They just opened up a Starbucks next to my house which I'm eternally thankful for. I always feel slightly guilty for loving Starbucks so much, like any minute God will storm out of his beach hut, wearing dreads and a sweater knit with pure organic wool and strike me down for enjoying a good cup of coffee from a faceless corporation. Unfortunately I am weak for caramel macchiato's, and their Vanilla latte pretty much makes me want to whip off my top and fling my breasts about like a personal, caffeinated Girls Gone Wild mardi gras.

So I walked to and from there, which was lovely. I find that I'm not walking as much as I did on the Island, which is bad news for my ass, and I'm trying real hard to get back into the swing of regular exercise. I have even started Tae-bo, which is great, because Billy Blanks is inspiring. It's like the DVD version of Billy Blanks knows exactly when I figure out and correctly execute his helicopter move, because it's at that moment that he turns, the sweat from his forehead dripping down his skin and INTO HIS MOUTH, and tells me, "That's it... you got it... don't quit on me now." I won't quit you, Billy Blanks.

I then sat outside on my little patio and read for a good hour, sipping on a semi-warm White Chocolate Mocha and listening to music. I have been listening to a ton of Cocoon lately. They have a cover version of "Hey Ya", which is great, and "Hummingbird" is wonderful. I've also started listening to Tilly and the Wall, and I am rocking a pretty firm girl crush on Sia.

Searching randomly through google, I found this website that looks really interesting: Good Reads, which lets you review and recommend books you're reading, while getting recommendations from other people. All sorts of wonderful considering I need some new reading material. If any of you sign up, add me - my username is sarahthepirate.

Labels: Reading Is Sexy, Sarah Land

I was reading The Bell Jar the other day (Sylvia Plath is my neurotic hero.) and she had this amazing passage about a fig tree:

"...I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out.

I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet." - Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar, Chapter 7

Labels: Reading Is Sexy

"She always wanted a place of her own, out in clearest skies. Her eyes roamed the stars, and she waited as the yesterdays fell away.

She felt as though she had walked a thousand miles only to end up in a heaven only she could understand.

She was beginning to understand that it was okay to be like that - to prefer the soothing crash of unfamiliar waves as a long lost lover.

She was in love with this place. It consumed her."

Labels: Reading Is Sexy