My all-time favorite artist is easily The Smiths. It’s impossible to pick a favorite song because there honestly isn’t a song I dislike. If I absolutely had to pick a favorite, however, it’d probably be a toss-up between I Know It’s Over, Ask, and Cemetery Gates.

Second only to the Smiths is The Cure. Again, not sure I can pick a favorite song. Probably between Lullaby, Cut Here or Letter to Elise, or the always classic Pictures of You.

That being said, another artist I absolutely love is Crystal Castles, and Robert Smith even lent his voice to one of their songs- which became an instant favorite of mine. The song is called Not In Love.

Then there’s Joy Division. And to be honest, my favorite song is going to sound cliché. I don’t care, though, Love Will Tear Us Apart gets me every time. Transmission, Shadowplay and Disorder are good songs, too, but Love Will Tear Us Apart is their best.

My 5th favorite band is Blue October. I’ve seen them countless times and I’m taken aback every time. My favorite song is Chameleon Boy.

6th is Cake! I don’t think this one needs any explanation. This is going to sound random, but my favorite song of theirs is probably Meanwhile, Rick James…

The Strokes! Another band I will always, always love. Hard to pick a favorite, but I think it’s going to have to be You Only Live Once. Or, of course, Modern Girls and Old Fashioned Men which features the one & only Regina Spektor.

8th would have to be The National. Matt Berninger’s voice is very suiting to all of his lyrics, which are every bit as powerful as his voice. My favorite song is either Runaway or Conversation 16.

Matt & Kim are a favorite, not because they are the most talented duo I’ve heard, but because of their pure love for what they do and the way that it translates to their music. They’re just an overall fun band. Favorite song would be I’ll Take Us Home.

Pinback is an easy one. My favorite song is Good to Sea. This band is great beach-cruising or trying-to-sleep music.

Since I’m a dyed-in-the-wool California girl, I have to throw some reggae into this list. The Expendables are my favorite band falling into that category. My favorite song is probably Minimum Wage. (Sorry Bob, I love you and your Wailers too but there’s only room for one artist here)

And just like that, I’m on my 12th and final artist. This is reallyyyyy tough because there are a good 50 or so other artists I would want to put here. But I’m going to have to go with Anthony Green. He never ceases to amaze me, from his early Saosin days to Circa Survive to Zolof the Rock n Roll Destroyer to his solo stuff. My favorite song of his would probably have to be Circa’s cover of Wish You Were Here by none other than Pink Floyd. It’s all good stuff, though, truly.

So, I figure that with about twelve days left of Christmas, it’d be cool to make a list of things each day that this year brought forth. It’s also cool so people can get to know a little more of you. the present is a gift.

Day 12 - Twelve favorite artists and songs from them of all time.

Day 11 - Twelve things you’re glad you did this year.

Day 10 - Top ten albums that mean a lot to you.

Day 9 - Top nine albums or songs from 2011 that you’re glad you listened to.

Day 8 - Eight swans a swimming..? Eight movies you’re glad you watched this movie,

Day 7 - Seven things you bought or received that mean a lot to you.

Day 6 - Six people/and or places you’re glad you became acquainted with.

Day 5 - Five of your favorite pictures from this year.

Day 4 - Four things you’re glad you did.

Day 3 - Three reasons why you’re glad you’re alive.

Day 2 - Two things that changed your life (so far) this year..

Day 1 - ( you choose whatever you want to share here, merry Christmas)

we drive through fountains of rain,

the sound of drops meeting glass increasing with velocity.

we drive through perpetual darkness,

our headlights blazing the trails we follow.

we drive through cumbersome traffic,

thoughts of someone’s warmth warding off irritation.

we drive through the “bad part of town,”

spray paint encompassing worn brick.

we drive through hours that should be spent sleeping,

before the sun makes its way over the nearest building.

we drive through the monotony of shifting and steering,

of signaling and turning,

of braking and accelerating.

we drive for them.

we drive because they drive us.

Sometimes you lay heavy in your bed,
Counting every hole in the ceiling,
While ignoring the persistent coaxing of your alarm clock
And the morning sun flooding through your blinds.

Sometimes your heart and mind enter into a staring contest,
While sleep waits somewhere in the distant closeness,
Your body the spoils.

Sometimes you drift aimlessly about the in-between,
Picking up nothing along the way,
Burdened enough by the weight of the unseen.

Sometimes you forget the day,
because they all seem the same.
Sometimes you forget the way,
Sometimes you forget his name.

But the roots he planted are deeper than the sadness.

it’s three a.m. & i’m not tired
[a better word would be inspired.]

my heart beat like a drum today
[shame i never learned to play.]

his heart was worn right on his sleeve
[beside a guitar- easy to believe.]

there’s music that the world can’t hear
[the reason being not quite clear.]

i think i miss the way it felt
[or maybe just the way we dealt.]

i think it shut my worries out
[or maybe it just lessened doubt.]

i think i lost my one relief
[but somehow found my one belief.]

i think i think too much, too deep
[or maybe i just need some sleep.]

i won’t let the sadness seep.

I’m sure you can recite to me the names of the cast of your favorite show,
Or the time each of your classes start,
Or even a couple of your friend’s numbers.

But can you describe to me,
In 80 words or more,
The way you felt when you first fell off your bike?
The way your leg felt limp under the weight of the cold, heavy aluminum,
The thirty-some-odd pieces of pebble that dug into your skin at impact,
The feel of the warm asphalt against your cheek as you slid briefly across it,
The license plate of the car that was waiting for you to ride across the street before they turned right,
The sodium-rich tears that turned dust into mud on their way down to your chin,
And the fear that trailed you each time you pedaled along after that.

How about the look on your mother’s face as she dropped you off on your first day of school?
The quick twitch of her nose as she tried to hide the ensuing sniffles,
The way her tightly pursed mouth turned itself softly into a crescent as she struggled to offer a smile,
The way her eyebrows gave up their fight against gravity and hung heavy over her eyes,
The way those very eyes- green today, though yesterday they looked blue- displayed a look of hesitation,
The way her lips quivered as she told you to “have a good day,”
While knowing she couldn’t enjoy hers until 3:15 when you occupied the passenger seat again.

I’ll bet you know the age you were when you had your first relationship,
Or the ingredients in a Screwdriver,
Or the directions to get to your house.

But can you describe with those 80 words the way it feels to dip into a cool pool on a muggy day?
The way your toes seemed to match the temperature of the cement as you walked around the pool deck,
Waiting for your SPF 15 sunblock to soak in,
The laughter of the children splashing around in the chlorine-ridden water,
Collecting the same UV rays as yourself but under the cool cloak of that crystal water,
The moment when you knew you couldn’t stand there and watch them a minute longer,
A moment when you were more aware of the sweat racing down the nape of your neck than ever before,
The contrast between the sickening heat you had just endured and the almost-brisk water now enveloping you.

How about the terrifying magnitude of a thunderstorm?
The way the world around you seems to go perfectly still mere moments before the rain begins to fall in sheets,
The shape of those sheets as they careened towards the ground with heightened momentum,
The sound they made when they landed-
Here on a car windshield, there on the exposed soil from a bare patch in your neighbor’s lawn,
The velocity of the wind as it whistled through surrounding trees and stripped them of leaves,
The low rumble of the thunder off in the distance, maybe beyond the mountains to the east,
And the warm cup of cocoa your sister made you, marshmallows lining the edges of the blue mug, to scare all the scared away.

If you can describe the model of your car but not the smell of rain,
If you remember the name of the club you frequent on weekends but not the sound of your childhood dog burrowing into your blankets,
If you notice the annoying way a customer talks but not the calming way your lover runs their fingers through your hair while you’re watching a movie,
I can offer you one piece of advice: Slow down.

some things never get easier, but get better.

others never get better, but do get easier.

you can’t tell whether you love someone based on their ability to make you smile- a stranger can accomplish that- but based on their ability to make you cry.

I’d give you the world-

Every line and every curve-

If given the word.

when you first say “hello” to someone, you are offering them the ability to say “goodbye.”

so this is what alone feels like,
we thought together.
the idea was very much unspoken
but also very much noted.

it’s kind of like you’re twelve again,
and your family leaves you at a gas station in arizona
while you slip out of the car to use the restroom.
except this time it takes longer than half an hour,
it takes longer for you to be found,
or maybe just remembered.

so this is what alone feels like,
and it hurts less than you thought it would.
it doesn’t throb like a stubbed toe.
it doesn’t sting like a fresh wound,
and the evidence doesn’t present itself
as a jagged edge.
it’s just a little bit empty enough,
a little bit pressing enough,
a little bit unwieldy enough
to be slightly annoying.

can we break into vacant buildings
and share hot chocolate in stead of body heat?
can we dissever a fifth
and lose track of the stars?
can we drive up the coast
until we run out of gas or resolve?

can we listen to the national
until the alone goes away?

take a snapshot of me when i’m older.

i don’t want perfect hair,
without a single hair out of place.
i want it crazy & unkempt,
blown by the wind with my sunroof open.

i don’t want a lofty, empty house,
with perfect landscaping wrapped around.
i want a quaint and cozy home
with my family’s laughter echoing off the walls.

i don’t want a huge management position,
one that brings in a six-figure income.
i want the ends to meet just right
while i do the things that i love.

i don’t want a two-carat diamond solitaire
to show off at every cocktail party i attend.
i want the quiet promise of forever,
uttered by the one worth keeping.

i don’t want flawlessly smooth skin,
untainted by blemishes or wrinkles.
i want freckles collected by the ocean
and laugh marks etched into my skin.

i don’t want to change the world;
i just want to leave a size seven footprint.

Are my words destined to sit on this computer screen,

In a stranger’s web browser,

In a tab open next to Facebook

And an Amazon search for some rain boots?

Are my words destined to sit in a box,

Quietly and patiently

Just waiting to be uncovered?

Just waiting for a small crevice of thought in which to crawl?

Will my words never be published,

Always left in the shadow

Of sparkling vampires

And autobiographies?

If the answer is yes,

I won’t miss a step.

I will continue to dream and think and write,

And stick my words in this little box.

Why?

Because here is where I find my happiness.

Because a job won’t always generate happiness,

And your happiness should never become your job.

Because at the end of the day,

Whoever you are,

Wherever you are sitting,

Whichever music you are listening to,

Whatever your mood might be,

You’re reading these words.

i’ll be seeing you through the haze of my dreams,
visiting all our favorite places together.

there’s the bike trail from the river to ocean,
where we’d escape for a few quiet hours
on summer days & winter wednesdays.
we’d pedal our way to freedom,
until dusk sent us back to our homes before dark,
where a warm meal & pajamas awaited us.

i’ll be seeing you at libby lake park,
where we’d disturb the calm surface of the water
with the rocks we skipped from a distance,
meanwhile disturbing the warm, silent air
with conversation about fears and hopes.

i’ll be seeing you on that big blue trampoline,
where we’d set up sleeping bags and snacks,
where we’d watch our breath leave our mouths
like ghosts floating toward the stars.

but i won’t be seeing you around anymore.
you won’t see the state line that replaced that bike trail,
or the car that replaced those bikes.
you won’t see downtown san diego,
and the hangouts that replaced libby lake.
you won’t see the “top of the world,”
the thinking spot that replaced your trampoline.
you won’t see all my new layers,
and the kyara that replaced the girl you knew.

no, i won’t be seeing you around anymore,
not until i join you in the sky.

some days i wish that i could fly.