Moving Out.

Blogspot, you have been oh so good to me.
But I am temporarily or perhaps permanently moving to:

linivictoria.tumblr.com

Lini still loves you,
Catch me tumbling.
♥ Lini.

OMG, I totes love [ ] too.

I have this thing, this fatal attraction to things.
It causes me to fall in love with things far too often and far too fast.

I've begun to find that this problem plagues many in my generation, the current twenty-somethings. We think our things are so precious we become infatuated with them. I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell and Catcher in The Rye are our Bibles, Lebron James and Lady GaGa are our Gods, and we make our required pilgrimages to Bonnaroo, Coachella, and Ultra. This seemingly individualistic culture has become the religion of the masses, and we've all blindly converted. And for me at least, when I meet a fellow convert, I think it's some kind of divine indication we are meant to be friends, we are meant to be lovers, we are meant to share our religious experience.

Only everyone loves music. Everyone loves books. Everyone loves food. Everyone loves sports. And though we seem to believe our tastes are tailored, we alone love these divine elements, and we alone know of their existences, it seems we all just drank the Kool-AId. Because when we all love these seemingly brilliant things, it may seem like when we meet someone else who loves them as well, that well, it's just fate.

It's not fate, it't actually fake. It's false perception that because you and someone else both love adore watching Lost and the same Tazo Tea flavor therefore for some reason you and this person somehow belong together.

How do you know what to believe when your own feelings are liars?

Try lying for a change, it's currency of the world.
-Closer

♥ Lini.

Rehearsal

A boy I went to high school with wrote this original post on his tumblr, and I found it quite moving. So, I wrote the female counterpart. The large bulk of it is his, and his is a lot more fluid. You should check it out at the above link. And just as a disclaimer, this is not based around my life or average weekend at all, or anything. Like really.

I know. Sometimes, I don’t. But sometimes, I know.

I know how it’s supposed to go – what I’m supposed to say. I know how to act normal – how to speak only in codes heavily laced with implications of my potential willingness. I know how to attract a boy. I know how to treat him with carefully balanced disinterest and enthusiasm – and show him that he’s not the first boy I’ve been with or around. And I also know that he likes that, for some reason. Knowing I’ve rehearsed the steps sufficient times to recall the choreography but not more times than I can count my dance partners. I know what I’m going to hear – he’ll probably [hopefully?] suggest it – and at what point in the night it can we slip away without causing an awkward silence?

I know how to fill the blanks in our conversation with carefully structured questions– I’ve got a whole list of ‘em. No way, you like music, movies, and food too?! You have career goals?! You grew up somewhere, in some city in this world?! Wow, I have a friend whose cousin’s dog groomer is from there, or something!

Blaring from speakers somewhere, the song changes.

I uncross and cross my legs.

The song changes again.

Tuck my hair behind your ear, bite my lip, drop my napkin, place my hand on his knee to brace myself as I reach for it. Gold star for locking eyes on the way back up.

The song changes again.

Yawn. People respond well to yawning. No one likes being boring.

The song changes again.

Close my bar tab.

I know to hold a boy’s hand when we walk down the street, pretending either of us truly believe in this implied affection. I let him give me his coat, because boys don’t feel cold, and that’s why girls don’t wear coats. To relieve boys from wearing theirs- those poor overheated creatures.

I know how to smile big when he walks on the outside of the sidewalk. Opens the car door. Offers to get me anything I need. Say no one ever does that anymore, haven’t had a door held for me in ages, you’re too sweet! I know how to laugh lightly and promise my apartment is a total mess too, no I don’t mind at all. Actually, I happen to love cheap American beer, that’s so funny and great that you have nothing else for me to drink! I know how to blush at innuendos – act totally surprised to discover why we’re in his apartment.

I know how to segue – by accepting an offer to see “posters in his room” which don’t exist, or to listen to “this great new album.” Before I know it, I’m in his bed, and we both know exactly why – and both know exactly how it will end. I know boys don’t like condoms, questions, or eye contact. I pick a couple to avoid, strike a pose maybe he hasn’t seen, and cue the one-night-only performance. No encore, Count 1-2-3…I-gotta-wake-up-early. I know how to do us both a favor and respond to his fabricated early morning study session with a 9’ o’clock yoga class or a headache. I know why I was there, I know that reason ceased to exist.

Simply put – I know how to get what I want. I know how to use the same gestures and identical formula to get the same result every single time. And when I’ve completed my task – I know how to watch them disappear, too. I know how to exchange numbers merely out of habit. I know how to microanalyze and repeat each second of the evening in conversation over a double pump latte and low-fat muffin with a friend as we search for any moment that might possess a shred of something genuine. I know how to eventually pretend the whole one-night thing never happened. And I know how to pretend it’s just another funny story, I’m just another Sex & City Samatha.

I know how it’s supposed to go.

& I know how it actually goes.

I watched Blue Valentine tonight, put me into perspective. Go see it though, a-m-a-z-i-n-g.

♥

Lini.

Que Paso?

People have been roaming about the planet for quite some time.

Now, I'm not really too into science or anything, but it seems to me if you can get an entire meal in about 60 seconds without even leaving your car, that maybe the billions of years we've spent crawling around the face of the Earth could have reaped a few more results.

I just have so many questions.

Like why aren't people happier, healthier, smarter, and more successful?

Why are things generally unfair, blatantly unjust?

Why are things run so inefficiently, just overall bureaucracy all over the place?

Why has mankind, as a race, in the past 5 billion years or whatever not figured out how to get along with each other or how to know or really even like our own selves? Why does watching six episodes of Sex & The City in a row seems more interesting to me right now than, well, basically anything else?

Maybe that's what we've been busy doing then? Maybe progress is being impeded by Carrie Bradshaw and Cosmopolitians. What were the neanderthals doing without HBO then?

Slackers.

♥

Lini.

Rules

I found these little bits of wisdom of Stumbleupon the other day. I cannot recall the author, but I think they're pretty enlightening. If they're commonly attributed to some genius, well, I'm unaware of whom this individual may be, so pardon my ignorance.

Alienation produces eccentrics or revolutionaries.

All things are delicately interconnected.

An elite is inevitable.

Anger or hate can be a useful motivating force.

Any surplus is immoral.

Artificial desires are despoiling the earth.

At times inactivity is preferable to mindless functioning.

At times you unconsciousness is truer than your conscious mind.

Being alone with yourself is increasingly unpopular.

Being happy is more important than anything else.

Being sure of yourself means you're a fool.

Deviants are sacrificed to increase group solidarity.

It is a gift to the world to not have babies.

It is better to be lonely than to be with inferior people.

It is crucial to have an active fantasy life.

Knowledge should be advanced at all costs.

Money creates taste.

Much was decided before you were born.

Spending too much time on self-improvement is anti-social.

Just some brain food.

Chomp Chomp.

[look at that Guernica closely, sidenote.]

Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.

-Ernest Hemingway

I know what said that one.

♥ Lini.