Ani Fucking Difranco, that's who.

    So... I've never been one of those, "Oh my gawd, Becky... this is song is about my life!" But with the discovery of Ani Difranco I've become one of those people. Her lyrics are incredible, perhaps some of the best I've ever heard (and I listen to almost all of the great songwriters!). So instead of rambling on (lolz) I'll let her words speak for themselves:

"Everyone has a skeleton and a closet to keep it in, and your mine. Every song has a you, a you that the singer sings to."

"You are so lame. You always disappoint me... it's kind of like our running joke, but it's really not funny. And I just want you to live up to the image of you I create, I see you and I'm so unsatisfied, I see you and I dilate."

"When I say you sucked my brain out, the English translation is: 'I am in love with you' ... and it's no fun. But I don't use words like love, 'cuz words like that don't matter. But don't look so offended... you know, you should be flattered!" - Dilate

"Think I'm going for a walk now, I feel a little unsteady. Don't want no one to follow me... except maybe you." 

"Tell you the truth, I prefer the worst of you. Too bad you had to have a better half... and she's not really my type, but I think you two are forever, and I hate to say it... but you're perfect together."

"So fuck you and your untouchable face. Fuck you for existing in the first place. And who am I that I should be vying for your touch, and who am I? I bet you can't even tell me that much." - Untouchable Face

"I fight with love and I laugh with rage. You gotta live light enough to see the humor, and long enough to see some change."

"I think pretty is nice, but I rather see something new."

"Who ya gonna be if you can't be yourself? You can't get it from TV, you can't force it on anybody else."     - Pick Yer Nose 

"Squint your eyes and look closer 

I'm not between you and your ambition 
I am a poster girl with no poster, I am 32 flavors and then some 
And I'm beyond your peripheral vision so you might want to turn your head 
'Cause someday you're going to get hungry and eat all of the words that you just said 
I am what I am, I am 32 flavors and then some 
God help you if you are an ugly girl
Course too pretty is also your doom 
'Cause everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room 
God help you if you are a phoenix and you dare to rise up from ash 
A thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy while you are just flying past 
I am what i am, I am 32 flavors and then some 
I'm taking my chances as they come 
I am 32 flavors and then some, I'm nobody but I am someone, someone... " - 32 Flavors 

A Letter Home

Dear Houston,  
   It's not you. It's me. You're great, you really are... but you just aren't giving me what I need anymore. You have had over 16 years and STILL you've failed to produce Jacob with his basic necessities: A boy who is Scottish/named James (I'm really not picky anymore), a six pack, a letter to Hogwarts, and a voice like Nina Simone. On a scale from 1 to 10, you're chillaxing around a 4. But wait! There's still time. (A year and half to be precise.) You better step up your game, because lemme tell ya... Prague is looking real good right about now. Granted, I don't speak Czechoslovakian, so I'll just have to communicate my desire for one night stands through my eyes and excessive eyebrow raising.
   It's not too late to turn this beat around, H-Town... step it up, brah.

Your forever faithful (unless I get a boyfriend, then I'll ditch this blog joint) blogster, Jacob. 

 

Haters Gonna Hate; Fabric Gonna Fabricate

    To say the last few weeks (months really) have been trying would be a understatement...  Between school,  people showing their true but not so pretty colors, and one hell of a hostile environment  it has taken every ounce of my strength to not eat everyone alive. But alas! Adorning this pile of shit there is a silver lining:

    

    Despite the odds and the constant belittlement, somehow my passion for theatre has managed to grow. I have been beaten down, scrutinized, been involved with something I absolutely loathed, and made to feel as though I am talentless and worthless. But through this, I am now more sure than ever that I have something to offer. Perhaps the hate I received was fuel to the fire. I'll be damned if I don't make something of myself. 

    

    Also, I have never been more thankful for my friends, old and new. Thanks to their reassurance that my feelings are not unwarranted (even those perceived as "golden" have privately told me I'm not insane), and that nearly everyone in my life has backed me up (even if just in private), I have been able to barrel through these past few weeks. 

    

    A lot has changed these past few weeks; and quite frankly, it's been hell.  But it's okay. I've screamed hard, but laughed even harder. No matter the circumstances and what people try to make you believe, only you know the facts. Take him or leave him, but: 

Jacob Seferian is a good person. He is smart, funny, talented, caring, loyal, insane, attractive, and interesting. He may be too loud and not give two shits about certain things, but overall, he's kind of badass. He has a long life ahead of him. A life full of hot men, shitloads of happiness, and crazy ass memories. So he says the world: Bring it. 

 

   So remember, people of the world... haters gonna hate, fabric gonna fabricate. 

Your regret-free blogster, Jacob. 

The Word Vomit of Word Vomits

    In a weird place. Somewhere between not giving two shits and giving too much shits. But it's all good, because no matter how hellish my weeks are, my weekends are incredible. Halloween is coming! I'll hide under my burlap costume and go to an Alanis Morissette concert and feel like an angsty 90's teen. Can't say I'm not feeling alive. Part of me wishes high school would just go away and let college start so I can figure out what the hell I'm going to do with my life. Too deep? That's okay, I'm usually not so self-indulgent so it evens out. Digging the lack of flow in this paragraph; each sentence is a new thought. SEMICOLON ALERT. Clearly all these grammar classes are getting to me.
   
    Sorry. Apparently junior year has not only taken my sanity, but my coherence as well. Bye bye eloquence (well... preconceived eloquence)... okay, now I'm just using pretty words. Jeez. Get over yourself, Jacob.
   
    I am tired. Always.
 
    Pretty people all up in my face, and I'm all like, "BACK IT UP, HOLMES! No one likes uber attractive people. That's a misconception. Go procreate with other pretty peeps."
   
    Math is cockblocking me. Ain't no one got time for this Pre-AP shiz. (Why am I so cool? Rhetorical question. Don't answer, not even silently in your mind.)
   
    Been told what a fantastic boyfriend I'd be by two boys. Like what? Who does that? Bizarre. My favorite was how one said, "Like imma be real, Jacob. You're not a 10... but your personality is like a 40. I mean, I'd chase after you for years." Over all a very wonderful compliment, but the human in me focused on the negative and only heard: 'your not a 10.' But it's okay. Because I'm fuckable. And that's all you need to be. (Or not. Ruh-roh. Pity party over hurr (just said 'hurr', I think I've reached a new low... (sidenote: this is a parentheses within a parentheses within a parentheses, parentheCEPTION!!!!!! Boom. Mind = blown.))
   
    Now I'm just rambling, I mean, that NEVER happens. I'm confused... are you confused?
   
    I should read my assigned reading. I should finish my costume. I should eat less. I should exercise more. I should stop blowing my voice out, and start blowing other things. I should sort out all the shit going on. I should proof read this post. But honestly I don't know if I want to...
I should sleep. Yes. Sleep. Sleep is good.
    Nice chat. ~Jacob out~


Your delirious blogster, Jacob.
  

    I want to run away to a new place. These peeps and this life are boring. Deuces.


Your faithful blogster, Jacob.

A Summer State of Mind

    I don't want to. You can't make me. I'll burrow under my covers and use my cats as bodyguards. I will not emerge unless James McAvoy is before me with a platter of potatoes. Summer can suck my... thumb!

   I'm sorry, I am not excited to return to school. I'm perfectly content with my summer of:

Sitting on my ass, watching French movies, crying because I'll never be as pretty or as talented as them, eating a lot, feeling guilty so I go wogging (a combination of walking and jogging, I know, it's brilliant, I expect my Pulitzer to be arriving shortly, I'm sure it just got lost in the mail), dancing madly in my room, harassing my cats, eating some more, jiggling my fat in the mirror, crying because there's so much to jiggle, reading Harry Potter, watching Harry Potter, pretending I'm Harry Potter, going to sleep, and waking up and doing it all again.

    After all these life enhancing activities what could school possibly have to offer me?


Your faithful blogster, Jacob.

You Should Like Your Face: A Pep Talk

    From the moment we hit puberty we are plagued with self-doubt. Looking in the mirror, and immediately reciting a laundry list of our own flaws. Everything about us is wrong, and we whine to the universe, if only I was a different way, everything would be better... right?    
  
    Then hopefully (and I do mean hopefully, because countless amounts of people go throughout life never experiencing this moment of discovery), you'll have an epiphany. You'll realize that although you don't look like a Heidi Klum or a George Clooney, neither Heidi Klum nor George Clooney looks like you. You return to that cursed mirror and take a long, hard look at yourself. You shrug and think, I can work with this.
    
    Now mind you, I am not promoting vanity. You should take pride in your appearance, but don't think you're the end all and be all of beauty. Because trust me, if there's one thing you can count on in the unforgiving world, it is that there will always be someone more attractive than you.
    
    Say you don't have an eureka moment, and you are still not overjoyed with your exterior, remember that your inside plays a big part as well. We've all had the experience of meeting someone who, initially, we did not find very attractive (it's not bitchy, it's natural), but then after getting to know them, who knows? We may even consider marrying them and moving to one of those middle states whose names we always forget.
    Intelligence, for example. Personally, I find intelligence one of the biggest turn ons. ("What's that? You want to tell me your opinion on the current financial crisis in Greece and Spain, and the steps the EU has taken to remedy the issue? Cool. Mind if I mount you while you're doing this?) So if you're intelligent: BOOM. There you go. Immediately more attractive. Woohoo!
   
    Still haven't convinced yourself? Well, I'm a strong believe in the power of a smile. When someone gives a wide, toothy (yes, TOOTHY, no smiling without your teeth, that makes you look disturbed) grin, I can't help but feel attracted to them. When in doubt: smile. Because everyone's smile is beautiful.
    
    I like my face, and you should like yours too.

    Voila! That was my pep talk. Now go forth, young grasshopper with that likeable face, flourish and have sex with the world. Just remember that no one's smile lines or forehead crinkles are exactly like yours (besides those of your doppelganger), so own them.



Your faithful blogster, Jacob.