Painting

I'll paint myself up and down until I'm exactly the way you want me.

I could be a pretty circle sun with rays jetting out like spider legs 

or a flying bird whose wings are two humps created from one simple stroke of the brush. 

You could push me up against your refrigerator door 

and pin me down with alphabet magnets.

I could be an awkward self-portrait the teacher forces upon every confused 6th grader. 

I'll have an oval head with eyeballs drawn in the direct middle as was insisted, 

even though everyone knows that eyes aren't really in the middle of a head. 

A portrait of an alien-looking self.

I could pointillate with tiny pricks and form a less formal version of Seurat's la Grande Jatte umbrella lady.

A blurry disaster up close passing as beautiful from far away. 

Still, the people would walk by in a heartbeat to look at water lilies

and take pictures with no flash.

I could use my blues and be a starry night, 

swirling around in the darkness though claiming to possess light. 

Calendars would feature my swirls 

and college students would pin me up on their walls after purchasing me at a campus-wide poster sale.

I could be another lesser known type of debateable artwork. 

Maybe you'd want me to be the bare hexagon-shaped string on the wall, modern and blunt. 

Or the pink vinyll plank that stands tall in direct contrast against the stark white wall. 

Or the shards of glass spewed violently across the wood floor, 

helpless and in need of a good cleaning up,

but until you speak the words I am still a blank canvas.

snow

snow falling and i'm feeling sad and far away from you and sad for you after discovering how fast you've slipped back into your manic-depressive state but i'm not sad because of you but for other reasons like i'm apathetic and unemployed and feeling fat and friends are moving away and i can't pretend it's summertime anymore when you're gone and falling and there's snow falling all around me in your place

What Not to Say Parte Dos

I awoke this morning to a 5:15 a.m. missed call and accompanying voicemail from a former love interest of mine from high school. It said, "Hey Rachel, wanna come do me and get some pizza? What's the matter, you don't like pizza? [awkward drunk laugh]." Needless to say, I did not jump out of bed and rush to get dressed. Guess I just don't like pizza that much.

Five things I love about Christmastime

1. Blue lights. When I'm a grownup and have my own house, I will decorate it completely with blue lights. Apparently this is what Jewish people do, but I don't care. Blue is almost my fav color and blue lights look awesome. White lights are so lame and I cringe when I drive back to Columbia and see white lights all over my childhood home.
2. White Christmas. Best X-mas movie ever. I know every song and dance by heart and the general is the hottest old man I've ever seen.

3. Como Christmas. A Como Christmas translates to Paige coming home, tacky sweater parties, everyone getting wasted every night followed by my mom picking us up at the bars and making us bomb-ass food in the morning.
4. Four Christmases. Not the movie, literally my four Christmases. One of the few blessings that comes along with divorce and remarriage, my four Christmases allow me to bank twice the X-mas money people with happily married parents do.
5. Apple cider packets. Self-explanatory. Along with hot chocolate packets, I consume about 4-7 of these/day during X-mas time.

Weight (Bear with me...)

Weight is one of those annoying, horrible issues people either talk about way too much or are afraid to address at all. In other words, if we suddenly lose 20 pounds, everyone loves to say "Oh wow, have you lost weight? You look great," and we reply modestly by saying, "Oh well maybe a few pounds, I've been [fill in the blank with working out, on a new diet, having occassional lipo, starving myself, taking new antidepressants that make me lose my appetite, etc.]. I can't believe you noticed," followed by a shy smile. Or, let's say someone packs on some pounds and we start to notice. This is when we don't like to mention weight. However, this doesn't stop us from calling a mutual friend we share with the fat person and saying, "Omg, have you seen Fat Person lately? Is she pregnant? Didn't think so. Wow what a [whale, tub of lard, chunk, fat ass, etc]! I can't believe it."

Now, as a person who has been Suddenly Skinny, Fat Person, Gossip, and Mutual friend of Fat Person and Gossip, I'd like to share some thoughts:

1. There are so many reasons people gain/lose weight. Some may be obvious, such as they just don't give a shit anymore and enjoy laying on their couch and watching TV and venturing to Taco Bell every other night for Fourthmeal as opposed to running. Or maybe they've started going to the gym 4-5 times a week because they looked in the mirror and noticed their stomach hangs out more than their feet or there are 4 rolls now instead of 3 or their thighs are touching or they can't even fit into their "fat day" pair of jeans anymore. However, there are also many private reasons. Maybe Fat Person actually IS pregnant and didn't tell Gossip because she's not ready to announce it to the whole crew yet. Or maybe Suddenly Skinny actually does have some sort of eating disorder. Before deciding whether or not you're going to mention the weight change, just think over all the possibilities and ponder whether it's worth it or not.

2. The size of your clothes is not the determining factor. We've all known that person (your mom, perhaps?) who is so accustomed to being a size 12 that when she gains 10 pounds and needs to bump it up to a 14 she just refuses. This causes muffin top and actually makes the person look even bigger, whereas if they would just buy a bigger size they would look better. Let's face it, I'm a size 2 at New York & Company and a size 8 at Express. I'm not going to try to fit my big butt into a pair of size 2 skinny jeans at Express. The zipper would get stuck (if I could even get them up past my thighs), the seam in the butt would rip, new rolls would appear out of nowhere, and/or every time I'd go to put them on I'd have to do at least 15 minutes of squatting and calisthenics. (In the words of Chingy, I'd have to "jump up and down," "wiggle it around," and "lay back on the bed just to zip em up." You know there's thick girls from the STL down to the A-Town.) Bottom line is (no pun intended) that it's okay to go up or down a few sizes if it looks hot (for example, if yo waist so little and yo ass is like woah) and/or it feels comfy.

3. Everyone has their own (and sometimes multiple) definitions of fat. If I see a girl that's my size walking down the street, I probably think, "That girl's cute," and would never call her big at all. I might even think she looks skinny. However, I'm allowed to say "God I look so effing fat right now," even though I realize that I'm not fat. I think we should accept this. I'm not offended anymore when my skinny friend says "I'm fat" because for her, maybe she is a little fat. She's not saying that I'm fat, just because I happen to be bigger than her. Fat Friend, don't be offended when Skinny Friend feels fat. Maybe Skinny Friend is used to weighing 100 pounds in high school and is struggling with the fact that she's now 115. The opposite also applies. If 300-pound friend drops 40 pounds, it's possible for Skinny Friend to say, "Wow you look skinny!" and really mean it and be happy for them. Basically, we all have our God-given body types and range of acceptable sizes. Conversely, we all have unacceptable sizes as well. If Fat Friend turns into a toothpick or Skinny Friend has a Kirstie Alley experience, Good Friend should intervene and say "Eat some food, bitch," or "You're growing at exponential rates." Or maybe something more encouraging like "Are you okay?...you've lost too much weight," or "Wanna power walk with me?"

An Observation

I've noticed that Obama supporters have yet to take down their yard signs. I can't say I remember this phenomenon occuring in past years. A couple days after election day is understandable; I think to myself, "Oh maybe they just haven't gotten around to it yet." However, two weeks post-election can only mean one thing: Passion. Blatant passion for the change that is to come. Proud Americans who've witnessed history and can finally rejoice after the horror of the past eight years. Voters so secure in their choice for America's future that they wouldn't  dare remove a piece of flimsy, graphically-designed posterboard from their front lawns. The only way we'd get their Obama yard signs would be to pry them out of their cold, dead hands.

But what will they do next week when a windy rainstorm destroys their precious lawn ornament, crumbling the cardboard and sweeping away the two little spikes? Or when December comes and the snow falls, surrounding their sacred leader's name in a huge pile of whiteness?

True Barack-n-rollers have no other choice: they will paint their houses. Calligraphic campaign slogans will adorn doors across the land. Siding will shout "Yes we can!" and they will follow from the rooftops. A light-up decoration in the shape of that infamous Black Power-esque side view portrait of their president elect will sit right above their garage doors, as if it were a smiling Santa Claus face decoration instead.

All of this is necassary because without it, neighbors (who took down their Mccain-Palin yard signs weeks ago) might just forget about Obama's sweet victory. Afterall, it was an extremely close call and no one saw it coming, right? I bet it was all of those yard signs that swayed so many undecided voters' opinions.

Got Homework?

I just saw a paper sitting by the computer. Here's the first paragraph of Got Homework? by Jeremy Phillips:

"Got Homework? Are you kidding? Of course I got homework. Everybody does. Sometimes, scratch that, most of the time, kids have too much homework. It stresses them out to a point where they don't care about learning but just getting good grades. There's a gap between homework that's there just to waste time and homework that is thought out and meant for you to learn."