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Ani DiFranco - “Both Hands”

I find it odd that I’ve never posted an Ani song on here considering that no matter how my taste in music evolves, she will forever be the only musician I’ve fallen in love with. She has my heart and I can’t see myself ever giving it up to another artist.

This song, in particular, was a huge part of my life because it was the show music for my senior year of winter guard. It was also the first year I got a solo. I still remember sitting around a boom box at my school’s amphitheater, listening to this song for the first time, and having my instructor turn to me right as the lyrics started up. “That’s Marcela with her flag.” I can only describe that moment as life-changing.

Ok, I guess I’m done being sappy; thanks for indulging me.

heather-rivers:

When my heart hurts, only Ani will do. I think I’m going to disappear with her for a while.

He said I was spending too much time at the Renaissance Fair

{Notes}

Found one of my high school exes on MySpace. All of his photos are set to private, but I can tell from his profile pic that he has definitely gained some weight and is no longer “that hot guy that dumped me on Valentine’s Day.”

Also, for occupation, it says: “Executive assisant (sic) manager”

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slickyparty: We imagine a high octane bukkakehfest of teenage angst juices and Manic-Panic colored sweat exploding all over us in the backseat of his car. JORDAN CATALANO IS MYTHIC. HE IS THE SUPERSTRUCTURE FOR ALL TEENAGE DESIRE. The moist spot that appears on a girl’s white panties is actually just a stain from  Jordan’s teardrops. Chelsea, stop fucking around with law/trials stuff and come over to my house for a long-awaited MSCL marathon.

slickyparty:

We imagine a high octane bukkakehfest of teenage angst juices and Manic-Panic colored sweat exploding all over us in the backseat of his car.

JORDAN CATALANO IS MYTHIC. HE IS THE SUPERSTRUCTURE FOR ALL TEENAGE DESIRE.

The moist spot that appears on a girl’s white panties is actually just a stain from  Jordan’s teardrops.

Chelsea, stop fucking around with law/trials stuff and come over to my house for a long-awaited MSCL marathon.

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onemoretimewithfeeling:

muppetpants:

bmichael:

misterpeace:

The Toadies - Possum Kingdom

Damnit. This is pretty impossible not to reblog.

This song brings back memories of h.s. roadtrips.

bmichael’s sentiment seconded.

I think I spent about 12% of my time in high school either listening to this song on a cassette tape or singing it in the shower.

Fall Back

{Notes}

In high school, we almost always had a marching band competition that coincided with the Saturday preceding the end of Daylight Savings time. This was always exciting because it meant I could squeeze an extra hour out of my curfew; hanging out with my friends at Denny’s or Applebee’s, talking about nothing in particular and eating dessert.

Today, all I have to show for the end of Daylight Savings time is a growling stomach that thinks it’s lunch time at 11:00am.

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Party in hipster-ville: Williamsburg (via atomatic) While we were in NYC, one of my friends from high school was having a party at his apartment in the Brooklyn/Williamsburg area and I got to see a few of my friends from the old neighborhood (Cooper City, FL - Someplace Special). From left to right: Tati, me, Brett, Jared, Jeso. Missing in this picture: Ruthie, who also lives in NY but told me that Brett’s apartment was too far away and that she “doesn’t really party late at night anymore.” I think the last time I saw her was three Thanksgivings ago when we were all in town spending the holidays with our families and we had an impromptu get together at her house. I suppose it was a good thing that she didn’t join us last week; one less person to bare witness to my bizarre mini-meltdown when Tati mentioned that her older brother’s wife was about to have their second kid and I broke into tears. “Ahh, this is so weird. I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m crying. It’s just that I remember when we were kids and he would make bubbles for us out of dish soap…” Tati handled my babbling with grace and even shed a few sympathetic tears. A good, nostalgic crying jag in the privacy of your own home is all well and good from time to time. In the middle of a party, surrounded by hipsters? Not so much.

Party in hipster-ville: Williamsburg (via atomatic)

While we were in NYC, one of my friends from high school was having a party at his apartment in the Brooklyn/Williamsburg area and I got to see a few of my friends from the old neighborhood (Cooper City, FL - Someplace Special).

From left to right: Tati, me, Brett, Jared, Jeso.

Missing in this picture: Ruthie, who also lives in NY but told me that Brett’s apartment was too far away and that she “doesn’t really party late at night anymore.” I think the last time I saw her was three Thanksgivings ago when we were all in town spending the holidays with our families and we had an impromptu get together at her house.

I suppose it was a good thing that she didn’t join us last week; one less person to bare witness to my bizarre mini-meltdown when Tati mentioned that her older brother’s wife was about to have their second kid and I broke into tears. “Ahh, this is so weird. I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m crying. It’s just that I remember when we were kids and he would make bubbles for us out of dish soap…” Tati handled my babbling with grace and even shed a few sympathetic tears.

A good, nostalgic crying jag in the privacy of your own home is all well and good from time to time. In the middle of a party, surrounded by hipsters? Not so much.