Ellie's blog: "Ellie"

Conversation with a 50-yr-old ...

Bonnie: What do you mean? You’re adorable!

Me: Eh. Nobody wants an adorable girl. They want a girl that’s like, y'know ... hot.

Bonnie: Oh ... you mean like "drop it like it’s hot"?

Me: Yes! Exactly. I’ll never be a "drop it like it’s hot" girl.

Bonnie: No?

Me: I’m more like a "pick it up slow" girl.

This is for all you horny Nintendo fans out there....

You're Mario

I'm the Princess

Whadaya say we duck Down this pipe for a few hours...

I'll unstrap your plumber's suspenders You'll pull off my pretty pink dress

We'll throw our bodies against the blue brick floor And make love in the dark while golden coins float above us.

Because baby, we don't need a flower to catch fire Or a star to sparkle Or a mushroom to feel big Or a 1Up for that second chance.

I promise, there will be plenty of time later For fighting goombas and jellyfish and fluttering ducks.

But for now, for this one moment It appears we have the castle to ourselves

Why is it that the beautiful people are always so sad?

Like tiny Shakespeare tragedies. All the Marilyns and Ophelias in the world. Mesmerizing on the outside whilst destroying themselves on the inside. And always smiling.

Sad really. How someone so stunning can waste all the potentialities of life on depressiondrugaddictionmadness. The beautiful people never last long. Like fireworks. Brilliant bursts of light that exist for only a second. As if our world is simply unable to contain that kind of beauty for long. Lost in translation.

I do declare if I was beautiful I wouldn’t be nearly as depressed as them. I think I would be fairly exuberant about life and love and the fact that I could probably do well with both just by smiling. But therein lies the problem. They are too busy smiling for anyone to notice that they are sad. Tis a pity.

Wouldn't life be easy if when broken, all it took was some super glue or tape to fix it and it would be just like new? If our wounds would heal easily without scars? And if those scars wouldn't clog our hearts with unnecessary prejudices and knock off our rose colored lenses and replace them with eyes of disenchantment. Wouldn't it be easy? If pain was that simple to be rid of? Blink and be washed away with yesterday's meal floating in the porcelain tank, back into the ocean with its brethren. Wouldn't that be something... if we could say goodbye to pain like a disengaged stranger walking the plank.

If we were all empathetic with the people that are in our lives and took care of each other with mutual love and respect, maybe this world would definitely be a better place. I suppose it's a far-reaching goal to sit here and hope for compassion from a world that is irrevocably cruel and unforgiving. Life would not be life without an uphill battle. Would we appreciate the "have-s" without having experienced the "have not-s"? We tend to base the voids of our existence in comparison with the accomplishments of those that surround us, viable resources they are when living in the juxtaposition of a shadow and neglecting our own worth. Is it stupid to hope for world where people are kind with each other's hearts?

Wouldn't life be easy if we held those who break us accountable for our "purchase". "You Break, You Buy!" Would we be snatched off the shelf of life to be passed along to the one responsible for our deterioration after the first break. Would we cherish it more or less, knowing that we were forced to purchase our mistake? Most likely less... we never want what we have already broken. It's not fun to play with anymore...it's defective and undesirable; time to find another toy to destroy. I guess one can't hope to go through life free of the collateral damage--that would be unrealistic. I hope that we all have our share of pain, it makes us human. Knowing that it is there, the capacity to inflict bodily and emotional harm makes us more courageous and empathetic. It doesn't take much to fall, but to get back up and try again... that is courage.

We trek through life thinking... I am going to be broken now and again, we all need to experience pain of the heart to survive. And although we anticipate the magnitude of said pain, it is usually underestimated. If we were held responsible for each other's hearts as if they were our own, would we still be as cruel? As manipulative? As indecent and perverse with our motivations and intentions? I wonder about that. We are all guilty of breaking spirits, hearts, and people. It's inevitable. I just hope that we leave a piece to regenerate what hope has lost. That's all one can hope.

Life is not a bed of roses. It is a bloody uphill battle. Most do not survive, most are D.O.A, but those that do understand more of pain, of the fight, of evolution, of the taste of blood, of survival, of what it takes to get up from the ashes and fly again. It's a harrowing lesson, one that our masochistic tendencies revel in.

But i wish we would remember more... that we are all daughters and sons, who have mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, who have grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles, cousins, and that we are human. We are fallible, we will make mistakes and hurt people. But I wish we would remember more often that we are a part of the human race and that when it comes to matters of the heart, that we should treat them as we would hope to be treated and how we would want the world to treat those that we love as well.

I believe in looking too far into things. I believe in the endless possibilities of post-it notes. I believe in saying what you mean. I believe in meaning what you say. I believe that flaws add character. I believe in having an apple a day. I believe that I have a guardian angel. I believe that there is someone for everyone. I believe that everyone is beautiful. I believe in letting cereal get soggy. I believe in watching movies in sweat pants on a Saturday night. I believe in making new friends. I believe in the power of high heels. I believe in keeping promises. I believe in random bursts of unapologetic dancing. I believe in taking a moment to just listen. I believe that your age means absolutely nothing. I believe that there is a reason for all of this. I believe in being unforgettable. I believe in being.

Let us assume that the human heart is divided into parts. Some parts are made apparent to everyone who crosses your path and on certain days will linger with strangers. Other parts are more subtle, meant for only a select few that on certain nights may listen to the sound of your tears. But with all these parts, there is one that is sacred. It is meant for only one other person to have. And you have to hold onto this part and protect it and wait until you find the one that truly deserves it.

It’s beautiful really. Because you're allowed to make mistakes. You can give too many parts of yourself away in meaningless moments. But the way the heart works is that it can withstand getting bruised and broken and tossed around a bit. Nobody wants an un-used heart. But in the end, you can never lose the sacred part until you’re ready. Because in the end, you choose who gets it. And it is this person that will have your whole heart.

I read a comment about beauty and it's perception...how we see things and judge the whole based on the fragment. They weren't judging either way, but it made me think some random thoughts. They don't even apply, but:

Beauty is a sensory perception.

The world is fragmented. If you want to see any sort of beauty at all, you have to look at the fragments, and judge accordingly. Think of this: a life is merely a fragment in time. A whisper. Then it's gone.

Thought: We cannot see color, anything around us, without light. But the fact that we cannot stare at the sun without burning those orbs which we use to view the beauty around us is a strange paradox. In a way, it takes something hot and ugly to reveal the glorious sights that surround.

Glory. Hmm...wonder what people picture in reference to that word.

And is there anything in the world that is perceived by all to be "beautiful"? I know of only one thing. And that's my little secret.

I think some of the most beautiful things in the world exist through sound. Which makes me wonder: does a deaf person know that sound is beautiful? How much of the driving rhythm touches their soul? Hearing people with no knowledge of sign language can stare transfixed at the moving hands for hours. Is it ever the same with a deaf person and music? I know they dance. They love music, they enjoy. But is it beautiful? Or is it simply vibrations in the floorboards.

Thought: No one is completely apathetic. Wait, I rescind that. Corpses are incredibly apathetic. But whether we like the pain or not, we all care about something.

Last random thought: never dismiss someone. As in, casually dismiss them or what they say. There is a value there that you have no notion of. If only you'd see. I'm as guilty as the next person; the blind leads the blind. But remember that: be wary. The tongue is the strongest muscle in your body. Be careful how you use it. The eyes are the window to your soul. Be careful what they reflect. If you don't like that reflection, do something about it. Work to change or else don't you dare complain about your rotten life.

Thoughts on any of this. Apathy, especially. And any of the questions.

It always astonishes me how quickly people will assume they know what you’re all about. Instantaneously. Within one moment of entering a room: a slightly obvious assessment is made based on appearance, walk, hellos, and then the inevitable conclusion is reached. Check all that apply: superficial, dumb, intimidating, unapproachable, self-absorbed. Call it stereotyping, stigmas, first impressions, whatever. I call it bullshit. Complete bullshit.


We assess only in terms of extremes. It takes less energy to categorize one another into neat little boxes than deal with contradictions. We are either attractive or smart. Simple or complicated. Virgins or whores. Never both. We see in black and white and can never open our minds one quarter of an inch to imagine a rainbow of ambiguity.

Like how the "funny guy", the loud easy-going boisterious one making jokes in slapstick fashion is actually very sad. Like how that “beautiful girl” dressed in an outfit that shouts innuendos across the room is the most insecure. Like the tattooed "punk kid" who volunteers at a kids’ home. Like the "ditzy blonde" that reads poetry on a Friday night. Don't you get it? Our projections of ourselves are much more how we want to be percieved versus how we actually are. That is why is takes so long to break down the front. Still waters run deep and that on the surface is never what exists beneath. The sad thing is ~ no one is ever willing to try.



So tie me up with a pretty ribbon
and toss me out the nearest window if
you prefer the dainty side of this life
that never came with instructions
or a disclosure: caution! you are about
to enter some beautiful contradiction
of what you want and what you get
and what you know and good things
that come in small (slightly dented)
but tied up with a pretty ribbon
packages