I Change My Clothes in My Car Because I Have To

I feel like my thoughts are little Mexican jumping beans bouncing around inside my skull. They've been trying to get out for a while now, but with school and three jobs (count em, three), I have devoted my mind entirely to trying to find a way to squeeze something else into my day. When am I going to eat? When am I going to get gas, or pay that bill? Do I have the shoes I need for tonight's wardrobe change? Where is my physics book? When was the last time I washed my hair? The mundane logistical thoughts have pushed these poor ignored deeper thoughts so far away and scattered them so far that I fear I may have lost some of them. Some have ventured to other parts of my body in search of an escape route; for example, I'm pretty sure that has been something poetic inside my chest trying to find the words to allow it to surface, to let it out, but I have not allowed much thought for these thoughts, keeping them trapped and in the dark.

I am going to attempt to remedy this now.

Please bear with me (that's b-e-a-r, not b-a-r-e).

Things I've noticed about myself/habits:

I've decided that I really love Fall (Autumn, if you will). It might be my favorite season. But I had never experienced such a seasonal phenomenon until I spent a few years in Provo. Now as I hike through freshly green Santa Monica Mountains enjoying the sun and ready myself for Thanksgiving in capri pants and flip flops, I realize that something is missing. The hills are not painted with brilliant shades of orange and gold. There isn't that crisp in the air that prompts you pull out your pea coats and scarves. There are no crunchy leaves on the sidewalk that make even a trip down the driveway to the mailbox fun. The air doesn't smell of cinnamon and wet earth. Fall just isn't a season we have in California. Around here, "Fall" is a time when school starts, when we make trips to the pumpkin patch, when children dress in costumes and beg for candy, and when we sweat during the day and might need a hoodie at night. That's all. I guess what I'm saying is that I miss Fall.

I only play the piano or the guitar when nobody's home.
(Or when I think no one can hear me)

I am afraid to speak Spanish to native speakers.
But wouldn't you love it if you moved to Paraguay and someone spoke English to you?

When I clean my room, I always start by putting away my shoes.

I still can't roll my tongue.

I keep a dayplanner, but I realized that I usually only write things that have already happened in it.
It is rarely used to warn me of something ahead.

I really pine for an old friend I've lost touch with.
Despite our lack of contact these last few years, I still love her and consider her one of my favorite people.
She inspires me, even from afar.

I wear "Saturday Outfits" whenever I can.
"What is a Saturday outfit?" you ask.
I guess the best way to describe it is to give an example.
Today's edition:
orange tank top
Batman boxers
Ron Weasly-esque beanie
ballet slippers

I have a lot of friends. Now, I don't say this to be boastful; I mean there are a lot of individuals with whom I share a friendship. This doesn't mean I'm super social, or that I'm always surrounded by a large group of people. In fact, I would say quite the opposite. I was thinking about how I have these friends who are all from different groups, making getting a group together for some activity a little weird and very random. So I just don't do it. I am totally open to being introduced to their friends. I don't really mind being the one who doesn't really know anybody else there (as long as my friend remembers that I don't know anyone else yet). But I never invite people who don't know each other to hang out with me. I always laugh at the idea of all of the random people that would attend a birthday party in my honor. The last two years, friends have thrown me a surprise party, inviting who they thought should be there, and they did a good job. But there were people I would have liked to have come, but since I don't know any of their friends and they don't know any of my friends, they miss out on an invitation. I think I would be able to save more time and have more fun by "killing two birds with one stone," so to speak. If I allowed my friends to meet and be friends with each other, then we could all hang out; all would be well. I hope I can let this happen sometime.

I miss dance -- everything about it.
I miss the girls. I miss the coach.
I miss the competitions. I miss the performances.
I miss the smell of hairspray and eyelash glue.
I miss being in good physical condition.
I miss the massive appetite I used to be able to maintain.
I miss the thrill that comes from mastering a new movement.
I miss the rhythm of the music and my heartbeat combined.
I miss the freedom and the release.

What I Should Be Doing: moving my furniture, writing to Ben, going to Home Depot, shaving my legs
What I'm Listening To: Stephanie Smith, The Eagles, Shania Twain, and The Sequence

In fact, I think that you should listen to The Sequence too: