Music is a funny thing. I used to feel pressure to impress people with my music taste, but lately I just feel really impressed with my own music taste. I was browing through my iTunes, and I have so many kinds of music. It's really just ridiculous. Not only do I have all kinds of music, but I have all sorts of movies and pictures, funny videos, etc. It makes me happy knowing that I'm not that prick who laughs at others because of their taste. Shit, I love Hanson. And I'll own up to every part of that sentence.

Looting

I found that a lot, if not most, of the photos under the Google Image search "looting" were of ethnic individuals. Seeing as I'm sure not everyone who "looted" things in the aftermath were of a different nationality, the media portrayed this as something it most definitely was not. This also played into why it was rumored the government didn't react properly because of racism.

op-ed summary

I’m going to write a letter to the president of the university about students being able to access the roof of buildings. This issue came of interest while lying in bed late Wednesday night. I was sending a text message when suddenly I hear a huge pound and then crack outside of the fire escape door. Frightened, I lay silently while my roommate wakes up, asking me what had happened. Clueless, we both crack the windows and see if we can see anything that is going on. Four boys make their way towards the south side of the building. Two of them climb up a set of stairs, onto the railing, and finally make their way onto the roof. One boy is holding a paper shredder and throws it onto the ground, disregarding anyone other than himself. The other boy gets a running start and chucks another piece of an electronical device off of the Lomasson Center roof. I grab my R.A., and she calls campus security. The police officers were so COMPLETELY nonchalant about the entire situation, and it made me EXTREMELY enraged. It’s not at all okay that people are physically able to get on top of buildings. It would be so easy to take advantage of other students from the top of other buildings. While watching the boys crawl on top of the buildings, all I could see was one of them pulling out a gun and shooting unsuspecting students. It’s a very busy parking lot, and where 4 of the larger dormitories congregate. We need to take safety into hand here, and get this situation fixed.

I can feel my eyes growing heavy, and my face begins to melt. Hollow holes on either side of my nose are filled with flames. As I leave my body, I can feel my skull crack as it fills with heat. Falling to the ground, I can see my zygomatic arch break into a million pieces. I've become eerily calm. I'm worried someone is watching, and my chest fills with a humid heat. My heart is racing, and as my serenity slips away I feel myself falling back into sanity.

I wish there were words I could use to express to my parents how much gratitude I have for everything they've given me. Material things excluded, they've supplied me with an endless amount support, optimism, and opportunity. Every time I try to come up with what I need to say, I find myself struggling with the right words to explain my exact feelings. The best I've come to realize is an I love you.

silver

I love my silver Sharpie. It's so full of ink and chemicals; everytime I bring it closer to my nose it makes me sick. I love my silver Sharpie. It's so easy to draw with. I love my silver Sharpie. It makes everything pretty. I love my silver Sharpie. I think it's making me sick. I love my silver Sharpie. It makes me tick.

snow

I can hear it, I think.

I can't believe how hard it's falling, I wonder.

I want to kiss him, I wish.

Please make it happen, I beg.

It's so white it hurts, I realize.

My window is open, I notice.

It's snowing, I smile.

Character Sketch

My heart skips a beat as I watch him walk in, uniform and all. He’s handsome, and I blush. Too old for me I wonder. He smiles and nods in my direction, making his way through the packed coffee house. I’m glad I found the quietest spot in the joint, and as he sits down to join me I feel myself growing nervous. I introduce myself, and as he grabs my hand, I can feel the warmth of his palm between my fingers. Has he held a gun in this hand I wonder? Has he carried an injured partner I wonder? Noticing a scar on his upper cheek, I make a mental note to ask about it. He makes a witty comment about how packed it is, worse than The Other Side he smiles. I laugh, and grab my spiral. I slap my forehead and apologize for forgetting to ask if he’d like something to drink. After he shakes it off, he tells me he swore off caffeine after being deployed. He goes on to explain how it messed up his sleep cycle, and there isn’t anything worse than not sleeping well and adding to an already intensified paranoia. I feel so incredibly comfortable in his presence. I let him know, and he smirks, letting me know he has this effect on a lot of people. As I begin to ask questions, he leans back and relaxes, elaborating at every chance. 30 minutes becomes an hour as an hour becomes 2, and then finally 3, when we decide to meet again, somewhere new.

Interview Anecdote 3

As we shake hands and get up to leave, his scarred face catches my attention. He leads me to the front, and as we’ve shared conversation the dark blanket of night has fallen on Higgins. I watch him as he silently slips his hat onto the top of his head. He reminds me of our next interview place and time, leans down for a casual hug, and disappears into the dark. My stomach falls a little, and I can’t wait to get back home to write about this. I haven’t felt this hopeful about a piece of writing in a long time, and I decide that I’m going to put a lot, all, of my effort to make this man look like the hero I believe him to be.

Interview Anecdote 2

Did I lock my car, I thought to myself as I pulled open Liquid Planet’s front door. I looked to the left, saw the packed window bar, and didn’t recognize anyone. Although I’ve only seen a picture of this man, I get the vibe I’ll recognize him right away, as if he has some magical presence. I look up at the chalk boards, and notice an entire board dedicated to tea- phew-ee, I sigh. It doesn’t look like he’s here yet; early as always, I grab my iced peach tea, 2 Splenda packets, and find a spot near the back in a booth. I’m rubbing my hands together with anticipation, and as I see a gentleman enter the coffee shop in uniform, my heart begins to race.

Interview Anecdote 1

I was really nervous while preparing for my interview. I neatly typed all of the questions I was planning to ask, and I mentally prepared a few just in case the electricity fell dead. My marine and I decided to meet at Liquid Planet, for a relaxed and feel-good environment. I had already promised myself to not order coffee because I know how jittery I get. I made a second mental note to ask about what kind of tea I might enjoy, hoping they had iced anything. I grabbed my phone, placed it in my purse, locked and shut the door, and made my way downstairs towards my car.

I'm not sure there is anything more satisfying than being able to flip the page in your calendar. Especially between the months of February and March. Spring is only 3 weeks away! I bought a whole bunch of new clothes, thinking I'd be able to wear them. But no. Of course the weather decides to dump snow on my wardrobe. I was so upset about it I wore them anyways, and now I think I may be sick again. Smart me.

profile exploration

I could never, ever, be an R.A. It’s difficult for me to even put up with girls as friends. Having to deal with them, on a daily basis, as an authoritative figure, seems impossible. Don’t get me wrong, I love my R.A. I think she’s great at her job, but I know I could never ever do it. I’m not really sure if this says much about me, or maybe I’m afraid that it says too much about me.

chipped nail polish

I'm looking down at my hands, and I can't help but notice the pretty pink polish coating my pale nails. I look at my right ring finger and notice the awkward shape; it's callased and shallow on one side because of how hard I grip my pen. Move one over and I see my middle finger. Fuck you is what I think. My pointer is crooked because of the numerous painful jammings between basketball seasons. Thumbs are weird. Period. My eyes drift past both my left pointer and middle, landing on my left ring finger. My prettiest finger, I've always thought. The only thing that might make it look better is a man. With money. And a big, fat, sparkly diamond. Where is that man, I wonder. Where is that man with my big, fat, sparkly diamond? Where are you, man?

a little love letter

You're like my one favorite sweatshirt that never really fits right, but always feels comfortable. Or that time of the morning when the sun hits the window just enough to wake you up, but not too much to piss you off. You're my perfect bottle of red nail polish, and my favorite shade of pink. Even if you were expired milk, I'd swear nothing had ever tasted better. You're like the caramel in my macchiato- the sweetest part, and I love the way you're a little bitter like black coffee. You're my Brand New- the greatest thing I've ever known and the biggest secret I've never wanted to share. I miss you like your peanut butter misses my jelly...


I just need you to know that I’m sorry we can’t be together. If I could have it my way, I’d have all of you, everyday, for only myself. Apparently reality has a little humor in the way she handles my life, and has decided to make the relationship I’d love to share with you as unattainable as possible. I don’t blame her; I wouldn’t want to share you either. So I understand that we can’t do this the way I’d like, but in near time we’ll be close. As the miles which separate us diminish, I pray that you’ll feel me growing closer and the warmth I hope to share with you lights a fire in your heart so strong I can see the flames through your chest and smell the heat on your breath.


Your intelligence is beyond your years, and I think it’s within the simple way you speak I find comfort. I hope you continue to write until your fingers are bloody and blue with age. With a mind like yours, you’ll soon be able to see inspiration in the uninspired, and while you grow and progress with your creativity, I want to be there to watch and experience all the liquid talent you’ll create. You need to know that I believe in your dreams, and I trust that within your passion you will find a success all your own, a success no one except you is worthy of possessing.


Like your fingerprints, you have an identity all your own. I understand that you haven’t ever had it easy, and when it comes to life, this far you’ve had to share the short end of the stick. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been there to dilute the difficulty and ease the pain, but I’m here now; I’ll be here forever. You will always have a home in me, and you must trust me when I tell you that.


Please forgive me for my wrongs. And if you can't forgive me, then at least learn to love me for my rights. And if you're tired of looking, then give me the chance to show you...

xoxo

My dearest Inner Critic,

We define the phrase "love-hate relationship"; I love the begeesus out of you and you hate my stinkin' guts. With time I have found a way out of this vicious circle we've chased eachother through for so long, and I have learned to appreciate and value your wisdom, but to not take it to heart. Like stated, I love you. I love the way you hate how I over use and abuse punctuation. I love the way you hate how I often end sentences with a preposition, and I fucking LOVE the way you hate how repetitive I am. My lovely little critic, I wish I could sing you a love song and have you spit in my guitar case. You're my hero, and I hope you never leave my left lobe.

Hi, I'm Leslie

I like to take black and white pictures, annoy my little sister, and shove 'Nilla Cakesters into my fat mouth.

I'm from Houston, TX- born and raised. I actually have no real reason for heading 48 states away for school. I just tell everyone I think it's really beautiful here.

I once had a dog who I didn't really like. She was really photogenic, though. Now that she's gone, I miss her.

I have two sisters. The older one is too good for me and so is the little one. But I love them both with all of my little heart.

My parents have given me everything I've ever wanted. I'm so proud of my dad, and my mom is the most beautiful person I've ever known.

We live in Indonesia like royalty.

I drive a black Toyota Highlander, and if I didn't have it at school with me, I just might be hanging from my shower rod.

The past 3 years of my life have been the most influential this far. I wouldn't have it any other way, and I'm learning to love them for exactly what they were.

I think I'm one funny mother fucker.