La Vegetariana Loca

Here are some random ramblings of a girl that will probably end up in an insane asylum sometime in her near future...Kookookachoo. She loves her Queen, she loves her Beatles and her Who and her Zeppy and her music in general. She loves her writing. She loves love. And she loves you. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Gettin' over the hippie stage...

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
Yep. I said it. I'm gettin' over the hippie stage. And I'm sick of being labeled as one. I'm not a hippie. And for crying out loud, being a hippie has more to it than sitting around smoking pot, not grooming yourself, listening to classic rock, and complaining about the government. They're supposed to DO SOMETHING about the things they don't like. Protest, for crying out loud. Vote. Don't just sit around on your butt whining about the government and going on about peace. If you stand for something, stand up for it!

And, just for the record, I never was a hippie. I dress as one occasionally (band t-shirts, jeans, scarves, whatever), my hair is long, I stand for peace and I like classic rock. But that doesn't make me a hippie!

Hippie might have been a good thing once: people fighting against the mainstream to make the world a better place. But now, the only "hippies" that are left are people clinging to the past, unwilling to change, sitting around and complaining. And, I don't know if it's just me, but isn't it insulting to have a Halloween costume made after something that once was serious, world-altering? It's like dressing up as Ghandi or Martin Luther King or an activist or something. It's making a joke out of it.

So, that's been my conclusion: modern hippies are a joke. No, let me rephrase that: any "hippie" that sits around and pretends to be something they're not is a joke. If you don't agree with someone, protest! Want to keep George Bush out of office? Vote against him. Want to complain about all the other candidates? Run for office! Get up and do something instead of sitting around smoking pot all day and whining about how "they" are doing you wrong and listen through Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club band for the 100,000,000,000 time! How on earth is that helping anything?

Same with emos. Don't tell me your life sucks when Mommy and Daddy buy you everything you want. Don't tell me your life sucks because your boyfriend of one week broke up with you for a much prettier girl that doesn't sit around whining. Sure, some people have terrible lives, but those are the ones that usually don't wear it out on their sleeves, caking on black eyeliner and whining about how unfair life is.

So. My conclusion: don't be someone you're not. Seriously. It's a betrayal to yourself. Don't just be something because you think it's cool. Most likely, you're not fooling anyone. Just be who you are. If you like dark clothes and heavy eyeliner, wear it. But that doesn't automatically mean that you have to cut yourself, listen to My Chemical Romance, and cry all day while writing suicide notes. If you like tye dye and The Beatles, do what you want. But before you go calling yourself a hippie, do something to prove it.

Sorry. I've just been ticked off about this a while. And since this is the anniversary of the Summer of Love, I've been thinking about it a little more than usual.

Oh, and one more thing: you're not fighting against the mainstream if you're dressing and acting just like everyone else around you. You're doing the exact opposite. And why should we try to be any one thing? (I know I've already concluded or whatever, but I'm ranting, so I'll probably still be writing a good bit more. You've been warned.) Okay, so you call me a hippie. (I've been called this A LOT.) But, on that assumption, would you know that I'm Christian, I've never in my life done yoga, I've never even seen LSD or marijuana, I don't like The Doors or Fleetwood Mac, I get nothing but straight A's on my report cards, I sing in chorus, and I get along well with people labeled as preps? I don't sound so much like a hippie anymore, do I? For a while, I wouldn't do anything if I thought it would ruin people's opinion of me. Would I ever be caught dead listening to Christina Aguilera (even though I really like her) in public? No! How dare people think that I'm not a brainless, classic rock-loving twit! Now I really don't care. Yes, I love classic rock. It's what I listen to the most. But I like other things, too. And I'm tired of being labeled as a hippie!

I am me. And other people should realize that about themselves as well. If you try to shove yourself into this stupid little cookie cutter that society's come up with, you're just like all the rest of the brainless morons that are doing the same thing. By calling yourself "emo," you're putting yourself in this little pocket of the world, sealing yourself off from many different opportunities. You might miss out on a great chance to make a new friend with that cheerleader across the hall. But you'll never know because you're too worried about being emo, looking emo, seeming emo to everybody.

I know I've only mentioned two stereotypes, but those are just the ones I've been thinking about the most. This is also pointed towards anybody that labels themselves as anything: goth, prep, jock, nerd, geek, gangsta, whatever!

Just be yourself. It sounds painfully cliche, but it still holds true. No hidden meaning. Just do it. And if being yourself does fall perfectly into one of the molds already preset for us, then so be it. Do what you want. Just stop being something because you think it's cool or it's the most with it trend.

Now, excuse me. I'm going to go watch Oprah and read the new Harry Potter. Or do I have too few brain cells left from my alleged toking that everybody thinks I do?

PS: Yes, I still love you all. I never stopped. I guess that's the most hippie thing about me; I love everybody...Literally. Anywho, here's a really groovy fanvid of Keith Moon I've had sitting in my favorites on YouTube for a while now. The song isn't The Who or anything to be expected, but I still really like it. It was really put together well.

I'm going to go ahead and get off before I think of something else to rant about. I bet you're thankful for that. :P

Monday, July 23, 2007

I've found a new fashion icon!

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
(And, no, I didn't forget the Queen pic of the day. I'm not cruel.)
She's not really new, but new to me, atleast. And, yes, I've known who she was for a while. But as of today, I have started emulating Pattie Boyd, the model and former wife of George Harrison. I had this incredibly girly streak today (they are RARE for me) and decided to look up some makeup tricks. More specifically, mod makeup tricks. Somehow I stumbled onto a page about how Pattie Boyd did her makeup. So I tried it. I look pretty fab, I must say. X3 I also did my hair like hers (minus the blondness and the curly bit at the end; I couldn't find my curling iron). And I put on the most sixties outfit I could find: white tights, a white ruffle shirt, black and brown schoolgirl miniskirt (I know black and brown are usually ghastly together, but I thought this skirt was an exception), and black babydoll shoes.

I feel like such a girl.

I even feel...pretty. I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and BRIGHT!!!!!!! And I pity any girl who isn't me tonight. I feel charming, oh so charming, it's alarming how charming i FEEL!!!!!



I'll quit now.

But here's a link to the site I used:

'Tis my hero.

And here's the Queen pic of the day. Before I forget.
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Love you all!

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Happy birthday to two of my favorite people in the world!

Well, I'm going camping this week, so I didn't want to neglect Brian May's 60th birthday. (Can you believe he's 60?!) Also, I'm not sure how busy I'm going to be next week, so I'm going to go ahead and handle Roger Taylor's as well. Because I would automatically be labelled as a terrible Queen fan if I forgot them or mentioned it late...Because I'm Grey, man. People rely on me to do this sort of thing...Okay, so maybe not, but I'd still feel bad if I forgot.

So, Brian on the 19th is turning 60. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! *throws confetti*
And Roger, on the 26th, is turning 58. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! *throws confetti*

See? I gave them equal treatment. Same amount of exclamation points and everything...Yes, I counted.

Wow...This means that I've had this blog an entire year...Wooooooow. One of the first entries I ever did on here was mentioning their birthdays...OOOOOOOOOOOH. I feel special.


Yes, that's still the same amount of exclamation points.

I checked.

I think I'm going to email Brian and tell him happy birthday...Not that he answers the emails I've sent him...It'll still make me feel better. Just like I commented on Sir Paul McCartney's stuff on YouTube about a million times telling him happy birthday; it's just what I feel obligated to do as a groupie, um, I mean, *coughcoughHACK* loyal fan. If anybody has Roger Taylor's, please send it to me. I can easily get Brian's through his website, but other than that...I'd hate to say, "Oh, and tell Roger happy birthday, too." Kinda impersional. And unequal. I mean, I took the time to count exclamation points to make sure they were getting equal treatment; I wouldn't want to ruin that painstaking effort...

Gad, I need a life.

Ah, well. Until I can find one I want, I'm going to leave you to email the Curly Headed Wonder. Love you all. :)

PS: In celebration of Rog's and Bri's birthdays, I posted some icons of them that I just LOVE. I would marry them if I could. No, I didn't make them: I got them off of the Queen guild I joined on Nobody said anything about not wanting me to do this, but if I get yelled at, I can always take them down, right?
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
And Brian:
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

And, my current Windows Instant Messenger avatar:
Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Hope you enjoyed those as much as I did! X3

Monday, July 02, 2007

When I dream, I dream of you...

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket
I don't know if it's wish fulfillment. I don't know if he's really visiting me. I just don't know. But the truth is, whenever I feel really lonely, I dream of Freddie Mercury. This isn't an every-night occurance; I'm rarely lonely. I'm constantly surrounded by friends, family, etc., but sometimes...I don't know.

And last night, he visited me again. If I'm not mistaken, this is the seventh time. I know I sound like a sap, but I just wanted to get it off my chest.

I dreamed about Freddie Mercury. And this time, it was the most wonderful, beautiful, sad dream I've ever had of him. He was in his prime and dressed in that white satin suit from the Bohemian Rhapsody music video. He had just finished running around stage, performing with intense vigour, when he came to this plain room. Brian was standing in the corner, Roger was off somewhere, and I'm not sure where John was; I think they were supposed to record something. Freddie looked at me and gave me this heart-melting smile, and began to deteriorate in front of my face.

He looked sick, weak, like he did in '91, right before he died. He was panting, sweating, and desparate to cool off.

Some nameless, faceless someone came up to him and undressed him (no, this dream was NOT explicit, this is just what happened) down to his shorts. As soon as this had happened, Freddie collapsed on his back on the floor. I stood helplessly, watching him. All he did was smile at me.

And then he began to sing.

"You will remember-
When this is blown over
And everything's all by the way-
When I grow older
I will be there at you side to remind you how I still love you-
I still love you."

The whole time, he never broke eye-contact with me, looking at me from the flat of his back.

I went to him, kneeling by his side, and took his hand in mine. He was so thin, so skinny; I could see his bones...

He was slowly leaving me, dying before my eyes.

He then said, "I still love you."

And all I could do was answer: "I love you, too."

Then I woke up. I guess my mind didn't want to watch him actually die. (Which I am grateful for.)

And I started thinking, once I woke up: What if Freddie really is the love of my life? My mother told me a few days ago that she seriously thought that Freddie wasn't a celebrity crush to me, but my first love. I couldn't argue; how could I? I'm not trying to be melodramatic; this is a major thing for me to come out and admit this. Yeah, you probably knew that I loved Freddie, but the extent of that loving is something that I've tried to hide. I know he's dead. I know I'll never get to see him; it's killing me to just type that. But I have to get this out. I don't know...I'm not looking for advice or sympathy, I just want it in print.

And I know there are other people out there that feel the way I do. I know there are other people that idolize Freddie more than I (however scary a thought that may be). But I hurt for him. I love him. And I'm starting to get scared; what if there's no one out there for me? What if my one shot at love died before I was even born? Is this why I haven't been able to find anyone? The reason why none of the guys at my school are "good enough," why I feel like I have to "settle"? And, even scarier yet, I wonder if I even want to find someone else.

I know it probably won't help anything to get this out, but maybe it will. Maybe if I stop hiding the extent of my love for this man, maybe it'll help me. I don't know...I can't even write this without having to get up and go bawl my eyes out.

Am I proud of this? No. I'm kind of ashamed, actually. I'm not an emotional person; I'm usually either one of two things, mellow or hyper. And why should the man that I'm the most emotional about, that I care more about than so many others, be someone that I've never even met? I think that's what hurts me the most, the fact that I never met him. I never got the chance to talk to him, feel his touch, hear his laugh. It's unfair. You have NO IDEA how much I envy Mary Austin, his best friend and one time girl friend. No idea whatsoever. I wish no harm on her at all, I just envy her. I don't hate her; I'd love to meet her, talk to her, find out what he was like, what it was like to be with him.

I know this is a very long entry; you don't have to read all of it or anything. I've just had it on my chest for a long, long time. I thought it would get better, that I'd stop crying over him, that my feelings for him would fade like every single other of my crushes have faded (and eventually, disappeared). But it hasn't. It's only grown. Sure, I can distract myself from it, whether it's with music or other guys or what, but in the end, it always comes back to Freddie.

I don't even know why I'm writing this, really; I just read through it, and the words seem to pale in comparison to what I feel. Like they can't get it across. I guess that's a good thing; some things are meant to stay private. But it's kind of frustrating; I take pride in my writing, I'm spilling my guts out, and I can't even get across the intensity of what I feel for him...I guess some things just can't be put down in words.

Alright, I'm about to start getting redundant, and I'm pretty sure that you're sick of hearing me moan and groan. I'm going to go ahead and sign off. Adios, and I love you all. Thanks for bearing with me; I'll probably regret posting this later.

Labels: , , , , , ,

News Main Page

This webpage uses Javascript to display some content.

Please enable Javascript in your browser and reload this page.