“You know the worst thing about being rejected? The lack of control. If you could only control the when and how of being dumped by somebody, then it wouldn’t seem as bad. But then, of course, it wouldn’t be rejection, would it? It would be by mutual consent. It would be musical differences. I would be leaving to pursue a solo career.”—Nick Hornby (High Fidelity)
Allow me to reintroduce myself, my name is Hov, OH
H-TO-THE-O-V, I used to move snowflakes by the O-Z? Okay, maybe not. I figured since a lot of you guys (recent, mid joining) don’t really know who I am. Not unless you back tracked over 700+ pages, which if thats the case, call me (makes phone hand gesture). For the people who have no clue who I am, just some random chick they decided to follow off of a whim - I wanted to reintroduce myself to you. So, kick off your socks and turn up the Disney jams. Let me get started.
Unfortunately, my real name really is KC. Two letters, no dots, no abbreviation. Its the initials of my moms family, that’s it - it doesn’t stand for anything other than that. However, my family is incredibly lazy so mostly everyone just calls me “K” - i’m just deprived of a real first name. But you can call me Brain Food if you’d like, Ms. Food if you’re nasty. I’m 25 going on 12 and I have no idea what my IQ average is.
I was born in Nagasaki, Japan and then raised in Okinawa. How I got over there you ask? My father was a Marine. My mom lived in Nagasaki while she was pregnant with me teaching English to an low income elementary school. Next thing you know a half Mexican, half Lebanese baby girl was born. Tadaaa. My mom and dad’s relationship deteriorated soon after I was born (I was possibly satans spawn, who knows) and my mom went back to the states with my older brother. My dad kept me and raised me in Japan with my Nana Yukie. My childhood was great, my teenage years were great.
My dad decided not to do anymore years with the Marines and wanted to get an enforcement job over in the states so I could go to college in America. I came over to the states when I was 18 (yeah, I didn’t swim over here on a bunch of rouge tires tied together. I had a plane flight.) and have been here ever since. I will be going back in a year for good, but thats a whole different story.
I traveled a lot, I lived in different cities/states and loved a lot of different people. I graduated from George Mason and then graduated against from The Art Institute of Atlanta. Apparently I like college a lot? Because I graduated in December, I decided to move in with my mom until I relocate to San Francisco July 23rd. Which is why I work at a comic store in Washington, DC with 6 dogs, a woman whose menapausing on an apple farm. Being a Post Grad is tough.
I have three dogs, one you guys know about. Rufio, Tink and Matt. I also have a goldfish named Yoda, and a weird cat named Neville. I like skateboarding, i’m pretty rad at it - its my means of transportation. I think Bruce Lee is awesome, and so are video games. I think my love for Harry Potter is pretty legit, I have the tattoo to prove it. I mainly blog about my life, my photography and artists I admire. I don’t post up hipster girls that look like they have to pee or blog about fashion. I know nothing about fashion. I’m wearing the same PVYA basketball shirt I had when I was 10 and the same beat up chucks.
I don’t talk, I write, but verbally - I don’t talk. I’m great at making small talk but extensive heartfelt, you actually have to pay attention kind of talking - not my thing. I can go an entire day without talking. Ugh, I hate talking. I have a bunch of tattoos, piercings come and go on my face and I’m pretty clumsy (that should be apparent since I cut my foot last month and still recuperating from that). I cut my hair off a lot, and change the colors just the same. Theres no reason behind it other than bored. I love sushi and raspberry ice tea. This is starting to get really random now…
Thats pretty much my life story. I could add that i’m deathly scared of big bodies of water, the dark and crickets. I also won a lot of beer pong competitions. I drunk game on XBOXLIVE and i’m super fucking awesome at Counter Strike. But this is just who I am, a girl with two letters as a first name who owns a lot of pets and takes pictures of her everyday life. I’m not a celebrity, I probably will never be rich, I might never make it to Nepal and I won’t be paying off my student loans anytime soon. But i’m a pretty gnarly friend to have in your corner, so thanks for following me/subscribing and sticking with me until I figure my shit out. If I ever do. Maybe we might meet someday, maybe we never will - but hey, its always a pleasure getting to know you.
Artist: Hammock Song: Gold Star Mothers Album: Maybe They Will Sing For Us Tomorrow
I listen to this song every single night before I go to bed. Its the perfect set up for the most magical dreams. Its one of those songs that makes me fall in love every single time it gets played, and completely ignites my imagination when I listen. I hope you give it a try…
“What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?”—High Fidelity
Being born with color vision deficiency I lucked out in a way. How am I going to miss seeing colors correctly or at all if I never saw them normally in the first place? Growing up it angered me, I didn’t understand and all I ever wanted to do was experience vibrant colors. See the warmth in the sky, and admire the turning of leaves in the fall. Slowly but surely I dealt with it. I understood I wasn’t disabled, I was just wired differently.
Years go by and I get older, I see myself getting back on the angry side. My eyes are failing me and with being partially blind in the corner of my left eye the battle just keeps being relentless. Some days I have the courage to silence my self doubts, but other days I feel like I want to give up. I’m tired of labeling my clothes, my friends memory lapse with asking me “What color looks better?” and i’m tired of not even being able to see my own eye color.
Yet everything that gets attached to your name is like acid rain. It burns through memories I’ve already sealed up, and it damages every foundation I’ve concreted. You’re a bad taste in my mouth and even with moving on and getting over it, that will never change. You’re my party pooper, my negative nancy, and debbie downer. Just mentioning your name changes my mood and if I could have an “Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind” moment, i’d wipe you clean.
I know it sounds harsh, abrasive and slightly immature, but the feeling that pairs with your existence will never be a pleasant one. You’re always going to be that stale chip in my bag.
So Tyler got drunk off his ass today and went on a 20 minute rant about how he's in love with Queen Latifah, and all the sexual things he'd like to do to her. Then I decided to get on his nerves and rant back at him, saying how Monique is way better looking and that she would be better in bed....he almost cried. then he took his Jack Daniels and went to his room, where he curled up into the fetal position and passed out. The end.
LMAO, This statement is exactly why I miss living with you and Tyler. Let us not hover over the fact that he horded all the forks, ate mushroom soup everyday and is a ginger, but he has his most hilarious moments when drunk and when its involving Queen Latifah (also when he sang Rihannas - disturbia).
I wish I was there to record the entire mental break down of Queen Latifah vs Monique. God I miss living in Atlanta with you guys, even if the AC never worked during the summer and the roaches could fly.