"If you expect to soar with the eagles during the day, you can't hoot with the owls at night."

If vacations attest for anything it's this: You can 100 percent both soar and hoot. I'm all about it.

For the last four days I've made it a point to suck it up, neglect my body's desire for sleep, and soak in the wonder that is hanging with my siblings and friends in Los Angeles. And sure, vacations are great for resting and relaxing, but conversation over libations in new places is a win if ever there was one.

Fitting in as many Kodak moments is key. So, lock it up and throw that bitch away. If you can't throw yourself into the waves and roll with them*, then don't bother with this girl. I'll be over you already.

*1/2 the siblings Marshall totally went surfing at 8:30 am this morning. It was so LA.**

**Catch phrase of the weekend.

***Aside: As for hooting and soaring during real life, I do know from experience that the thought and action of burning the candle at both ends seems daunting, recognize this, you only life once, so rock it like a rocking chair. That's a fact no one can argue with, lest you're Hindi.

All Airlines are the Same

I'm a Southwest girl. There. I've said it. My allegiance lies solely with that blue, gold, and red emblem. There are serious failings on the part of every other airline in the world when compared to the perfection that is SW.

This thought was so deep and profound to me as I boarded flight 123 United yesterday that I stopped in my tracks, pulled out my copy of Atlas Shrugged and wrote:

"MNBT: All airplanes/lines are the same — Fiction. SW is superior. So deep and profound a thought that I wrote it in a book."

That should suffice.

"I'm Blank-ing my head off"

Last I checked there have been very few people who have been decapitated due to any of the following:

• laughing
• dancing
• screwing
• etc.

The closest epithet to reality might possibly be: "Dancing my ass off," depending on how fast and long one is dancing for.

"You wear your heart on your sleeve"

Picture this: Blood rolling down the sides of a hand; it drips down splashing delicately onto the top of a foot; a heart pumps to the beat of a metronome. The cuff of your shirt sleeve is dyed a deep pinot noir. The room is silent, save for the pulsating beat of that metronome and the slow drip-drip-drip crashing to the floor. It's the sort of silence that causes you to hear everything. With each passing moment the risk of infection increases, so you can't wear it out for too long. You might die — so we don't do it. We don't risk our health in hopes of clinging tightly to our humanity. We want to last a bit longer. Don't worry that we might not be living at all. But we all die anyway, so what's the difference? The difference is all in how it happens. Most people don't want to die of a broken heart, dried out, raw from waiting outside too long. We don't wear our hearts on our sleeves because we can't.

"A Leopard Cannot Change Its Spots."

True.

But, wouldn't it be cool to see it try?

I feel that way about most things. Honestly. I can say with certainty that most people don't change their ways regardless of intention; so what could make something as specific and innate as leopard spots possibly give way to stripes? The answer: Nothing.

The best part, however, of a saying such as this, is that desire to see a leopard try to change. What could it possibly do? The answer: Nothing. But the notion that a desire for change, while it can change exactly nothing, is intriguing.

This guy (link) says otherwise, but, hey, what does he know? Probably wears pinstripes. Am I right, or am I right?

Mother Knows Best.

People are just people. As we get older it becomes more evident that no one really knows anything more or less than anyone else based on their familial status. Time might give you a few more goes at understanding, but let's face it, we're all in this together. The sooner we take a step back and realize our parents aren't the end all be all of knowledge, the better off we'll be.

Apologies.

I'm sorry for writing that poem in my last post. That was terrible, and while, it makes me laugh as I reread it, I know it's just No good. Pas bien. No bueno.