i can fix my own damn car...or at least change the oil

i have arrived. i am now a woman. i don't know if this event was supposed to coincide with the first day of my cycle but no objections here. i like nicely tied up pairings. anyway, i learned something today. something i should have learned approximately 3 years ago when i bought my car but still. i learned it nonetheless, with the help of my friend and teacher nathaniel ray pickett ( a gentleman and a scholar for those of you not in the know). and that thing, ya know THAT THING that i learned...yeah i changed my oil for the first time

now this photo...this photo was captioned "why women can't fix cars" prefaced by detailed instructions for "men" for changing their oil, followed by instructions for women that read "pull up to a juffy lube, wait 15 min, write a check for 21.00".really? really? screw you bastards.

plast skog

So I was on my way home from SLC, with a rain cloud face that not even pancakes could assuage, when I stopped at Ikea. Maybe it was the bright yellow sign. In my right mind, it would have reminded me of the Wal-Mart smiley face and propelled seven shades of nausea to do their little dance around my entrails. Not today, I guess. I usually get overwhelmed in large warehouse stores (and boutiques in their own right) but this little gem kept me occupied with glee throughout the hike in the plastic forest: Elk shaped pasta.

it's not marriage, it's the whole name game

Taking someone’s last name after marriage reminds me of the kids that like to put labels on everything they own. Like the kid at summer camp that had to write his name on every shirt, water bottle and toiletry he brought with him. Why do I need to take a man’s name? It’s not like some neighbor kid is going to steal me other wise. And if we are going to continue this slave/master practice of stepping under the Patriarchal umbrella, then let’s call it what it is, skip the diamond “consolation prize for submitting a part of my soul” and just write “Mrs. Tom Jones” in sharpie, and all caps, on the back of my neck. That way, if I ever run off or lose my way, they know to return me to my rightful owner.

fleet foxes fiesta

Someone is going in my pocket and that is the band Fleet Foxes. "White Winter Hymnal" is transcendant.
http://www.subpop.com/assets/audio/4264.mp3

black licorice scotties

my heart is full. i don't think my addiction to black licorice is even close to a secret, but presented in the shape of an adorable scottish terrier just sets things over the edge. good earth was good to me today.

it's tragic i know

VCU v.s. BYU. Maybe I should have them arm wrestle. Or rock paper scissors for me.
I also just looked at my complete profile for a second and saw the number 22. Hmm whats that all about, I say: Thats your age dear! I'm suddenly starting to feel old even though I know it's ridiculous. I just do right now. I think it has to do with the idea of starting my art program at another school. Anxieties!

rubber shoes

Rubber shoes
You got the blues
Running around all day

The friction torn
between sloth and scorn
You can judge your smile away

And movin’ still
Is one cheap thrill
To justify your direction

If the details escape
In a blur, in a haze
No one will question your intention

When your eyes, they burn
From the sand and dirt
And your head calls to God
For election

Just remember you're doomed
As the one you behooved
To move and escape
Their reflection