If You're That Person That Reads The Last Page Of A Book First - This Is For You.

Guess what I found on someone's tumblr? Kudos to my sister for showing this to me, by the way. For those that remember this from the book, it's Potterwatch, the radio show that Fred and George Weasley hosted on a secret radio channel while Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on the run. Apparently it's actually in the movie, and I'm surprised it hasn't been leaked onto any official Harry Potter website yet. So far, I've just seen it reblogged from tumblr to tumblr. So here's a sneak peek for those who don't have tumblrs (which is about 0.0001% of the population, apparently):

I'm so glad they're putting this in the movie.

So, in light of the upcoming new Harry Potter movie, I'd like to direct your attention to Mugglenet.com, who has been so kind to create a page on their website that has a compilation of every Deathly Hallows TV spot/sneak peek/trailer/miscellaneous video that has been sent out into the world. Here are some extra clips that aren't on the page, because it hasn't exactly been updated yet (they're all on the home page, just scattered among different posts):

1.

2.

3.

4.

5. (Yes, this one is in Dutch)


6.

They've released so many clips now, that I think I might stop watching for new ones. After all, I don't want the entire movie to be spoiled for me. But they've done a good job of releasing clips of the not-so-important-scenes that seem to either come before or after the big scenes. As long as the big scenes aren't spoiled.

And yes, I've already bought my midnight premiere ticket. I had a Fandango alert sent to my email the minute tickets were on sale (about mid-October), and bought it immediately. Just to show that I am not being paranoid, tickets in the lower Manhattan area were sold out two weeks after I got mine. Now who's crazy?

Also, I want to clarify that this post is not in support of those who read the last page of a book first. That's horrible, stop it. Stop it now.

This Is Halloween.

In the spirit of Halloween weekend, I've been recollecting memories of past Halloweens in my life, and thought I would make a post about it.

It is so humorous looking back at past Halloween costumes, just because of how I remember feeling very cool at the time, and feeling very stupid now. What was I thinking?!? But they are in the past, and there's nothing better than reliving the embarrassments of your past, right? Right.

Don't even ask me what this was. We actually had a piece of paper attached to our backs explaining, in full detail, what this was.

Can anyone guess who I am in this one? (Keep in mind, this one is a couple of years after the previous picture. I couldn't find any pictures in between - nor do I remember what I was for those years, actually...)

This year, for Halloween, I decided to go all out. Face-wise. It is important to note here that, in the past year, I have become increasingly passionate about makeup artistry after accidentally stumbling upon an AMAZING makeup artist, Kandee Johnson, who besides having a great personality, is a professional artist who really knows her way around a face. She's taught me so much about working with your own face, contouring, shading, color theory, tricks, etc. Among her more regular looks, she also has a great selection of character looks (which by the way, ACTUALLY look like the characters rather than "inspired by" looks). This year, after many months of watching and re-watching her videos, and adding to my collection of makeup and brushes, I decided to recreate her "Cheshire Cat" look. And here it is, my 2010 Halloween getup:

I hope y'all like it. The mouth area doesn't look at good as it can, because my mouth started getting dry throughout the night and I had to inevitably lick my lips. Otherwise, that part should've been completely covered, so as to look more like an actual wide grin.

Doing this look has re-fueled my love for Halloween. I've started creating a list of looks I want to do for future Halloweens to come. I think next year, I'm going to go as Scar, from "The Lion King". I really think I could do a great face, and I've got the black hair to tease and poof up into an actual mane. I'm so excited!

I think part of the reason I love Halloween so much is because I can unleash my creativity, and it is the one day/night of the year that I can go all out and become a completely different character. I personally love dressing up as non-human things, it's makes the costume so much more challenging and rewarding in the end. It saddens me when people stop dressing up for Halloween, because I suppose they reach a certain age when it is no longer exciting. I hope I don't reach that age, ever. There are too many more characters I want to become before that happens.

Happy Halloween to everyone!

Disney Disney Disney

Disney movies make me want to...

1. Find my own Prince Charming/Philip/Eric/Tarzan/Aladdin/Shang/Hercules/John Smith/Captain Phoebus/Dmitri/Adam (10 points if you can figure out where the last guy is from - it is a Disney movie).

2. Wear long A-line skirts that start at my waist and go down past my knees.

3. Grow my hair out long and thick.

4. Be selfless and caring to everyone.

5. Study anthropology.

I found the funniest picture the other day, whilst surfing the 'net for Disney pictures to satisfy my sudden obsession.
Do you see it?!? Do you see the humor?!? They're dressed up...as their own VILLAINS! Take a moment to try to figure out who each princess is supposed to be.

I've also been trying to make a single Disney movie my official favorite Disney movie, because that's how I make myself happy, but it's very difficult. Hercules was my favorite for the longest time, because I love Greek mythology so much. Then recently, it changed to Pocahontas, because I watched it after so many years, and it's has nostalgic memories attached to it.

Also can I just take a moment and say - there's this thing that happens when I watch movies after a VERY long time...like, I actually have not seen them in years. I'm watching the movie, and I remember the way the voices sound. The way the characters sound. When someone's voice goes up, and the way it goes up. The dialogue during the weird, forgotten parts. The way the characters move and react. As if when I watched it many years ago, I never payed attention to the words, but simply the pictures on the screen - that would make sense, because I was pretty young when I first started watching Disney movies.

Pocahontas will always be in my heart, because I remember my entire family liking it. I also remember my dad liking the one part in Cinderella when the king attacks the duke for letting Cinderella slip away, and he says "SABOTAAAAGE!"

Yeah. That's what he remembers about Cinderella.

Anyway, now I've decided that my temporary "favorite" Disney movie is Tarzan. There's something about a boy raised by gorillas that fascinates me. It just makes me realizes how quickly people and animals and living things adapt to their surroundings - Tarzan was completely normal human baby, but once Kala takes him under her care, he learns the ways of the gorilla. It's funny because you don't realize how much of a gorilla he's become until Jane comes along. Because the dialogue is all in English for the first part of the movie, everything seems normal. But then, Tarzan is suddenly put in front of "real" humans, and you get this shock because - he's not like them at all! You suddenly notice the little things that sets Tarzan apart from Jane; the licking of the fallen bullet casing, the slow retreat to a crouched position when he is confused, the sounds he makes, the movements. If you didn't understand before, you'll understand now why I want to study anthropology.

I could go on about Disney movies. I'm currently going through a phase where I'm watching 1 to 2 Disney movies per night. And there are only SO MANY, so dark will be the day when I finish.

Let's not think about that right now.

Celebrities Who Touch Other People

The title is a lot less perverted than you're thinking. I caught an episode of "The Late Show With Jay Leno" the other day - okay, it was an old episode featuring Ryan Reynolds, because I'm going through a very hard-core Ryan Reynolds obsession phase right now - and I noticed something odd. And by odd, I mean something that happens regularly, but I never really gave it much thought until now.

So Jay Leno comes out onto the stage, doing his little Jay Leno thing, and a hoard of people come up to him instantaneously, reaching for him, and pushing each other out of the way to get to him. Some of them, particularly the older men reach out an actual hand to shake hands with him (something I am told is normal in human culture) - that's fine. But most of them simply reach out a hand to touch him - and Leno complies, reaching out a couple of fingers just to touch these people.

If I were to ask what it was about celebrities that make us want to just touch them, that would be foolish and stupid, and hypocritical. Of course I would like to touch celebrities!

By the way, the more I write "touch" and "celebrities" in the same sentence, the more I feel like a sex offender.

You see what I mean?

It sounds weird, but it's so accepted.

They touch babies too!

Oh, and before I forget...

Nächste Halt...

It has been too long since my last blog spot, so I apologize to my excruciatingly small number of followers.

On the brighter side of life however, I do have stories to tell from my trip to Germany! My mom, being the avid traveler and sightseer she is, decided on a spontaneous trip to Germany right before my college started, which was fine with me because I had never been there before. Before I forget, I want to make note of a few things I noticed whilst thur, and wrote down specifically to remember later:

1. I spotted over 200 leather jackets. No joke. So much love for the cow.
2. We traveled solely by train or subway, which was actually a great way to familiarize myself with the place, but now I will never get the soft, cool, female voice saying "Nächste Halt..." (Next stop...) out of my head.
2. EVERYBODY wears skinny jeans. No room for fat pants.
3. The Germans love Eminem apparently. "Love The Way You Lie" was playing even in the most desolate of places.
4. They also love their ice cream structures (I will elaborate on this later, as it was my favorite part of the trip).
5. New song by Peter Fox, a German singer called "Alles Neu", which I love.
6. The villages of Austria had solar panels on their buildings. ROWS AND ROWS of solar panels. Talk about oxymoron.
7. I suppose with more than 1 billion people populating the country, not including the rest of the world, we all had to find a way to share the Indians somehow. Seriously, they're EVERYWHERE.
8. Listening to German exhausts me, especially when excited, little, 6 year olds are speaking.

As a little summary of our trip, we basically traveled all over the south of Germany, and a bit of Austria. Nevertheless, Germany was much colder than expected, and nobody was prepared. Of course, we did the usual tours and sightseeing, with castles and monuments galore. Here are some cliche pictures for your viewing:


But y'all know me. I don't like cliche pictures. I had said before that I would elaborate on the ice cream structures that the Germans seem to love so much. In fact, I spotted over 10 ice cream cone structures throughout Germany, and thought it would be fun to photograph all of them. I have a plan to enlarge the pictures and create a poster out of them to hang on my wall, for no purpose whatsoever but to entertain my soul.













I hope you enjoy those ice creams as much as I did. I wish I could have taken each one back and situated them around my dorm room, but that would be highly ill-advised.

And yes, German is a very exhausting language to listen to. I wanted to take a nap every time I heard someone jabbering away in German, and was even more dumbfounded hearing a 5-year-old jabbering away at 10 times that speed. How can you make those sounds with your mouth?

I felt that our visits to Austria were much more scenic than Munich, which makes sense because Munich is a big city with it's usual city-like grime and grit. I think when I grow old and retire, I'm going to live in those valleys in Austria (where, by the way, Julie Andrews had run around singing in The Sound of Music):



On a completely different topic, I have now become obsessed with the song, "Alles Neu" by Peter Fox, a German singer, whose music is a mix between hip-hop and reggae. The music video is in all honesty, very strange, but also strangely addictive, as is the song. There's something about the beat, and the drummers' groove that makes me come back to this video/song over and over again. I just hope I don't get tired of it:



Peter Fox is definitely an artist to check out in general. He has this unique way of mixing beats and creating rhythms that make you want to listen over and over again to figure it out.

Unfortunately, I have yet to find someone who enjoys this song as much as I do. Oh well.

Once I create the ice cream collage, I'll post a photo of it on my blog, so keep checking back for that!

My Weird Christmas Wish List

So I came across a video of a painting in progress today, on a blog that my friend directed me to. Check it out, it's actually a pretty cool blog.

First of all, I am highly jealous of the girl who writes the blog. Her unique tastes in fashion, music, and art give her something to write about, whereas I sit on the floor of my too-small room, looking around aimlessly, desperately searching for something unique in my life.

I'm going to Germany in a week. I'm really looking forward to blogging about that.

Anyway, this video that I came across, it was of an artist, Steven Lopez, from Pasadena, California, painting one of his original paintings from a project called The After Midnight Series, a series of paintings that pay homage to Neo-soul songstresses.




I don't know why I was so drawn to this painting montage, but once again, I was hit with an urge to spontaneously make something creative. I see a brilliant photograph by a brilliant photographer, and I want to take up photography. I see a great movie, and I want to be a director. Right now. Get me some actors.

I actually have a manila folder under my bed with sketches and rough drafts of short movies I would like to make some time in the future.

If I could, I would simultaneously act, dance, sing, direct, photograph, blog, film, document, paint something, while touring France, Ghana, South America, Prague, London, Australia all at the same time. Goddamn, if they had only perfected the cloning process for the masses.

Oh, and Germany I suppose. Since that's actually happening.

People always say to find the one thing you enjoy and desire to do life, and pursue it. I've realized, however, that it is never one thing. It will always be multiple things. Even if I do succeed at one of the bazillion dreams listed above, what happens to everything else? I can't just let go and not do them.

For the fall semester of my sophomore year in college, I decided to take a modern dance class, to fill up credits. I've always thought it be so cool to be a dancer. Suddenly I imagine myself as a dance major, going to rehearsals, performing in front of a large audience, being able to do such flexible things I could never dream of doing.

What the hell, man? I am never going to be a dancer. It's not that easy.

It's not that people don't pursue multiple dreams. It's just that sometimes, half of those dreams turn into hobbies, something that is done on the side, and don't go any farther than that.

But I don't want that.

I want to be able to excel at every single one of my dreams, to the point where people can't even identify my job.

"Oh, that's Esha, she's a...everything."

You know, if I weren't so creatively inclined, I would also like to become a doctor. It seems so exciting. But because I know I'll never be able to sit through multiple Chemistry and Biology classes, I resort to watching medical shows like House and Royal Pains.

Oh my god, this has to stop. This is turning into a weird version of my Christmas wish list.

But I have to say, Hinduism's got it down. Goddesses with multiple arms? I could use that. And multiple brains. And everything else.

I Have A Problem.

I think I know what my problem is.

Oh, I know I have plenty of problems. Everyone does, I'm not perfect. But I have one big problem that came to me while riding home on the bus back from New York (this is what happens when a certain someone perpetually - and sometimes purposefully - forgets her iPod during long trips).

I think I take on too many things at once. I always feel the need to do everything, meet everyone, sign up for this and that, and a couple more. As of right now, I am technically holding 3 different jobs. And I'm in that awkward phase, where one job is almost close to ending and another one is about to start, but that boss decided to have me come in a couple of days before my official start date, and the first job hasn't actually ended yet, and on top of that, the third job is in the same situation as the first job. Got all that? You'd think that, on the bright side, I'd be getting paid a lot, but I also tend to spontaneously shop. Last time I checked, shopping more than you get paid each week is the equivalent of eating a whole cheesecake after exercising. Let alone, one of the jobs doesn't even pay me (thankfully, that one is ending soon).

Not that I haven't been notified of this problem before. My mom takes it upon herself to remind me that I try to do too many things every time I want to do something that is a little off of the beaten track. Like...go to a concert. Oh, God forbid! Too much, too much!

But now, I've realized it for myself, and although she does take it to the extreme, my mom is not completely wrong. Just this week, I agreed to work 2 days at my new job "to get used to it before fall" (scheduled around my current work schedule at my current job), agreed to help a new friend out on a low-budget indie flick she's producing, tried to find a good to transport myself from work (which ends at 6), to home (time = 1 hour), to a friend's house (who lives over an hour away) for a sleepover at a decent time, but on a day that wouldn't conflict with my new work schedule, and with tentative plans to see a movie with another friend.

I wish there were a better way to word that last paragraph so it sounds less confusing, but that's exactly how I see it.

There are more things, but these are the ones that I have brought upon myself (first step in removing a problem - admitting you have created the problem). It's not that I don't try to fix anything. I'm smart enough to know that if you can't do something, you have to let it go, but not smart enough to realize this before actually making the plan. I guess I just can't say "no". Everything I forgo doing, I feel like I've missed an opportunity. Like how the first publishers to turn down JK Rowling probably feel right now. Regret.

Isn't it a saying though? That you shouldn't regret the things you do, but the things that you didn't do? Like turning down interviews to companies that really interest you, because you already accepted something else before this offer came up, so you weren't going to consider them anyway. On top of that, they don't pay. But don't worry, they have a fancy name to make up for it - an internship. Thank you for luring me in with your big offices and big names, I appreciate it.

I'm sure there is some psychological explanation behind it. Even when it comes to throwing away things in my room, I have doubt. What if I need it later? What if I'm in a crisis, and the one thing I need, I've thrown away? Regret, regret, regret. I know not being able to meet friends for sleepovers is not that big of a deal, but this is bigger than that. I don't want to go through life regretting the things I didn't do. I just want to do everything, so there will be nothing left to regret. Is that so crazy? To want to die happy and content with my life, with no regrets?

Okay, I'm starting to sound like some sappy mother from one of those Indian soap operas my mom watches. Excluding the depressing violin playing in the background, it's all true. Regret is overrated. You know what? I don't have a problem, it's man who has a problem for creating only 24 hours in day. What were we thinking?!?

Don't Forget To Clean Your [Insert Body Part Here]!

Is it just me, are there way too many things to take care of on our body? I don't mean to sound disgusting or un-hygienic, but I feel like the number of things to take care of has gone up ten-fold since we were put on this earth. Make that 1 million-fold.

Body care.

Hair care.

Ear care.

Face care.

Hand care.

Foot care.

Eye care.

Nail care.

Teeth care.

Health care.

Let's dig a little deeper, shall we?

Eyelash care.

Cuticle care.

Skin-around-your-eyes care.

Scalp care.

Lips care.

Gums care.

Behind-your-ears care.

Down-there care.

Eyebrow care.

Upper lip care.

Bone care.

Heart care.

Lungs care.

Kidneys care.

Muscle care.

Fat care.

Blood care.

Overall-body-equilibrium care.

Brain care.

The list goes on, and on, and...on. And for every part of the body we need to take care of, there are at least 200 different kinds of treatments for it. Creams, lotions, massages, exercises, gels, pills, tablets, diets, washes, the whole nine yards.

You think you got everything covered? I bet you missed a spot. Actually, I bet you missed hundreds of spots. Because somebody up there has a weird sense of humor and has made us into obsessive compulsive cleaning ladies, eternally doomed to find new places to clean, wash, tone, and scrub. I'm reminded of those moments working as a retail store sales associate, constantly folding and refolding clothes, watching customers blatantly mess up the pile of t-shirts I just organized, in front of me. Seriously? I just cleaned that. Now I have to do it again?
And what the hell is ear cream?
I don't want to sound disgusting. Of course I regularly shower, scrub, exercise, and generally clean my myself. There are obviously health benefits to doing so, and I get it. I guess it plays into what my dad always tells me (because I'm notorious for losing/breaking things I own):
"If it's yours, and you care about it, you take care of it. It's your responsibility."
I care about myself. Of course I want to look good, feel good. But this was definitely not in my job description, this constant paranoia about making sure my nails don't get too long, or that my legs are always shaved and smooth (and getting goosebumps on a cold day doesn't help me either). Remember when mom used to repeatedly tell you to clean underneath your nails when washing ? Now she yells at your for not moisturizing your hands, or not properly pushing back your cuticles. After all, keeping your cuticles clean keeps...the doctor away? What?
I have no answer to this, unfortunately. Unless our culture changes, or our bodies change to stop doing yucky stuff, or our health stops suffering from lack of care, we will forever be cleaning ladies. And none of those are ever going to change drastically, so here's to your supercilium. I hope it stays minty fresh at all times.
Ten points to the person who knows what that even is.

Now Is The Time To...NOT PANIC! What?

This morning, on my way to the bus station to catch the bus that takes me to New York, I calmly let it slip in the car that I left my phone at home.

My mother starts repeatedly banging her head against her seat and calls me stupid several times, something which I'm quite accustomed to, partially because my mom is notorious for freaking out beyond reason for the smallest things. Fortunately, I do have an office phone, and I gave her that number on a piece of paper while she continued to rant on about "emergency situations". At one point, she asked me to give her my boss's cell phone number.

Ok, NO. I am in no way, comfortable with that.

This is only one situation out of many, but unlike my mom, I don't think I have a panic nerve. Or bone. Or whatever it is in your brain that signals you to panic. Funnily enough, there is a correlation between anxiety and blood pressure (ok, so it's not that funny, it's actually kind of serious), something which I discovered during a blood drive at my high school. I wasn't able to give blood that day, because the nurse said my blood pressure was too low, whereas every single one of my friends seemed perfectly fine. She told me I could take a few laps outside before coming back, if I wanted to give blood. Hahahahaha, that's funny, lady.

Neither low blood pressure nor high blood pressure is good for you, but it's just another piece of evidence to prove my absence-of-panic theory. Every time I've ever been presented with a pressured situation, whether it be a paper due in 24 hours, a train I had to catch, or standing up in front of people, my panic radar has stayed oddly low. Granted, I don't really have stage fright, but it's gotten to a point where I have had something due in an hour, and my roommate starts panicking for me.

You can call me a slacker. Hey, I procrastinate and I'm proud of it. But the outcome of any situation I have encountered has never been bad enough to make me want to panic in the future. I think the only time I've ever had a monumental panic attack was when I was 1/2 hour to 45 minutes late for a job interview. I started crying and flapping my arms wildly in the car, subconsciously moving my whole body forward in the passenger seat as if that could somehow will my mom to go faster. And you know what? I still got the job. Because in the end, we're all still human, and anybody who is human knows that there are uncontrollable forces in the world that make us late, no matter how early we plan ahead or leave. Especially in this job interview situation, I had called earlier telling them I was going to be late, and acted professionally when I got there. The trick is to not profusely apologize and focus on what you're there for.

I think the point I'm trying to make here, is that people panic about the littlest things, when the only thing it's doing is giving you a mini-heart attack. That's not to say you shouldn't ever feel pressured to do things. It's been said that a little pressure in an important situation is helpful in making sure you concentrate and succeed.

But panic is such an unfortunate state. I think part of the reason people panic so much, is because they are unsure of how they would handle the situation if something went wrong. Maybe instead of panicking to get something done - that's seem impossible to get done - focus on what you can do now, and then come up with a plan to efficiently and intelligently finish the rest later. Also, it's important to keep in mind that if you do have something due within the next few hours, you're more likely to come up with a smart solution to finish it when you're cool-headed. Or if you're late for something; ever notice how every traffic light seems to turn red when you're panicking? Chill out, dude! God is not going to hit you with a lightning bolt, I promise.

The Masters Of Metaphor

Unless you're an actual fan of her, I don't think Imogen Heap is really that much of a household name yet. But you've probably heard some of her music, like Let Go, or that song from the Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe soundtrack (Let Go was featured on the Garden State soundtrack, and Boys Like Girls did a cover of it, if you're into them).

I thought I would do a post of her, because she's basically the epitome of what I can't be. As dramatic as that seems, it's completely and utterly true. Actually, let's play a little game. What do...a songwriter, poet, and a hopeless romantic all have in common? No?

It's pretty simple. All those people have mastered the literary device that is the metaphor. Ah, the metaphor. That thing that saves you when you want to say something, but don't really want to say it outright. I would give you an example, but that would defeat the purpose of this post. In other words, I am not a master of metaphor (I wish I were, that title sort of has a ring to it).
But Imogen Heap is. Oh yes, she is. I don't know if it is a new song, but recently, I've become obsessed with a song of hers, Earth:


"You're not golden and I'm getting tired
Act like you own the place when really you've only just arrived
I caught first glimmers in hides and skins
Look who's all grown up, black swanning about the solar winds..."

Besides the lyrics, the song has an insanely catchy beat, and of course, Heap's signature use of voice technology to create that acapella style. I love it. But if you ever asked me to reproduce something like this, it would be completely futile. It took me several tries to figure out the actual meaning of this song. The current accepted meaning is that it is a "green song" - a song about how we are destroying the earth, just because we think it is ours, whereas the earth has existed far longer than humanity has. You see, Heap is playing the part of "mother" earth, scolding her child (humanity) for creating such a mess of this place. It makes sense, when you see the title, which is appropriately named Earth. But this meaning is far from being the only one. Some say that it's called Earth, because her voice is the only instrument being used, giving light to the "organic" feel of the song. I used to think it was about being in a one-sided relationship, with someone who wasn't giving it his/her all. I don't really blame myself for that explanation, given that 98% of the songs today are about relationships, love, etc.

But you see what has happened?!? Imogen Heap has mastered the use of the metaphor so well, that people like us are able to create millions upon millions of explanations about the true meaning of the song. While I am highly impressed by this, part of me is a little annoyed. Not in a jealous way, but more like "Why would you do that?" annoyed.

Maybe I've just always been a blunt person, but if I were feeling something, whether it be sadness, happiness, frustration, depression, etc., writing it down in metaphor would not help me at all. Some people might say that the point of the metaphor is to convey your emotions, while still keeping them to yourself, but that is so counterproductive.

If people don't understand the exact meaning of what I'm trying to say, I feel like I've failed at communicating. Is it because I'm always trying to prove that I have something intelligent to say? I don't know. Maybe songwriters and poets are so confident with themselves, that, as long as they know what it means, nothing else matters. This is why I could never be a poet, or a songwriter, as hard as I have tried in the past. I'm not saying that metaphors aren't beautiful. In fact, one of my favorite choral arrangements by Eric Whitacre, titled Sleep, is anything but failure and yet, one big metaphor.


"What dreams may come both dark and deep
Of flying wings and soaring leap
As I surrender unto sleep
As I surrender unto sleep..."

In my favorite analysis of this song, Whitacre is describing death, and one's thoughts before dying. That topic itself is for another day, but when I realized this, the metaphors spoke to me even louder. It made me stop and appreciate the flexibility of the English language, and how something so depressing can be made to sound beautiful. Of course, part of Eric Whitacre's charm is his amazing use of suspension chords, and his unconventional chord progressions. Oh, look at me, geeking out on choral music.

But am I jealous? Not at all. Never would I want to write something that people couldn't immediately understand. That's probably why I'm studying to be a journalist and not a poet. So here I stand, in the sidelines, cheering on those who are the masters of metaphor. That's it. No strings attached. Let them do what they do best, while I continue to shout my feelings from the mountaintops, till the cows come home.

To Wear Or Not To Wear?

Here's a semi-age old question; what's hotter? Baring all, or covering up?

For the longest time, I've kind of envied those supermodels and people with supermodel-like bodies for being able to wear a bikini without a care in the world. Let's just say, I've always had to work hard to get that kind of stomach. I'm not fat, per se, but I'm not a supermodel. Otherwise...I would not be writing this and would be super modeling right now.

So I bought a bikini the other day. It was from Victoria's Secret (what is her secret, anyway?) and the model wearing it looked super-fabulous and tan. I'm pretty tan, so I've got that covered. But when I later looked at pictures of myself in the bikini, I was not satisfied. And I'm pretty picky about my body. I don't have the flattest stomach, nor the slimmest figure (whoever makes humans has gifted me with great child bearing hips), but I tend to run in the small sizes at department stores. So while the beach trip was fun and relaxing, those pictures left me with rather disappointing thoughts.

One day after that, for giggles, I decided to try on my mom's bathing suit that she also bought from the same place. It is a one-piece, firetruck red, swimsuit, with a halter neck and an open back. I tried it on.

WOW.

I'm not really a vain person, but I looked good. I almost couldn't imagine wearing that to the beach because it seemed too Baywatch. But why? It covered almost my whole body, yet it seemed - dare I say it - sexier than that secret bikini of Victoria's.

Now, I've learned in my 18 years on this earth that women wear skimpy clothes to look hotter to men. Not that it hasn't worked. Call them whatever you like, but skimpy clothed women have always gotten the attention of men. There could be various reasons for this:

1. They show more skin, therefore those parts of the female body that are usually reserved for the bedroom  are now free of charge. If it's free, why not look?

2. If a women is fit and toned, calf muscles, abs, and a perky upper shelf can definitely be a turn on.

3. It's...wild? Showing more skin shows that you're not afraid to showcase your body. Be proud of what your mama gave you! Confidence is always key to a man's heart.

4. Women love to tease. What's the point of wearing anything if all you're covering is your chest and down there (in extreme cases)? Because you're showing everything but not really. You can see it all but not really. April Fools!

I'm sure those who are skimpy clothes advocates can cook up more reasons. But the more I try to think up reasons, the more I realize that less clothes means showing more. Suddenly, I'm reminded of all those times I accidentally gave away the ending to a book or a movie to my best friend. She hated me every time I did that. Why? Because there was no fun in it for her anymore. There was no more personal satisfaction that she figured out the ending all by herself, that she figured out that at the end of Sixth Sense, Bruce Willis was...oops. Nevermind.

The mystery is gone, people! Everything is handed to you on a silver platter, with ribbons and ponies! Forget about actually wondering what that beautiful women over there looks like underneath all those clothes. She's basically spelled it out for you. You're not wondering anymore; you know. One look, and you know everything. Done. Finito. End of story.

That's not to say women should wear burlap sacks and paper bags over their heads. No. But next time you're thinking of choosing a strapless, skin-tight, dress, that is dangerously close to revealing your lovely buttocks, think again. It can still be skin-tight. Why else do you think Cat Woman is so hot? Her whole freakin' body is covered up, but it's still hot. You're still showing off your body, but not really at all. And by covering up in the right spots, you actually give off the image that you are actually toned in places where you're not. I mean, I do have to say; a woman who exudes sex appeal while wearing a long gown with sleeves is pretty awesome in my book. Let the men do some wondering! They don't do much else anyway.

It's A Love/Hate Thing...

I refuse to write a post about how it’s my first blog post. That previous sentence will just have to do.

Because I work in the city, and I don’t live in the city but live in a small town in New Jersey, (unfortunately – cue Kelly’s Clarkson’s “Breakaway”) I usually take a bus or train to commute an hour into the Big Apple. Except nowadays, I’ve been taking the bus to the Port Authority Terminal because it drops me off right at Times Square which is where I need to be. Perfect.

But there is a reason that most people take a train. Actually, you can’t really even say “most” people, because with the population of the East Coast, and the popularity of New York City, you’ll find a massive crowd wherever your specific form of transportation may be. Either way, the train is still chosen over a lot of other types of transport. That’s easy enough to figure out; it comes every 15 minutes to a ½ hour, the tickets are a pretty decent price (well…used to be) and the trains are a nice temperature. But in my case, I’d have to take the train to Penn Station, then take a subway, and I’m a broke college student, and…

Okay, let’s stop boring the world with my train opinions. The point is, the only reason I take the bus, is because it is conveniently close to my work.

But. It. Is. SO. Disorganized. And hot. And disorganized. And there’s always a huge line of people waiting for the wrong bus, running around like headless chickens, trying to catch a word with the careless employees of Port Authority. And since I’ve been taking the same bus for over two months now, I’ve gotten used to the disorganized structure of the bus station and find myself directing panicky people in the right direction. No, that’s at Gate 8…Yes, I know what the sign says, but in about ½ hour, a bus conductor will come out and tell everyone to go to Gate 8…Okay, sure, you can stand there and wait for him…

It’s actually kind of nice, knowing how the system works, and helping frenzied people. For a crazy second, I thought it would be cool to work there – then the amount of driving around I would have to do hit me, and that thought vanished in a blink. But the other reason that I take the bus, is actually meeting all these frenzied people. Like, just yesterday, there was a French couple with twins from Switzerland. Who woulda thunk it?! Good thing I’ve got 6 years of French on my resume. Although I kept quiet for awhile and resorted to watching a beefy looking man trying to explain the bus line to them in slow English. There is no bus at 6:30…the next one is at 7:15…no, no, the 6:30 one is only on Monday thru Thursday…yes…no, the next one is at 7:15…do you understand, that’s only Monday thru – is that French you’re speaking?

Not to brag or anything, but I’m pretty sure I could have translated everything that man said into simple French for the nice couple. Let’s see, Monday = Lundi, 6:30 = Six heures et demie…

But honestly, it is actually really nice meeting all these people. That same day that I met the French couple going to Lambertville, I had missed a 6:00 train by two seconds and had to sit there for about an hour for the next train (another reason I hate Port Authority – the gap between each bus is about the same time it take for grass to grow). Fortunately, I had Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and some snacks handy, so I sunk down onto the shoe-trodden, gum-infested floor and tried to immerse myself in the book. But with about half a million people running around, give or take one thousand, it’s difficult to isolate yourself from the world so easily. Actually, you’re kind of missing out if you do. People-watching is probably one of the best things to do in a city with so many people. You get all kinds down at the ol’ bus station. Let’s see if I can categorize them (at least at my gate):

1. The white-collar workers coming home from work. Usually carrying a briefcase or rolling backpack, the Daily News, and sporting sweaty pits, forehead, the works.

2. Older women, around 50+, wearing khaki pants, a colorful “fashionable” top, sandals, some luggage, if any, heading over to the casino that just opened up on our bus route (why anyone would want to go to a casino in the middle of Pennsylvania is beyond me).

3. Various young people, usually women, who are just there, and are probably in my situation.

4. The tourists. Enough said.

5. The elderly, who usually are at the wrong gate. But it is so heartwarming to help them to the right gate. Honestly. I always feel so good when they get home safe. =)

6. The inevitable crazy people who talk to themselves. I usually keep a safe distance away from them, so I don’t really know what they’re like. I had the pleasure of putting my French into action when I overheard the French couple talk about how there was a crazy guy right in front of them. Oh, how cute.

You always think that people don’t actually notice these things, but they do. I do. Those sweaty pit stains you unfortunately see? That man probably just ran here from 4 blocks away, because he found it useless to hail a cab in such nice weather, although after running for 2 blocks, realized that the weather was a little too nice and possibly borderline heat wave. Normally, he could have easily caught the earlier bus, but today was special in that he had to stay late because someone at the office messed up some project that was now his responsibility to fix. Now he’s trying to head home from work quickly, and is pissed that the next bus doesn’t come for an hour, because he needs to be home in time for something that’s going to piss his wife off if he’s late for. But hey, why not open up the newspaper in the meantime and see what kind of mischief Lindsay Lohan is getting into this time?

I could write on for ages about the people at Port Authority. I’m sure there are enough stories there to feed a third world country. And by that I mean if their stories could somehow generate money, and with that money you bought food to feel a whole third world country, well, there you go.

After I stop working in New York for the summer, I won’t need to take the bus to commute anymore, because I attend school there, full-time. But next time I have the choice between the bus and train, I might take the bus, only because they’ve got practically a full-sized mall on the main level. Yes, that’s why.