Translate.

There are some things that I say very often in English that I can’t say in Spanish. No traducen. A red line always appears under the words that I type in Spanish. They’re not spelled wrong. They’re correct. Spell check doesn’t know that. There’s this crazy thing that I find so incredibly romantic about language. It has to do with the way it sounds, and the way it feels in my mouth. Especially when I can’t pronounce something correctly. But the greatest thing about it is the way someone can effectively communicate their thoughts and ideas to a group of people by making strange sounds with their lips, teeth and tongue.

Learning

There is no difference between motivation and desire. When I am told that someone is without motivation, I immediately assume that they lack desire. And, I believe, I am correct in doing so. I hear too often that people are not motivated. I hear it out of their own mouths. I see it on their facebook status’ and read it on their blogs. What they’re actually saying is that they have no desire to learn. I see too much of myself in that sentence. I love to learn, but I often lose focus. The reality is that we all do.

My ears hurt. I blame this song.

www.vampireweekend.com

Quote

I was having lunch with a couple friends of mine almost two weeks ago now, and we got to talking about music and things like such as. Anyway, one of my friends was talking about the lyrics in the songs we listen to and she said something like “There is hope for us. You know why? Because somebody thought that. Somebody thought it and wrote it down.”

I am now going to take what she said completely out of context and use it to help me say what I want to say.

I’m listening to this song right now that’s called “It’s not my fault (it’s my fault).” I’ve spent a lot of my time (and by a lot of my time I mean most of my time) lately listening to music. We’re talking loads and loads of time. Like “you’ve listened to that song how many times?!” amounts of time. I feel like I should say that this is bad for me, but I really have no regrets listening to this music. I like it. I like it so much that I want to share it with other people. BUT then again I really don’t. Because one of the few things I love more than enjoying the things that I enjoy is enjoying them with other people who enjoy them just as much as I do. There have been way too many times that I’ve shared something with someone, whether it’s music or a movie or a book, and they’ve come back and said “it was ok.” It’s rough when I’ve invested so much time and emotion into it and they come back and say that it was just ok.

I ought to have this attitude toward the Gospel, shouldn’t I? Yes. The answer is yes.

There are lyrics that I love. There are lyrics that I hate. There are lyrics that I listen to and think ‘I know exactly what he’s talking about,’ and lyrics that I listen to and think ‘what on earth is he talking about?’

My favorite kind are the kind that I listen to and think ‘somebody thought that. Somebody thought it and then wrote it down.’

Because it proves that I’m not alone. It proves that I’m not the only one that screws up daily. It proves that I’m not the only one who needs help. It proves that I’m not the only one who thinks these things.

And the lyric “It struck me that the two of us could run.” There’s something incredibly evocative about that line.

It came on right as I was writing the previous line. That’s why I stuck that in there.

It’s late, and I have a math quiz tomorrow that I forgot about.

G’night.

Tuesdays&Thursdays

The bridge that leads to nowhere.

It struck me that the two of us could run

Honey, with you

Is the only honest way to go

-Vampire Weekend

Let’s think about this

I would never pay $39 for denim leggings. However, Urban Outfitters thinks that I might want to do something crazy like that. They sent me an email about it.

No. I guarantee that this will never happen.

That’s all I have to say.

VW

Today I bought Vampire Weekend’s sophomore album.

I got it at Best Buy for $7.99.

That’s a pretty decent price for 10 songs.

Taxi Cab, Run, and Giving up the Gun caught my ears pretty quickly.

I like to read.

The only reading I’ve done lately has been on the internet. It’s been too long since I sat down with a quality piece of literature in my hands.

A lot of the things I read on the internet are written by people that are much older than I am. Ok, so maybe they’re not much older. They just seem much older.

When I think about the past year of my life, the first thought that comes to mind is how weird it’s been. Many things have changed. Friends. Language. Food. School. And in the midst of all this change I am trying so very hard to stay the same, yet not fight the change that is going on around me. I was reading through the choice of essay questions I had to pick from to apply for a certain college today, and I came across one that asked something along the lines of “have you ever had a very strong conviction that was changed by someone or something? How did that feel?” My first thought was no. That has never happened to me. I’ve been right about most things in life. I walked into the trap.

I read the things that these people who are older than me write, and something inside me starts to wrestle with something else inside me. I often want to yell at my computer screen “you’re wrong, you idiot!!!! you’re missing the point! just come out and say it!!!” It would be ridiculous for me to do something like that, but then again most of the things I do nowadays are ridiculous. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed within the past year.

I’m 19. For some reason I’m obsessed with my age. Whenever I feel as if my parents are treating me like I don’t know what I’m doing (and most of the time I probably don’t know what I’m doing) I tell them how old I am. Like the number 19 has some special power. It probably just proves to them how ignorant I really am.

I went and saw a movie with my younger brother tonight. On our way to the theater I tried to explain to him that I’m going through this stage in life that I don’t really know how to explain. I think he’ll just know it when he’s there. I’m trying to figure things out on my own. I want to know what’s right and what’s wrong. What’s ok and what’s not ok. When I read things or hear things I want to be able to give an answer as to why I believe what I believe about what I read or heard.

I think the reason why I want to yell at my computer screen while reading these things written by people who are older than I am, who have some of the same interests that I do, and who grew up in the same church that I have grown up in is because they are saying things that go against what I’ve been taught. I don’t know who taught me these things, but I was taught them. They’re hard to let go of. Which brings me to the thing that I really wanted to say in the first place. I think I want so very much to yell at my computer screen when I read these things because this person is right. Not in every way, but in some ways. And those some ways scare me.

This song is on a soundtrack that I bought while I was in the Canary Islands. It will always remind me of those nights that I stayed up too late, the journal entries that I wrote while listening to it, and that little navy blue lamp that sat on my night stand.