Things I Want to Happen (That Never Will)

The title says it all. I’m a pretty big daydreamer, and even I grudgingly accept that some of my best fantasies will never come to fruition. But there is just SO MUCH STUFF I want to happen, I guess some of it’s bound to be impossible. Like…

Having sex with Cry Baby-era Johnny Depp. Yes, the man is like a fine wine that gets better with age, but dude is still OLD now! Oh, how I wish I had a time machine to waste on twenty-six-year-old Johnny.

Winning fifty billion dollars. Or inheriting it, I’m not picky. See, while some optimists might say this isn’t impossible, let’s be real–I don’t play the lotto, I don’t know of any rich relatives, and even if I did magically get a windfall of cash (pleasepleaseplease), it would never be that much. Fifty billion is “throw out scuffed Jimmy Choos” rich.

Being French. You can’t change genetics, and while I’d never toss away my own face and blonde hair on some weird French nose and mousy brown locks, I would die for the accent and access to tried-and-true beauty secrets (those French hold out in interviews, I swear–I’ve read French Women Don’t Get Fat, and I think there’s more to the story then they’re letting on).

Having an amazing talent. I am not without my skills, but I am not “the best” at anything. Wouldn’t it be cool to be, even if it was something dumb?

Being an amazing cook. I guess this is similar to the previous one, except I don’t want to be the best cook, or even halfway best, just pretty good. It will never happen. Never. I hate cooking, and I will always hate cooking, which is why literally every meal I eat has under 5 ingredients (never underestimate the stimulating powers of chili powder, lemon juice, lettuce, bottled sauces, and butter).

Seeing every country in the world. I started to write “every cool place in the world,” but I refuse to put that on a list of things that will never happen, because it’s one of my life goals, damn it! But it’s crazy to me how we live on a big frosty marble and don’t save the money or make the time to leave our tiny portion of it. Brasil, people? Ireland? Have you seen pictures of Greece? I’d even go to Antarctica, just to say I have.

To be honest, this list is starting to get a little depressing, since I want all these things and I feel like I’m condemning them to impossibility, so I’ll cut it short. And if a young Depp knocks on my door, I’ll take it as a sign from the universe that there’s still hope on that 50 bil.


Stop Getting Teardrops on Your Guitars

Why is so much music depressing? “It’s your gradual descent into a life you never meant/It’s the slow fade of love,” are the inspirational words pumping out of my speakers right now (thanks for the sunny message, Rilo Kiley!). I mean, to be fair, it is my music, but Genius picked it, not me.

Seriously, though, 99.99(99999)% of the music I listen to seems to be sad. And I am a happy person. I am also kind of like a sponge, in that I soak up water and people use me to wash their dishes. No, just kidding, I’m a washcloth. (What I really meant is that I basically conform to the mood of whatever is around me, automatically, by accident. Not other people–fuck y’all, I’m still gonna be happy no matter what–but sad movies and music equal sad Wild Hearts.)

Maybe I am just a freak, and this doesn’t happen to anyone else. But if it does, then why can’t more music be happy? And I know what everyone is going to say:

  1. “People are expressing themselves through music, and people are sad.” Guess what, get the fuck over yourself. Your boyfriend dumped you and instead of moving on and sleeping with his hot friend, you wrote a four-page poem about it. That’s even more depressing than your lyrics.
  2. “There is plenty of happy music, and you’re just not listening to it!” Okay, sometimes, I want to listen to the kind of music I like (read: fun, interesting indie-ish music, like Basia Bulat and Minus the Bear, rather than radio tunes, which are also good but not exactly hanging-out jams por moi). And I’m not saying indie artists (what does that even MEAN?) don’t have happy songs, ’cause they totally do. But they are usually sandwiched between 973 depressing songs.

So. Being the proactive person I am, I didn’t just blather all this to complain. Oh, no. (Plus, I figure, some sick freaks–probably the same sorts of people who save their toenail clippings and watch A Walk to Remember with a straight face–actually like sad music, and I don’t want to hate on them. Much.) See, I came up with a solution.

How to Make Indie Music Artists Happy So They Write a Little More Happy Music (Ideally at Least 50% Happy On Each CD, Because Come On)

— Give them all puppies. Literally no one is sad around a puppy. If you just invented a time machine only to realize it can only go back to Holocaust-era Germany and never come back, and your life’s work is wasted on time-traveling-trips to Hitlerville, a puppy will cheer you up.

–Give them sex. FUN sex! Connor Oberst (I probably spelled his name wrong; I usually do, but I’m not going to Google it because I don’t care) is a sad motherfucker and he gets it in with every bright-eyed (ha!) girl who comes around. Clearly, they all suck in bed, or Connor (Conner? Konner? NGJSNG?) might stop writing slush about hot knives (although I do love that song). So maybe give them either a really good time, or pay someone to hop on that with pizazz and lots of smiling.

–Win the lottery and buy out an amusement park for the day; take them there. (If you don’t win the lotto, the lines and screaming children and annoying people saying, “I CAN GUESS YOUR AGE REALLY I CAN I SWEAR I CAN DO IT YOU’RE 15 RIGHT OH NO I WAS WRONG HAVE A GIANT FROG” will just depress them even more. Maybe that’s what happened with Pink Floyd.)

That’s all I’ve got. I didn’t really think it through, because I was pretty sure the puppy thing would work right out the gate. Or you could just listen to all the depressing stuff and pretend that it’s happy instead, like that girl who can’t take a hint and takes, “We need a break,” to mean, “He wants to take a break so he can go engagement-ring shopping in secret!” He never means that, honey. Go write a song about it, maybe?

Life’s Great Little Good Things

If you like charming things and socially awkward French people, you should watch Amélie. Because it totally has both those things.

My favorite part about the movie, though, is the way they introduce the characters. They say a few important things about them–like their job, or where they were born–and then they say really specific, weird things that they like or dislike. Amélie’s mother, for instance, likes to clean and organize her purse. Amélie likes the feeling of putting her hand into dry grain (which feels great, in case you’ve never had the pleasure). Seriously, though, why doesn’t everyone introduce themselves this way?

Honestly, I care way more about if a person hates birds chirping or loves using stencils on construction paper than about their political views. Because it’s wacky and interesting and plus, people would like each other more! Not a lot of chit-chats about abortion rights lead to enthusiastic high-fives, but everyone can get behind how awesome the first bite into a fresh apple is (SO GOOD, right?). And then instead of being like, “Yeah, I do remember your friend Dave, actually. He’s the dick who believes in [insert controversial topic people like to blather about here], isn’t he?” people would be all, “Ohhhh, Dave! I love that guy! We both like to put black olives on our fingers before we eat them.”

See, these bitches bonded over their love of opening a can of Tab.

Oops, I think I just figured out world peace.

For real, though, can Weird Things About Oneself be the new handshake? Then it won’t have to get all awkward when it’s the dirty-looking guy’s turn to go around and rub his hepatitis all over you (oh, what, you don’t hang out with people who might have hepatitis?). Instead, he can just be like, “I enjoy contracting diseases!” and you can yell back, “One of my favorite things is the feeling of clean untouched hands!”

You know. Or you might be normal and none of this applies to you. I DON’T KNOW. This whole post was just supposed to be a short little segue into my List of Odd Little Things I Like and Dislike, but I got carried away. And I used up all my brainpower blathering, so now I can’t even remember the LOLTILD. I’ll just do one of each: I don’t like the smell of double-brewed coffee (e.g., coffee made partially from old grounds), and I like the feeling of warm grass under my bare feet. And since nobody likes negativity, here’s a bonus Thing I Like: being picked up and spun around by someone who is genuinely excited to see you.

Fuck, life is full of good great little things. Now go do some while I sleep.

Sneezing: Try It, You’ll Like It

In my opinion, there are two types of people in the world: those who like to sneeze, and those who don’t.

Everyone says that sneezing ten times is like an orgasm or something, but I lazily Googled “sneezing orgasm” and didn’t find anything real in my five-second search. Either way, I don’t care if every scientist in the world has a giant Sneezing Summit and declares that sneezing is awful and terrible, because IT FEELS GREAT.

If you fall into the other camp, the freaks-who-don’t-enjoy-sneezing-camp, your life must be a sad and dreary place. Is there color in your world? Can you even taste chocolate? Have you ever felt joy? No, but seriously, sneezing is great. I have no idea why and I can’t explain it, but it is, so if you don’t think so you need to go snort some pepper right now and re-evaluate things.

I hear it works even better when you snort it out of novelty shakers! Or are these novelty, and you'll really be snorting cocaine? I don't know, let's find out.

The obvious exception to this rule is gross snotty sneezing. Like, no one wants to be all, “AHHHH-choo!” and then have a face covered in flubber. But besides that, sneezing is totally boss, so you should try it sometime.


Bunnies Kissing

You know what bothers me about indie movies? They’re sad. Why can’t a movie be great and amazing and award-winning and indie without being 95% depressing? I’m not saying that those movies aren’t great, ’cause they are. But I like happy things.

Like bunnies kissing. Maybe if indie filmmakers looked at this picture, there would be a lot more smiling people on the Sundance channel. Just sayin’.

I Love Yoga

I love love love it. I’ve been doing it for about five years, I guess, maybe a little longer? It makes me feel all stretchy and happy and relaxed, like a cat in the sun. Meow. Also, it makes me feel sexy. Yo-ga! Yo-ga! Yo-ga! (Super lame pun.  But just go with it.)

A List of Things

I write a lot about specific topics, and even though I manage to put in a lot of random rambling, sometimes I want the whole post to be me tipping over my head and pouring out my brain. So, here is a list of random thoughts from the scrambledy noggin of me, Wild Hearts.

  1. I am very lucky. I have been extra-extra happy lately, and I am super thankful. Is that corny as all get-out? Yes. (Also, was saying “corny as all get-out” corny? Yeah. But if I keep asking that it’s just gonna be an infinite circle of corniness and no one wants that.) But is it true? Also yes.
  2. I love everything made out of potatoes. Mmm.
  3. Sometimes, I take things too personally, or get bitchy over something stupid. I’m working on it, and so far, so good. (You catch more rabbits with honey. I don’t know if that’s true, but the point here is that honey is good and I really don’t want to catch any flies. And bunnies and honey are cute!)
  4. I feel 9,000 times sexier in a garter belt and thigh-highs. It is my Instant Sexy.
  5. I am superstitious. Some things I believe in: knocking on wood, salt being protective, almost any folk tale, and not messing around with mirrors. (Black cats, however, I love.)
  6. I will do abso-fucking-lutely anything to bounce on a trampoline.
  7. I think it would be really cool to have black hair for a day (I’m blonde). But just a day.
  8. My favorite kind of people are carefree and fun and funny and wild and spontaneous, but who can also be the best serious conversation you’ve ever had. I’m lucky enough to know a few.
  9. I wear a lot of blush because I like to always look like I’ve just been laughing. (Not like a tranny, I promise.)
  10. Pickles. SO GOOD.
  11. I have an intense, burning hatred for nostalgia. And for living in the past. It’s good to have good memories, but that’s all they are. Make new better ones instead.
  12. When I see cute dogs I want to kidnap them. Especially Great Pyrenees.
  13. I don’t trust people who don’t like the water.
  14. One of my favorite things in the whole-wide world is when you look at them and you can tell what they’re thinking through their eyes. (Unless it’s something bad, like, “I hate her stupid face.” And then you can just slap on a pair of sunglasses, thankyouverymuch.)
  15. I am really excellent at telling people how I feel about them if they say it first. I could date someone for five billion years but I will never, ever, ever say, “I love you,” before they do unless it’s an accident. But if they say it, no problemo.
  16. I like giving head.
  17. Drinks with sour mix in them are delicious. Are you drinking one right now? No? Then you should be.
  18. I can’t wait for my hair to get longer.
  19. This number is my birth-day!

That is a lot of random thoughts, but there you have it.

See? Instant Sexy, just add legs.


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