For The Morning After You Fell Asleep Crying

Recently I have cried a suffocating kind of crying three times and that number worries me but excites me as well.

I think any reminder that something mattered so much, you can't restrain your disappointment that it is gone, is beautiful.

I've noticed that I cry a lot.  I consider this, if I'll be honest with myself, a weakness.  I don't know if it's because I'm weak or if I just have an easily-moved heart.  I cry every time I hear Dreaming Of You by Selena.  I cried when Jess Aarons punched that bully after Leslie died in Bridge to Terabithia.  I cried when Ewan McGregor called his father-in-law in The Impossible (let's be real, I couldn't see, like, half the movie through my tears).  I sobbed one time when my friend told me I was special and it was actually kind of embarrassing.  I cry a lot.

The suffocating kind of cry that I'm talking about is really...  hurful, in a way.  I feel so sad about nothing in particular afterwards.  My head and my eyes always hurt.  I hate seeing myself in the mirror because I look weak.  It's the kind of crying where you can hear the tears coming out of you in a sort of bellowing fashion?  And you hunch over and you cover your face with your palms and you know there is snot all over them and you just imagine yourself in this corner of your world, and you know that someone out there is okay and doesn't have a reason to cry, and you wonder what your'e doing, heaving out your problems, and why won't anyone lightly knock at your door and place a comforting hand on your back?

I hope none of you experience that kind of crying.  And if you do, I hope the okay-ness comes sooner than later.

I kiss each of you on the top of the head.  Here's some Motrin.

LANA DEL REY | Pawn Shop Blues

BUTCH WALKER | Don't You Think Someone Should Take You Home

JANIS JAPLIN | Little Girl Blue

NICO | Eulogy to Lenny Bruce

BON IVER | Wash.

LYKKE LI | Time Flies

FIONA APPLE | Across the Universe

THE WHITE LIGHTS | A Place Where We Can Go

WILLIAM FITZSIMMONS | I Don't Feel It Anymore

SUFJAN STEVENS | All The Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands

BOB DYLAN | Don't Think Twice, It's Alright

THE KOOKS | Seaside

COEUR DE PIRATE | Someone to Watch Over Me

JOHNNY CASH | Redemption Day

CHET BAKER | I Get Along Without You Very Well

WILLIAM FITZSIMMONS | Goodmorning

Prom—A Playlist

As I mentioned previously, I went to prom and I also mentioned that the music was absolutely terrible.  I’ve been waiting, and it seems to be that everyone’s proms are over?  Some of you are already out of school!  I still have a two weeks (not to mention finals), but I’m still counting down the days… and trying my best to study as relentlessly as possible.

Enough about that (am I the only one that always skims past school/exams talk in a post?)—my original train of thought was going in the direction of the terrible music played at prom.  I didn’t elaborate.  It was mostly techno, and it makes me feel like I’m behind but how doth one dance to techno?  How?  My friend and I couldn’t figure it out, so we only danced when a classic party song~ (if you will) came on, which included the Cupid shuffle, Electric Slide and El Payaso del Rodeo for all the Mexicans that knew how to dance it.

Disappointed but hopeful, I composed my dream prom playlist.  I know I wouldn’t sit down.

A Playlist –Making Life Decisions in the Bath

YANN TIERSEN | Guilty

SUFJAN STEVENS | Futile Devices

THE XX | Fantasy

SHE & HIM | Don’t Look Back

ELVIS PRESLEY | Blue Moon

AIR | High School Lover

APHEX TWIN | Avril 14th

JACK JOHNSON | Banana Pancakes

THE TALLEST MAN ON EARTH | Little River

NANCY ADAMS | Love

YANN TIERSEN | La Valse Des Vieux Os

THE BEATLES | I’m So Tired

JOHNNY MATHIS | Tenderly

THE SHINS | Sleeping Lessons

NOAH AND THE WHALE | 5 Years Time

I’ve written on how to take a bath like you’re in a film, but I didn’t include the tunes that go along with having a peaceful time while taking a bath.  Bath time is pretty special time, and ever since the first time I heard Alana Dafonseca croon “Don’t Cry Baby” in the movie Aquamarine, while the titular mermaid eats ice cream and tries to get over her one true love, Raymond, I knew it in my heart that you’re meant to have music in the background to help you ease in to the magic wonders of a bath.

Of course,  when I think of a bath, many different “moods” come to mind.  If this were a movie, is this scene in the movie because the character is sad, or is this a happy scene, or is this an indie movie where an obligatory washed-out clip of someone in a bath is needed, or what?  Whichever the case, different music is used for each of these different scenes.  I tried to capture that in this hodgepodge of music.

Sticking to the “Don’t Cry Baby” theme, I added ballads and vocal-ranges-that-make-your-home-made-music-videos-cry-in-a-corner-type songs,  along with happy music that would fit for a bath in the morning, along with more sadder music, which would be perfect for staring at the bath faucet with wide, dead eyes, like a tarantula just walked up the drain and bit you in your derrière.

On my bath to-do list is to find out what those cool orange slices things Anne Hathaway put in her bath in Bride Wars.  That seems like a soothing bath. 

EDIT: My bad, it was LEMON SLICES.

A Playlist—To Dance By Oneself

FATBOY SLIM | Right Here, Right Now
SEBASTIAN | Embody
MARINA & THE DIAMONDS | Primadonna
THE GOSSIP | Standing in the Way of Control
PHANTOGRAM | Don’t Move
CAPRA | Low Day
TWO DOOR CINEMA CLUB | Cigarettes in the Theatre
CRYSTAL CASTLES | Not in Love (ft. Robert Smith)
THE LIKE | He’s Not A Boy
YEAH YEAH YEAHS | Heads Will Roll
BEASTIE BOYS | Body Movin’ (Fatboy Slim Remix)
ROONEY | When Did Your Heart Go Missing
BURNING HOTELS | Stuck in the Middle
THE WOMBATS | Tokyo (Vampires & Wolves)
JUNIOR SENIOR | Move Your Feet
MODJO | Lady (Hear Me Tonight)
CHRIS BROWN | Turn Up The Music
ELLIE GOULDING | Lights (Bassnectar Remix)
PASSION PIT | The Reeling (Bubblegum Sci Fi Remix)
FATBOY SLIM | Rockafeller Skank
AMY WINEHOUSE | Valerie (ft. Mark Ronson)
RATATAT | Nostrand
ANNIE | Heartbeat
ERIC PRYDZ | Call On Me
CHRIS BROWN | Beautiful People

A bit ago I posted my sad story on how I truly cannot dance, and was encouraged by the abundance of “you’ll get the hang of it” comments.  I believe you, so I’ve been practicing.

I found that there are many ways to truly master the art that is dancing, but not enough ways to get through specific types.  For example, I don’t know how to even approach the Salsa or Mambo or any sort of Latin dances.  I’d like to learn how to dance to doo-wop and Motown (and master the Mashed Potato).

Anyway, this is the type of music that them whipper-snappers listen to today.  I don’t know how to categorize this music, other than the fact that every time I listen to this music, I daydream of dancing to intricately choreographed pieces to them.  And it makes me sad, because to be able to dance to intricate choreography, you need to be able to dance at all.  Which is what my GOAL is for this year.

Seriously, though—show of hands, who listens to their music and doesn’t sometimes daydream that they’re up on some stage, singing it?  I’ve found that by playing this music really loud (really loud) gets me motivated—plus, I can’t hear my wheezy breath or my feet stomping awkwardly on the floor or anybody else, which makes me feel like nobody can hear me.

A Playlist—Music For Dangling Your Feet Off a Balcony

 

In my attempt to become a more exciting version of myself, I attended a Swap Meet for the first “real” time, if you will, this past weekend, and I’ve found that Swap Meets might just be my most favorite things in the world?  Not only are the people there fantastic, and you can get unlimited Tostilocos and tacos for the lowest price you could possibly think of, but there’s so much to see, and so many different booths with different things.  I got a ridiculous amount of lipsticks, and I was almost completely convinced into buying a vintage telephone for fifteen bucks, but it was too heavy, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to carry it around all day.

The best buy I got, though, was the one thing I’ve been searching for for two years now—Lolita sunglasses.  I know everyone and their mother has a pair already, but with so many missed opportunities, I was desperate.  And then I finally saw them, just sitting there under a FOR SALE sign, I had to.  I almost sprinted towards the spot where they were sitting.

Naturally, I haven’t been able to get them off since, and a couple of days ago, I took a nap outside inside our trampoline, under a multitude of blankets, looking at the sky through tinted glasses, and it felt so much like summer, I cried myself back into another nap.  I’ve been fixing myself lemonades, too, so the amount of summer-related, aesthetically-pleasing things I’ve been doing lately, combined with California’s perfect weather, I had to make this playlist, to listen to when I’m frying under the sun in lazy braids when it’s really summer.

If the weather’s nice where you’re at, go put on those bejeweled flip-flops you haven’t worn in years and attempt to make your own lemonade and just sit outside.  Doesn’t matter if you don’t have a porch or a backyard, just go outside, somewhere, anywhere, and lay in the sun!

A Playlist—Candy City

In my head, there exist many different versions of what I would imagine as the world I would like to live in.  When I’m feeling voluntarily isolated, I dream of a black-and-white tinted world where I meet the best kind of people at three o’clock in the morning in crowded café’s, where boys with defined jaws and suits like to play guitars with giant grins, and girls in dresses like to sway to the beat.  When I’m feeling especially “French”, I dream of being in a Sofia Coppola-directed commercial where everyone shares the same passion for pastels as I do and is followed around by their own accordion player.

Most times, however (mostly the day after I fall asleep watching the 1971 Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory), I fantasize of living in the perfect world where everything is made of candy, and we all wear tiny pink dresses and hearts on our faces and the streets are made of chocolate covered in gold foil and the trees drop caramel-covered apples and it rains chocolate and cavities don’t exist.

These songs are the songs that I would imagine would all play in the different scenes of the beautiful movie where the world is made of candy, where we all stroll and skip through the candy streets, or enjoy a milkshake in a diner, or bake our own pastries.  Quite some mouth-watering involved with this post.

My new favorite song, which inspired the title of this playlist, is Candy City by Supercute! (obligatory exclamation point).  Now, on to eat my chocolate cake.  Also, let me tell you how fun it is to make these playlists!  These are just too much fun!

A Playlist—Sing Me To Sleep

 

Check out my impressive penmanship, y’all.  Similar things can happen to you if you’re also tired of hearing about Boyle’s Law or Charle’s Law or Gay-Lussac’s Law in Chemistry (P1 and V2 and T1 yes yes yes, I understand).  Did you like how I suddenly became a shrilly teenager just there?  Beware, it happens.

I was told recently, by a person who I’m sure meant well, that I should be ashamed for every tear that I shed if I’m not genuinely upset over something tragic.  “Did your grandma die recently?  Go ahead, cry about that.”  I’m doing this thing where I try to process what I want to respond before I actually say it, to save me from some cruel embarrassment, and I figured that what I was going to say to this person was going to be quite mean and full of childish exclamations, so I kept to myself, deciding it was not worth any sort of confrontation, and walked away.

I think this is a silly philosophy to carry around with you.  Show of hands, who’s been told this before?  You must be upset over something that is generally considered tragic to cry?  My dad told me this as a child all of the time:  “Why are you crying?  Why are you crying, are you a little baby?  Did you fall of your bike?  Did you get a cut?  Did something sad happen?  No, no, and no?  Then there’s no need to cry, you’re not a little baby.”

EDIT: I just googled “crying without cause” and it led me to a Depression Forum.  Oops.

Now, I’m no psychiatrist, but it’s a philosophy that I’ve carried around with me that you’re allowed to cry, even if you don’t know why you want to cry.  Even if something tragic hasn’t happened (for goodness sake, watch ‘Lily’s Disneyland Surprise’ and tell me if you didn’t cry—is it tragic?  No, but it’s tragic if you didn’t cry).

One of my goals is to ride on a train by myself and melodramatically sit in the window seat and look out into the view and just cry.  (Just like in the films!)

I cried myself to sleep last night—why, I can’t pinpoint exactly—and I thought that I could compose a certain playlist with certain songs that would certainly make me cry myself to sleep.  I remember the first time I listened to ‘Holocene’—when it was first released on the internet— I had it on repeat and I cried myself to sleep that night.

Music is so fantastic.  Just think about it.  Music is just so…  great.

A Playlist–Running Away From Home

• THE SMITHS | Asleep
• BEIRUT | East Harlem
• NOWHERE MAN | The Beatles
• HEY MARSEILLES | Cities
• JASON MRAZ | Details in the Fabric (feat. James Morrison)
• MR. LITTLE JEANS | The Suburbs (Arcade Fire Cover)
• THE STROKES | I’ll Try Anything Once
• THE BEATLES | Across the Universe
• WILLIAM FITZSIMMONS | I Don’t Feel it Anymore
• THE VELVET UNDERGROUND | Sunday Morning
• AEROPLANE | We Can’t Fly

For the longest time, ever since I was a child, I had always romanticized the idea of running away from home.  The idea of packing up your life (or, well, the things you treasure the most that will fit into a single suitcase, and finding yourself in the things you’ve bothered packing) and walking out on your responsibilities, the daunting ideals of your parents, escaping school, letting go of your acquaintances—it just seemed like a dreamy thing to do.

When I got sent e-mails with prayer chains with people asking for a certain family to be in their thoughts because their child ran away, I’d show them to my mom, and immediately, without second thought, she’d shake her head, click her tongue and say “Los niños piensan que lo saben todo,” which translates to “Kids think they know everything.”  And she’d leave with what I guess was a dignified feeling over her parenting skills.  In these situations, I’d try to be fair to the kids running away—I’d wonder why they did, where they went to, and, in a sickly way, fantasize about whether they left in the middle of the night or if they escaped through their bedroom door.  I’d worry for them, sure, because I wasn’t fully aware of their sanity or their intelligence, but I still sort of respected the bravery and self-determination they had clearly built up.  I wondered whether they had left for silly reasons, like running away with a boyfriend who was clearly no good, or if they had thought about what they were doing and left because they felt their parents and the place they were living in were not helping them find who they were themselves.

Whichever the case, I still fantasized and daydreamed scenarios of how I would run away, if I ever did.  I even created my own “Only For Running Away” backpack, which I still have in the back of my closet.  It was on top of my Clearly Impossible, but Obligatory Bucket list.

In this playlist, I sort of compiled different kind of songs that represented what I imagine would be the different stages of emotional feelings in the runaway.  I added songs that I thought represented the music playing in the background of the movie, if there was one.  Music for when the person is solemnly walking away from their home.  Music for when the person finally arrives in this glamorous, foreign place, and everything is possible all of a sudden.  Music for when the runaway falls in love with a stranger.  Music for feeling homesick.  Music for that “A-ha!” moment when the person finds themselves in art or music or a book they’ve read, or in a certain new activity they partake in.  And then the music that would roll around the end, almost by the credits, when this person is no longer a wanderer, but a dweller of the world, simply put, and is content with this never-ending quest to fall in love with the world.

And that was the end of my hyper-analysis of the act of running away.