Soundtrack for Life

Sometimes you might as well just get up.

It's 6:45 in the morning and I've been up since 4:00. Well, that is if you consider just lounging in bed wondering if you are going to fall back asleep as "being up." What really finally got me standing up and facing the reality that I wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon were my bills. SERIOUSLY??? Terrible reason to get out of bed. But I paid them and then applied for two jobs while I was at it, and now I'm blogging. Oh, and I made a great cup of tea. And got three red heads up and dressed and fed and to the bus stop on time. Wow, this has already been a totally awesome day.

I actually only logged onto bloggy to listen to Poppiholla because I wanted to feel motivated, and epic. You know, there are just some songs that no matter how many times you listen to them you feel like you can conquer the world. And why not, right? Why not feel empowered to have an absolutely great day?

Now if only I could get theme music to play during different moments of my life. Man, characters in movies seriously have it made. Besides only having to live out one major story line, they have constant mood music.

Wouldn't that be totally awesome if right after you stuck it to the man, Natasha Bedingfield's "Strip Me" magically chirped above? Or how much easier would it be if the this-guy-is-a-jerk-beneath-those-dimples music played when you met who-seemed-to-totally-understand-me male? Whew, thank you mood music for saving me a whole lot of heartbreak and emotional eating.

But the music doesn't play automatically, and so thank you Chicane for empowering me.

The Night Starts Here

Wog is right, I have been pestering her to write. This.
REVERB 10 Reflect on this year and manifest what's next
Everyday in December the internets provides a prompt to help you review your year and put said reverberation into words. I chose to write about today's prompt because I'm all about the partying. Like it's 1999 (which was a really good year btw). And so Wog can stop sending me texts addressed to: The Pot, from: The Kettle.

Reberb 10, Day 9 PARTY
December 9
What social gathering rocked your socks off in 2010? Describe the people, music, food, drink, clothes, shenanigans.
Author - Shauna Reid, Diet Girl

This year I FINALLY attended a concert at the Granada - an old movie house turned indie rock venue on Greenville Avenue. It's the perfect place for the not so hard core music lover to see a show because it's so unassuming. The Granada won't make you feel as though you must dress in your edgiest outfit and wear extra eyeliner, although both of those behaviors are generally encouraged by myself. The theater is small inside but there is plenty of standing room for the dancers or tables for the too drunk to continue dancing-ers. Also, they sell gourmet pizza which is so delicious that you just can't picture the people around you as heroine groupies and become suitably intimidated because the fare is tasty and the box office so friendly. "Be Yourself" is painted in large script on the ceiling and angels and other unidentified fanciful creatures flit around the walls. One cannot help but feel groovy at the Granada.

This is why I was excited when Super snagged tickets for herself, Toad and I to see Stars. This and because Stars gave a gorgeous performance. They threw fresh white roses out into the crowd between sets (?) and told us all at the end that, "putting on your best clothes, going out, having drinks with friends and live music" is the best way to spend your time. Stars, you must be right.

We danced! Even Toad danced, in his own way. We sang. We flung our arms straight up, let our heads fall back and swaaaaaaaaaaaayed. Nobody judged us.

That night several of the pictures taken of me are reminiscent of Paul Rudd playing Paris on Romeo+Juliet, I was enjoying myself with such childlike abandon that my only concern was whether my companions had fallen in love with this music, this band, this night as well.

They had. Nobody wanted to go home when it ended. We wanted to float up into the ceiling on Stars melodies and reside as gatekeepers of good live music karma for ever.

And this makes one more post in 2010 than 2009. YES!

As bad as this sounds, it's always good to find someone who is worse at something than you. I'm bad at frequently blogging, but not nearly as bad as HeiderH. She hasn't blogged in over two years--I know because my blog feeder let's me know that every time I log on. It's a nice little reminder saying, "Welcome back slacker Tian Tian. Surprised you even remembered your password. Aren't you a lazy girl? Enjoying your Slurpee life? Well, at least you logged on. HeiderH hasn't done anything for TWO YEARS." And then I feel better at my sister's expense. There are so many devious reasons for having sisters, and I love them all.

Nonetheless, (isn't that such a crazy word--it literally is three words squashed together) I'm so pleased to welcome HH as a "contributor" to Eggs and Toast. And it was totally her idea. She said, "Add me as a contributor" because she is just grasping at straws now because I haven't done anything else she has told me to do in the past month and half. So, randomly she shouted out that this would help her blogging curse and then I pathetically replied, "Well, it will probably take me some time to figure out how to add you so don't expect it to happen anytime soon." But that was just a lie to buy me more time to procrastinate and not do anything she tells me to do. I've noticed these little lies are becoming more commonplace in my life right now.

A couple weeks ago, I told MasterJ an entire story about buying a scarf from this little Asian woman during which I proceeded to mimic her with a Taiwanese accent as if she had recently immigrated to the states even though in reality the woman spoke English beautifully and was probably born and raised in Baltimore. Shortly after I finished the story, I told MasterJ that that wasn't really how things went down and I made part of the story up; he laughed in my face about how mendacious I am. And then he imitated my Taiwanese accent and it was terrible and so I secretly relished how much better I was at it than him.

Speaking of MasterJ, today is his birthday and it's a good thing he doesn't read this blog because I pretty much said, "Happy Birthday, J! I'm better at a fake Asian accent than you. Love!!!"

Sidenote: This whole post is giving me a really strange deja vu moment with an early 90s sitcom that I just can't put my finger on.

I Reserve the Right

It's obvious that I have a wild and inconsistent love affair with the FaceB. I'm currently not-active, you know, like not using, because the FaceB is an addiction and my list of addictions is rather lengthy so I've decided that virtual stalking should not be on the list. As such, I have dragged HeiderHead into this crazy relationship with the FaceB where we reactivate and deactivate our accounts like a-line haircuts. (Ahhh, why do I always want that short flippy bob when I can't stand short hair????) Recently, HH got back on the FB because of work, at least that is what she says, and she had a "friend" comment on her account instability to which she replied "I reserve the right to get on and off Facebook as much as I like." Of course, I heard this story from Fuzzy Robot because, need I repeat, I'm not currently active on the FB so how could I know this went down. So, today as I was dressing and reached for yet another black top, the thought crept in to my head "maybe you should wear a color today." To which I replied, "I reserve the right to wear black every day if I like." And that is exactly what I did. And I felt victorious.

On a side note, here are all the titles I wanted to name this post, all taken from the 12:00 pm weekday Direct TV lineup:

Big Cat Diary
Unearthing Ancient Secrets
I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant
China Power: Art Now After Mao
Never Rake Again!

I really can't give enough of the lyrical quality of "Art Now After Mao." It really sings, don't you think? Too bad "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" couldn't be a little more audibly appealing, I might have watched it then. But great idea for a blog title, right?

Anyway, I'm deciding to start reserving more rights, like not putting makeup on or unabashedly crushing on Bobby Flay and Michael Buble, and blogging without pictures. Oh, and I reserve the right to not join the public fascination with In-N-Out. Boo! Alright, I'm already feeling the power of democracy--Copland is ringing in my ears and I feel like watching baseball...well, maybe just eating a hot dog.

Eslade List

Today is Eslade's day of birth. She is a remarkable age at a remarkable time. To celebrate her birthday, I am enjoying a Charleston Chew--isn't that nice of me? Yesterday I sent her an email in part Spanish. I used a translation link on Google. She didn't respond back though. Probably because she was overwhelmed with my linguistic greatness and adaptability. Yes, that was why.

Also, to celebrate her birth I made a list (because I LOVE lists) and I think it is only appropriate that we fully celebrate our loved ones days of birth by doing things that make us happy too. If we are happy, they are happy. This is my list, to be read in a thick Chilean accent, but if you can't do that or even know what that sounds like, don't feel bad because Eslade won't mind.

Eslade is: (kind of like it were a FaceB status, get it?)

nocturnal--in fact, the later the hour the greater her comedy.

Unwavering in her intergrity.

¡Nada que ver!

a dedicated daughter.

Planned Spontaneity

fine using training chop sticks for months to please the Asian Princess and me.

always supportive of watching teeny bopper movies.

excellent at listening and remembering.

unabashed in admitting she almost put a certain guy's name in her Facebook status because she thought it was the search bar.

not the kind of person to even have a FaceB status because she can handle solitary independence.

up for exploring new hobbies.

calling the numbers on the back of trucks to tell them they are driving well.

punctual.

forgiving that you don't call back promptly.

one year older.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Playlist

Don't judge my playlist just yet. And if you do, judge Heider Head because most of the songs are her suggestions. But, I'm going to add more songs--so I'm looking for recommendations. I just spent $10 on iTunes to soften my revengeful feelings against my landlord. No worries, I will get my deposit back, but in a polite manner. Just kidding, I've already sliced her with my vicious rhetoric. Needless to say, my iTunes visit made me think Bloggy could use some tunes too. We all need tunes. In fact, we need tunes so much we should sing the messages we leave on others phones rather than speak them. Hum.

I feel so proud of myself that I figured out how to add a playlist. I'm so computer savvy. It almost makes me feel like going to work tomorrow. On, second thought...nah. At least I have new music to listen to on the way to work. That helps get out of bed in the morning--that and breakfast.

Sleep Guilt

For the next couple weeks I'm going to try out different blog backgrounds. I didn't realize there were so many new options bloggers could use to decorate their blogs now. It's rather fun, and vain. And I have never been opposed to fun and vain activities and so I will indulge myself.

Here's a question: Do you ever feel guilty sleeping in? In Before Tian world, I would feel guilty about all sorts of things like eating sugar before 2:00 pm, watching a movie on a weekday, or outwardly admitting you don't want to go on a hike. Well, today I slept in--very late. So late that I can't even get myself to admit what hour because even though I am an independent adult, free agent, and master of my own schedule, I feel as though my mother would disapprove and how will she ever get a daughter with such bad habits married off. Would Mr. Darcy ever sleep in? Never.

Once, Bunnicula and I watched Lost on Hulu for an entire afternoon. (Admit it, you or someone you know has lost their real friends to the fake people on Lost at some point in time. That's why it's called Lost.) After an episode would end, Bunny and I would peek at each other sheepishly hoping the other would first claim wanting to watch the next episode. It's always better not to initiate sluggishness but merely accompany it. Is initiate sluggishness an oxymoron? By the time Devry came home we had evaporated into the couches and convinced ourselves that we were living in a flashback scene of our lives and by the time we came to we would be back in our real, successful, and thin lives doing all sorts of productive things like saving small children in Bosnia.

We never came to.

However, I think it is important that once in a while we allow ourselves to sleep until we wake up. Yes, I know, everyone sleeps until they wake up; there's nothing else you can do but wake up or die. (I'm not trying to be mobid, just pointing out the facts.) But what I mean is that you sleep with no alarm, no saying to yourself "I have to be up in time for...", no consioucness of sleeping for a certain time period. You just sleep until you can't sleep anymore. I wish this was infused into my psyche earlier in life because every time I try to do this, I still wake up feeling guilty and then how will I ever suit Mr. Darcy? Oh but wait, he's fictional, like my fake friends on Lost.

Two Notes

This is an attempt to get myself to blog. I'm not officially starting to blog again, just warming up. However, after various conversations with Unicorn, Isa, and The Queen, I feel like I should pick up blogging again. I went to Unicorn's the other night; she was worried that she and T would be in the basement putting the babies to sleep and unable to hear the door. So, as a good wife would do (which by the way, I thoroughly enjoyed the first season of The Good Wife) she instructed T to write a note and put it on the door. This was T's note:

Isa & Tian Tian

If you are reading this, it means we are putting the children to sleep. We may not be able to hear you knock. But not to fear Walter will bark if he sees you which will alert us. He is however in Jeff's office to your right. Maybe knocking on his window will alert us sooner.

As for now while you wait, enjoy some of Jo's and Millie's fantastic coloring skills found here. (followed by arrows pointing to various scribbles on the paper)

Now, unfortunately, I never got to see this note when I arrived. What I read was the following by Unicorn:

Hello there!

We are still tucking in babies, be up in a min.
Walter is locked up, so please just come in and be at home!

Unicorn

As a good husband would do, T wrote the note and then sought Unicorn's approval which obviously was not given. "She ought to have just done it herself." I only noticed T's first note when leaving because the note was still taped on the glass door and I could see there was writing on the other side. Isa and I had a good laugh at comparing the two notes. I'm not sure why it was so funny to us.

Another List

Haven't blogged in an extremely LONG time; good time for a list.

Priorities Over Studying (it's my last semester, for crying out loud):

-laundry and dishes; this is an excellent way to still feel productive
-dejunk my closet; I make two piles, one to go to Plato's and one for DI
-dejunk my closet again; I remind myself that even though the pants are super cute, I still don't fit into them, just like I didn't fit into them a year ago when I bought them (then I fold them nicely and place them...hopefully not back in the closet)
-eat
-watch movie trailers on HULU
-go to the gym
-eat
-devise ways of seeking revenge on Sporto
-organize my planner
-read the police beat (oh I love you police beat; may you always be true)
-avoid reflection of the future
-visit the girls: Josephine Sarah and Amelia Rose (Shell's twins)
-remind myself of all my good qualities
-sing songs I first heard on the school bus (Cranberries, Lisa Loeb, Des'ree, etc)
-call Chenko and tell her anecdotes; Chenko loves a good anecdote.
-put on the eyeshadow that has sat in my makeup bag for three years and never been used
-use punctuation in manners entirely new
-have late night chats with Eslade
-miss the Asian Princess
-blog, or think about blogging and then not blog but eat

Taiwan Reincarnated II

Country Visit

Yesterday, I went to Qiao Zhou
To see the country with my own eyes.
My future awaited the past—
Rice paddies, Taiwanese, and Aborigines.
Delivered by the fast-line train,
I pressed my face to the window and watched
Green banana leaves smear by,
“How beautiful!” I thought.
Bananas for ice cream sundaes and hot bread,
Curving yellow smiles of silliness
Tempting me to enjoy
A banana world in Qiao Zhou.
A banana country.
I stared out the window and
Lin Mei stared at me.
“Those aren’t banana trees,”
She said.

Morning Thoughts

For the past several months, I've chosen to walk plugged into the sounds around me rather than my shuffle. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my metallic purple shuffle (compliments of Unicorn and Mary Poppins) but I like to save it for the gym or late-night papers--makes it more like a treat. Here's a list of thoughts (because lists are made of great and it's Friday) that I've had this morning:

-I wish Daniel Day-Lewis would be like he was in the 90's. Oh, I heart you crazy man.
-I will not buy any granola bars from the vending machine today.
-What day is it again?
-I should pray.
-Oh, she's wearing cute shoes.
-Pastry.
-I MUST go to bed earlier.
-Maybe I'll get to work and there will be beds in place of chairs.
-Can't the bell tower mix their tunes up a bit.
-Oh, I hope I already missed the National Anthem.
-Oh, yay, the National Anthem. I really am grateful to be an American.
-I will assume he is Canadian and not judge him for walking during the flag raising.
-Maybe John Krasinski look alike in the ward will ask me out.
-Maybe John Krasinski will ask me out.
-Something good will happen today.

Po-em.

Oh, Bloggy. I've neglected you. But it isn't because I haven't become a pseudo awful normal. I'm still writing, just secretly.

Here's a poem I'm still working on; this is the second draft. I'm suppose to now focus in on one image or idea rather than a vast array.

Barrel Holidays

Dark heads and almond eyes scootered
At the Gong of the Miao’s drum, calling home.
Cylindrical metal barrels waited
The flame of a small match.
Inside the barrel caverns, yellow card-stock money burned
New Year red,
And smoke trails of ash twisted
Into the Long’s envious tail.
Thin sticks of incense pierced
Symmetrical lines of oranges.
Buddha sat on a cheap table top.
Last night’s ginger lingered in
Dancing globe lanterns.
Grandmothers barked at sandaled posterity
Sneaking strawberry chews and crackers.
The almond eyes followed the curious blonde curls, and with
Toothy beetle nut grins spoke,
“To Bai Bai the gods,” they bowed.
To Bai Bai the ancestors.

"This is Tian. How may I help you?"

Yesterday at work I answered the phone to an anxious woman. She was still in the middle of submitting every portion of her application to our program and was "just calling" to give me the heads up that one part wouldn't make it before the deadline. She continued to explain she would move forward with the admittance process and continue as if she had turned everything in even though her application was incomplete.

Oh, that's so nice of her.

Where do people miss out on such social understanding? I mean, I may be accused of beating to my own drum at times, and I often like to violate the social norm but in good measure. But I don't just walk out of the grocery store with my Canada Dry and processed cookies without paying because the line is too long and I don't have time right then to pay.

After I explained that she must have that portion of the application submitted before she could proceed with anything associated with our department, she insisted on telling me her story, again, which had to do with the fact that she moved from New York. The credentials and endorsement she needed had to come from a previous associate in the Big Apple. And,..."I'm just telling you that it won't get to you before the deadline." And,..."people are busy in New York."

You never know what new things you'll learn at work.

New Look for a New Year

In honor of the New Year, I gave bloggy a new outfit and accessories. This is my way of encouraging myself to blog more. We'll see if that really works. However, I don't think the title "eggs and toast" really suites the sleek black background, or the new pics. Hum. I've been brainstorming new titles, clever ones that make me feel sophisticated and thin, like an Asian. (Stole that from Rachel Getting Married).

The problem is "eggs and toast" is a sentimental yet accessible title. Chenko use to sing the little phrase while shuffling to the breakfast table in the morning, bowls of zoom in hand. Its perky tri-syllabic rhythm made it easily interchangeable with other random phrases. Phrases like "bits of dew" and "walk to school" often spontaneously awoke myself and the elder four in the morning.

And then there's just the nostalgic and satiated goodness that the combination of sunny-side-up eggs and buttery toast brings to your heart. No, no, EGGS AND TOAST forever! Hips and Breasts for women!

My Bacon List

I'm sitting here doing some algebra, because Wednesday nights full of algebra really do something to my ego, and I think to myself, "Ooo, I'd really like to make a list right now." And then I realized that Fuzzy Robot and I already discussed a list today and how that made me feel all Fuzzy Robot type fuzzy and want to say phrases like "little nap."

The reason behind the list-making hanker is because earlier today, Robot told me she gets to see Kevin Bacon tomorrow. This made me jealous, and then really hungry. And then I had to honestly ask myself if I would rather see Kevin Bacon tomorrow or eat an Urban Cowboy from Gandolfo's with the breaded chicken, bacon, and BBQ sauce. At moments like these it's best to distract oneself as much as possible because either answer would have proved myself ridiculous. (I really do LOVE both types of Bacon.)

Then I got on FB and did some socially-approved stalking for a bit, because that's all FB is good for (massive distraction), and decided I really do want to record my LIST that occurred after Robot and I virtually chatted. So, here's my list.

Hollywoodites as great as Kevin Bacon (and we are talking serious prime-Bacon-time):

John Cusack

Molly Ringwald

Elisabeth Shue

Tate Donovan

Johnny Lee Miller

Snow, Snow, Snow

I was properly raised on the Michael Curtiz's classic "White Christmas." In fact, it took me a good ten years before I realized I would never be able to tap my foot as fast as Vera Ellen does in the piece "Choreography." That was a sad day. Heider Head has as thin as ankles as Vera Ellen, but she also can't tap her foot that fast. I know. I've seen her try.



Every Christmas season we (meaning Chenko and I) watch "White Christmas." And every year I realize how hot Rosemary Clooney is. Seriously, Hollywood just doesn't make them like that anymore. Where have all the curves gone? Anyway, I justed wanted to make that quick little plug for humanity during the Chrismas season because Christmas is made of cheer. HIPS AND BREASTS FOR WOMEN!

Maybe I'll make campaign buttons.

What are you grateful for?

"Wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving."

-Kahlil Gibran

The past week I have had the same dream about three times. Now, somebody will tell me that you can't have the same dreams and this whole post will be invalid and then I will take another month and a half hiatus from blogging.

So, back to the dream. In my dream I am reading other people's blogs. Which, I can't remember who is the blogger or what they are blogging about except one particular blog. And the irony is, this person doesn't even blog! It's Barrister Joe.

Hilarious already, right? Plus, to add to the surreal-ness of it all, his blog is completely devoted to discussing and pontificating on pieces of art. Let the laughter ensue. Great, right. The art is so vivid in the dream against his white background and black text that I only remembered today that it was a dream and not real. However, the pieces or are are not works I've ever seen, although they all qualify for particular schools of styles. There is an impressionist piece, one fairly resembling a Carvaggio, and then some modern pieces that I don't like much, and others.

Anyway, he does a really great job expounding upon each artists' strengths and weaknesses. He also explores how it makes him feel and act; it is a very heartfelt blog. This all leads to, in some unknown way to me, gratitude. Hence, the inclusion of Gibran quotables.

Barrister Joe doesn't share my immense like for Gibran , but I felt that the above quote was suitable for the approaching holiday. (Later, he might pout that I gave him that much censure.) Back to the quote...a list in honor of Thanksgiving.

My Selfish List of Gratitude:

Brothers-Barrister Joe and the Head

they keep me on my toes about my education

Sisters-Heider Head and Bunnicula

they help me not take the brothers, or myself, too seriously

A Clean Inbox

helps me measure my state of mental well-being

Elliptical Machine

it works just as great as the treadmill but much more fun

Lip gloss and Black boots

a sure fire way to secure hotness and confidence in a minute

IMDb

my secret pleasure

Opera

makes allowances for ridiculousness and inconceivable plots with out question

Democracy

Prayer

Four Seasons

Spontaneity

Pamchenko

reminds me to keep my "fish in the sea"; she's known for twisting idioms

Podly

will say "I love you" first on the phone

Shakespeare According to Tian

I've been thinking about the following lines from Prince Hal's famous monologue in Shakespeare's Henry IV, Part 1 quite a bit lately:

If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But when they seldom come, they wished-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents (events).

(1.2.198-201; Bevington. Necessary Shakespeare)

This isn't the main point of Hal's pontification; it is used to add greater depth and support to his argument that he is purposely being a type of prodigal son: bad now so that when he does change it will have greater impact upon those he associates with.

And, now Princess Tian will add her two bits.

It's like when you don't wear make-up or really don't do your hair for a couple weeks. You resort to jeans, sweatshirts, and tennis shoes everyday and look somewhat like a vagabond. (Do you always think of Elton John when you hear that word? I do. And not because I think he's a vagabond. Music, people, music.) And then...you get dolled up one day and everyone tells you you're beautiful when really you look normal but they're latest impression of you has been terrible and so they honestly are quite taken aback by your appearance in the best of ways.

Well, that's all for today. Stay tuned for the next episode of Shakespeare according to Tian where we discuss how Will S. totally knew Rowling would be a bestseller.

Yi Fu de Wen Ti

I am currently wearing a very worn and faded navy blue skirt that almost hits my ankles and was worn probably twice a week in Taiwan for a year and a half with a light blue polo work shirt accompanied by a brown camisole underneath and bottomed-off with old black sandal wedges that are fraying at the toe from Payless. Which leads me to ask myself: Am I a fashion victim? Could I be chosen for TLC's What Not to Wear? Do others pass me by and sigh regretfully?


NO! (well sometimes I really am a fashion victim, but considering my upbringing, ahem hand-me-downs, you can't really blame me.)


I suffer from what I am now calling the "de-auto mobilized starving student syndrome." I, like the majority of mankind, have to work despite being a full-time student. And I don't own a vehicle, nor do I wish to at this point of my Tian existence. Every morning I sweatily ride my bike to work. (I mention sweatily because it's uphill the entire way.) However, I of course have a work dress code which means I can't wear denim, shorts, or anything that normal students wear.

Now, one of my special talents is riding a bike in a skirt but when I crossed that great blue mass of the Pacific Ocean I turned in my cute yellow girl bike, named Grandma in Taiwanese, with the low cross bar, front basket, and back rack in for a two-toned mountain bike with NO BASKET, no name, and an incredibly high cross bar. (I mustn't dismiss that it has new wheels though, thanks to Podly who likes to dote on the daughters that don't live with him.) Needless to say, mounting this anonymous jiao ta che (bike) in a skirt would prove fatal.


So, everyday I subject myself to ugliness. Beauty knows no pain...and ugliness...does. I use to be such a fashionable person, and then HeiderHead moved to Texas and took all her clothes. Ahhh, now, not only do we know that I am fashionably handicapped (which I heard isn't PC to use that term anymore) but I am a leech. Hum. I should stop writing now before I tell you that I usually wait for someone to invite me to be their friend on Facebook just so they realize how much they need me, and not vice versa.


That all finally released from my special place of pent up frustration, it is obvious that everyday I have to wear two outfits. (Now, if I were still in high school this wouldn't be extreme by any means because I used to wear 'like' four outfits a day.)

Secret Pleasures

This list could go on forever, but I just wanted to mention a few things that I delight in secretly whether it be because it is out of my character to do so, or just obviously embarrassing.

-sequins

-doing math; maybe after reading and analyzing and never coming to any pertinent or redeeming conclusion it's just nice to have one thing for certain

-lame teeny-bopper-overcome-all-challenges movies such as Step Up, Step Up 2: the Streets (which has much more kick if you say it quickly like this- step up to the streets), Center Stage, Take the Lead, Raise Your Voice, and the like

-dum dums (as in the lollipop)

-the shape of my ankles if I'm lying on my bed with my legs above my head and toes pointed

Well, now that that's out in the open I feel much better. What are your secret pleasures?