Dear Stranger at the stoplight,

I know you're discouraged. I know you're on your way home and the music that usually makes you feel better will not work on this horrible day you've had. I know you're sick of the track we're on, the track we've been on since we were born, the track we all try to escape but can't.
I know you have your good days, I know you have your bad.
I know you have days when the rays of sun shining through the clouds are beautiful to you. I know you have days when every sound, every coffee machine, every ticking clock becomes music.
I know this morning you woke up with a thought in your head. What was it?

And You. I walk by you on this campus all the time. I have never once seen you without your headphones. Regina Spektor would say you're using them to drown out your mind but I think it's the opposite. What you really want to drown out is everyone else. Nothing against them. You're sure they're nice enough people. But they're irrelevant.
I know you don't want to be here. Permanently. Neither do I.
You have goals and aspirations and are here by default. This institution of education.
This place we find ourselves stuck in,
Until further notice.

And finally. You, I catch a glimpse of you sometimes in the mirror, in those odd kind of seconds where I'm not exactly sure of how much time has passed, and every minute may be a day or an hour or a year, I have no way of knowing.
I stop and look at you more closely, and think of all the things that have changed since the last time I've looked at you. I see you every day, but it's not that often that I really look at you. You've morphed in so many ways until you've become, in certain times, unrecognizable. People have tried to control your actions and you've given into them. Something has changed, though.
I'm proud of you.
I'm proud of the protective wall you've built around yourself, the fortress of metal and glass and glue.
I'm proud of the fight you have, the way you deal with the things you make yourself forget and the things that it would be too dangerous to forget.

I'm proud of all of you, in reality, because I understand now that you are doing the best that you can.

definitely snuck backstage and smoked with Metro Station and Nevershoutnever yesterday.

It's crazy how far you can get by simply not caring who these people are. Act casual and you can get anywhere.

Sometimes, for my own sanity, I have to do stuff like this and inwardly laugh at the situation the entire time.

Life is unpredictable and I adore it.

shows shows shows

I got to see Local Natives again with my best friend! We were front row center, literally giggling like children on Christmas day.



Stewart from Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros was there and we got to meet him! He's such a gem.

Also, Atlas Sound at the Natural History Museum was such a therapeutic experience. My mind was blown, even though there was a drunk jerk being rude to Bradford. Tune-yards obviously was beautifully insane. The perfect combination. Matt from Local Natives was there and no one recognized him except us! We got to have a lovely conversation with him and he was genuinely appreciative of us for loving his music.
I never feel like I have enough time to listen to as much music as I want to. I wish time would just pause whenever I wanted so I could lay on the floor and just absorb it. But life is beautiful and I'm thankful.

this girl.

She grew up loving Christmas. Every warm fuzzy detail. The Beach Boys Christmas album became synonymous with its cheery feeling. The summery contradiction of a Christmas album. She ate it up. Beautiful, happy Christmas. She counted down every year, when she was a child.
She felt very connected with the story of Peter Pan. She would have dreams that Peter came for her. To go to Neverland. It was routine. Nothing out of the ordinary, not a spectacular occurence. When she woke up, books were scattered off of her windowseat where she had tried to climb out.
This girl, she had a best friend whose car turned into a rave. There were lights in the speakers. They synchronized with the drum beats. They'd play with the speakers when he came home from college for winter break. She laughed out loud every time it began. When they would drive past hotels, she would scan the windows with the open curtains to look at the people within. Hurriedly try to make out the details of their faces. She just wanted to know who they were and what they were thinking when they saw the mass of cars speeding by on the freeway. Her and this best friend, they would smoke in their favorite childhood places just to feel ironic. Just to look at themselves and snicker and think about how far they'd come. How much had changed in a few short years.
This girl worked in a library. She tried to read as much as she could of the books that caught her eye. Snuck as many pages as she could in between checking out books to other students. She wanted to soak it in. She loved the collection of information that surrounded her. She wanted to visit all of the places the guidebooks talked about. Live in all of them, at least for a year. She couldn't live with the idea of being tied down to one place for too long.
This girl had a best friend that understood her. She was the same kind of insane. Sometimes they worried that they were going insane together, at the same rate. They quoted Jack Kerouac a ridiculous amount. Like Roman Candles. She thanked God for this best friend.
Christmas lost its warmth for her. She realized it would probably never come back. Her parents played the Beach Boys Christmas Album for her, as she was sitting in the corner drinking coffee and scanning through her negatives for her photography project. She couldn't feel anything. She might as well be hearing white noise, this girl.
She mourned the loss of her childhood.
This girl, this Chelsea.

The Boy Who Cried Wolf

What motivates me to get up in the morning? I know it's that I need to go to work or school, but what makes me feel that these things are important enough for me to drag myself out of bed?
I always wondered what would happen if one day, I just refused. If I simply, calmly told anyone who asked that I do not have anything on my schedule for the next day, the next week, the next month, the next infinity. That I will be staying in this safe, cocoon of a bed and not leaving until I feel the need to do so. Every day that I go to work or school, I subconsciously tell myself that I'm storing up days until I do not do anything. Until I refuse. I tell myself that I am building up days or credit so that when I do stop, I won't look like the boy who cried wolf. I don't think I will ever literally stop doing things. But this comforts me, so it must be a defense mechanism.
Does anyone else feel this way?
There's something terribly confusing about the inner workings of my brain.

one of those whiny blogs

So this blog might not be entirely positive. sue me. I am so stressed out right now guys. My brother is in a coma. I spent all of last night at the hospital and literally did not sleep at all. He is going to be in there for at least a month and then depending on how badly his brain is damaged after, he either won't remember us or will have a completely different personality or maybe won't even know how to talk. This has been going on for a week now and school is so much more complicated because I can't concentrate on ANYTHING and sometimes just don't show up to classes because I feel like I will just end up being rude to people and messing up stuff.
My best friend says that I should send him subliminal messages to make him hip when he wakes up. "Tiiiiiim. You are only allowed to wear cardigans and skinnyjeans. When your neck is chilly, you wear a scarf. You will enjoy thrifting with me and here is a cd containing some of your favorite music. When you awaken we shall attend many shows. Fleet foxes. Annuals are your FAVORITE BAND. We will attend Coachella next year Tiiiiiim."
The other day my mom looks over across his hospital bed and says "Chelsea. What are you whispering about cardigans and moccasins?"
"uhhhhhNothingMom."

Whose idea was it to make a film about Woodstock, and not include any music? That's what I wanna know. Also, who stole a hubcap from my car?

I no longer work at that dreaded shoe store, my friends. My life is grand. I spend my days in classes and my new job is among the books. I love working at a library and may wish to do so for the rest of my life.

I love meeting people that I absolutely adore. I love many of my friends, but it's a rare occurrence for me to meet someone and instantly click with them. It doesn't happen often, but when it does it restores my excitement for life. I think my life is going in a positive direction right now, let's hope I'm correct.

I need the new Noah and the Whale album. I need it. I cannot wait this long. Are you kidding me? I summon it to appear in my hands right now.