Here we are, blog. At the beginning of another New Year full of unforeseen surprises and potential wonder. I can only imagine the adventures that I will report to you as my life unfolds, and how you will have to just sit here, like the abstract semi-existent location that you are and listen to it all. I've never told you this, blog, but I don't tell you the truth about my life. In fact, I edit and modify a lot of the things I do tell you so that you might not judge me too harshly. You know how your judgment hurts me, blog. Like daggers in the heart. Or a lawn dart in the knee cap. Or a tiny bit of jalapeno juice in the eye.
I think I might be buzzed. Or slightly drunk. I'm still trying to decide. Either way, the internet has become surprisingly difficult to use. This must be how senior citizens feel when they take a stab at technology.
Speaking of senior citizens, today I went to Frankenmuth to share a delicious chicken dinner with some of my extended family. My maternal grandmother (the racist one) has an especially large immediate family, and, therefore, I have been given the gift of an especially large extended family. Whose names I am only just now learning. In case you're not familiar with Michigan, Frankenmuth is a city with lots of German history and famous chicken (and fudge and taffy and indoor water parks). And we ate our chicken. And my great aunt and uncle were still puzzled over why I wasn't eating the chicken. But I don't really miss the chicken. Me and meat are done. Through. Finished. No love. The love has left the building.
My family really is comprised of nice people, despite our spontaneous lapses into racism... which really only happens to the older generations... and maybe a few of the newer ones. Okay, my family is sometimes comprised of nice people, depending on which sections of the tree you're looking at. But I feel like racism doesn't make someone a terrible person. They were probably just raised in a different time. With different ideas. And I could understand how those ideas would be hard to break.
Just like I now understand why Christians can't incorporate evolution into their religion. At all. To any degree. It's because it undermines the teachings of the bible, which seems like a "duh" kind of statement, but bare with me here. Hang on. No. Back story.
So my aunt and uncle got my sister this book as a graduation gift call "The New Answers Book" which promises to explain evolution and the creation of earth and the great flood and dinosaurs all from a creationist point of view that is "scientifically solid" (as declared by the book's back cover). I started reading it, and then began to skim it, and then just looked at the amusing little graphics that were dispersed throughout the thing. And thus, I gained a better understanding... and a good amount of amusement.
You can't believe in evolution and the bible, because the bible is always right. Always. And any disagreement or conflict with the most literal interpretations of the text completely destroys the credibility of the rest of the book. Because evolution and fossils and the age of the earth (as acknowledged in the scientific community) stomp all over Genesis, they are all wrong. And evil! You're either with the bible, or against it. There is no happy, middle-ground were rational people romp and play in peace. Only bible-land and nonbible-land.
I think "bible" should be capitalized in that last paragraph. But I'm not going to do it. Too much effort.
It's like that time junior year when Jon B. typed an entire paragraph in all caps and then explained that he wasn't shouting at the reader, he was just didn't realize caps lock was on and was too lazy to go back and fix it. And then we all laughed as Rozzy shot mind bullets at him.
Or that time the floor was lava.
... the floor is always lava.
Okay. I'm thoroughly gone. But you could have known and prevented all this if you had just called.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Oh, fun fun.
It's 2:37 on the morning of Christmas eve. It seems like a good setting for a story. That would take place in a hospital. A hospital waiting room with an array of month-old magazines coated with the germs of hundreds of patients passing through. Maybe I'll write that story someday. And the people who read it will think to themselves "Oh. Ah. How clever she is with her subtle symbols and her myriad of metaphors and her shameless alliteration." But I'll probably never write that story, because I'm too busy listening to Yvette's Myspace playlist and being stupid and weepy and feminine. And it's 2:43 in the morning, and I'm never going to sleep ever again.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Rough Night
So I took this pottery class. And I made these pieces that I was intending to give to my family for Christmas. And last night when I opened the plastic bag that I had put them in in my suitcase, most of them were broken. Actually, they're still broken and sitting on my night stand with all their respective shards placed neatly in what remains of their bowl shape.
At the time, it kind of felt like someone had killed my children. Tears were shed. Sleep was lost. It's kind of pathetic, but this is the saddest thing that has happened to me in a long time.
At the time, it kind of felt like someone had killed my children. Tears were shed. Sleep was lost. It's kind of pathetic, but this is the saddest thing that has happened to me in a long time.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Lies!
Truth. The fuzzy, grey stuff in between.
Does anyone remember the show "Figure it Out"? With the guest panel (of not so funny B-list television actors) and the talented (and not so talented) children? Eh? Anyone? Probably not. There was this one kid that went on the show, and his... thing was that he had the world's largest collection of toe jam. Which was really just a jar of lint. But he still got to be on TV for 15 minutes. Which made me wonder why they call it "toe jam". To me, that implies either pain or moisture. Gelatinous moisture.
Which made me wonder why feet get such a bad rep as far as body parts go. Sure, they get kind of sweaty and fungi-ridden, but I feel like they deserve a second chance. They do contain something like 25% of all the bones in the body. And... that's the only redeeming quality I can think of right now... dammit.
And then I tried to think of a body part that wasn't disgusting, but all I could come up with was fingers. But they're kind of the most disgusting of all. They do all the dirty work. Plus, they're all nobby and gropey and full of knuckles. And then all those thoughts ended, and I moved on with my life.
I was folding jeans today and decided that my entire family could be represented by the number and types of jeans that they had in the load of laundry. My mom had many different colors and styles of jeans (about 3 of them) for she is the most versatile of us all, as far as different roles go. And also wears the pants in the family. My dad had one pair of jeans in the entire load (it was a big load) and they were "Relaxed Fit", which basically means that he is a man. A man that wears pants. My sister had at least 4 pairs in the load, all of them fairly identical which just screamed "attention whore" to me (at the time that I was folding all these).
My sister's size 2 pants also made me think of how tiny women are these days. And how hard it must be to raise children (or conceive at all for that matter) with such little body fat. If you've never watched a toddler for a few hours, let me tell you, they are physically exhausting. And that's just a couple of hours! Not even close to full-time motherhood.
It's like the female body has been turned into a piece of art. It isn't really valued for it's usefulness or durability anymore, just for the arc of the cheek bones. Or how tightly you can get the skin to stretch over your ribs. Personally, I kind of like using my body, because I'm young and it still seems to be working fairly well. And... oh God, this is turning into another self-righteous, body-image bashing fest...
The point is, I plan to let my body do what it was meant to do (run, jump, fall, shed, digest, make babies, wear out, die, etc.) whether it's an asthetically pleasing process or not. Maybe we should stop holding the traditional idea of a "work of art" in such high esteem, and start regarding other qualities as artistic in their own right. Like a crowbar. A crowbar is useful (depending on how resourceful you are with it) and you'll probably only need to buy one in your lifetime... and now I'm comparing women to crowbars.
I think I should just go to bed.
Does anyone remember the show "Figure it Out"? With the guest panel (of not so funny B-list television actors) and the talented (and not so talented) children? Eh? Anyone? Probably not. There was this one kid that went on the show, and his... thing was that he had the world's largest collection of toe jam. Which was really just a jar of lint. But he still got to be on TV for 15 minutes. Which made me wonder why they call it "toe jam". To me, that implies either pain or moisture. Gelatinous moisture.
Which made me wonder why feet get such a bad rep as far as body parts go. Sure, they get kind of sweaty and fungi-ridden, but I feel like they deserve a second chance. They do contain something like 25% of all the bones in the body. And... that's the only redeeming quality I can think of right now... dammit.
And then I tried to think of a body part that wasn't disgusting, but all I could come up with was fingers. But they're kind of the most disgusting of all. They do all the dirty work. Plus, they're all nobby and gropey and full of knuckles. And then all those thoughts ended, and I moved on with my life.
I was folding jeans today and decided that my entire family could be represented by the number and types of jeans that they had in the load of laundry. My mom had many different colors and styles of jeans (about 3 of them) for she is the most versatile of us all, as far as different roles go. And also wears the pants in the family. My dad had one pair of jeans in the entire load (it was a big load) and they were "Relaxed Fit", which basically means that he is a man. A man that wears pants. My sister had at least 4 pairs in the load, all of them fairly identical which just screamed "attention whore" to me (at the time that I was folding all these).
My sister's size 2 pants also made me think of how tiny women are these days. And how hard it must be to raise children (or conceive at all for that matter) with such little body fat. If you've never watched a toddler for a few hours, let me tell you, they are physically exhausting. And that's just a couple of hours! Not even close to full-time motherhood.
It's like the female body has been turned into a piece of art. It isn't really valued for it's usefulness or durability anymore, just for the arc of the cheek bones. Or how tightly you can get the skin to stretch over your ribs. Personally, I kind of like using my body, because I'm young and it still seems to be working fairly well. And... oh God, this is turning into another self-righteous, body-image bashing fest...
The point is, I plan to let my body do what it was meant to do (run, jump, fall, shed, digest, make babies, wear out, die, etc.) whether it's an asthetically pleasing process or not. Maybe we should stop holding the traditional idea of a "work of art" in such high esteem, and start regarding other qualities as artistic in their own right. Like a crowbar. A crowbar is useful (depending on how resourceful you are with it) and you'll probably only need to buy one in your lifetime... and now I'm comparing women to crowbars.
I think I should just go to bed.
Monday, December 10, 2007
This is a test.
A what?
Five more hours until the organic chemistry test eats my soul, vomits it up, and then eats it again. On one hand, I hope nobody else is having to endure the kind of academic torture that I'm going through. But on the other hand, I kind of hope you are. Just so we can all bitch about our shitty finals experiences together. There's nothing like group-bitching to cleanse the pores.
If I were to make a trip down to Texas to see all my beautiful lovelies sometime in early January, what days would everyone be around?
Five more hours until the organic chemistry test eats my soul, vomits it up, and then eats it again. On one hand, I hope nobody else is having to endure the kind of academic torture that I'm going through. But on the other hand, I kind of hope you are. Just so we can all bitch about our shitty finals experiences together. There's nothing like group-bitching to cleanse the pores.
If I were to make a trip down to Texas to see all my beautiful lovelies sometime in early January, what days would everyone be around?
Friday, December 07, 2007
A New Strategy
Huddle, team. Huddle.
Okay, so instead of acknowledging that studying is futile and admitting that we're probably going to fail all of these exams anyway and mentally resigning ourselves to a life of making babies and taking copious amounts of Valium to get through the rigors of trophy wife-dom, we are going to implement a new strategy.
We are going to pretend (for the next week or so) that every bit of knowledge we attempt to cram into our brain is logical and was meant to be there. And of course we're going to remember it come test day, because we are a sponge for knowledge. Hell, we are the sponge. And our stupendous ego will over ride all doubt or logic or reasoning that may plague us in the week to come.
Break!
Okay, so instead of acknowledging that studying is futile and admitting that we're probably going to fail all of these exams anyway and mentally resigning ourselves to a life of making babies and taking copious amounts of Valium to get through the rigors of trophy wife-dom, we are going to implement a new strategy.
We are going to pretend (for the next week or so) that every bit of knowledge we attempt to cram into our brain is logical and was meant to be there. And of course we're going to remember it come test day, because we are a sponge for knowledge. Hell, we are the sponge. And our stupendous ego will over ride all doubt or logic or reasoning that may plague us in the week to come.
Break!
Thursday, December 06, 2007
It's one of those nights...
... where you suddenly realize that you just ate an entire sleeve of Fig Newtons and are about to finish off a bottle of cranberry juice and you're thinking to yourself "Why are portions so large these days? I could easily subsist on 8 oz. of juice instead of the 15 or 16 that I have been given. " And then you curse the establishment and the men who created the establishment, and hop right back into your quasi-feminist shoes of wrath.
My refrigerator is being ridiculously loud. It isn't necessarily a problem right now, but at 7:30 in the morning when I'm trying to sleep and already feeling semi-nauseous it happens to be right by my head. And then we have problems.
I've been watching "Angels in America" for the past week or so, and I still can't decide exactly how I feel about it. I'm glad that it was made into mini-series (courtesy of HBO), and the cast is great, but there are still some parts that I feel are just... awkward when you watch them in that televised setting. Just because they come out really scripted in this really realistic place that you're taken to. Plus, I hate the ending dialogues.
All I know is that I want a funeral filled with drag queens and good gospel music. And that's pretty much all I want from life right now.
And Justin Kirk is a beautiful man... but only in profile.
Thirty-three more hours until the Spanish final destroys me! I should start a countdown feature. If only I were so skilled...
My refrigerator is being ridiculously loud. It isn't necessarily a problem right now, but at 7:30 in the morning when I'm trying to sleep and already feeling semi-nauseous it happens to be right by my head. And then we have problems.
I've been watching "Angels in America" for the past week or so, and I still can't decide exactly how I feel about it. I'm glad that it was made into mini-series (courtesy of HBO), and the cast is great, but there are still some parts that I feel are just... awkward when you watch them in that televised setting. Just because they come out really scripted in this really realistic place that you're taken to. Plus, I hate the ending dialogues.
All I know is that I want a funeral filled with drag queens and good gospel music. And that's pretty much all I want from life right now.
And Justin Kirk is a beautiful man... but only in profile.
Thirty-three more hours until the Spanish final destroys me! I should start a countdown feature. If only I were so skilled...
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Wootah!
A title totally unreflective of my current mood...
Hello, oh my jizzlety Jesus on a Ritz cracker! It's been so long since we talked. I feel like there's so much to say and so little time. So very little time.
Well, don't you hate when people start a sentence with "Well,...". It makes me feel like they're trying to justify the fact that they're speaking. Or get you all warmed up for the gargantuan schpeel that they are about to let loose. Just say what you are going to say, dammit! And be proud that you can speak. And make eye-contact, for the love of all things holy. And when you shake my hand, don't let your grip go limp in my fingers just because I'm a woman and your ego is so massive and throbbing that you think you might actually crush my hand. And don't let your handshake be soft and gentile because you're a woman and you think it is the right and proper thing to do. Dammit!
I've been sick for the past few days. It all started with the flu shot I so brilliantly decided to get on Friday thinking "Well, I do have exams coming up. I should protect myself against any illness that might lower my grades." So by Saturday my arm and back were very sore. Sunday brought a strange numbness in my legs and much lethargy. On Monday I had a mild fever and some pretty awesome chills, so a day that should have been spent studying was mostly me under a blanket oozing misery and bitchy about the cold. I feel better today (thanks to the Boy-Wonder that is DayQuil), but there is still a dull ache in my head when I move it too quickly. And I can't stand up for very long. Flu shot = never again.
But I'm starting to strongly believe that even if I do get better, I'm still going to fail my first two exams out of my own sheer stupidity. I've been looking over the Spanish final review for the past couple days and just weeping at my own utter lack of knowledge. I don't know where it all went. I'm so lost that I can't even think of questions to ask that might help me. I can't go into the professor for help because I have trouble understanding what he's saying (he only speaks in Spanish) and get all embarassed and sweaty everytime I try to meet with him. It makes me sad because I really thought I liked that class. And I really thought that I could be fluent someday. *tear*
I have decided that every woman needs a pair of flaming red high heels as part of her wardrobe. At all times. (I bought mine a week ago. Fantastic.)
And that's all I have to say... or should say... because I should be studying... at this very moment...
Hello, oh my jizzlety Jesus on a Ritz cracker! It's been so long since we talked. I feel like there's so much to say and so little time. So very little time.
Well, don't you hate when people start a sentence with "Well,...". It makes me feel like they're trying to justify the fact that they're speaking. Or get you all warmed up for the gargantuan schpeel that they are about to let loose. Just say what you are going to say, dammit! And be proud that you can speak. And make eye-contact, for the love of all things holy. And when you shake my hand, don't let your grip go limp in my fingers just because I'm a woman and your ego is so massive and throbbing that you think you might actually crush my hand. And don't let your handshake be soft and gentile because you're a woman and you think it is the right and proper thing to do. Dammit!
I've been sick for the past few days. It all started with the flu shot I so brilliantly decided to get on Friday thinking "Well, I do have exams coming up. I should protect myself against any illness that might lower my grades." So by Saturday my arm and back were very sore. Sunday brought a strange numbness in my legs and much lethargy. On Monday I had a mild fever and some pretty awesome chills, so a day that should have been spent studying was mostly me under a blanket oozing misery and bitchy about the cold. I feel better today (thanks to the Boy-Wonder that is DayQuil), but there is still a dull ache in my head when I move it too quickly. And I can't stand up for very long. Flu shot = never again.
But I'm starting to strongly believe that even if I do get better, I'm still going to fail my first two exams out of my own sheer stupidity. I've been looking over the Spanish final review for the past couple days and just weeping at my own utter lack of knowledge. I don't know where it all went. I'm so lost that I can't even think of questions to ask that might help me. I can't go into the professor for help because I have trouble understanding what he's saying (he only speaks in Spanish) and get all embarassed and sweaty everytime I try to meet with him. It makes me sad because I really thought I liked that class. And I really thought that I could be fluent someday. *tear*
I have decided that every woman needs a pair of flaming red high heels as part of her wardrobe. At all times. (I bought mine a week ago. Fantastic.)
And that's all I have to say... or should say... because I should be studying... at this very moment...
Thursday, November 15, 2007
The Bitch's Last Stand
I just wanted to play piano. That's all I wanted. I wake up at 6:30 everyday and trek off to an eight o'clock class. And I always get there on time. And I've only missed one class over the course of 3 semesters of school, and I all I want to fucking do is play piano. And I can't. Because the people that don't go to class and sit around the dorm all day smoking weed and watching family guy are playing Guitar Hero in the same room. And they'll be there all weekend, just eating chips and playing Guitar Hero and amplifying my own awareness of how shitty my life is right now.
And I lost my umbrella. Which is probably the worst possible thing that could ever happen to a person living in Ithaca in November.
I hate the fact that I have been physically unable to cry for the past 3 weeks. The tears won't come out when I need them to. Yet the day they finally do come, my roommate has decided to skip her only class for the day in her ridiculously easy course load so that she can sit in front of her computer and watch anime. And hinder her roommate's ability to bawl into her pillow during the one hour of free time that she has for the day.
I hate that one of the few times that I'm actually genuinely upset over the course of the year, I get overshadowed by the petty, pissy, fucking cunt cunt bitch drama of some other girl in the eyes of the person who should be consoling me. Because aloof assholes who can't see things for what they really are even when they're 10 inches away from it, and it's metaphorically punching them in the face with hints and guestures and alludings.
I need to throw something.
And I lost my umbrella. Which is probably the worst possible thing that could ever happen to a person living in Ithaca in November.
I hate the fact that I have been physically unable to cry for the past 3 weeks. The tears won't come out when I need them to. Yet the day they finally do come, my roommate has decided to skip her only class for the day in her ridiculously easy course load so that she can sit in front of her computer and watch anime. And hinder her roommate's ability to bawl into her pillow during the one hour of free time that she has for the day.
I hate that one of the few times that I'm actually genuinely upset over the course of the year, I get overshadowed by the petty, pissy, fucking cunt cunt bitch drama of some other girl in the eyes of the person who should be consoling me. Because aloof assholes who can't see things for what they really are even when they're 10 inches away from it, and it's metaphorically punching them in the face with hints and guestures and alludings.
I need to throw something.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
I'm not dead! (... sort of...)
It is true. I am still alive for your looking, listening, and tasting pleasure. I'm 48 hours out of miserably bombing an organic chemistry prelim, and am finally starting to feel better. I've stopped sporadically hyperventalating, which I'm going to guess is generally a good thing.
It took me a good 45 seconds to come up with a title for this post, because everything I could think of I've used before. Which makes me wonder how much of this blog is actually new, interesting information and how much of it is just me going through the same motions over and over and over again. The blog hath been saturated and my well is running dry. I'm blaming college...
... which is really starting to get quite interesting. I'm starting to narrow down my focus on what I want to do with my life (something with health, something international, something that does not involve me in a lab for 5 hours a day hunched over a microscope/pipet/petri dish). I feel like I've told everything this already, but I'm looking at getting a global health minor added to my Human, Biology, Health, and Society major which will officially give me the world's longest and most pompous sounding degree in the world. Which is totally what I'm here for.
The global health minor would involve me going to Ecuador either this summer or the Fall semester of next year which both frightens and excites me.
This semester I've been pledging to a co-ed service fraternity (Alpha Phi Omega). I don't really remember why I wanted to do this, but in a week or so, I'll be done with my requirements and will be declared a "brother". "Brother Lisa", they will call me, sexist bastards...
It's nice to do community service again. It reminds you that there is a world outside of classes and the library afterall. It also reminds you why you hate people from the east coast so much.
It's not all the people.... mostly just the girls... mostly just the girls that when asked to rake leaves to clean up the grounds of some charitable program will still find reasons to whine about the entire situation. Frankly, it's kind of astounding to hear the stories of people from the city who have only raked leaves once before in their life because they grew up without a yard to take care of. It kind of makes you want to pity and punch them in the face all at the same time. Because you're a terrible person with no morals and very little compassion.
I've also been taking a pottery class (again, no idea how many people I've told) on the side. It was one of those compuslive hobbies that I have a bad habit of picking up... but I did it anyway, dammit! I'm pretty terrible at the whole thing, but every one in a while something nice will come off the wheel that doesn't collapse in on itself. And that's a good feeling. Plus, you get to play in really expensive mud and not be judged by society. Again, good feelings.
Leo (guinea pig) eats his own feces. I read somewhere that all guinea pigs do it and I understand the biological reasons behind his actions (retention of B vitamins), but the other day when I actually saw him do it, it was kinda nasty. Now I just can't look at him the same way. It's been awkward between us ever since.
Classes are good (I'll be balancing out a few C's with a few A's this semester; that is the plan). Social life is good. My roommate has a lot of hair that she tends to leave in every imagineable place in our room, but other than that, she's okay. I'm hoping to make a venture down to LJ sometime in early January... so exciting.
I'm contemplating calling up Regina Spektor and asking her to marry me. I shall woo her with my saavy phone skills and my promises of love and beautiful life together.
Oh! I'm sick right now. I have this lovely cough that just screams bronchitis and my lymph nodes are the size of golf balls!... okay, not really. They're more like peanut M&M's, but still, I have creative rights.
The weather took a sudden turn for fucking freezing sometime a few weeks ago. If you were going to classify how people react to the cold (person who doesn't notice, person who still can't figure out how to dress, person who over-dresses), I would fall into the category of "person who is constantly whining about how cold it is". I can't help it. It's just so damn cold... should have gone to UT...
And that's all... I have to say... ever.
It took me a good 45 seconds to come up with a title for this post, because everything I could think of I've used before. Which makes me wonder how much of this blog is actually new, interesting information and how much of it is just me going through the same motions over and over and over again. The blog hath been saturated and my well is running dry. I'm blaming college...
... which is really starting to get quite interesting. I'm starting to narrow down my focus on what I want to do with my life (something with health, something international, something that does not involve me in a lab for 5 hours a day hunched over a microscope/pipet/petri dish). I feel like I've told everything this already, but I'm looking at getting a global health minor added to my Human, Biology, Health, and Society major which will officially give me the world's longest and most pompous sounding degree in the world. Which is totally what I'm here for.
The global health minor would involve me going to Ecuador either this summer or the Fall semester of next year which both frightens and excites me.
This semester I've been pledging to a co-ed service fraternity (Alpha Phi Omega). I don't really remember why I wanted to do this, but in a week or so, I'll be done with my requirements and will be declared a "brother". "Brother Lisa", they will call me, sexist bastards...
It's nice to do community service again. It reminds you that there is a world outside of classes and the library afterall. It also reminds you why you hate people from the east coast so much.
It's not all the people.... mostly just the girls... mostly just the girls that when asked to rake leaves to clean up the grounds of some charitable program will still find reasons to whine about the entire situation. Frankly, it's kind of astounding to hear the stories of people from the city who have only raked leaves once before in their life because they grew up without a yard to take care of. It kind of makes you want to pity and punch them in the face all at the same time. Because you're a terrible person with no morals and very little compassion.
I've also been taking a pottery class (again, no idea how many people I've told) on the side. It was one of those compuslive hobbies that I have a bad habit of picking up... but I did it anyway, dammit! I'm pretty terrible at the whole thing, but every one in a while something nice will come off the wheel that doesn't collapse in on itself. And that's a good feeling. Plus, you get to play in really expensive mud and not be judged by society. Again, good feelings.
Leo (guinea pig) eats his own feces. I read somewhere that all guinea pigs do it and I understand the biological reasons behind his actions (retention of B vitamins), but the other day when I actually saw him do it, it was kinda nasty. Now I just can't look at him the same way. It's been awkward between us ever since.
Classes are good (I'll be balancing out a few C's with a few A's this semester; that is the plan). Social life is good. My roommate has a lot of hair that she tends to leave in every imagineable place in our room, but other than that, she's okay. I'm hoping to make a venture down to LJ sometime in early January... so exciting.
I'm contemplating calling up Regina Spektor and asking her to marry me. I shall woo her with my saavy phone skills and my promises of love and beautiful life together.
Oh! I'm sick right now. I have this lovely cough that just screams bronchitis and my lymph nodes are the size of golf balls!... okay, not really. They're more like peanut M&M's, but still, I have creative rights.
The weather took a sudden turn for fucking freezing sometime a few weeks ago. If you were going to classify how people react to the cold (person who doesn't notice, person who still can't figure out how to dress, person who over-dresses), I would fall into the category of "person who is constantly whining about how cold it is". I can't help it. It's just so damn cold... should have gone to UT...
And that's all... I have to say... ever.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
"Nunca creí en la felicidad"
For the past 36 hours I have been listening non-stop to Julieta Venegas. Her feel-good songs make me feel all warm and nummy inside.
Nuuuuummmmmmmmmy.
(I.O.U. one in-depth and extensive life update. Just let me get through this week alive first.)
Nuuuuummmmmmmmmy.
(I.O.U. one in-depth and extensive life update. Just let me get through this week alive first.)
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Shenanigans!
Today I looked at my blog, and I said to myself "This is truly a sad blog, for it hath not been posted on for nearly a month now." So I decided to post... on this blog... yes, the one you're reading right now.
Impuslive writing.
Fun Facts about Life:
-For the past week, I've been living for soy lattes. I could subsist on them if I really wanted to for they are the most delicious of the coffee beverages.
-The weather outside is abysmal. It's like 60 degrees with constant rain and an occasional gust of wind that will cause you to become soaked no matter how many layers of protection you think you have. This is God's way of punishing consumers that think they can conquer the elements.
-I have a theory that broken condoms are also one of those little jokes that God is playing on us. I can see him now, sitting in his cloud throne... chuckling away...
-I have such a short attention span for everything... I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. Today I was thinking how great it would be just to study Spanish all the time. And live in a place where people speak Spanish, and be a Spanish speaker amongst them. But I know I won't feel that way tomorrow. And the next day I'll probably be craving the life of starving a artist typing away on some dusty typewriter in some dusty corner of the world. Everything changes. It scares me.
-Booboobeeboo.
Impuslive writing.
Fun Facts about Life:
-For the past week, I've been living for soy lattes. I could subsist on them if I really wanted to for they are the most delicious of the coffee beverages.
-The weather outside is abysmal. It's like 60 degrees with constant rain and an occasional gust of wind that will cause you to become soaked no matter how many layers of protection you think you have. This is God's way of punishing consumers that think they can conquer the elements.
-I have a theory that broken condoms are also one of those little jokes that God is playing on us. I can see him now, sitting in his cloud throne... chuckling away...
-I have such a short attention span for everything... I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. Today I was thinking how great it would be just to study Spanish all the time. And live in a place where people speak Spanish, and be a Spanish speaker amongst them. But I know I won't feel that way tomorrow. And the next day I'll probably be craving the life of starving a artist typing away on some dusty typewriter in some dusty corner of the world. Everything changes. It scares me.
-Booboobeeboo.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
"I'm a high night flyer and a rainbow rider. A straight shootin' son of a gun."
Yes, I said a straight shootin' son of a gun. I'm also a procrastinator. Could you tell?
I'm tired of all this nonsense with alkenes and their reaction tendencies. So you have a carbon-carbon double bond and four substituents... so what? That doesn't make you all that and a bag of Garden Salsa-flavored Sunchips. Ya know? YA KNOW!?!
Really, I should stop...
So I'm taking this human development class that covers infancy to childhood and it's driving my ovaries crazy. Every video that we watch has some cute baby in it doing something adorable and all I can do is sit there and be unpregnant. It really is a new kind of torture. Between that class and this video
... and this...
... and probably this...
I should be knocked-up in no time. *thumbs up* *wink*
I'm tired of all this nonsense with alkenes and their reaction tendencies. So you have a carbon-carbon double bond and four substituents... so what? That doesn't make you all that and a bag of Garden Salsa-flavored Sunchips. Ya know? YA KNOW!?!
Really, I should stop...
So I'm taking this human development class that covers infancy to childhood and it's driving my ovaries crazy. Every video that we watch has some cute baby in it doing something adorable and all I can do is sit there and be unpregnant. It really is a new kind of torture. Between that class and this video
... and this...
... and probably this...
I should be knocked-up in no time. *thumbs up* *wink*
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Hero of the Week
The lolcats are the hero of the week, because they have succeeded in taking a week that could have been destroyed with organic chemistry and physics and added a spoonful of adorable. The week was still destroyed, but in a cute kind of way.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Hero of the Week
Under most circumstances, I don't like to do this (i.e. give attention to attention-whores), but I feel like this situation warrants it.
Chris Crocker is best known for his "Leave Britney Alone" antics, but that's not the reason he's the hero of the week. Oh no. It's mostly because I can't figure him out.
At first I thought he was a woman.
Then I thought he was just doing it as a joke.
Then I decided that he was just an egotistical-whore seeking attention.
But now I'm pretty sure he's a she-man feeding his ego and killing time with Youtube, lots of marijuana, a dash of coke, and a vague hope that one day he will be able to get a job and move out of his parent's basement.
Kudos to you, Chris. You've captured my attention, but my heart will always belong to Tay Zonday.
Chris Crocker is best known for his "Leave Britney Alone" antics, but that's not the reason he's the hero of the week. Oh no. It's mostly because I can't figure him out.
At first I thought he was a woman.
Then I thought he was just doing it as a joke.
Then I decided that he was just an egotistical-whore seeking attention.
But now I'm pretty sure he's a she-man feeding his ego and killing time with Youtube, lots of marijuana, a dash of coke, and a vague hope that one day he will be able to get a job and move out of his parent's basement.
Kudos to you, Chris. You've captured my attention, but my heart will always belong to Tay Zonday.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Fantastic.
I'm back from my mini-vacation to northern New York. 'Twas fantastic. Friday night was mostly devoted to "Apples to Apples" (which eventually reached a max of about 20 people and ended around 3 am) because it was too dark to see... anything outside of our cabin.
Saturday morning was low ropes (swinging from tires, short obstacle courses, problem solving, etc.). And everytime you do a low ropes course, they always factor in this "team building" component. But we shrugged it off, because we're little bastards like that. Saturday afternoon was high ropes (zip lines, longer obstacle courses 30 ft. in the air, etc.). I really hate "activites" that involve only adrenaline and no thinking. And I also hate heights. Mostly I was just scared out of my mind, but I'm glad I did it....
Which brings me to the pet peeve of the week: girls. Girly girls. I'm tired of them. I think we should ship them off to a camp for little girls that want to be girly and nothing else. And then we should marry them off to manly men that have no other component to their being. And then they can make the most normal babies that ever existed and live in a secluded community of normality and the rest of us won't have to deal with them.
Because when you cry during a ropes course because you're "scared" or you avoid things that are new and exciting and potentially fun, you make the rest of us look bad. So stop your pissant squealing and pop out a (metaphorical) cajone or two, bitch. (End rant.)
And then there was Eco House wrestling (oh yes, we wrestle). I experienced more bruising and rug burn and exaustion in those 5 hours than I have ever had anywhere else. Ever.
And now I'm back at school. Hurting and healing and learning.
Saturday morning was low ropes (swinging from tires, short obstacle courses, problem solving, etc.). And everytime you do a low ropes course, they always factor in this "team building" component. But we shrugged it off, because we're little bastards like that. Saturday afternoon was high ropes (zip lines, longer obstacle courses 30 ft. in the air, etc.). I really hate "activites" that involve only adrenaline and no thinking. And I also hate heights. Mostly I was just scared out of my mind, but I'm glad I did it....
Which brings me to the pet peeve of the week: girls. Girly girls. I'm tired of them. I think we should ship them off to a camp for little girls that want to be girly and nothing else. And then we should marry them off to manly men that have no other component to their being. And then they can make the most normal babies that ever existed and live in a secluded community of normality and the rest of us won't have to deal with them.
Because when you cry during a ropes course because you're "scared" or you avoid things that are new and exciting and potentially fun, you make the rest of us look bad. So stop your pissant squealing and pop out a (metaphorical) cajone or two, bitch. (End rant.)
And then there was Eco House wrestling (oh yes, we wrestle). I experienced more bruising and rug burn and exaustion in those 5 hours than I have ever had anywhere else. Ever.
And now I'm back at school. Hurting and healing and learning.
Friday, September 07, 2007
I'm off to see the world!
Or just the Adironack Mountains-part of that world (specifically 3 hours north of Ithaca). Ecology House is having a weekend shindig up there, and so I shall follow them (like the loyal Eco-Dweller that I am).
In the mean time, I will let the obscene amounts of work that I should be doing fester in the back of my mind. Mmm... I can't wait for the delicious consequences of all this procrastination.
In the mean time, I will let the obscene amounts of work that I should be doing fester in the back of my mind. Mmm... I can't wait for the delicious consequences of all this procrastination.
Hero of the Week
The hero of the week is Ronald Jenkees. His squinty face and "Blaire Witch" filming style have captured my heart. "The Rocky Song Remixed" most accurately captures his persona.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
"And I said no salt, NO salt on the margarita, but it had salt on it, big grains of salt, floating in the glass..."
So I am now 9 days into my sophomore year and all is going well. Some classes are better than others, but right now they're mostly the same. Everyone wants to introduce the same crap that every other classes introduces at the beginning of the year (i.e. significant figures, scientific method, etc.). So all my classes are over-lapping with the same crap that I've been learning for the past 5 years, which makes things boring as hell. Come on people! I don't pay an arm a leg to be pampered through my education. I'm ready to be bitch slapped with a shit-load of work and forced to stay awake all night pouring over textbooks and various complicated documents. Givitome!
*shit-load of work flies through window and knocks her unconcious*
*regains conciousness*
Spanish is a fun class. The professor gets really angry at us when we don't understand him (which is a large percentage of the time). And then he yells at us in Spanish and English, but you can't really tell the difference between the two when he starts speaking, and so then we all get even more confused. Then he starts cursing us under his breath and shaking his head in disappointment. At first it was really upsetting (yes, there were tears), but now it's just kind of amusing. I have this theory that he's relying on systematic degradation to shame us all into learning the language. Brilliant!
Today in my Human Development class, we were talking about the development and study of "children of color". And then someone approached the professor (during a short break) and explained how the term "children of color" was offensive to her. So the professor rephrased after the break and said "minority children", and then someone else raised their hand and declared that that was also offensive. And you can't say African-American anymore because not everyone is from Africa. So I just don't know what to say... *white and confused*
This year, I've resolved to blame all of my (academic) problems on people from New Jersey. Because if it weren't for people from New Jersey, with their private schools and their other private schools disguised as "magnet schools" and their upper-middle class education, I might actually be getting an A every once in a blue moon. But no. They have to show up with their 4 years of advanced chemistry, and their superior preparation and out do the rest of us that come from humble public school origins.
Yes, I could blame B'Wood. Or myself. But I choose Jersey! They 'ad it comin'.
*shit-load of work flies through window and knocks her unconcious*
*regains conciousness*
Spanish is a fun class. The professor gets really angry at us when we don't understand him (which is a large percentage of the time). And then he yells at us in Spanish and English, but you can't really tell the difference between the two when he starts speaking, and so then we all get even more confused. Then he starts cursing us under his breath and shaking his head in disappointment. At first it was really upsetting (yes, there were tears), but now it's just kind of amusing. I have this theory that he's relying on systematic degradation to shame us all into learning the language. Brilliant!
Today in my Human Development class, we were talking about the development and study of "children of color". And then someone approached the professor (during a short break) and explained how the term "children of color" was offensive to her. So the professor rephrased after the break and said "minority children", and then someone else raised their hand and declared that that was also offensive. And you can't say African-American anymore because not everyone is from Africa. So I just don't know what to say... *white and confused*
This year, I've resolved to blame all of my (academic) problems on people from New Jersey. Because if it weren't for people from New Jersey, with their private schools and their other private schools disguised as "magnet schools" and their upper-middle class education, I might actually be getting an A every once in a blue moon. But no. They have to show up with their 4 years of advanced chemistry, and their superior preparation and out do the rest of us that come from humble public school origins.
Yes, I could blame B'Wood. Or myself. But I choose Jersey! They 'ad it comin'.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Poetry is crap.
Goldfish never taste the same here.
Maybe I should stop falling
For their delicious ploys,
And start eating the real thing.
Maybe I should stop falling
For their delicious ploys,
And start eating the real thing.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
The Pig
On the desk. 
Eating a bit of apple.
Eating a bit of apple. 
The guinea pig is no longer named "Pip". He has officially been re-named "Leo" *cough* after Leonidas *uncough*. What? Plus, he looks more like a Leo. "My, what a good day for a... walk outside"
The one good thing about Ithaca (actually, there are many a good thing) is that the weather kicks so much ass... except between mid-October and April. But outside of that hell hole that is winter, it's really nice here. And there are plants and trees and minimal amounts of concrete, and as much as I love cities, I like the un-cities one hundred times better.
Today I found two cicadas mating on the sidewalk. My roomate is taking an entomology course and has to collect a bunch of insects before the end of the semester (there are dead bugs all over our room; is very exciting) so I thought I'd help her out. So after awkwardly prodding at the lovers with a stick, attempting to get them through the one inch hole of my water bottle, I realized how much I suck at collecting bugs. Anna (roomate) brings home wasps and bees and giant icky stinging bugs and I can't catch a damn locust. And then they flew away. I have to admit, I felt a little guilty for breaking up their love fest.
And then I thought about Mickey Mouse, and how much he resembles Minnie Mouse. And then I thought, "What if Minnie Mouse is just the cross-dressing alter-ego of Mickey Mouse?" And then I completely re-evaluated my childhood.
Today I found two cicadas mating on the sidewalk. My roomate is taking an entomology course and has to collect a bunch of insects before the end of the semester (there are dead bugs all over our room; is very exciting) so I thought I'd help her out. So after awkwardly prodding at the lovers with a stick, attempting to get them through the one inch hole of my water bottle, I realized how much I suck at collecting bugs. Anna (roomate) brings home wasps and bees and giant icky stinging bugs and I can't catch a damn locust. And then they flew away. I have to admit, I felt a little guilty for breaking up their love fest.
And then I thought about Mickey Mouse, and how much he resembles Minnie Mouse. And then I thought, "What if Minnie Mouse is just the cross-dressing alter-ego of Mickey Mouse?" And then I completely re-evaluated my childhood.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Life consumption begins.. wait for it... now!
This is what I'll be doing for the rest of the year. I probably won't post very often... or leave the library... or sleep, but is okay.
Social Science Perspectives on Food and Nutrition - One delicious sociology course disguised as science.
Human Development - The study of BABIES!!!!
Physics 101 - This is an auto-tutorial class which is sort of awesome and sort of scary. The awesome part is that you get to pace yourself and do everything on your own time. The scary comes from the fact that there are lots and lots and lots of rules and nit-picky details and if you fail at any of them they eat your grade. Literally, they just peel it off the page and shove it in their mouth... plus, they curve-down the class to that good ol' Cornell B- average. :-(
Organic Chemistry for Life Sciences - After the severe beat-down that I received in my chemistry class last year (not to mention the numerous mental break-downs), I feel optimistic that I can do well in this class. Good study habits were probably the only thing I learned in chemistry last year. However, because it is "for Life Sciences" there are bookoos of pre-med's in there. BOOKOOS! I say. And as if pre-med people weren't annoying enough, this is the "weeder class" for med school. Which means their panties will be in an even tighter wad than last year. Delicioso.
Continuing Spanish - Yes, it is sad that I've taken Spanish classes for 8 years now and still can't speak it. Yes, it is even sadder than after those 8 years, I took a placement test and scored just barely... barely high enough to be placed in the second easiest Spanish class Cornell offers. But all is well, because my teacher is this bumbling old Bolivian man who smells like soap. And I love him. And I will love him even more at 8 in the morning, 4 days a week, when I am hyped out of my mind on caffiene.
BOOKOOS!
Social Science Perspectives on Food and Nutrition - One delicious sociology course disguised as science.
Human Development - The study of BABIES!!!!
Physics 101 - This is an auto-tutorial class which is sort of awesome and sort of scary. The awesome part is that you get to pace yourself and do everything on your own time. The scary comes from the fact that there are lots and lots and lots of rules and nit-picky details and if you fail at any of them they eat your grade. Literally, they just peel it off the page and shove it in their mouth... plus, they curve-down the class to that good ol' Cornell B- average. :-(
Organic Chemistry for Life Sciences - After the severe beat-down that I received in my chemistry class last year (not to mention the numerous mental break-downs), I feel optimistic that I can do well in this class. Good study habits were probably the only thing I learned in chemistry last year. However, because it is "for Life Sciences" there are bookoos of pre-med's in there. BOOKOOS! I say. And as if pre-med people weren't annoying enough, this is the "weeder class" for med school. Which means their panties will be in an even tighter wad than last year. Delicioso.
Continuing Spanish - Yes, it is sad that I've taken Spanish classes for 8 years now and still can't speak it. Yes, it is even sadder than after those 8 years, I took a placement test and scored just barely... barely high enough to be placed in the second easiest Spanish class Cornell offers. But all is well, because my teacher is this bumbling old Bolivian man who smells like soap. And I love him. And I will love him even more at 8 in the morning, 4 days a week, when I am hyped out of my mind on caffiene.
BOOKOOS!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Back at Schoo'
Oh dear Jesus. The past 3 days have been the most tiring days in... ever. And despite the poor construction and thought behind the last sentence, I feel like it accurately captures the hell that was my move-in.
After twelve hours of driving, battling hoards of terrible Canadian drivers, we arrived on Monday evening. Some friends helped me unpack and I shoved everything in a corner and piddled the night away.
Yesterday was unpacking day. You never realize how much crap you have, until you have to pack up everything you have, fit it in a car, transport it hundreds of miles, and then unpack it all again. I felt even worse about being a materialistic whore after I got to my room and found that my roommate had... pretty much nothing. Granted she got a few days to put it all away before I arrived, but still, there was a good 24 hour period when I had the majority of the square-floorage covered with crap. It was glorious.
I'm living in the Ecology House this year, a hotel that was converted into "an environmentally aware" dorm. It's a huge jump from the monster dorm I was living in last year. It feels more... home-like. People actually come out of their rooms and mingle. There's a decent piano (thank god!). And there are critters in most of the rooms... Okay, maybe not most... perhaps 25%, but still... there's a giant water bug living across the hall from me. That's exciting.
And then I bought a guinea pig. He is delicious and soft and smells faintly of animal and woodchips. And he doesn't have a name. On the paperwork for the dorm, his name is "Mr. Squiggle Butt," but it just doesn't feel like the right name now that I actually have the guinea pig. I can't decide between an actual human name (Herman?) or an noun name (Killer?). So the guinea pig is nameless. Pictures will come soon.
And now I'm off to buy books... as soon as I can convince myself to get out of my robe and put on some clothes (always the hardest part of the day). *sigh*
After twelve hours of driving, battling hoards of terrible Canadian drivers, we arrived on Monday evening. Some friends helped me unpack and I shoved everything in a corner and piddled the night away.
Yesterday was unpacking day. You never realize how much crap you have, until you have to pack up everything you have, fit it in a car, transport it hundreds of miles, and then unpack it all again. I felt even worse about being a materialistic whore after I got to my room and found that my roommate had... pretty much nothing. Granted she got a few days to put it all away before I arrived, but still, there was a good 24 hour period when I had the majority of the square-floorage covered with crap. It was glorious.
I'm living in the Ecology House this year, a hotel that was converted into "an environmentally aware" dorm. It's a huge jump from the monster dorm I was living in last year. It feels more... home-like. People actually come out of their rooms and mingle. There's a decent piano (thank god!). And there are critters in most of the rooms... Okay, maybe not most... perhaps 25%, but still... there's a giant water bug living across the hall from me. That's exciting.
And then I bought a guinea pig. He is delicious and soft and smells faintly of animal and woodchips. And he doesn't have a name. On the paperwork for the dorm, his name is "Mr. Squiggle Butt," but it just doesn't feel like the right name now that I actually have the guinea pig. I can't decide between an actual human name (Herman?) or an noun name (Killer?). So the guinea pig is nameless. Pictures will come soon.
And now I'm off to buy books... as soon as I can convince myself to get out of my robe and put on some clothes (always the hardest part of the day). *sigh*
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Thoughts and Theories and Myspace
Occasionally I enjoy perusing through the "browse" feature on Myspace, looking for people that I went to school with. And more than occasionally I will stumble upon the profile of someone that I vaguely knew from somewhere. They'll usually be engaged or married or pregnant or a mommy/daddy and I'll think to myself "But they're so young! How could they do that to themselves with so much left to experience before they settle down?"
But secretly, deep down in the deepest parts of my... self, I want what they have. A reliable job and somewhere to live with someone I love and the babychilds. As much as I was to go out and live for 10 more years and explore and not be chained down with too much responsibility, I really just want babies and marriage and safe happiness.
I have this theory (which is why I'm writing this here; to perhaps get some outside verification) that all women (and most men) secretly just want safe, boring, predictable lives.
Eh?
But secretly, deep down in the deepest parts of my... self, I want what they have. A reliable job and somewhere to live with someone I love and the babychilds. As much as I was to go out and live for 10 more years and explore and not be chained down with too much responsibility, I really just want babies and marriage and safe happiness.
I have this theory (which is why I'm writing this here; to perhaps get some outside verification) that all women (and most men) secretly just want safe, boring, predictable lives.
Eh?
Friday, August 10, 2007
"Food beyond compare, food beyond belief. Mix it in a mincer and pretend it's beef..."
Damn you, catchy show tunes!
Hello! Happy Friday! No, it doesn't really feel like Friday, because most of us are either sitting at home, bored out of out minds 7 days a week, or working our asses off 7 days a week to the point where all the days are starting to feel the same. There is no happy medium.
Today I cleaned the house... or about 46% of the house. I got distracted by "Mythbusters." That Adam is such a stitch, but I'm still trying to figure out what crawled up Jamie's butt and died. Or maybe he's just the strong, silent, maniacal genius type. Or maybe they just needed someone to balance out the bubbly that is Adam... but I digress. I like to role-play while I clean. While I was cleaning bathrooms, I was a talented young Cuban girl who had the voice of an angel and the determination of a small, adorable creature towing a large parcel of food back to its burrow. I was cleaning the homes of rich people in order to buy a bus ticket to Hollywood and escape the clutches of my abusive, alcoholic father. Whilst vacuuming, I was a disgruntled housewife who took her frustrations out on the newest family pet... who would inevitably die a few weeks after it was welcomed to its new home...
Cleaning can get really really boring...
Imagine how I must be in the bedroom... ehh... *wink wink*... *nudge*.
And then my dad decided that we needed to go out to dinner. To a casino. A casino that was 40 minutes away.
For those of you that have never been to casinos, they are icky places. "Icky" is a simple word that is often looked down upon due its status as a favorite adjective of small children, but I can not stress how appropriate it was in describing this place. Venture with me to a moment. A moment about 5 hours ago...
The highway there is really only a country road. A country road that is 4 lanes wide. And you think to yourself, "Why does this have 4 lanes? There's nothing but farm houses and fields of corn on either side." But when you get to the casino, you see why. Two giant plastic eagles claw at a sign that reads "Soaring Eagle Casino" and marks the entrance to a parking lot that could put even the most super of the Super Wal-Marts to shame. You park in section C4 and begin the trek towards the colossal, boring, warehouse-looking building in the distance. On your way there, you see a sign. It reads: "Please do not leave children unattended in car. We have child care facilities." And then you think "Who the hell would be dumb enough to leave their kid alone in this huge parking lot?" And then it scares you a little as you think "Enough people that they feel it's necessary to put a sign up."
So you go into the casino and it smells like a giant bowling alley. The front door is 20 feet away from the nearest slot machine which is only one of a thousand others (literally, a thousand) that extend out into an area almost the size of a football field. There are tables and roulette wheels and craps, but mostly there are slot machines. And the noises they make all kind of melt together and make this flurry magical dings and whistles. Every once in a while, a light will flash and you'll see a number: $1, 021.48! $784,332.12! And you'll dream about what you could buy with that kind of money, and think to yourself "What if..." The noise and lights give the feeling that there is winning going on on that floor. Like everyone is living the dream with their daiquiri in one hand, and a cup of coins in the other. But when you look at their faces, they all have that blank stare of boredom. Even more blank than that zombie-look kids who watch TV too much get.
Everything (besides the copious amounts of pasty Caucasions) gives off strong Native American vibes. The chandeliers have feather detailing, all the restaurants have unpronounceable Indian names, and there's a totem pole around every corner. There are even display cases on the walls every few feet or so showing Native American peoples. Real ones! With their tribal headdresses and such. And it's all kind of sad and dreamy and pathetic all at once. You can say nice words like "educational displays" and "respect for those noble people" or you can say mean words like "ignorant capitalists" and "white privilege", but either way, it's not going to make a difference. They're still going to get the money and the land and the power. And they're still going to be dead, or damn close to it anyway. And you're going to be typitty-typing all of this into your blog with a romantic tear in your eye knowing, deep down, that you couldn't have stopped it even if you had been there. Knowing, even deeper down, that you wouldn't have stopped it had you been given the choice.
*Queue touching music*
Hello! Happy Friday! No, it doesn't really feel like Friday, because most of us are either sitting at home, bored out of out minds 7 days a week, or working our asses off 7 days a week to the point where all the days are starting to feel the same. There is no happy medium.
Today I cleaned the house... or about 46% of the house. I got distracted by "Mythbusters." That Adam is such a stitch, but I'm still trying to figure out what crawled up Jamie's butt and died. Or maybe he's just the strong, silent, maniacal genius type. Or maybe they just needed someone to balance out the bubbly that is Adam... but I digress. I like to role-play while I clean. While I was cleaning bathrooms, I was a talented young Cuban girl who had the voice of an angel and the determination of a small, adorable creature towing a large parcel of food back to its burrow. I was cleaning the homes of rich people in order to buy a bus ticket to Hollywood and escape the clutches of my abusive, alcoholic father. Whilst vacuuming, I was a disgruntled housewife who took her frustrations out on the newest family pet... who would inevitably die a few weeks after it was welcomed to its new home...
Cleaning can get really really boring...
Imagine how I must be in the bedroom... ehh... *wink wink*... *nudge*.
And then my dad decided that we needed to go out to dinner. To a casino. A casino that was 40 minutes away.
For those of you that have never been to casinos, they are icky places. "Icky" is a simple word that is often looked down upon due its status as a favorite adjective of small children, but I can not stress how appropriate it was in describing this place. Venture with me to a moment. A moment about 5 hours ago...
The highway there is really only a country road. A country road that is 4 lanes wide. And you think to yourself, "Why does this have 4 lanes? There's nothing but farm houses and fields of corn on either side." But when you get to the casino, you see why. Two giant plastic eagles claw at a sign that reads "Soaring Eagle Casino" and marks the entrance to a parking lot that could put even the most super of the Super Wal-Marts to shame. You park in section C4 and begin the trek towards the colossal, boring, warehouse-looking building in the distance. On your way there, you see a sign. It reads: "Please do not leave children unattended in car. We have child care facilities." And then you think "Who the hell would be dumb enough to leave their kid alone in this huge parking lot?" And then it scares you a little as you think "Enough people that they feel it's necessary to put a sign up."
So you go into the casino and it smells like a giant bowling alley. The front door is 20 feet away from the nearest slot machine which is only one of a thousand others (literally, a thousand) that extend out into an area almost the size of a football field. There are tables and roulette wheels and craps, but mostly there are slot machines. And the noises they make all kind of melt together and make this flurry magical dings and whistles. Every once in a while, a light will flash and you'll see a number: $1, 021.48! $784,332.12! And you'll dream about what you could buy with that kind of money, and think to yourself "What if..." The noise and lights give the feeling that there is winning going on on that floor. Like everyone is living the dream with their daiquiri in one hand, and a cup of coins in the other. But when you look at their faces, they all have that blank stare of boredom. Even more blank than that zombie-look kids who watch TV too much get.
Everything (besides the copious amounts of pasty Caucasions) gives off strong Native American vibes. The chandeliers have feather detailing, all the restaurants have unpronounceable Indian names, and there's a totem pole around every corner. There are even display cases on the walls every few feet or so showing Native American peoples. Real ones! With their tribal headdresses and such. And it's all kind of sad and dreamy and pathetic all at once. You can say nice words like "educational displays" and "respect for those noble people" or you can say mean words like "ignorant capitalists" and "white privilege", but either way, it's not going to make a difference. They're still going to get the money and the land and the power. And they're still going to be dead, or damn close to it anyway. And you're going to be typitty-typing all of this into your blog with a romantic tear in your eye knowing, deep down, that you couldn't have stopped it even if you had been there. Knowing, even deeper down, that you wouldn't have stopped it had you been given the choice.
*Queue touching music*
Monday, August 06, 2007
"I'm just an ass in the crack of humanity."
Hello, world! And or the five people that read this blog. I love you like a muffin loves being filled with delicious fruits of various shapes and sizes. You wouldn't think muffins would really care one way or another... but they do! It's a crucial part of their muffin-hood.
As I was walking someone else's dog today (yes, I fill the void in my dog-less childhood by walking other people's dogs) I was thinking to myself how nice a day it was. And how nice the breeze and the sun were. And then I thought about how none of these things would seem nice to me if I were... oh... I don't know... an earthworm... or an octopus... or a tetanus bacteria. And then I thought about how the things we enjoy aren't really enjoyable themselves, but are enjoyed by us. And so I really should have been thinking how nice it was that I happened to be standing in a sunny, breezy place and happened to have evolved (over millions of years) to the point where I could appreciate the position that I happened to find myself in at that very moment. So instead of thanking Jesus for the sun and the stars and all the beautiful things that I perceive as beautiful, I should be thankful that Jesus built the universe up to that very moment when my brain was able to perceive the sun and the breeze and that are both pleasing and delightful and conclude that my life was in a good place and it was "a nice day."
... Jesus gets too much credit for things. Shouldn't we be giving God a little more credit?
Blasphemy? You be the judge.
Texas is a spectacular place. Filled with spectacular people of all shapes and sizes. That's really the only reason I come down. To become more "in-tune" with "my people". Translation: I am sick of white people and their white ways. Which is bad, because Michigan has approximately 1.2 "minorities" per square mile. Sometimes I'll try to count the minorities in public places... just for fun. The most I've ever gotten is around 2. You don't notice these things until you start counting.
Plus, it's nice to have conversations with people who have something interesting to add to the world.
I loves you all! Damn, I'm going to miss you guys... *gets all verklempt*
As I was walking someone else's dog today (yes, I fill the void in my dog-less childhood by walking other people's dogs) I was thinking to myself how nice a day it was. And how nice the breeze and the sun were. And then I thought about how none of these things would seem nice to me if I were... oh... I don't know... an earthworm... or an octopus... or a tetanus bacteria. And then I thought about how the things we enjoy aren't really enjoyable themselves, but are enjoyed by us. And so I really should have been thinking how nice it was that I happened to be standing in a sunny, breezy place and happened to have evolved (over millions of years) to the point where I could appreciate the position that I happened to find myself in at that very moment. So instead of thanking Jesus for the sun and the stars and all the beautiful things that I perceive as beautiful, I should be thankful that Jesus built the universe up to that very moment when my brain was able to perceive the sun and the breeze and that are both pleasing and delightful and conclude that my life was in a good place and it was "a nice day."
... Jesus gets too much credit for things. Shouldn't we be giving God a little more credit?
Blasphemy? You be the judge.
Texas is a spectacular place. Filled with spectacular people of all shapes and sizes. That's really the only reason I come down. To become more "in-tune" with "my people". Translation: I am sick of white people and their white ways. Which is bad, because Michigan has approximately 1.2 "minorities" per square mile. Sometimes I'll try to count the minorities in public places... just for fun. The most I've ever gotten is around 2. You don't notice these things until you start counting.
Plus, it's nice to have conversations with people who have something interesting to add to the world.
I loves you all! Damn, I'm going to miss you guys... *gets all verklempt*
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Dammit.
It's that terrible time that comes once every few years. The first week when "the next" Harry Potter book has been released.
Don't get me wrong (Note: "Don't get me wrong." is probably one of the most overused phrases of all time. Just like that old classic "No offense, but..." or "I'm not racist/sexist/fascist/communist/horny or anything, but..."), I enjoy a good ride on the old Potter Train just as much as the next gal, but it's just too damn stressful.
Living in a house of 3 people who all want to read the same book at the same time is hazardous unto itself. Fortunately, I'm usually able to smuggle the book off to some desolate corner and hoard the goodness all for my own. Because I bees a bitch like that.
And then there's the constant risk of spoilers... everywhere. The last book was ruined probably 4 times before I even made it halfway through, rendering the last couple hundred pages as stale and unfulfilling as bad sex on top of dry matza while listening to Kenny G (yes, really). I was just skimming the damn thing, begging to get it over with. That's why, this time, I'm not visiting any of my usual websites or leaving my house or talking to anyone that has read further than me. Right now, I'm living in this state of paranoid, hyper-awareness where I fear that everywhere I turn , someone is going to give something away. Pulling up Merriam-Webster.com just now made me cringe a little for fear that someone may have pasted a giveaway on the homepage. Because people are assholes like that. (Note: If someone were, however, to write a plot summary in blood on my bathroom mirror that would be kind of awesome.). I will not let the last Potter be ruined!
But mostly, I'm going to enjoy this read. 4-6 were mostly me rushing through in 2 days, desperately trying to get the thing read so I could say that I did it. But NO! I will not be rushed! I am going to savor this thing for all it's worth.
So with that said...
Harry is really pissing the hell out of me. (No spoilers or anything here). I didn't realize what a moody, pissant little bitch he is... until now. I always just thought it was J.K. Rowling trying to get across his selflessness and valor, but I'm really starting to think that she wants me to hate him. Which is confusing... and kind of awesome (from a character development standpoint).
And that is all. *Scurries back to dark corner and continues pouring over book*
(Note: I'm sorry if this post is annoying. But just because you don't want to read Harry Potter *cough* Oskar *cough* and possibly Bellami *cough* I'm not sure *cough* and maybe Lindsey too *cough* and be a mindless Potter drone like the rest of us, doesn't mean that I should alter my bloggings for you! I'm my own woman, dammit! I choose my addictions. They're my choice! *grabs IV* *pumps medley of illicit substances into self* mmmmmm... Pottttterr.)
Don't get me wrong (Note: "Don't get me wrong." is probably one of the most overused phrases of all time. Just like that old classic "No offense, but..." or "I'm not racist/sexist/fascist/communist/horny or anything, but..."), I enjoy a good ride on the old Potter Train just as much as the next gal, but it's just too damn stressful.
Living in a house of 3 people who all want to read the same book at the same time is hazardous unto itself. Fortunately, I'm usually able to smuggle the book off to some desolate corner and hoard the goodness all for my own. Because I bees a bitch like that.
And then there's the constant risk of spoilers... everywhere. The last book was ruined probably 4 times before I even made it halfway through, rendering the last couple hundred pages as stale and unfulfilling as bad sex on top of dry matza while listening to Kenny G (yes, really). I was just skimming the damn thing, begging to get it over with. That's why, this time, I'm not visiting any of my usual websites or leaving my house or talking to anyone that has read further than me. Right now, I'm living in this state of paranoid, hyper-awareness where I fear that everywhere I turn , someone is going to give something away. Pulling up Merriam-Webster.com just now made me cringe a little for fear that someone may have pasted a giveaway on the homepage. Because people are assholes like that. (Note: If someone were, however, to write a plot summary in blood on my bathroom mirror that would be kind of awesome.). I will not let the last Potter be ruined!
But mostly, I'm going to enjoy this read. 4-6 were mostly me rushing through in 2 days, desperately trying to get the thing read so I could say that I did it. But NO! I will not be rushed! I am going to savor this thing for all it's worth.
So with that said...
Harry is really pissing the hell out of me. (No spoilers or anything here). I didn't realize what a moody, pissant little bitch he is... until now. I always just thought it was J.K. Rowling trying to get across his selflessness and valor, but I'm really starting to think that she wants me to hate him. Which is confusing... and kind of awesome (from a character development standpoint).
And that is all. *Scurries back to dark corner and continues pouring over book*
(Note: I'm sorry if this post is annoying. But just because you don't want to read Harry Potter *cough* Oskar *cough* and possibly Bellami *cough* I'm not sure *cough* and maybe Lindsey too *cough* and be a mindless Potter drone like the rest of us, doesn't mean that I should alter my bloggings for you! I'm my own woman, dammit! I choose my addictions. They're my choice! *grabs IV* *pumps medley of illicit substances into self* mmmmmm... Pottttterr.)
Monday, July 16, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
"I got money in the bank, tell me what you thank 'bout that..."
That song has nothing do with this post.
Today is one of those days where there's just enough clouds and gloom outside to make you want to sit around all day, bra-less and curled up under a blanket, reading Carl Sagan's "Cosmos". And you keep telling yourself that when you finish this chapter you're going to put on a bra and get some exercise and stop being a fat piece of crap. But instead you just raid the refrigerator and return to your nook of warmth and safety and Sagan-ism.
Carl Sagan is one of those men who has that a strange medley of eloquence and savviness and dorkiness going for him. You would think the big teeth, 70's fashion, fact that he's been dead for 11 years would be a turn off... but it's not! It's not a sexual attraction... it's more of an "Old Man Attraction" where you admire from a distance, but any real interraction with them would probably be a huge turn off. Does any of this make sense? My point is that Sagan got class. Unlike Richard Dawkins who seems to be a substantially large douche bag.
In other parts of life that exist outside my repressed sexual fantasies for men 3 times my age, I've been volunteering for the past week. I did 3 days of the data entry job, which is boring as hell, but they give me free yogurt so I stay. Yesterday, I made and served lunch at a soup kitchen which was new and different and really fulfilling. I want to say that I got some kind of lesson out of it that I could put here, but I didn't. It's just a swarm of thoughts and emotions that are still kind of circling around my head. Sometimes it's hard to put things into nice neat little revelations... or even words for that matter. Oh well...
Today is one of those days where there's just enough clouds and gloom outside to make you want to sit around all day, bra-less and curled up under a blanket, reading Carl Sagan's "Cosmos". And you keep telling yourself that when you finish this chapter you're going to put on a bra and get some exercise and stop being a fat piece of crap. But instead you just raid the refrigerator and return to your nook of warmth and safety and Sagan-ism.
Carl Sagan is one of those men who has that a strange medley of eloquence and savviness and dorkiness going for him. You would think the big teeth, 70's fashion, fact that he's been dead for 11 years would be a turn off... but it's not! It's not a sexual attraction... it's more of an "Old Man Attraction" where you admire from a distance, but any real interraction with them would probably be a huge turn off. Does any of this make sense? My point is that Sagan got class. Unlike Richard Dawkins who seems to be a substantially large douche bag.
In other parts of life that exist outside my repressed sexual fantasies for men 3 times my age, I've been volunteering for the past week. I did 3 days of the data entry job, which is boring as hell, but they give me free yogurt so I stay. Yesterday, I made and served lunch at a soup kitchen which was new and different and really fulfilling. I want to say that I got some kind of lesson out of it that I could put here, but I didn't. It's just a swarm of thoughts and emotions that are still kind of circling around my head. Sometimes it's hard to put things into nice neat little revelations... or even words for that matter. Oh well...
Monday, July 09, 2007
I'm feeling chatty. And perky.
Yes, it's true. And also a little bitchy. Not in a "sincerely angry, running around the house throwing shit" way, but a light and playful form of pissed off. If the worst version of "Pissed Off Lisa" is a hail storm of fire balls and chipmunk feces, this pissed off is a light shower of lemonade. Yes, lemonade. Nothing else shall do.
Life Update: I'm still sitting at home. Reading and slowly giving into the television addiction that I've ignored for the past 9 months (so many things to see, so little time). I think I might actually have a job! Or a volunteering job, anyway, starting tomorrow. At which time, I will go to some random suite at some random office building and do data input for a study that was done on teenagers and drug consumption. It's sad that I'm excited for busy work, but at the same time, it gets me out of my depressingly empty house (located in the middle of nowhere). And for this, I am grateful.
I'm also reading "The Idiot" by Dostoyevsky. I started it in March and then let myself get distracted by other books until now! I have decided that I am going to actually finish a big fat book of Russian literature... just to say I did it. The hardest part about Russian novels is that everyone has 3-4 different names/titles... all of which are at least 12 letters long. Which leads me to ask the question (*cough* Meagan!*cough*) why the hell do they do that?!? WHY!
(End Life Update)
Life Update: I'm still sitting at home. Reading and slowly giving into the television addiction that I've ignored for the past 9 months (so many things to see, so little time). I think I might actually have a job! Or a volunteering job, anyway, starting tomorrow. At which time, I will go to some random suite at some random office building and do data input for a study that was done on teenagers and drug consumption. It's sad that I'm excited for busy work, but at the same time, it gets me out of my depressingly empty house (located in the middle of nowhere). And for this, I am grateful.
I'm also reading "The Idiot" by Dostoyevsky. I started it in March and then let myself get distracted by other books until now! I have decided that I am going to actually finish a big fat book of Russian literature... just to say I did it. The hardest part about Russian novels is that everyone has 3-4 different names/titles... all of which are at least 12 letters long. Which leads me to ask the question (*cough* Meagan!*cough*) why the hell do they do that?!? WHY!
(End Life Update)
Friday, June 22, 2007
Be-bop Skiddly Do Bop Schwee
Today I was dusting the dusty dust off the dust-covered surfaces of our house and I thought to my racist self "If dust is mostly made of dead skin cells, do people with darker skin have darker dust in their homes?" And then I concluded in my lazy half-assed, totally unresearched manner "No, surely not. Skin cells are so tiny, the melanin content would be insignificant at that level." And then I thought about how everything is just an elaborately crafted series of seemingly insiginificant events. Like the plastic on that chair that you're sitting in. Yes, you there! On your high and mightly swirly computer chair with the lever underneath so that you may properly adjust yourself to the height of the desk. Or pretend that you're taking off on a really slow rocket ship that only travels a foot at a time... *reminisce* oh, childhood. All that plastic is made of tiny strand after strand of carbon... thingeys, all tiny, yet oh-so-significant. Or the way that all the tiny cells in yo momma's womb came together at just the right place and time and made a baby.
But we don't appreciate the tinies. We only show respect when they all come together and make something that is much much bigger and significant... to us. Only then does it get a little spot in our tangled jungle of conciousness. Like that dead skin cell that just flaked off my nose. I didn't appreciate it's protection while it was actually a part of me. And I won't notice it in its dust form until it joins forces with a billion other Lisa cells and forms a layer on the fireplace mantle .
And then I thought about life, and how a life and a person is made up of so many tiny events and how we don't actually get to see the product until all the little events have accumulated and started to come together. And then I started to think of little events as battles. Battles that I have to fight each and everyday to create the dust layer of my life. Like the battle that I won this morning with the microwave as it heated up my bagel and didn't explode in my face. And the epic battle that I lost this afternoon with the garage door as it tore the mirror off the side of my car. And the silent battle that I'm currently engaged in with my father as he struggles not to kill me... with a monkey wrench.
But do the events really matter? And if not, then what does matter in life? Do the things that I may or may not do this summer really matter in the grand scheme of things? Maybe I was just created to pass on my "good genes" and then die. Or maybe there is a greater calling for humans and we should all come together like so many monomers and actually impact... something.
Herumph.
But we don't appreciate the tinies. We only show respect when they all come together and make something that is much much bigger and significant... to us. Only then does it get a little spot in our tangled jungle of conciousness. Like that dead skin cell that just flaked off my nose. I didn't appreciate it's protection while it was actually a part of me. And I won't notice it in its dust form until it joins forces with a billion other Lisa cells and forms a layer on the fireplace mantle .
And then I thought about life, and how a life and a person is made up of so many tiny events and how we don't actually get to see the product until all the little events have accumulated and started to come together. And then I started to think of little events as battles. Battles that I have to fight each and everyday to create the dust layer of my life. Like the battle that I won this morning with the microwave as it heated up my bagel and didn't explode in my face. And the epic battle that I lost this afternoon with the garage door as it tore the mirror off the side of my car. And the silent battle that I'm currently engaged in with my father as he struggles not to kill me... with a monkey wrench.
But do the events really matter? And if not, then what does matter in life? Do the things that I may or may not do this summer really matter in the grand scheme of things? Maybe I was just created to pass on my "good genes" and then die. Or maybe there is a greater calling for humans and we should all come together like so many monomers and actually impact... something.
Herumph.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Jesus loves the little chidlins...
I have had that damn song stuck in my head all day. It's scary when your past comes back to haunt you like that.
I've also been trying to decide what to do with my life. Not all day long, but for the past thirty minutes or so. It's hard to do because it's pretty depressing. All of the majors that I feel like I could actually do something with require scary courses. Like calculus-based physics and computer programming. Considering my experiences with beginner's chemistry last year (problem sets at 2 in the morning, cramming for exams that you know you'll fail, and a constant stream of tears) I'm not sure if I'm up for all these "hard core" classes. Now I understand why Oskar doesn't want to come to Cornell (on a much smaller scale). It's like you're diving head long into the unknown. All of these classes are just words on a page until you actually get there. And then you can't get out. And you're trapped in a tiny box-world of numbers and calculations and soulless knowledge.
I think I'm just going to dive right into environmental engineering anyway. I won't flunk out of Cornell ("failure" is not in the Passmore vocabulary; "damn close to failure" is, but not "failure), I'll just get a pathetic GPA and pray that someone hires me. And even if I end up living in a shitty apartment, working at McDonalds, living off of the dollar menu at Wendy's, I'll be okay with that. As long as I have friends there with me. Or Oskar. Or both. That would be a really good life.
Tree-hugger majors, here I come! *clicks heels together*
I've also been trying to decide what to do with my life. Not all day long, but for the past thirty minutes or so. It's hard to do because it's pretty depressing. All of the majors that I feel like I could actually do something with require scary courses. Like calculus-based physics and computer programming. Considering my experiences with beginner's chemistry last year (problem sets at 2 in the morning, cramming for exams that you know you'll fail, and a constant stream of tears) I'm not sure if I'm up for all these "hard core" classes. Now I understand why Oskar doesn't want to come to Cornell (on a much smaller scale). It's like you're diving head long into the unknown. All of these classes are just words on a page until you actually get there. And then you can't get out. And you're trapped in a tiny box-world of numbers and calculations and soulless knowledge.
I think I'm just going to dive right into environmental engineering anyway. I won't flunk out of Cornell ("failure" is not in the Passmore vocabulary; "damn close to failure" is, but not "failure), I'll just get a pathetic GPA and pray that someone hires me. And even if I end up living in a shitty apartment, working at McDonalds, living off of the dollar menu at Wendy's, I'll be okay with that. As long as I have friends there with me. Or Oskar. Or both. That would be a really good life.
Tree-hugger majors, here I come! *clicks heels together*
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Family Meeting!!!
Kids, your mother and I have decided that it's time that we all had a little... talk. We both love you very much and always want to do what is best for you and that's why... well, we're going to talk about shower hygiene. Yes, that's right the hygiene behind the hygiene. I don't know why I did that unnecessary intro, but it's okay, because that's all behind us now.
Personally, I'm a wash cloth woman. I will throw in the occasional loofah scrub when I'm feeling particularly inspired, but for the most part, I stick to soap and cloth. Which leads me to my first question: how often should you change out your wash cloth? And does the same logic necessarily apply to towels? And where the hell does the loofah fit into all of this? These are serious questions, people. The sanitation needs of humanity depend on the answers! No I am not blowing this all out of proportion! Okay! Just a little! I just feel like there is a real need to discuss these types of issues nowadays.
Personally, I'm a wash cloth woman. I will throw in the occasional loofah scrub when I'm feeling particularly inspired, but for the most part, I stick to soap and cloth. Which leads me to my first question: how often should you change out your wash cloth? And does the same logic necessarily apply to towels? And where the hell does the loofah fit into all of this? These are serious questions, people. The sanitation needs of humanity depend on the answers! No I am not blowing this all out of proportion! Okay! Just a little! I just feel like there is a real need to discuss these types of issues nowadays.
Friday, June 01, 2007
Bitch got issues...
Hello and happy Friday to you all! I hope you find yourself in splendidly high spirits on this lovely precursor to the weekend. May the lord shineth his rays of hope down upon thee and bless thine life with the splendors of his love. Amen. And amen.
Yeah, me neither.
So here I am eating miso soup at midnight. It sounds like the title of a melodramatic mid-westerner's really bad first novel. A "masterpiece of a work in which she recounts the trials of a young pregnant teen growing up in America's heartland". Was that a rant? I'm not even sure.
This miso soup was brought to you by a tube of mysterious paste-like substance and a bag of freeze dried tofu that I found in my pantry five minutes ago. And it is surprisingly delicious. I'm sure it has everything to do with my obscene cravings of salty foods for the past week and nothing to do with actual quality.
Back in Michigan again. Missing Texas like a bitch. A bitch dat gots issues. There's something about this place that's very lonely. It might have to do with the whole "big house out in the middle of nowhere" thing, but I'm trying to convince myself that that's not the case. I think it's mostly having no one to talk to. And nothing to talk about. Hmmm *formulates scheme to transport Bellami's house filled with everyone she knows and loves to Michigan* (Oh how I do miss the Bellami-ness). But enough of this sadness. Life is pointless and living is futile and Lester, Ester, Wyatt, Amelia, Apple, and Parsley seedlings have stopped growing because there's is no sunlight in this godforsaken house.
I've been looking for a job. So far I've applied to Victoria's Secret, Bed Bath and Beyond, Bath and Body Works, Maurices (clothing store), Claires, Barnes and Noble... and I think that's all. My pickiness with jobs and severe lack of credentials (haha... oh, waitressing years. How I'll never ever miss you.) make me think that I won't be getting hired any time soon. But I'm okay with spending the next two months sleeping until noon and living off of chocolate chip cookies. (God, I'm a spoiled brat.) Now all I need to do is get pretty so I can marry some over-ambitious investment banker and live like this for the rest of my life. Yay! for realistic goals.
Christians don't bother me. In fact, it really bothers me when people "Christian-bash" and assume that everyone that has any kind of religion is a bible-beating evangelical who worships George W. Bizzle... for rizzle. Because they're not. A lot of them are great people who I am only slightly jealous of for having more concept of who they are as a person than I will ever have. But not my sister. For she is one crazy biatch. Most likely, I will regret all of this later, but I predict that she will be the freakishly twitchy, over-bearing, nightmare of a mother by the time she hits forty. And for some reason she will have wild red hair and wear it all on top of her head in a rigid cocoon of hairspray and malice. And I will be the hippy aunt who slips her nieces and nephews hard liquor at new years and is still trying to get laid.
Yeah, me neither.
So here I am eating miso soup at midnight. It sounds like the title of a melodramatic mid-westerner's really bad first novel. A "masterpiece of a work in which she recounts the trials of a young pregnant teen growing up in America's heartland". Was that a rant? I'm not even sure.
This miso soup was brought to you by a tube of mysterious paste-like substance and a bag of freeze dried tofu that I found in my pantry five minutes ago. And it is surprisingly delicious. I'm sure it has everything to do with my obscene cravings of salty foods for the past week and nothing to do with actual quality.
Back in Michigan again. Missing Texas like a bitch. A bitch dat gots issues. There's something about this place that's very lonely. It might have to do with the whole "big house out in the middle of nowhere" thing, but I'm trying to convince myself that that's not the case. I think it's mostly having no one to talk to. And nothing to talk about. Hmmm *formulates scheme to transport Bellami's house filled with everyone she knows and loves to Michigan* (Oh how I do miss the Bellami-ness). But enough of this sadness. Life is pointless and living is futile and Lester, Ester, Wyatt, Amelia, Apple, and Parsley seedlings have stopped growing because there's is no sunlight in this godforsaken house.
I've been looking for a job. So far I've applied to Victoria's Secret, Bed Bath and Beyond, Bath and Body Works, Maurices (clothing store), Claires, Barnes and Noble... and I think that's all. My pickiness with jobs and severe lack of credentials (haha... oh, waitressing years. How I'll never ever miss you.) make me think that I won't be getting hired any time soon. But I'm okay with spending the next two months sleeping until noon and living off of chocolate chip cookies. (God, I'm a spoiled brat.) Now all I need to do is get pretty so I can marry some over-ambitious investment banker and live like this for the rest of my life. Yay! for realistic goals.
Christians don't bother me. In fact, it really bothers me when people "Christian-bash" and assume that everyone that has any kind of religion is a bible-beating evangelical who worships George W. Bizzle... for rizzle. Because they're not. A lot of them are great people who I am only slightly jealous of for having more concept of who they are as a person than I will ever have. But not my sister. For she is one crazy biatch. Most likely, I will regret all of this later, but I predict that she will be the freakishly twitchy, over-bearing, nightmare of a mother by the time she hits forty. And for some reason she will have wild red hair and wear it all on top of her head in a rigid cocoon of hairspray and malice. And I will be the hippy aunt who slips her nieces and nephews hard liquor at new years and is still trying to get laid.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Poo.
Yes, you heard me. Poo on chemistry. Poo on the very notion of higher education. I've been studying chemistry for the past 80-something hours and I've decided that I've had enough. There is a tiny ball of nervous energy inside of me screaming "No! NO! Get out that text book and cram those final tiddle-bits of knowledge into that mushy brain of yours. There's always more to learn... always!" But I'm kind of ignoring him right now. In fact, I think I might go wear him out with a brisk jog. Yes, that would be nice.
Because the weather is holy-shit-licking GORGEOUS! We've got 80 degress with a slight breeze and lots of sun. All the flowers are out around campus and every once in a while you'll get a whiff of something wonderful. If it were any other way around here I think everyone would go insane. Exams are a bitch.Slope Day was exciting! For those of you that weren't there (which is everyone), Slope Day is the last day of classes when everyone gets drunk (or is supposed to) and gathers on this massive slope that leads up to main campus. This year, Catch-22, TV on the Radio, and T.I. came and performed for all the smelly, passed-out masses. I volunteered to pass out bottled water and make sure no one died, so I was stuck wandering the masses all day, but iwuzallgoo 'cause I got a free t-shirt. And that's all I'm here for: the free t-shirts.
Along with the mediocre music they had cotton candy, games, various well-priced carnival foods (including turkey drumsticks, which I did not get to partake off because the wench in front of me got the very last one *shakes fist*), and pop rock ice cream with a coke swirl (which was surprisingly delicious). A friend of mine made the comparison "It's like woodstock, except with rich people" and more asians. I don't how true that is but it was fun. And I got myself a nice crispy sunburn... mmmhmmm, french-fried potaters.
So that's life for now...
OH WAIT!!! I'm coming down to Tejas!!! Yes, it's true. Tuesday the 22nd to that Friday (25th) I will be bumming around Lake Jackson, seeing peoples and generally causing trouble. Call me to do things. We will have a splendid good time. I promise!
Sunday, April 29, 2007
More Procrastinating
Mysterious cut that appeared on my face overnight.
The Family in Lisa's big cozy therapy chair. (From Right) Ester, Nameless Parsley Seeds (rule: you don't get a name until you actually look like a plant), Amelia, Wyatt, Chugsworth (Back) Lester. Chugsworth isn't a plant. He's a duck. But I think he looks nice in the picture.
Internecine
That's the Merriam Webster word of the day. I thought it was a useful little word, but I know I'll forget it. Maybe putting it in a post on the blog will miraculously help me remember it. Maybe.
Here! I'll even use it in a sentence pertaining to my life. *clears throat* "As exams drew closer, internecine drama began to take over the students of Cornell." Actually, I don't think it's exams. I'm pretty sure we're all just sick of each other and ready to move on with our lives. But that's what summer is for!
Speaking of summer, OMG *spizzle* swankjazz Iamsof-ingexcited! I am going to read, read, read. And then go to Texas. And then read, read, read some more. And then go to Texas again. So far the reading list looks like this:
-"The Selfish Gene"
-"The Idiot"
-"Ulysses"
-"Forever"
-All things Flannery O'Connor
-"A Farewell to Arms"
and any other tidbits that I find. (Suggestions please!)
The schedule for ventures to Texas is (tentatively):
-Sometime in late late May.
-June 10th (ish) to ... sometime after that...
-Possibly the 4th of July
-At the end (August)
Hey! I said it was tentative.
I should have my cell phone by Wednesday, just in case anyone has been dying to talk to me in the 2 weeks I've been without it... The number is the same, but I lost all the numbers I had stored in it. Thus, I will soon be making a "Lisa angry. Lisa smash." Facebook group to retrieve all the lost numbers.
I feel bad saying this, but my exam schedule is looking pretty damn good. All my labs are done (with the exception of one bio practical that I am actually looking forward to studying). I have 2 more papers due (one of which is done). All my exams are at least 3 days apart from one another (vich is the nice). The only bad part is I have to stay until the very last day of exams, which can get kind of depressing watching all the other people leave. But is okay.
I finally gained the Freshman Fifteen. And I was so close to dodging it... *thinks about it*... I honestly don't care. Cooooooool.
If you have 15 minutes that you want to procrastinate away, I suggest checking out the God Blog.
Here! I'll even use it in a sentence pertaining to my life. *clears throat* "As exams drew closer, internecine drama began to take over the students of Cornell." Actually, I don't think it's exams. I'm pretty sure we're all just sick of each other and ready to move on with our lives. But that's what summer is for!
Speaking of summer, OMG *spizzle* swankjazz Iamsof-ingexcited! I am going to read, read, read. And then go to Texas. And then read, read, read some more. And then go to Texas again. So far the reading list looks like this:
-"The Selfish Gene"
-"The Idiot"
-"Ulysses"
-"Forever"
-All things Flannery O'Connor
-"A Farewell to Arms"
and any other tidbits that I find. (Suggestions please!)
The schedule for ventures to Texas is (tentatively):
-Sometime in late late May.
-June 10th (ish) to ... sometime after that...
-Possibly the 4th of July
-At the end (August)
Hey! I said it was tentative.
I should have my cell phone by Wednesday, just in case anyone has been dying to talk to me in the 2 weeks I've been without it... The number is the same, but I lost all the numbers I had stored in it. Thus, I will soon be making a "Lisa angry. Lisa smash." Facebook group to retrieve all the lost numbers.
I feel bad saying this, but my exam schedule is looking pretty damn good. All my labs are done (with the exception of one bio practical that I am actually looking forward to studying). I have 2 more papers due (one of which is done). All my exams are at least 3 days apart from one another (vich is the nice). The only bad part is I have to stay until the very last day of exams, which can get kind of depressing watching all the other people leave. But is okay.
I finally gained the Freshman Fifteen. And I was so close to dodging it... *thinks about it*... I honestly don't care. Cooooooool.
If you have 15 minutes that you want to procrastinate away, I suggest checking out the God Blog.
In conclusion, best picture eva':
It's a baby! 
It's a baby! Sunday, April 22, 2007
Saturday, April 21, 2007
I'm sad. You're sad. We're all sad, or at least we should be.
Of the 6 or 7 really really terrible points in my life, this week has been on of them. Between the 4 months of sleep deprivation, two feet of snow (in April!), having to retype a 6 page essay that I had been working on all weekend and couldn't find on my laptop Monday morning, Virginia Tech, fudging a chimes concert so badly that I've pretty much lost all hope of being chosen, more snow, and the sub-mediocre grades that I've been getting all semester, it all came crumbling down. After a series of mini-break downs which culminated with me smashing my cell phone into the ground and breaking it, I've decided that this should never happen to anyone ever again. I haven't figured out how to fix the situation, but I've come up with a list of things to NOT do.
Things to Avoid When You're at/on the Verge of Mental Collapse:
1) Facebook Photos: unless you're in them, don't even go there. You may show up with good intentions, thinking that the smiling faces of your friends back home will provide some support. They won't. They will only make you feel unaccomplished and alone.
2) Couping up in your Room and Refusing to Answer your Door: it might be hard, but it really helps to be around people. Really. Even a few moments of chatter with a stranger can work wonders.
3) Compulsive Eating: sometimes eating an entire package of Fig Newtons is not the answer. Rarely... but sometimes.
4) Denying yourself Free Time: I am the product of two engineers. In my family, to be unproductive or ineffecient is right up there with sin. This attitude was further perpetuated by a certain ex-boyfriend and only now and am I learning to let go of it. Writing, reading (for pleasure), working out, and taking walks were just a few of the things I forsook regularly for school... and now I'm taking them back. If that hour I spend meandering around campus while the weather is nice costs a few chapters of bio reading, so be it. With life being as short as it is, it just doesn't make sense that school work should come before happiness.
5) Tragedy and the Media: Shit is going to happen. Most of the stuff that makes it to the news is going to be bad, but don't saturate yourself in it. Which is totally what I did after the thing at VT. Which was totally a bad idea.
6) Forget that you're Human: I guess this ties in with the free time, but I always considered myself a robot... a lean mean learning machine. I'm just now starting to understand that it's ok to have emotions that change on a daily basis. It's ok to fail a chemistry exam or mutilate "Hey Jude" on the chimes or say something stupid and feel like a complete jerk right before you apologize. People have ups and downs and anyone that is happy all the time is a robot or a liar. And that's why everyone should be sad and understand why they are sad and understand that it will eventually go away.
So I hate to be preachy and maybe all of this only pertains to me, but that's ok... 'cause dis be muh blog, bichos! And that's how we roll around here.
Things to Avoid When You're at/on the Verge of Mental Collapse:
1) Facebook Photos: unless you're in them, don't even go there. You may show up with good intentions, thinking that the smiling faces of your friends back home will provide some support. They won't. They will only make you feel unaccomplished and alone.
2) Couping up in your Room and Refusing to Answer your Door: it might be hard, but it really helps to be around people. Really. Even a few moments of chatter with a stranger can work wonders.
3) Compulsive Eating: sometimes eating an entire package of Fig Newtons is not the answer. Rarely... but sometimes.
4) Denying yourself Free Time: I am the product of two engineers. In my family, to be unproductive or ineffecient is right up there with sin. This attitude was further perpetuated by a certain ex-boyfriend and only now and am I learning to let go of it. Writing, reading (for pleasure), working out, and taking walks were just a few of the things I forsook regularly for school... and now I'm taking them back. If that hour I spend meandering around campus while the weather is nice costs a few chapters of bio reading, so be it. With life being as short as it is, it just doesn't make sense that school work should come before happiness.
5) Tragedy and the Media: Shit is going to happen. Most of the stuff that makes it to the news is going to be bad, but don't saturate yourself in it. Which is totally what I did after the thing at VT. Which was totally a bad idea.
6) Forget that you're Human: I guess this ties in with the free time, but I always considered myself a robot... a lean mean learning machine. I'm just now starting to understand that it's ok to have emotions that change on a daily basis. It's ok to fail a chemistry exam or mutilate "Hey Jude" on the chimes or say something stupid and feel like a complete jerk right before you apologize. People have ups and downs and anyone that is happy all the time is a robot or a liar. And that's why everyone should be sad and understand why they are sad and understand that it will eventually go away.
So I hate to be preachy and maybe all of this only pertains to me, but that's ok... 'cause dis be muh blog, bichos! And that's how we roll around here.
Friday, April 20, 2007
Hooray!
Holy geez! Something actually went right this week: my blog is working again. This is a good sign. A very very good sign.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Happy Tuesday!
So, I'm in this mood where I feel like making out with everything. Admittedly, the feelings died down a bit since it's peak at 11:00 am EST, but still, I'm having these crazy urges. The kind of crazy urges that come from revelations that occur in chem lecture when you think to yourself "My god, life isn't so bad after all! In fact, life is pretty damn good!" And then you turn to the stranger sitting next to you with a huge grin on your face and silently mouth "Life is good." to them. And then they move a few seats away.
Actually that didn't happen. But it makes for a better story.
And then you walk outside, and the 35 degree weather suddenly feels more like 40 degrees. And the sun is almost shining, and your shoes feel more comfortable, and then you get the urge to just make out with someone. Lay the passion that you're feeling on someone else. "Spread the love," if you will. But that could lead to restraining orders and assault charges, so you just keep your passion to yourself.
I wonder who came up with the concept of making out. I get this vision of a couple kissing each other in this mechanical, rhythmatic way and one turns to the other and says "Surely we can do this more efficiently. Let's string all the kisses together, add a little saliva, and just go for it." And so they did. And the first make out session occured that very day. The new trend spread like wildfire to all the kids, adding a whole new dimension to an act that had needed a whole new dimension for so long.
Freud says it has to do with the lips symbolizing the genetalia and the kiss being a kind of "pseudo-intercourse", but Freud was silly (as men tend to be). Plus, I like my story better.
Actually that didn't happen. But it makes for a better story.
And then you walk outside, and the 35 degree weather suddenly feels more like 40 degrees. And the sun is almost shining, and your shoes feel more comfortable, and then you get the urge to just make out with someone. Lay the passion that you're feeling on someone else. "Spread the love," if you will. But that could lead to restraining orders and assault charges, so you just keep your passion to yourself.
I wonder who came up with the concept of making out. I get this vision of a couple kissing each other in this mechanical, rhythmatic way and one turns to the other and says "Surely we can do this more efficiently. Let's string all the kisses together, add a little saliva, and just go for it." And so they did. And the first make out session occured that very day. The new trend spread like wildfire to all the kids, adding a whole new dimension to an act that had needed a whole new dimension for so long.
Freud says it has to do with the lips symbolizing the genetalia and the kiss being a kind of "pseudo-intercourse", but Freud was silly (as men tend to be). Plus, I like my story better.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Life Update!!!
Chimes. And that's about it.
I wish I had crazy stories about crazy parties, but I just don't. I leave my dorm at 7:30 in the morning and usually get back around 9pm. Such is life.
I have, however, taken up kick boxing... again. There was this time when I did it during junior year, but Mrs. Harper taught it (insanely fit band instructor) and there only like 6 of us there on any given day. So I'm trying it again and recommending it to anyone and everyone who has even an ounce of curiosity. You feel kind of stupid when you start (especially when there's a mirror in the room), but once you get into it, you feel like a bad ass. A sore, out of shape, sweaty bad ass. Excellence.
... oh my god, I have nothing to say. I have absolutely nothing to say. And it's been months since I've had a "real" blogging. God, I feel so inadequate...
I wish I had crazy stories about crazy parties, but I just don't. I leave my dorm at 7:30 in the morning and usually get back around 9pm. Such is life.
I have, however, taken up kick boxing... again. There was this time when I did it during junior year, but Mrs. Harper taught it (insanely fit band instructor) and there only like 6 of us there on any given day. So I'm trying it again and recommending it to anyone and everyone who has even an ounce of curiosity. You feel kind of stupid when you start (especially when there's a mirror in the room), but once you get into it, you feel like a bad ass. A sore, out of shape, sweaty bad ass. Excellence.
... oh my god, I have nothing to say. I have absolutely nothing to say. And it's been months since I've had a "real" blogging. God, I feel so inadequate...
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Oh, you crazy Creationists....
Peanut Butter Creationism
I'm going to start checking all my jars of condiments daily for new and exciting forms of life!
Here's a visual of what I do everyday for 2 hours. Except imagine me in the place of that girl. And imagine it sucking a whole lot more.
And that's all that happened today!... seriously.
I'm going to start checking all my jars of condiments daily for new and exciting forms of life!
Here's a visual of what I do everyday for 2 hours. Except imagine me in the place of that girl. And imagine it sucking a whole lot more.
And that's all that happened today!... seriously.
Friday, March 30, 2007
The Trouble With Piercings...
I went and dun did got myself pierced again today. A second hole for each of my lobes. It hurt like hell, but for some reason the pain was kind of... nice. Physically, the pain was roughly equivalent to giving blood or getting stuck with any large needle (hmm... imagine that). But for some reason the fact that I was going to get something out of it made it better. Like giving birth. That's probably why mothers don't complain as much about labor as they probably should...
Which brings me to my next point, the problem with getting pierced is that as soon as you get home and examine it in the mirror for a while, you're already planning on where you're going to get your next one. It's a vicious cycle, my friends. Vicious.
Plus, you have to figure out a way to explain it to your mother...
Which brings me to my next point, the problem with getting pierced is that as soon as you get home and examine it in the mirror for a while, you're already planning on where you're going to get your next one. It's a vicious cycle, my friends. Vicious.
Plus, you have to figure out a way to explain it to your mother...
Thursday, March 29, 2007
A Series of Short Lists
People I Strongly Dislike
1) Nicholas Sparks
2) Staind (all members)
3) Bill Maher
4) Accordian Players
5) My Anti-social self
People Who Strongly Dislike Me
1) My Evil English Teacher
2) Everyone on My Hall
3) Mrs. Bayer (I'm kind of proud of that one, actually)
4)That One Girl (that one time)
5) My Anti-social self (yeah, I don't even know what I mean)
Things I Ate Today
1) White Rice
2) Soy Milk
3) Cherry Vanilla Granola
4) Millions and millions of bacteria that were once in my mouth, but are now somewhere in my digestive tract
5) Salsa
Things I'll Do Before I'm 30
1) Stand on top of something tall and not be afraid
2) Write a novel
3) Have a baby
4) Find religion... or not.
5) Go somewhere far far away and not communicate with anyone for a very long time (but not forever)
Thing I Wish Would Happen
1) The world would pull its head out of its ass and realize that we need to start getting along if we're going to make this work
2) It would rain those rainbow marshmallows that you can only find in the "Hispanic" section of the grocery store
3) Bacon and ice cream would become their own food group and form the base of the food pyramid
4) Pigs get the ability to fly (they deserve it)
5) A black, female, albino, Jewish, homosexual president get elected to office
Things That Freak Me Out
1) Tongue rings (not that I don't like them... because I do)
2) Bones sticking out of skin
3) Heights
4) Inhaling Helium
5) Cucarachas
Things I Should Do More Often
1) Call friends to "just say 'hi'"
2) Do completely pointless activities
3) Sleep
4) Drink water
5) Be thankful
Some days you just need order in your life. Even if it's obvious, pointless, monotonous order.
(Edit: Things That are Awesome
1) People who inform me that I've done my chemistry homework (due tomorrow) wrong at 2 in the morning
2) The fact that my graphing calculator can multiply fractions and has an entire button for giving me a numbers reciprocal, but can't do scientific notation
3) People who "borrow" my other calculator and leave me scientific notationless/negative largarithmless at 2 in the morning
4) The 100 pages of reading that await me when I finish this post
5) Cheese balls)
1) Nicholas Sparks
2) Staind (all members)
3) Bill Maher
4) Accordian Players
5) My Anti-social self
People Who Strongly Dislike Me
1) My Evil English Teacher
2) Everyone on My Hall
3) Mrs. Bayer (I'm kind of proud of that one, actually)
4)That One Girl (that one time)
5) My Anti-social self (yeah, I don't even know what I mean)
Things I Ate Today
1) White Rice
2) Soy Milk
3) Cherry Vanilla Granola
4) Millions and millions of bacteria that were once in my mouth, but are now somewhere in my digestive tract
5) Salsa
Things I'll Do Before I'm 30
1) Stand on top of something tall and not be afraid
2) Write a novel
3) Have a baby
4) Find religion... or not.
5) Go somewhere far far away and not communicate with anyone for a very long time (but not forever)
Thing I Wish Would Happen
1) The world would pull its head out of its ass and realize that we need to start getting along if we're going to make this work
2) It would rain those rainbow marshmallows that you can only find in the "Hispanic" section of the grocery store
3) Bacon and ice cream would become their own food group and form the base of the food pyramid
4) Pigs get the ability to fly (they deserve it)
5) A black, female, albino, Jewish, homosexual president get elected to office
Things That Freak Me Out
1) Tongue rings (not that I don't like them... because I do)
2) Bones sticking out of skin
3) Heights
4) Inhaling Helium
5) Cucarachas
Things I Should Do More Often
1) Call friends to "just say 'hi'"
2) Do completely pointless activities
3) Sleep
4) Drink water
5) Be thankful
Some days you just need order in your life. Even if it's obvious, pointless, monotonous order.
(Edit: Things That are Awesome
1) People who inform me that I've done my chemistry homework (due tomorrow) wrong at 2 in the morning
2) The fact that my graphing calculator can multiply fractions and has an entire button for giving me a numbers reciprocal, but can't do scientific notation
3) People who "borrow" my other calculator and leave me scientific notationless/negative largarithmless at 2 in the morning
4) The 100 pages of reading that await me when I finish this post
5) Cheese balls)
Friday, March 23, 2007
New York, New York!
Furthermore, Gene Kelly had the tightest ass to ever grace the 40's/50's. (And her transitions are so clear too!)
Back in the old dorm. Whenever I leave for any significant amount of time (more than a few days), my dorm always seems bigger to me when I return. Why is that, I ask you, why?!? It's lonely in this (seemingly) large room, and I've been compulsively eating for the past two hours, but that's of no matter! Here! Sit, child, and let me tell you of my ventures in the metaphorical "Big Apple."
And I have pictures. Joy!
Look! I'm holding up the entire city with one hand!... just joking, I actually positioned my hand when the picture was taken to create the illusion that I was holding it up. But I'm sure I could have held it up if I'd really wanted to. I just didn't feel like it that day. This is on the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, by the way... just in case anyone cared.
It's duh Brooklyn Bridge! Hooray! Drinks all around!
A picture from the top of the Rockefeller Center. Blurry, because I suck.
Holy shit! Did you see that giant whale?!... yeah, me neither.
View from the top of the Empire State Building. There, I just saved you $15 and an hour waiting in line. But you should probably go anyway. It's amazing up there.
This is the Statue of Liberty, me, and my "damn, it's windy" face.
Birthday presents to myself. Yes... *fist pump of victory*... I'm a loser.
So basically, I did every cliche thing that every tourist should do... except for the many many things that I did not do, like visit Ground Zero, spend time in Macy's, go to the Museum of Modern Art, get to really see Central Park, go to Ellis Island... and etc. and etc. BUT! I did get to see a taping of "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" which was the most wonderfully, fabulous thing in the world. If you happened to catch Monday night's show, my laughter and applause was among the hundred other laughters and applauses. Excellence.
It's a great city. We should all rendezvous there when we actually have the time and money to do so. Man, that would be one great rendezvous...
Back in the old dorm. Whenever I leave for any significant amount of time (more than a few days), my dorm always seems bigger to me when I return. Why is that, I ask you, why?!? It's lonely in this (seemingly) large room, and I've been compulsively eating for the past two hours, but that's of no matter! Here! Sit, child, and let me tell you of my ventures in the metaphorical "Big Apple."
And I have pictures. Joy!
Look! I'm holding up the entire city with one hand!... just joking, I actually positioned my hand when the picture was taken to create the illusion that I was holding it up. But I'm sure I could have held it up if I'd really wanted to. I just didn't feel like it that day. This is on the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, by the way... just in case anyone cared.
It's duh Brooklyn Bridge! Hooray! Drinks all around!
A picture from the top of the Rockefeller Center. Blurry, because I suck.
Holy shit! Did you see that giant whale?!... yeah, me neither.
View from the top of the Empire State Building. There, I just saved you $15 and an hour waiting in line. But you should probably go anyway. It's amazing up there.
This is the Statue of Liberty, me, and my "damn, it's windy" face.
Birthday presents to myself. Yes... *fist pump of victory*... I'm a loser.
So basically, I did every cliche thing that every tourist should do... except for the many many things that I did not do, like visit Ground Zero, spend time in Macy's, go to the Museum of Modern Art, get to really see Central Park, go to Ellis Island... and etc. and etc. BUT! I did get to see a taping of "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" which was the most wonderfully, fabulous thing in the world. If you happened to catch Monday night's show, my laughter and applause was among the hundred other laughters and applauses. Excellence.
It's a great city. We should all rendezvous there when we actually have the time and money to do so. Man, that would be one great rendezvous...
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Oh, the mope-age.
This is always the way it goes when I have to leave Oskar. It's a 24-hour period of ups and downs and reminiscing and severe, severe moping. Right now, I'm sitting in my dorm. Sipping Diet Pepsi, wanting to clean up but not really for fear that I'll have to throw out something that reminds me of the week we spent together. An empty bag of chips. A used spoon. Everything is a relic of good times. Throwing it in the trash would be throwing away the good times, because the memories alone are never good enough.
It doesn't look like I'll be taking out the trash this week...
So Oskar has been here for the past week (for anyone that hasn't gotten that yet). Consequently, I've been missing (internet-wise) for the past week or so. It was probably one of the best weeks I've had here, what with the snow and the hot and the rancid tortillas and the various bodily noises and the Ambiguously Gay Cornell Students and the lack of traction and the procrastination and the bliss. Now Oskar's on a plane, flying to Houston. I'm in my errily quiet dorm, picking at one of the many mysterious scabs that keep appearing on the tops of my hands and waiting. I feel like I'm on the edge of an era. Like something completely new is going to start soon. I'm not sure if it's good or bad just yet, but I'll keep your posted.
I'm getting on a bus at 4 (am) for New York City. I've never been and am hovering in this depressed/excited/confused state. For the past month, I've been planning for Oskar's visit. Now that it's over, it's like my trip to New York has just kind of slapped me in the face (*slap* "Remember me, bitch!"). I'm currently rummaging through this ultra-touristy guide book, looking for things to do, but if anyone has suggestions, I'll be glad to take them.
So that's where I'll be for the next 5 days. Forgive my lack of posting. I promise I'll be back with a big bang of shiny pictures and amusing stories.
It doesn't look like I'll be taking out the trash this week...
So Oskar has been here for the past week (for anyone that hasn't gotten that yet). Consequently, I've been missing (internet-wise) for the past week or so. It was probably one of the best weeks I've had here, what with the snow and the hot and the rancid tortillas and the various bodily noises and the Ambiguously Gay Cornell Students and the lack of traction and the procrastination and the bliss. Now Oskar's on a plane, flying to Houston. I'm in my errily quiet dorm, picking at one of the many mysterious scabs that keep appearing on the tops of my hands and waiting. I feel like I'm on the edge of an era. Like something completely new is going to start soon. I'm not sure if it's good or bad just yet, but I'll keep your posted.
I'm getting on a bus at 4 (am) for New York City. I've never been and am hovering in this depressed/excited/confused state. For the past month, I've been planning for Oskar's visit. Now that it's over, it's like my trip to New York has just kind of slapped me in the face (*slap* "Remember me, bitch!"). I'm currently rummaging through this ultra-touristy guide book, looking for things to do, but if anyone has suggestions, I'll be glad to take them.
So that's where I'll be for the next 5 days. Forgive my lack of posting. I promise I'll be back with a big bang of shiny pictures and amusing stories.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Woah!... excellent.
I just popped this teeny tiny blister on the side of my heel. It was the coolest blister I've ever seen! I love when my body does crazy shit like this...
I also love hour-long conversations on the topic of in-grown hairs. I also love you.
Today has been the craziest, shittiest, most exciting week in the history of mankind! Ok... maybe not the entire history, but certainly the craziest, shittiest, most exciting in the last ten years. I've been getting about 4 hours of sleep a night and working my ass off all day long. But Oskar is coming up on Friday and I want everything to be done for next week so I can frolic worry-free. Soooooo... I've been doing double time all week. Double the reading. Double the writing. It's stressful, but it will be worth it.
And to add to the madness, I've had to practice chimes for about 2 hours a day this week.... which I haven't actually told anyone about (with the exception of Oskar) so lemme 'splain...
At the beginning of February I entered the "Chimesmaster Competition '07" and thus sold myself over to the Cornell chimes program. The chimes are almost 2 octaves worth of bells located in this tower at the center of campus. They play 3 fifteen-minute concerts a day as well as some on weekends and for special occasions (graduation, weddings, etc.). Soooo... I decided I wanted to be a chimesmaster. Mostly because the title kicks ass but also because the chimes kick much ass as well. So for a month I practiced a couple hours a week perfecting some songs... severely slaughtering others with my lack of dexterity and stealth. Last week they had the first "cut" and I somehow (by the grace of God... or Vishnu... or the Chimes Diety) I made it. Now I'm one of the six left competing, and I'm scared as hell.
This week I've been busting my ass to put together a 15 minute concert that I'll play on Saturday. That the whole campus will hear. That I'll probably shit my pants while doing... but that's ok, because I'm playing the frickin' chimes, bitches! I didn't tell anyone because I honestly didn't think I'd make it this far. I still don't think I'm going to make it, but it blows my mind that I get to make music that can be heard over a half-mile radius. Excellence.
Here's the official website. And here's the database where you can search for songs that they have on file. I'll take requests and do my best to learn them. But I make no promises...
In other parts of life, I am absolutely, inconsolably obsessed with the movie "Amélie." It's like candy. That's all I can think of to describe. And it has one of the most amazing soundtracks that I've ever heard. Hell, I would consider it one of the best albums I've ever heard. Amazing. You should go watch it... right now. Yes, you. It will change your life.
That's all for tonight. Please leave some requests... I'm desperate for concert ideas.
I also love hour-long conversations on the topic of in-grown hairs. I also love you.
Today has been the craziest, shittiest, most exciting week in the history of mankind! Ok... maybe not the entire history, but certainly the craziest, shittiest, most exciting in the last ten years. I've been getting about 4 hours of sleep a night and working my ass off all day long. But Oskar is coming up on Friday and I want everything to be done for next week so I can frolic worry-free. Soooooo... I've been doing double time all week. Double the reading. Double the writing. It's stressful, but it will be worth it.
And to add to the madness, I've had to practice chimes for about 2 hours a day this week.... which I haven't actually told anyone about (with the exception of Oskar) so lemme 'splain...
At the beginning of February I entered the "Chimesmaster Competition '07" and thus sold myself over to the Cornell chimes program. The chimes are almost 2 octaves worth of bells located in this tower at the center of campus. They play 3 fifteen-minute concerts a day as well as some on weekends and for special occasions (graduation, weddings, etc.). Soooo... I decided I wanted to be a chimesmaster. Mostly because the title kicks ass but also because the chimes kick much ass as well. So for a month I practiced a couple hours a week perfecting some songs... severely slaughtering others with my lack of dexterity and stealth. Last week they had the first "cut" and I somehow (by the grace of God... or Vishnu... or the Chimes Diety) I made it. Now I'm one of the six left competing, and I'm scared as hell.
This week I've been busting my ass to put together a 15 minute concert that I'll play on Saturday. That the whole campus will hear. That I'll probably shit my pants while doing... but that's ok, because I'm playing the frickin' chimes, bitches! I didn't tell anyone because I honestly didn't think I'd make it this far. I still don't think I'm going to make it, but it blows my mind that I get to make music that can be heard over a half-mile radius. Excellence.
Here's the official website. And here's the database where you can search for songs that they have on file. I'll take requests and do my best to learn them. But I make no promises...
In other parts of life, I am absolutely, inconsolably obsessed with the movie "Amélie." It's like candy. That's all I can think of to describe. And it has one of the most amazing soundtracks that I've ever heard. Hell, I would consider it one of the best albums I've ever heard. Amazing. You should go watch it... right now. Yes, you. It will change your life.
That's all for tonight. Please leave some requests... I'm desperate for concert ideas.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
My Day... in Bullets.
-Got more than 4 hours of sleep.
-Made sushi.
-Ate sushi.
-Decided that I suck at making sushi.
-Studied for chemistry.
-Practiced the chimes.
-Decided that I suck at chimes.
-Decided that I'm a negative person.
-Got raped by chem exam.
-Latin danced the rape away.
-Recalled the rape of the chem exam.
-Ate 2 pears.
-Bulleted my day.
God, that was pointless. I'm sorry that you had to sit through that. Wait, no I'm not. It's your fault for wasting your life away on the internet... yes you! Now get your ass away from this filthy world of anonimity and schmut and be productive!
-Made sushi.
-Ate sushi.
-Decided that I suck at making sushi.
-Studied for chemistry.
-Practiced the chimes.
-Decided that I suck at chimes.
-Decided that I'm a negative person.
-Got raped by chem exam.
-Latin danced the rape away.
-Recalled the rape of the chem exam.
-Ate 2 pears.
-Bulleted my day.
God, that was pointless. I'm sorry that you had to sit through that. Wait, no I'm not. It's your fault for wasting your life away on the internet... yes you! Now get your ass away from this filthy world of anonimity and schmut and be productive!
Monday, February 26, 2007
Haiku for You!
Today (so far) in haiku form:
Eye crusties hold tight
Amidst sweet gusts of morning breath.
Sleep is but a dream.
No time to shower.
Maybe the rest won't notice.
If not, hope they enjoy.
8 am for this?
What a waist of tuition.
I want a refund.
Oh, Hardy-Weinberg,
You rock my fucking face off.
Let's mix some alleles.
No haiku can praise
Porfirio Diaz.
He hoards syllables.
I love John Mayer,
He's such a fucking pervert.
Ear molestation.
Three hidden pitas
On my person as I leave.
Dining hall bandit.
Cascades of water,
Hygiene among moldy tiles.
Sins spiral down drain.
Eye crusties hold tight
Amidst sweet gusts of morning breath.
Sleep is but a dream.
No time to shower.
Maybe the rest won't notice.
If not, hope they enjoy.
8 am for this?
What a waist of tuition.
I want a refund.
Oh, Hardy-Weinberg,
You rock my fucking face off.
Let's mix some alleles.
No haiku can praise
Porfirio Diaz.
He hoards syllables.
I love John Mayer,
He's such a fucking pervert.
Ear molestation.
Three hidden pitas
On my person as I leave.
Dining hall bandit.
Cascades of water,
Hygiene among moldy tiles.
Sins spiral down drain.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
I might just be pathetic...
It rained today! Not snow, no sleet, not itty-bitty pellets of hail... RAIN!!!
It's nice to know that there is actually going to be an end to winter.
It's nice to know that there is actually going to be an end to winter.
Monday, February 19, 2007
"You're gonna' make it after all..."
Yes, it has been one of those days where The Mary Tyler Moore Show theme song gets stuck in your head. So you think to yourself, "What the hell?" and throw your hat up in the air to celebrate your feminine freedom and power. And then your hat floats lightly back to earth to land in a pile of dirty snow and get stepped all over by the good students of Cornell. That's symbolism, baby.
I've decided that I'm shutting my brain off for the next few hours. It's been running pretty hard today and needs a rest... a "cool down" if you will.
As I was doing some reading for Modern Latin America today, it finally occurred to me why slavery pissed so many people (namely black people) off. And why they're still angry today (to some extent... that I am carelessly throwing out there without any facts to support it). I know this will probably piss someone off, and make me look like an inconsiderate white bitch, but I feel like it needs to be said.
I was always one of those people that was like "Forty acres and a mule?... geez, slavery ended like 150 years ago. Just let it go." But it wasn't until today that the huge amount of mental/social scarring really hit me. Not only is slavery a terrible thing (with the supression and the prejudice and the whathaveyou), but you're tearing apart people, families, solidarity. After emancipation, there was still another hundred years of struggle just to put back together the pieces and even some of those are still missing. And I sure as hell don't think forty acres and a mule is going to fix that.
So that was my righteous, stunted, blabbering for the day.
In other news, my English teacher is a bitch. It's official. Ratemyprofessors.com says so.
I also picked out my room in the Ecology House today. Did I mention that I'm living in the Ecology House next year?... anyway, I am. It's where all the hippies go to recycle and draw murals that encompass the beauty of nature and be hippies. I got a room with a nice view of... some foliage. Oh how I love the foliage.
Speaking of plants!!! There are some new additions to the family...
They're hyacinth bulbs and will hopefully be flowery by the time Oskar gets here (18 more days... eegatz!)
I've decided that I'm shutting my brain off for the next few hours. It's been running pretty hard today and needs a rest... a "cool down" if you will.
As I was doing some reading for Modern Latin America today, it finally occurred to me why slavery pissed so many people (namely black people) off. And why they're still angry today (to some extent... that I am carelessly throwing out there without any facts to support it). I know this will probably piss someone off, and make me look like an inconsiderate white bitch, but I feel like it needs to be said.
I was always one of those people that was like "Forty acres and a mule?... geez, slavery ended like 150 years ago. Just let it go." But it wasn't until today that the huge amount of mental/social scarring really hit me. Not only is slavery a terrible thing (with the supression and the prejudice and the whathaveyou), but you're tearing apart people, families, solidarity. After emancipation, there was still another hundred years of struggle just to put back together the pieces and even some of those are still missing. And I sure as hell don't think forty acres and a mule is going to fix that.
So that was my righteous, stunted, blabbering for the day.
In other news, my English teacher is a bitch. It's official. Ratemyprofessors.com says so.
I also picked out my room in the Ecology House today. Did I mention that I'm living in the Ecology House next year?... anyway, I am. It's where all the hippies go to recycle and draw murals that encompass the beauty of nature and be hippies. I got a room with a nice view of... some foliage. Oh how I love the foliage.
Speaking of plants!!! There are some new additions to the family...
They're hyacinth bulbs and will hopefully be flowery by the time Oskar gets here (18 more days... eegatz!)
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