Le High Society [entries|friends|calendar] The Laughing Cow ♠ info ♠ friends ♠ calendar ♠ the bedroom sessions [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

FRIENDS ONLY. [jan 1st, 2012 >>12:00am] Hello world. I'm not shutting my LJ down at all, but I'm gonna be updating over at The Bedroom Sessions more often. I'm making my LJ friends only because I really need a place to seek solace. Sorry if you've been removed or anything, no offence. It's just that I prefer to be like Beyonce - keeping my personal life.. personal. xoxo, A. 10 read | comment

i love you mom. [oct 17th, 2009 >>12:21pm] Still, I can say I adored my mother, in the way that boys adore their mothers while taking them for granted. She made that easy. For one thing, she was funny. She didn't mind smearing ice cream on her face for a laugh. She did odd voices, like Popeye the Sailor Man, or Louis Armstrong croaking, "If ya ain't got it in ya, ya can't blow it out." She tickled me and she let me tickle her back, squeezing her elbows in as she laughed. She tucked me in every night, rubbing my hair and saying, "Give your mother a kiss." She told me I was smart and that being smart was a privilege, and she insisted that I read one book every week, and took me to the library to make sure this happened. She dressed too flashy sometimes, and she sang along with our music, which bothered me. But there was never, not for a moment, a question of trust between us. If my mother said it, I believed it. She wasn't easy on me, don't get me wrong. She smacked me. She scolded me. She punished me. But she loved me. She really did. She loved me falling off a swing set. She loved me stepping on her floors with muddy shoes. She loved me through vomit and snot and bloody knees. She loved me coming and going, at my worst and at my best. She had a bottomless well of love for me. Her only flaw was that she didn't make me work for it. You see, here's my theory: Kids chase the love that eludes them, and for me, that was my father's love. He kept it tucked away, like papers in a briefcase. And I kept trying to get in there. Years later, after her death, I made lists of Times My Mother Stood Up For Me and Times I Did Not Stand Up For My Mother. It was sad, the imbalance of it all. Why do kids assume so much from one parent and hold the other to a lower, looser standard? Maybe it's like my old man said: You can be a mama's boy or a daddy's boy, but you can't be both. So you cling on to the one you think you might lose. - An excerpt from For One More Day by Mitch Albom. 3 read | comment

i love you, fuck you. [may 19th, 2009 >>4:39pm] You only say "I love you" when you mean it. Don't say it without meaning it. To all who have said "I love you" to me and didn't mean it, friends, exes and family members included, fuck you.

[apr 26th, 2009 >>6:16am] Hi. I had just about enough. Bye.

[apr 22nd, 2009 >>2:18am] "The best moments in reading are when you come across something - a thought, a feeling, a way of looking at things - that you'd thought special, particular to you - and here it is, set down by someone else. A person you've never met, maybe even someone long dead. And it's as if a hand has come out and taken yours." Richard Griffiths as Hector in The History Boys (2006) 0 read | comment

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