My Name is Dre Fo' Sho.

Dre. Not Drew, not Andrea, not Drea, not Adriana, nope. Just Dre. The beagle butt is Snoop, Dre and Snoop. Not too hard to remember right? 

I'm named after my great-great-grandfather Andreas. My name was supposed to be Anastasia or Christina(coincidentally my middle name) following in the long tradition of "Names That Start With C!!" But, when I was in the belly, my great-grandma was sick and she told my mom that Andreana would do. (Even spellcheck thinks I spell my name wrong) 

I looked up my name, the feminine form of Andrew, meaning "womanly." O_o ehh? My grandpa always told me it meant brave, that I was his brave little Andreana. I didn't want to disappoint him, but I've never really felt very brave. 

There's some famous lady named Andreana Weiner. . . . isn't that lovely? I don't know what she does or where she's from but I'm not sure I want to know... There's an 18 year old girl in Italy named Andreana, her birthday is the day after mine and we like some of the same music and movies. . 

Have you ever felt like you had to live up to your name? Andreana Christina Theodora Sprinkle. . Nina said once that I should be rich and in the Victorian time period with that name. . . Or something like that. Those are some large shoes to fill. 

Andreana- Womanly

Christina- Anointed 

Theodora- She was the Empress of Byzantine . . and she's a Saint in the Orthodox Church possibly the most influential and powerful woman in the Byzantine Empire . . ever. She was a prostitute for a while and a comedic burlesque performer O_o oh dear and I did a report on this woman hahaha Holy crap go read about her, she did some nasty stuff O_O

Sprinkle. . . don't get me started. There's a famous porn star/sex educator named Annie Sprinkle -snorts-

I sometimes wonder if my name suits me, then I remember how weird I am. I don't mind being weird, I don't mind that only a few people bother to try and pronounce my name, and I most certainly don't mind that my mother doesn't even call me Andreana anymore.

So I guess for now I'm Dre, and that's alright with me too. 

Do you like your name? 

Would you change it if you could? If yes, what would you change it to?

Fallen.

I've started a new habit, surrounding myself with positive ladies. "Now now Dre, why are you being a sexist bitch??" 

I am not! You deplorable human being! Positive men are positively always talking about who they banged the night before. . . No, I'm kidding. I just think most of the time I get more inspiration from positive ladies. 

Besides, ladies aren't afraid to tell it how it really is.

I can be wishy-washy, in fact I got yelled at for being wishy-washy last night. (Then again my mother was out of her estrogen patches, so she was just certifiably insane) "Dre, your whole family is certifiably insane..." I know, ya wanna see my certificate?? 

I'm a relatively positive human being, always trying to keep an upbeat mentality even when things are rolling downhill. I'm loyal, I trust too easily, I can be greedy and selfish, and kind and selfless all in one half hour. "What??" 

I'm greedy and kind when it comes to love, I've come to notice that. Does it sound awful? Not that I don't want anyone else to have my love or someone whom I love's love. Just that, I like to store the love I get. In a box deep down in my chest, that I can unlock and let a little love seep into my heart when it hurts. To let it permeate my mind and my soul, and cleanse away some of the dirt and the grime that comes from the everyday crap. I treat it kindly, I treat the one's I love kindly as much as I can. I like to imagine that the box is made from a section one of the largest Oak trees you've ever seen, that fell in the forest when no one was looking. That it's now home to a myriad of animals seeking refuge on the forest floor, that it soaks up the sunlight and the rainwater like I soak up love. I like to imagine the box is lined with velvety insides and latched with an old heavy lock. That it's hidden between my lungs and under my heart, so that it moves slightly when I breathe. 

I think I keep that box, because I don't love myself enough yet. Maybe one day when I love myself and learn, in turn how to once again love someone else with complete abandon. That box will disappear and the love will flood every part of my body and bathe me in the comfort and warmth that seeps out when I let it. That tingly head-to-toe feeling that I can't properly describe. . 

Who Said What Now?

I'm drowning in a sea of pretentious bull shit. No seriously, someone throw me a floatie or something? Why are people so stupid? ALSO, why does no one have the hutzpa to tell them they're stupid? If I could I'd scream it over a loudspeaker in the center of the Great Lawn in Central Park, spreading the message, "HEY IF YOU'VE GOT A FRIEND WHO'S A COMPLETE AND UTTER DOUCHE BAG MORON AND DOESN'T KNOW IT PLEASE INFORM THEM ON MY BEHALF, YOU CAN SEND THEM BACK HERE TO ME I'LL BE WAITING." Then When they get there I'll quickly and surreptitiously stab them in the face with the only weapon I am ever armed with, a spork.

Do not inform your friends, relatives, acquaintances, priests, teachers, school mates, lovers, ex-lovers, and or children that I will be wielding a spork a spork attack is most successful when not predicted. If you give away my secrets I will hunt you down and kill you till you're dead. Clear? Capiche!?!?! capiche.

If you would prefer to tell them yourself in hopes that your amazing kindness will somehow show them the light and force them to pick up a book and read for the pure enjoyment of doing so by all means give it a shot. . . Please do have a spork ready and waiting in case their reply begins with, "You're kidding right," "Dude, you're such a newb," or the ever-popular, "Gawd you're such a dweeb."  . . . . . . IN case of dweeb calling stab in eyes first, Dork is acceptable even Nerd is acceptable. . . Dweeb is unforgivable. 

In the event that you'd like to prolong said death by spork bring a straw instead and trache the person with it, breathing haphazardly into the straw when you feel they need some air. . . 

The real point of this is to just please, please for everyone's sake let someone know when they're stupid. It's only fair to at least let them have a friend tell them than to realize themselves

Thoughts On A Survey

So, I fail at being who I was. 

I had a conversation yesterday, and it was about how sometimes you need things to fall apart so you can grow. Whether you want to or not. Life just takes this big emotional heap and piles it on top of your head,(Maybe in hopes that you'll come to the surface and sell yourself to an art gallery. . )and says hey guess what, now you get to deal with all of this. Oh, and you have to try and figure out what the fuck is going on. GOOD LUCK!

I'm thinking that some people choose not to grow. They choose to remain selfish and childish while their friends "mature" and leave them in the dust of adolescence. Dusty areas are a horrible place to be, trust me I lived in a desert for three years and they like to have things called dust storms. Sooooo not fun. Maybe, in choosing not to grow they're holding themselves back(most likely) Maybe they're one of those people who don't think they can make a difference anyway. Whatever the case may be, they don't particularly care.

Now, I'm not saying you have to "grow up" in order to grow. I find that the best way to grow, is to keep the mentality of a six year old. Be fascinated by all the new stuff you can learn soak it up like a sponge and enjoy doing so. So, while I may say "Yeah, I'm 6." What I really mean is, look at the world like you did when you were a child. Everything is so amazing and beautiful and new and fresh. Don't let it bore you. Let yourself get immersed in a book, in a fantasy, in a movie. Whatever. Losing that fascination, that drive and that willpower is the saddest thing that can happen to a person in my opinion.

For a while now I did lose sight of that mentality. Slowly I'm realizing that things need to change drastically in my life but right now, this very second I need to wait. Wait I will, impatiently and vehemently,(like any good six year old) but I'll wait. Not too long though. Any longer and I might just lose my marbles. Not that I had any marbles in the first place.

I guess what I'm trying to say is. . . Does anyone want to play Hungry Hungry Hippos while I wait??

Ebb & Flow

The sea creeps up, warm on your toes

Tickling ankles the seaweed wraps 

Around your skin you kick it off

Wading further into the water 

Running your fingertips over the surface

And feeling the water tug gently for

You to come closer, feel its' gentle caress

Ebb and Flow

Ebb and Flow

Casting your arms out around you and 

Swimming until your feet don't touch ground

A large wave breaks over you sending you 

Tumbling through the water so you don't know

Which was is up or down,

Ebb and Flow

Ebb and Flow

You're pushed and you're pulled every which way

You pray for it to stop as you inhale what feels like

Gallons upon gallons of water, it hurts your lungs

To try and push it out, You grasp for anything around 

You finding nothing but water on all sides 

Ebb and Flow 

Ebb and Flow

The consciousness has been knocked from your mind

Spinning to the drumbeat in your ears that is your 

Heart thump thump thumping away the beacon of

Hope that is slowly slowly getting fainter. 

As every one of your memories comes running at you 

In a rush of colour and sound

Ebb and Flow

Ebb and Flow

Someone yanks you from your watery prison tightly

Strong arms encircle your waist Thump . . Thump

'You're ok' is the last thing you hear before you're out

The memories race from your mind and you sit up

Coughing up an ocean full of water retching until it

Pains you to retch anymore. Thump Thump.

Ebb and Flow

Ebb and Flow