-rut personality and it is frustrating and irritating me beyond belief. I know what has to change in my life... And I know what has to be done to change that...

And I'm watching this movie Brooklyn's Finest while stewing in my self-loathing and I can associate with all the main antagonists: I am sick and tired of that lifestyle: I am ready to retire: I am ready to get my dreams and my hopes and my aspirations back.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

My Royal Tenenbaums

I woke up at the delightful hour of ..... Well, by-gones will be by-gones. Griffon hopped up next to me and continued to pester me till I dragged my sore self out of bed, flicked on my light and turned around to see all his effort was merely to steal my warm spot that I left bare: the little turkey.
I stumbled across a stray can of RedBull (SCORE!!) in the fridge,

stumbled back to my room, glanced over at my dvd's (as usual).. And spied my recent purchase of The Royal Tenenbaums.

The last time I watched this was.... Eight almost nine years ago.. I didn't go to the regular theater very much at all and so I didn't end up seeing it till it was previously previewed at BlockBuster for $4.99. aaah the good old days. And when I finally saw it, it became embedded in my mind's eye, in my memory.. And it just stuck there. I even wrote a short story inspired by it for my first english class (on which I recieved an A+.) And all of this from only watching it once in my life. And here I am twenty-two years old, watching it for the second time in my life. And it feels like yesterday I watched it. How strange how things like that work....

My favorite characters are the main antagonist women, Margot and Ethel.

And I guess Pagoda is pretty sweet.


It always seems like women are the glue in-between everything, holding it all together.


Favorite lines:

" 'Cause I'm in a rut, and I need a change."


..."It's these little expressions of yours.."


"Goodbye, Royal."


I love the awkwardness of it all. And ya know what?... When something/someone is really real, and really belongs somewhere with someone, it doesn't matter how often you see it/them/her/him or how much time gets in-between you both... When you end up next to each other or in front of each other again.. It's like you never left in the first place. And I think everyone reading this would assume in some form of what the hell I'm talking about... And I can safely say, none of you know what/who I am talking about.. And that's ok, I like having my secrets.

-- Desde Mi iSoul

This is an english short story I wrote in my first english class I was in at Community College of Aurora. I based it very loosely off the film the Royal Tenenbaums. I was "inspired" as they say. ... oh, yea. I got a 99% on it, so that's good. And of course, it's about a dog... Wow. Haven't changed that much after all.

Katalin Johnson

July 5, 2005

English Composition/ ENG 121, Section 313

“Bruno” by Katalin Johnson

It was a hot, sticky summer afternoon. The older woman’s granddaughter was coming over to visit that day. The plate of chocolate chip cookies was already on the coffee table, beside two glasses of milk. Climbing up the creaking stairs to the attic, she wondered what picture they’d look at today. The skylight in the attic allowed the sunshine to beam dusty rays of light onto the room’s floor. Picking up a worn shoe-box, the grandma brushed the dust off before going back downstairs. She set the box on the coffee table as well, and sat on the worn couch to wait.

An old dog slept in the dining room, lying on an over sized throw-pillow. The grandma would have nodded off to sleep herself in the warm breeze of the fan, had the doorbell not rung. Groaning, she rose from the sunken position of the couch and creaked her way over to the door. Swinging the door open, the grandma was greeted by the smiling faces of her grown son and his daughter: her granddaughter.

Blinking in the bright sunlight, she invited them in, but the son declined. He only had enough time to drop his little girl off, before heading to work. Pecking his mom and daughter on the cheek, he quickly left in a cloud of exhaust.

The granddaughter stepped into the house and practically bounced over to the couch in her excitement. The little girl’s enthusiasm had always yearned for another picture; she had always wanted another story. The grandma following noticed her granddaughter instantly went for the cookies. While the younger girl flounced onto the couch, the older woman sat down more carefully. Leaning over, the grandma snagged the box and pulled it onto her lap. As she opened it the girl snuggled closer, while continuing to chew on her cookie.

“What picture are you going to pick today, Grandma?”

The grandma smiled secretively, knowing the perfect story to tell. Ruffling through the disheveled pictures, she pulled out a faded one.

“Is it a new story today, Grandma?”

The older woman held out the grainy photo for the girl to view. Looking at the picture in her hand, the story unfolded in front of the older woman with the flash of a camera.

It was taken many, many years ago; taken just before her granddaughter was a glimmer. It was a day in late autumn, when all the leaves were had fallen on the lawns, and the orange light of dusk fell warmly on concrete sidewalks. The couple living in the house in the center of the block, on the right, was getting ready for a holiday. Not a usual holiday, but for a holiday involving their three sons coming home for a visit. The parents had lived alone for quite a number of years and were excited to have the house full of people again. Their sons rarely ever came to visit anymore, what with their worldly-lives and jobs elsewhere. But this weekend they would all be coming to visit.

Like most families, the individual sons varied widely in their interests. The eldest was a doctor. Having slaved through college and worked his way into the big city’s medical industry, he was (in short) a health-nut. The middle son was a cigarette manufacturer. He not only sold cigarettes, he had a smoke in place of his meals, as well. The youngest was a photographer. Just out of college, he took pictures of everything. There wasn’t a moment you didn’t catch him without the camera in his hands, snapping pictures.

The mom and dad cleaned up the house and got everything ready. The mom told the dad what to clean up, while she baked the enormous quantities of food in the kitchen. Everything was ready by the time the sons all arrived, at exactly four p.m.

The evening didn’t start off well, as the doctor and cigarette manufacturer disagreed about absolutely everything, except their mother’s cooking. That, they both agreed, was the best food ever prepared. In the mean time, the photographer got pictures of everything, from the distracted older brothers, to the smiling parents, and to the dead-looking dog. The dog caught his eye, because his parents had never owned a dog. The mom seeing her youngest son eyeing the dog piped up over the din,

“I allowed your father to get it since he says he’s lonely. We named him Bruno.” The son, nodding, moved away from the table to take a picture of it. Trying to get the dog to move, he picked it up. It felt like a bag of jelly and acted like one too. Leaning back on his heals, he tried to get a good angle of the dog. Taking the picture, the camera flashed. Usually a dog would blink or flinch when its picture was taken, but this dog just laid there. Picking it up, he addressed his dad.

“Uh, your dog isn’t looking too well dad.”

The cigarette manufacturer, while exhaling a breath of smoke, looked over.

“Geez,” he said, “you killed it with your camera.”

The doctor cut in,

“No it didn’t. Your sickening smoke did.”

The mother cut in,

“Oh, for God’s sake, neither of those things did it. That dog has acted like that since we got it.”

Then the dad rose up from his chair, picked up the dog, and cradled it to his chest, before heading out the door.

Being an impulsive dad, he herded the entire family into their huge, over-sized van and headed to the veterinarian’s office. Driving quickly, the dad plopped the limp form of the dog in the mom’s lap. A hub-bub of noise ensued during the ride and finally in the vet’s office. The mom was whining at the dad, why she’d let him get the dog in the first place. The oldest son argued it was the all the cigarette smoke making it ill. The middle son blew a few smoke rings. The youngest son was snapping pictures like crazy, his flash bulb on his camera flashing continually. The vet, entering the room, couldn’t get a word in anywhere. He tried to ask why a flock of squawking parrots was in his office. Suddenly, the youngest son yelled,

“I want a picture of everybody! Squeeze together!”

Everyone’s train of thought was cut short, and they mumbled to themselves while shuffling together; even the doctor obliged by crowding in with them. Everyone looked up and posed. Everyone’s face was strained and wrinkled in irritation. Everyone’s eyes turned to the dog.

Suddenly the dead-looking dog raised his head as if on cue.

The photographer took the picture with a blinding flash.

The dog’s head plopped back down on its chest.

The silence followed. And the arguing began, once again, shortly after.

The urgent tugging of little hands, sweaty and sticky from chocolate chips, pulled on the grandma’s shirt-sleeve. The afternoon was only growing more humid and the glasses of milk had beads of cold water evaporated dripping down the sides. The grandma snapped back to reality and looked at her granddaughter’s pinched face of anxiety.

“Grandma? Grandma? Was Bruno OK? Is he still OK?”

They both cast a glance at Bruno sleeping in the dining room. The younger cast a glance of anxiety; the elder had a glance of humor. Chuckling lightly at the poor absurdity of it all, the grandma patted her granddaughter’s hand reassuringly.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, “Bruno was perfectly fine; and, he’s still fine. The vet couldn’t explain why he slept all the time except he was extremely lethargic.” With a nod of confused satisfaction, the girl suddenly grinned with a toothy-grin.

“Dad got everyone together didn’t he? He told everyone to get together for the picture, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he sure did.”

Saturday, September 24, 2011

The Magic School Bus

I am on my lunch (yes, my lunch at 9:30 a.m. and the children's show The Magic School Bus is on. Aaaah to be young again. Enjoy:

This made me feel bright and bushy tailed!! Woo-cha!! Ready to take on zhee day!!:)

Friday, September 23, 2011

Young Frankenstien & Lemons

It has been a long few weeks for me, one of the reasons being I decided to take my own dad's advice and get rid of all my bad memories. Unfortunately, a lot of those are connected with my extensive dvd collection.

Due to my conviction, however, I have boxed up so many at a time and gone and sold them for a pathetically low price that hopefully someone else will appreciate and be able to take them home and enjoy. I am making a list of the ones I want to get again, just on blu-ray and not on dvd.
It feels so ridiculous that material objects can remind us so much of certain moments in our lives. I remember when Park Meadows mall first opened and my family went to see it, I had an old dime copy of the hobbit, with a mustard colored sheaf. Whenever I look at that book I can still remember hopping out of the car, trying to stuff into my blue shoulder purse and telling my dad, my favorite chapter was where Bilbo is overhearing the trolls talking about mutton stew.
Show me a movie and I'll tell you another memory entwined with it.
I am trying to start fresh with certain things, I want to let them go and be able to say, "Ok, let's do this again."
Not to mention, I still have a few movies I have never seen and would like to investigate.
Dr. Frankenstien being one of them.

I watched it for the first time a few weeks ago and it being a "blah" day, merely sat in a vegetable state staring at it in a monotone thinking, "I don't get it, I don't really care.. Thank god I have drawing to keep me occupied while suffering through this.."

However, since then I have watched it twice more and there is something about it... that.. has grown on me.

I think I was so against it at first because it was different, and I have a hard time dealing with change. I have always struggled with change, so much that even when I started taking theater classes, the hardest part for me was improv games because I didn't know how to just let go, and... go with the flow. I have learned A LOT since those days, and now, after sitting and letting Dr. Frankenstein steep on the back burner of my mind, I am watching it now, and enjoying it.

I notice a difference in growing accustomed to things you choose to change in your life and things that are just thrown on you that you have to just accustumbrate yourself to. The former is of your own will and desire, and with patience can be accomplished and enjoyed or moved on from. But something that is just thrown at you and you have to bite the bullet and just deal with... It has to be learned to love. Things that are thrown at us in life, I like to call those lemons.

I have learned to love them, but I will never settle for them. I don't ever want to settle for a lemon, I want to end up with something I looked for and that I can tell myself, "This is what life handed me, but this is what I want.." And go.....

I wish the same for you all as well. I wish that despite the lemons strewn across your path in life, you are able to look past them and still be able to search out the things you want and go after them.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

wake me......when september ends......

wake me
when september ends.
wake me when the
and the
melancholy has passed on.

Wake me up
Let me cry.
Wake me up
and tell me
This is where I want to be.
Wake me up- and tell me

you're not gone.

Wake me up
Be by my side.
wake me up
and tell me
it hasn't already been a decade
without you.

my love.

you surprised me.

I thought.
I was awake.
I'm going back to bed now.
Don't let them wake me


without you.

Ten years

isn't enough time

to get



Wake me up.
when heaven is here-


when you're next to me.
wake me up
my love.
Wake up with me.

my love.

Wake up......

I don't want to wake up

without you

anymore.... stop. stop. don't wake up....

come back to me.


dedicated to everyone that lost something on this day. We all lost something. And we all are left here without the things we loved and lost. It hurts to think the things and people we lost are thinking the same thing on the other side. We are not alone in this loss. We are all in this together. I cry with every one of you all, and I smile with you over all the good memories. Please do not forget the beauty there still is in this world. I know the love we lost is still out there. Do not think it isn't