songbird says

Nostalgic in Spring ‘13

Love isn’t something that can be described. It’s better to show it. People talk too much and they think they’re intelligent because they can babble about something they can hardly demonstrate…

For instance, love is someone teaching their songbird how to say their granddaughter’s name. I haven’t lived very long but I’ve experienced love on so many levels. I didn’t even speak the same language as my great grandparents and yet I’ve cried because I’ve missed them. We loved in the smallest ways, and later now that I’m older, I see how beautiful they loved me; leaving behind a legacy that will carry on. I even have noticed that I’ve picked up a whistling habit of Abuelo Luis. Funny. Something else that’s funny Abuela’s rice pudding she’d have ready for us when we’d visit. Honestly it wasn’t my favorite then, but I did like it. It’s weird how I enjoy it more now since she’s been gone. Oh she was the best cook. I remember when my cousins and I would come in from playing outside and come to us and day in her sweet frail voice “manos limpias”…

anonymous asked:

Okay I went to their concert back in February, Christine songs songbird last and then says goodbye and it's the saddest thing ever, I cried throughout the concert because they're my favorite back ever, I hope you have an amazing time omf I'd see them again in a heartbeat

oh my gofgs im so excited im gonna cry thank u for the heads up songbird is one of my favourites holy shit, & i hope you get to see them again !!

So me and a few of my lesbuds convinced our straight friend (who is also from Michigan and knows very little about southern traditions) that lesbians in the south use boiled peanuts to show off our skills, and now she’s sitting there picking them out of the shells with her fingers because she doesn’t want anyone to think she’s coming onto them.

On a more positive note, I’m so happy to have found my little family at work. They’re all so nice to me and they teach me and they treat me like a human being. I just wish there wasn’t a language barrier so we can fully understand each other. I’ve learned a lot since I’ve been there, and I understand more than I can speak, but it’s still not enough. But they are patient with me and understanding and I don’t know what I could’ve done to deserve such wonderful friends.

Okay so like, we went to the store earlier today and they had some red bulls marked down to almost nothing, and whenever I buy these things I’ll drink like ¼ to ½ as a pick-me-up when I’m really crashing and then I’ll put the rest up for later cuz there’s no way I could ever drink a whole one. Well I bought one and put it up for next week, and Nana found it in the fridge and she brings the can over and shoves it in my face like, “I see you bought ANOTHER one of those ENERGY drinks. You know once you start drinking those, you get addicted. It’s just like drinking a beer!”

Um, okay… whatever you say. This is the first time I’ve bought one since like Christmas. I’ll drink one every other month or so, IF that. I know they’re unhealthy. Usually I just turn to a cup of coffee if I need the caffeine, but according to some people that can be just as unhealthy and addicting, so… -shrugs- She’s in the kitchen ranting about my health now.


I inhale,
And I can still smell you.
Sweet hints of your last black,
The apple vodka on your breath,
As we cuddled under quilts of moonlight
And as the sun began to rise
I hummed you soft to sleep.

Driving home, I see the mountains,
Bathed in sunlight,
Robed in scarlet and gold,
And I suddenly wish I had your hand to hold again
As we cruise along the winding roads,
But I remember the way your lip curled
When my skin was against yours.
You made me feel so ugly,
So unworthy of love.
All you wanted was to use me until you became bored,
And you found another plaything
To occupy your time.

Yet I can’t help but think of you
Every time I see the orange lilies in the window
Of my favorite flower shop,
How your smile made my soul sing.
You etched your way into my heart,
Deeply rooted in my being.
No amount of sanding or polishing could ever rub out your memory.

My grandmother always asks me why I draw birds instead of people. She says it’s dumb and my birds look like demons… Most of my characters are birds and ducks and penguins and I express myself through my comics. It’s not that I can’t draw people, I just like drawing birds better.

In other news, I updated my About page, so you should totally go check it out! If you want to, anyway.

And then I remember that that’s probably how Nana feels everyday, because when I’m gone to work, she’s here by herself til I come back home. And, while she can get in her car and go to town or wherever she needs to, most days it’s hard for her to even walk, let alone drive a car. So she usually just waits for me to get home so I can drive her. I can’t leave her like this.

Sitting here, seeing friends having the freedom to get together and hang out every once in awhile, and some of them being in happy relationships or even getting married and having kids and families, and then I’m just here. I mean, I don’t wanna just jump headlong into a relationship or anything like that, and I’ve got my friends I see at work and my family, but… sometimes I get lonely and wonder what it’d be like to be able to say “hey I’m gonna go hang out with so-and-so today” and then go do it instead of being stuck out here in the woods

It’s just that I’m so tired all the time and I feel like I’m going to vomit all the time and I’m full of holes that itch and bleed and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a staph infection but I don’t have the means or the money to go to the doctor. I’m tired of dealing with people and tired of feeling like shit all the time and I’m tired of forgetting things and getting distracted by dumb things and being a crybaby over the stupidest shit.