Another poem. Enjoy!
TSA
The woman snaps her
blue latex gloves at the wrist,
before twisting open the cap
of my prized Christmas gift.
Squinting eyes, like at a bug
waiting to be crushed,
she informs me that my hazelnut spread
is considered a “gel”
unfit for flight,
and commits the heavy jar, a young life
to its waste bin grave,
before I even have a chance
to say goodbye.
Pleased,
she hands me my bag,
where four gasoline-powered
zippo lighters
lay peacefully nestled,
under my iPod.
Bitch.
You may take my Nutella,
but you will never take away my freedom.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Kristen's Music Choice Awards
I love music. I know, I know, everyone loves music. But for me, listening to music is more than just listening. It helps shape my thoughts and it's how I work through my feelings. Just when I think I've found enough music to express every emotion I've ever had, I find more. It's a beautiful thing.
In this month's semi-annual Kristen's Music Choice Awards, I would like to announce the following winners in the "Most Musical Beauties of the Decade" category. These man-written songs will never not be lovely to my ears.
The Trapeze Swinger (Iron & Wine) - This could win just based on lyrics alone.
Welcome Home, Son (Radical Face)
Somewhere Only We Know (Keane)
Kolniður (Jonsi)
The Scientist (Coldplay) Overplayed and overfamed it may be, but I love it all the same.
In this month's semi-annual Kristen's Music Choice Awards, I would like to announce the following winners in the "Most Musical Beauties of the Decade" category. These man-written songs will never not be lovely to my ears.
The Trapeze Swinger (Iron & Wine) - This could win just based on lyrics alone.
Welcome Home, Son (Radical Face)
Somewhere Only We Know (Keane)
Kolniður (Jonsi)
The Scientist (Coldplay) Overplayed and overfamed it may be, but I love it all the same.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Animal Fries
There's not much in life I hate more than math and science. I've successfully proved wrong every high school math teacher who told me I would have to take math in college. But science-- I had to suffer through two whole classes. Astronomy (AKA naptime) and a class entitled, "Life of the Past," which I naturally assumed was about cavemen. Heck yeah! I wanna learn about cavemen!
Boy was I DEAD WRONG.
I ended up in a "Historical Geology" class trying to memorize things like which type of tetropods have bony girdles, the name of rocks formations exposed during the Davinian period, and the anatomy of a craton.
My professor, bless his heart, LOVES what he teaches. Loves it so much, naturally he wants all his students to love it too, by jamming it down their throats and subjecting them to meticulously tough grading. Needless to say, that man and his anti-caveman class destroyed my GPA.
So here I am a year and a half later, eating dinner alone, poking a big fatty pile of In-N-Out Animal Style fries. And there appears Mr. Historical Geology in all his boring glory, like a walking nightmare of semesters past.
He doesn't recognize me, but he sure is intrigued by my french fries. How did I get them like that? What are they called? Why aren't they on the menu? How much do they cost? What exactly are the ingredients?
His voice brought me back to painful droning lectures that felt endless. I remembered how it was the worst experience of my college career, and how much I hate rocks.
But we didn't talk about rocks. We talked about french fries.
"They're really unhealthy," I said.
"Yeah well, everything here is unhealthy," he said.
And I realized something. Historical Geology sucks. But really, any science class would have sucked just as much. And at the end of the day, I survived.
Ironically, I didn't even like the animal fries. And as unhealthy and undelicious as they were, I survived those too.
Boy was I DEAD WRONG.
I ended up in a "Historical Geology" class trying to memorize things like which type of tetropods have bony girdles, the name of rocks formations exposed during the Davinian period, and the anatomy of a craton.
My professor, bless his heart, LOVES what he teaches. Loves it so much, naturally he wants all his students to love it too, by jamming it down their throats and subjecting them to meticulously tough grading. Needless to say, that man and his anti-caveman class destroyed my GPA.
So here I am a year and a half later, eating dinner alone, poking a big fatty pile of In-N-Out Animal Style fries. And there appears Mr. Historical Geology in all his boring glory, like a walking nightmare of semesters past.
He doesn't recognize me, but he sure is intrigued by my french fries. How did I get them like that? What are they called? Why aren't they on the menu? How much do they cost? What exactly are the ingredients?
His voice brought me back to painful droning lectures that felt endless. I remembered how it was the worst experience of my college career, and how much I hate rocks.
But we didn't talk about rocks. We talked about french fries.
"They're really unhealthy," I said.
"Yeah well, everything here is unhealthy," he said.
And I realized something. Historical Geology sucks. But really, any science class would have sucked just as much. And at the end of the day, I survived.
Ironically, I didn't even like the animal fries. And as unhealthy and undelicious as they were, I survived those too.
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