Your Car

I'm half agony...half hope.

I'm cheating...but I'm winning.

I'm here...but I'm long gone.

And my eyes are red...but I have shoes to match.


xoxo
Olivia

Hide and Seek

When silence falls and courage stalls, I tend to get over analytical...

And thus I present Olivia's take on things that don't veritably have any deeper meaning at all.....or do they?

Hide and Seek:


A childhood game that required no other materials than a natural setting and more than one individual. Simplicity in its most innocent of forms.

But I've come to find that the holistic concept behind hide and seek, unforeseeably, is overwhelmingly beautiful.

Hopefully as a child you were a strategic, combative little hide and seek player. If you were ambitious enough to contend for the honorable title of champion then you knew that the most successful hiding places were small, dark and unwelcoming.

But that was okay, because you knew that there was someone out there looking for you. At that moment, somebody's only goal was to find you. 

So just think about that for a moment.

If everyday was played like a game of hide and seek, then there would always be someone, somewhere, trying to find you.

Someone wants you to be found.


"Have you seen my shadow?" Peter Pan (Disney's Peter Pan)

xoxo
Olivia

Circles

It's official. I have caught the One Direction bug.

But I mean...they're so damn cute.

So the shame is minimal.

I have an... active history with boy bands. When I was 5 I would make homemade posters out of looseleaf that read "Backstreet Boys for Life". I'd play their CD's in this robotic purple boom box that weighed 20 pounds and dance around my room for hours. I didn't have a full set of teeth yet, but I sure as hell had a Backstreet Boys nightgown.

I never liked N'SYNC though. When I was just a toddler, they cut my family in line for that giant globe ride at Epcot. Who do they think they are? HOOLIGANS.

Then came the Jonas Brothers. My love for those boys was, and still is, monumentally elephantine. Multiple hundreds of dollars spent for numerous concerts all of which left me deaf and mute at the same time. My walls were not only littered with posters but with the most delicately hand cut collages in every which direction. When I ran out of wall space, I started taping things to my ceiling. It wasn't the most astute of ideas and they fell on top of me as I was sleeping.

I didn't mind waking up to them on top of me though...

Thus I was already expecting some sort of recapitulation. An addict stays an addict.

I surprised my little sister (watching her is like catching old reruns of my Jonas days) with tickets for their concert in Hershey Park...NEXT summer.

They're overwhelmingly splendid tickets too; first row of the upper balcony above the stage. And they didn't even break my wallet! Which is astounding because for the unexperienced ticket buyer you can't listen to these boys from the arena bathroom for under $300 A PIECE.

Interestingly enough, I now find that my thoughts are narrated in a British accent. An engrossing side effect I must say...

Especially considering all my previous British cultural knowledge came from Harry Potter.

You've prepped me well J.K. Rowling.

"Curiosity often Leads to Trouble" Disney's Alice in Wonderland

xoxo
Olivia

Stupid, Stupid, Stupid

If I wasn't so self absorbed, the ending quote for that last post would have been:

"You've got a friend in me" - Disney's Toy Story

Risks

So I have this best friend. She's indubitably beautiful and unmistakably talented. She never asks questions when it comes to being there for me and she makes being selfless seem effortless. She's just super snazzy from all angles.

She knows more about me than anyone else on the planet. That's what best friends are supposed to know though right? Alas, unfortunately so, I am not HER best friend. That's okay though, I never asked to be. I don't personally think I could handle that kind of responsibility. I mean, I think about the things I put on her and the things I expect. If the situation were to be reversed, I fully discern how scared I'd be of failing. After all, she deserves so much more than to have me as her "person" (I couldn't let the Grey's Anatomy reference slip away unused).

But I wouldn't hesitate if she filed the request.

Which begs the question: why can't I be honest with her? I hide so much. How I deal with being upset, how I really feel about myself. The risks I take. What I can never face. Secrets secrets secrets.

It's because I know she'd be ashamed.

The impeccably kind can only be stretched so far.

So I let her sleep without the burden of my depth.

And the world spins on.

"Nobody knows the trouble I've seen; nobody knows my sorrow" - Zazu (Disney's The Lion King)

Presto: She's Gone

This afternoon I was invited to a work party. Well, it was more of a barbecue. Wharves. We closed the store early and even brought in a couple portable grills. Everyone was so excited because where I work, that kind of leisure does not come around too often. And as everyone was bustling around in anticipation of this rare sabbatical from their usual 50 hour work week; the coward in me kicked in.

Right on cue.

I live in a constant state of paranoia that no one really likes me. To be (not so) equitable I consider myself fairly companionable and reasonably gregarious. It's just that I don't really...thrive...in a group setting. I can barely handle one on one conversations without making people want to run for the hills.

I wouldn't have even been able to drink away the awkwardness because my superiors were present...and I'm not exactly 21...not to mention I was driving home.

So what did I do? When everyone was getting situated, I snuck out.

I literally snuck to my car and sped away.

"God save the outcasts" - Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame

xoxo
Olivia

Harbor

WHARVES.

If you are a normal human being (let's face it, if you're taking the time to read this...you're not) you have no idea what that means.

Alas, I shall tell you.

But not before an obnoxious anecdote about how I discovered said word.

I firmly believe that a nonchalant attitude is a conspicuous segue to pure awesome. Which is what I strive to be on a daily basis. So when lazy turned cool and shortening words was the new trend, and obvs I'm an entrancingly trendy individual, I took fondly to the phrase "whatev". My phone however, was not up to date on my latest contrivance to be the trendiest person on Earth. So in text form "whatev" became "wharves".

WHARVES.

(plural of wharf) ((n)) a structure that projects into a harbor or body of water.

Same thing.

So now you can check off that little box next to "five minutes of complete wasted time" on your daily to do list.

Your welcome.

xoxo
Olivia

Margins

Right, well now that I'm done playing Words With Friends with my mother...GOOD EVENING.

You know how they say surround yourself with only a few good friends? (no I'm not referencing my mother...I probably should have started this post a little differently) That's all fine and dandy, don't get me wrong, but when those good friends all lead superlatively busy lives you start to wonder if you should have planned your cordial situation a bit...better.

Personally, I've never been the social butterfly. I mean, I'm relatively convivial when the stars align, but most nights I prefer things low key. Not to be misunderstood, I am loved by all. Naturally. So...

I'm not quite sure the point of this message. Perhaps I'm trying to convey some advice:
Be careful not to draw your intricate little lines too close, because the nights you spend alone, will be the worst nights of your life.

xoxo
Olivia

Sidewalks

GREETINGS.

I sat down to write this, give or take, half an hour ago (I'd choose give because time just wants to know someone cares). Then I noticed how filthy my lap top was --> heroic quest for windex wipes--> heroic triumph of windex wipes. 

Then of course I had to put on some lip gloss. To impress...my cat. Bailey's eyes sparkled a little I swear. I proceeded to use him as a piano to sing gloriously of my pristine keyboard and luscious lips. 

Now I have no choice but to trudge on into the world of blogging. 

I've had numerous people tell me I should start a blog; "By golly Olivia, your writing is just so marvelously wondrous and enchantingly extraordinary!" Why thank you imaginary friends, but I'm too damn lazy (please refer back to the pointless introduction of this post).  

But here I am anyway. 

Lucky for you, you won't run into anyone like me on the streets. Mostly because anyone like me would be sensible enough to use the sidewalks.
There's no clear cut path for me though; of that I am sure. Just relentless demons and empty spaces.

And I have the bruises to prove it. 

P.S Bailey just fell asleep. I guess my earth shattering beauty attested too much for that feline.