Since my life is so Little House on the Prairie right now, I am getting my drama fix from family gossip. The latest news is that my uncle--my dad's 40ish year-old cousin, technically--whose wife left him about a year ago, met a 26 year-old Ukrainian women online. She is apparently slotted to fill the void left in his life and to play a starring role in the 9-Month Plan that he has concocted (aka "Find a New Wife in 9 Months Plan"). She is coming to South Africa to visit in a month or so...with the help of his money I am sure, and if they are still happy with eachother after that she will come for good. I don't think there will be any deal-breaking fights while she is visiting since she doesn't speak English and he doesn't speak Ukrainian, so basically I see a Russian--whoops I mean Ukrainian--mail-order bride aunt in my future.
Hmmm. This little bit of gossipy nonsense is the only thing interesting in my life right now. I'm re-reading The Bourne Identity which I like to think lends me some sort of street cred. Or at least a way to live vicariously through Matt Damon's fake life.
And, oh my gosh, is it lame that I really adore the new Cadillac commercial with Addison from Grey's Anatomy slash Private Practice? That and the Old Navy Sweater commercial with the song from Rent and that yummy boy who looks like the kid who was in my advanced macro class a year ago. I don't know why I never flirted more with him. He always seemed interested, but the ROTC guys used to take over conversations and the chairs next to us in class. I don't mean to sound arrogant, I really don't think that I am remotely alluring or attractive, but in econ classes, I made up roughly 30 to 50% of the female population--often 100% of the non-asian female population--which made me much more of a hot commodity. In any case. That kid was hot, studious, and if I ran into him again, I would probably still secretly want him. Or not so secretly if I wasn't such a silly little girl.
For the record, as a student of political theory, I do think the military is a necessary institution for any autonomous state even though I am a pacifist. And ROTC kids are just fine...the above title is merely an expression of me resenting their cockblocking in Econ class. [In case any nosy Ed Murray-esque characters are monitoring my blog in search of reasons to give me further unwarranted tongue-lashings about nonsense. I haven't forgotten that, and will always consider the esteemed Senator that much closer to GW. As close as any homosexual Democratic politician from Seattle could be, that is. Actually, I think I may have compared him to Nixon in the blog entry that he nearly had an aneurysm about. Which, in retrospect turned out to be a fairly apt comparison when you consider his heated paranoia and response to my critique of him to my audience of a very very few. I don't think you can even find my blog through Google. Regardless, I think I have covered my back since then in terms of not making statements that I could be verbally bitch-slapped for. It is not every day that a State Senator calls you an asshole. And I would like to keep that memory special by making sure that it is not made dull by repetition.]
"I am not sure if the author was one of the people who visited my in Olympia? If so I don’t believe we were in the same meeting. I did not bitch about students not voting. I did share a concern about low voter turn out in the U district. We then had a discussion about if democratic students should register in the very democratic 43rd or if they came from a suburban republican leaning district if they should register there. I also did not say students opinions don’t matter. I think my record of meeting with UW students over the years can not be matched by other legislators. In addition I have hired as legislative staff and campaign staff students I have met as a result of those meetings. Finally I did not say I wanted to level husky stadium and mentioned I attended football games in the stadium. Again I have a long record of attempting to find a solution to the SR520 problem for all of us who live, work and study on the Seattle side of the lake.
So I don’t mind being considered an asshole, I just think when you make up comments I did not say you are also being an asshole."
-Senator Ed Murray in response to my dramatized rant below (and for the record, everything I said was true, though I believe Mr. Pedersen was the only one guilty of making the naive suggestion of leveling Husky Stadium. And as for the reference I made to coke-railing Richard Nixons, well it was a bit strong I admit, but it was a comparison and was by no means libelous)....
"It's too bad that Jamie Pedersen and Ed Murray are such assholes. Please, guys. If you are going to bitch about students not voting to the few students who are...the same ones who are running the voting drives and working on your campaigns, and THEN tell us that our opinions don't matter because students as a whole don't vote, that's bullshit. You should probably rethink why you are a Democrat, because unlike Republicans, you are supposed to listen to all of your constituents. And, I'm really very sorry, but you are off your rocker if you think that anyone will let you get away with leveling Husky Stadium to make room for a new 520 off-ramp. Honestly, when I talk to those two muffins, I feel like I'm sitting in a room with two coke-railing Richard Nixons.
"One vote is worth a hundred obscene slogans."
-Richard Nixon"
Friday, October 5, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Forbidden Fruit
I was thinking about my worst nightmare tonight when I was walking the dog by the psuedo-mansions just up the hill from my house. Unlike Chloe, my worst nightmare is definitely not a zombie infiltration. She says that the day she sees a headline declaring "The Dead Walk", she will shoot herself. I will just buy some spanky pants and a thigh holster, so I can run around on a killing spree ala Mila Jovavich. Although I was the one who freaked out and started crying last Halloween when a hundred or so zombies came into the QFC on their annual Zombie Walk, I maintain that had I been wearing spanky pants and toting a bazooka I would have been just fine. In any case, my worst nightmare would be the apocalypse. The biblical one, not the movie. This is because, even if you die by zombies or other horrific things, you still have hope of heaven or whatever afterlife you happen to believe in. If you're left behind in the apocalypse, maybe your chances of heaven are gone, in addition to the fact that a portion of your friends and family have disappeared forever.
Speaking of zombies, I have discovered that tragically, there is no Halloween in South Africa. Not even one night, much less four, which is what I became accustomed to in college. I may or may not have mentioned this before, but mi hermana and I have charged ourselves with bringing at least one night of the holiday to el pais de Mandela. We're throwing a birthday slash Halloween party as soon as we get there (my sister's birthday is on Nov. 2nd)...costumes mandatory, of course. We already have a fabulous theme for the costumes for the four of us worked out. We will be different characters, each themed around an object....an apple. My sis and I will be Snow White and Eve (we haven't worked out which for each of us yet), my dad will be Steve Jobs or an iPod or apple computer, and my mom will be Aphrodite (whose symbol is the apple). I'm hoping that I can convince my grandfather to be Isaac Newton. We will each carry a shiny red apple too. It's perfect and I am quite pleased with our ingenuity.
"Hey Chief, come on over here. Do you see this candy?...Look closely one wrapper is already opened and the other has no candy in it. Don't be so distracted, you have to focus, man! I will let this go this time, but next time I come here, you really must be more on top of things."
5 minutes later: "And why do you not want to bring us milk for our tea??"
-my South African uncle to the waiter
Speaking of zombies, I have discovered that tragically, there is no Halloween in South Africa. Not even one night, much less four, which is what I became accustomed to in college. I may or may not have mentioned this before, but mi hermana and I have charged ourselves with bringing at least one night of the holiday to el pais de Mandela. We're throwing a birthday slash Halloween party as soon as we get there (my sister's birthday is on Nov. 2nd)...costumes mandatory, of course. We already have a fabulous theme for the costumes for the four of us worked out. We will be different characters, each themed around an object....an apple. My sis and I will be Snow White and Eve (we haven't worked out which for each of us yet), my dad will be Steve Jobs or an iPod or apple computer, and my mom will be Aphrodite (whose symbol is the apple). I'm hoping that I can convince my grandfather to be Isaac Newton. We will each carry a shiny red apple too. It's perfect and I am quite pleased with our ingenuity.
"Hey Chief, come on over here. Do you see this candy?...Look closely one wrapper is already opened and the other has no candy in it. Don't be so distracted, you have to focus, man! I will let this go this time, but next time I come here, you really must be more on top of things."
5 minutes later: "And why do you not want to bring us milk for our tea??"
-my South African uncle to the waiter
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Grey's Anatomy blah blah blah
I love Grey's Anatomy. A lot of shows make me feel bad about my life because the shows are so picture perfect that I feel unfulfilled when I turn off the tv. But everyone in Grey's Anatomy is dark and twisty, so when good things happen to them, it gives me hope instead of giving me something to live up to.
And Izzy is exactly me, which I like because I feel like if good things happen to her, they can happen to me probably eventually. I am not blond and gorgeous, of course. But I am so exactly like her that it is funny. Even Chloe saw it.
I realized my main problem regarding boys. When I like someone, it isn't an afterthought it is a biiig deal, and it almost consumes me. That's not what I try to do, it's just what happens. It's more exciting I think than when most people get a crush on someone, but it's also more dramatic in a bad way. And then when I look at whoever I like I can't see anything but the good about them. If they're not that cute, I don't notice. If they are too emo, I call them in touch with their feelings. And if they make me sad too often, I get mad at them, but I blame myself. And then, once I have spent a lot a lot of time with them, I start seeing the flaws that I overlooked before and it shocks me and I wonder who the hell they are, because what I see now is not what I signed up for. In retrospect all the guys I've liked slash gone out with have been really amazing guys. I still heart them in the yearbook sense and respect them. A lot of them do not mesh well with me, but it was my fault for putting them on a pedestal and then starting to hate them.
The only boy that I have never had that sort of crash and burn reality check with is someone who I don't even know if I liked like that. He's a friend and I think that I love him (in the sense that I love all my friends, not luvvy duvvy sense) so much that I get confused and think that if I care that much about a boy, I must want him like that. Anyway, it's a very Izzy conundrum that doesn't matter because I left Sea-town. But with this kid, I know him pretty well, and I don't see the bright and shiny him. I see the regular him, who I sometimes don't agree with, who isn't really hot, who is sometimes awkward. But I'm okay with all that and a lot of those things I appreciate about him. I wonder if I had stayed longer, if I ever really would have had feelings for him.
In any case, he's pretty ace and I hope we stay friends for a long time.
Mi padre got back from the motherland today. And given what he told me, I think there is hope that the family drama is over. Of course, now everyone is grown up, so I guess it's pretty much too late for anyone to really benefit from it. C'est la vie.
"I hoarded four Ceres juiceboxes from the flight attendents by hiding them in the lunch box they gave me and now they are in the fridge."
-my deviant father
And Izzy is exactly me, which I like because I feel like if good things happen to her, they can happen to me probably eventually. I am not blond and gorgeous, of course. But I am so exactly like her that it is funny. Even Chloe saw it.
I realized my main problem regarding boys. When I like someone, it isn't an afterthought it is a biiig deal, and it almost consumes me. That's not what I try to do, it's just what happens. It's more exciting I think than when most people get a crush on someone, but it's also more dramatic in a bad way. And then when I look at whoever I like I can't see anything but the good about them. If they're not that cute, I don't notice. If they are too emo, I call them in touch with their feelings. And if they make me sad too often, I get mad at them, but I blame myself. And then, once I have spent a lot a lot of time with them, I start seeing the flaws that I overlooked before and it shocks me and I wonder who the hell they are, because what I see now is not what I signed up for. In retrospect all the guys I've liked slash gone out with have been really amazing guys. I still heart them in the yearbook sense and respect them. A lot of them do not mesh well with me, but it was my fault for putting them on a pedestal and then starting to hate them.
The only boy that I have never had that sort of crash and burn reality check with is someone who I don't even know if I liked like that. He's a friend and I think that I love him (in the sense that I love all my friends, not luvvy duvvy sense) so much that I get confused and think that if I care that much about a boy, I must want him like that. Anyway, it's a very Izzy conundrum that doesn't matter because I left Sea-town. But with this kid, I know him pretty well, and I don't see the bright and shiny him. I see the regular him, who I sometimes don't agree with, who isn't really hot, who is sometimes awkward. But I'm okay with all that and a lot of those things I appreciate about him. I wonder if I had stayed longer, if I ever really would have had feelings for him.
In any case, he's pretty ace and I hope we stay friends for a long time.
Mi padre got back from the motherland today. And given what he told me, I think there is hope that the family drama is over. Of course, now everyone is grown up, so I guess it's pretty much too late for anyone to really benefit from it. C'est la vie.
"I hoarded four Ceres juiceboxes from the flight attendents by hiding them in the lunch box they gave me and now they are in the fridge."
-my deviant father
Monday, September 24, 2007
Fuck Purgatory
Apparently our family is going to start a blog for our trip, so it may be that my days on here are numbered. But. I seriously doubt that. Especially seeing as the name of this blog will be "Fish in the Sea" if my sister gets her way or "Life on the Other Side" if my mother does. And it, as mi madre informs me, must be censored along the parameters of "nothing that Grandma would feel uncomfortable reading". Well, I hope that Grandma is comfortable with the name "Nelson's Posse" because that is what I am pulling for.
The city where crime never sleeps is running smoothly at the moment. And time is once again proving to me that no matter how much you are attached to a place or the people in it, if you just wait awhile, you won't think about them so often and it won't hurt anymore. Denial, yes. It is my drug of choice. And I work well with it, quite frankly. I mostly believe that denial is the one reason that I am not completely scarred by losing Olive. She was my everything for so many years, but I am still the same person without here. Less naive, maybe. But I am still silly, and still want to save the world, and I'm still happy. Not as much. But quite a bit. It didn't break me, because I don't really remember her. That's not normal. It's only been a year, and you can't forget the essence of six years of your life just like that. It's not gone, it's just blocked. And it's blocked in order to keep me sane. Denial is not something to be ashamed of. It's like a painkiller for a lot of perfectly functional people. Cramps might be there and in reality your body might be experiencing excruciating pain, but why allow your brain and senses to feel it if you don't have to. Pop an ibuprofen and block your pain receptors with wonderful little chemicals in order to let yourself live your life.
And my mouth still hurts from getting my wisdom teeth "extracted". Not quite like hell anymore, but maybe closer to purgatory. I can stand it because I lost 5 lbs.
"Let's crack jokes!"
-my sister, every minute of every day...so adorable that it gives me a migraine.
The city where crime never sleeps is running smoothly at the moment. And time is once again proving to me that no matter how much you are attached to a place or the people in it, if you just wait awhile, you won't think about them so often and it won't hurt anymore. Denial, yes. It is my drug of choice. And I work well with it, quite frankly. I mostly believe that denial is the one reason that I am not completely scarred by losing Olive. She was my everything for so many years, but I am still the same person without here. Less naive, maybe. But I am still silly, and still want to save the world, and I'm still happy. Not as much. But quite a bit. It didn't break me, because I don't really remember her. That's not normal. It's only been a year, and you can't forget the essence of six years of your life just like that. It's not gone, it's just blocked. And it's blocked in order to keep me sane. Denial is not something to be ashamed of. It's like a painkiller for a lot of perfectly functional people. Cramps might be there and in reality your body might be experiencing excruciating pain, but why allow your brain and senses to feel it if you don't have to. Pop an ibuprofen and block your pain receptors with wonderful little chemicals in order to let yourself live your life.
And my mouth still hurts from getting my wisdom teeth "extracted". Not quite like hell anymore, but maybe closer to purgatory. I can stand it because I lost 5 lbs.
"Let's crack jokes!"
-my sister, every minute of every day...so adorable that it gives me a migraine.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
100 yrs of chocolate mediocrity
I am so psyched to sleep tonight because I think I will finally be able to go the entire night without waking up with a migraine from me clenching my teeth. My current lack of stress is due to the fact that I don't think I have cancer anymore. Even though they are sending me to get ultrasounds and go to the breast cancer surgeon, I am almost positive that the lump under my arm got smaller. And cancer doesn't get smaller. Which means the only that the only cancer that will define my life in the near future is the crab-kind with a capital C (and no, I am not referring to an STD). Knock on wood, fingers crossed--regarding the cancer, not the STD.
Recent thoughts:
-Hershey was a very nice man to have built a theme park purely for the enjoyment of his employees (100 years ago). However, this does not change the fact that a) his park, though fun, offers nothing close to the magic or imagination of Disneyland at nearly the same price, and b) his chocolate is not that good.
-My mother is high if she thinks she can lay down a 3 movie limit for the flight to South Africa. I plan to be watching movies THE ENTIRE 17-hour flight to Jo-burg. Surprisingly, my mother has almost completely backed down from her Hitler-esque mandate when I made it clear that it would not be followed. I think my gracious gesture to pause my movies during meals won her over.
-I plan to use the much-feared experience of getting my wisdom teeth out and the proceeding pain and restrictions on food to lose weight. How can I not drop pounds when all I am allowed to eat initially after the operation is jello, ice cream and yogurt. (I only like savory foods for actual sustenence.) This may sound like it is bordering on scary-diet behavior, but I think it is merely a prudent method of maximizing expected gains from the whole debacle...gains which will be further increased by watching all of Grey's Anatomy Season 3 while I am "in recovery."
-My sister is dope shit.....even when she gets cranky and pulls the strings of her hood tight and ties them so that only a fistfull of her face is showing under her sunglasses. It is especially enjoyable that during those instances she responds to the name Alien.
-I thoroughly appreciated the movie The Thomas Crown Affair. But I did not appreciate seeing Rene Russo naked, or seeing her wildly get it on with Pierce Brosnin all over his house. Seriously? Marble staircase sex? Seriously? Seriously. Spare me.
That is all.
Recent thoughts:
-Hershey was a very nice man to have built a theme park purely for the enjoyment of his employees (100 years ago). However, this does not change the fact that a) his park, though fun, offers nothing close to the magic or imagination of Disneyland at nearly the same price, and b) his chocolate is not that good.
-My mother is high if she thinks she can lay down a 3 movie limit for the flight to South Africa. I plan to be watching movies THE ENTIRE 17-hour flight to Jo-burg. Surprisingly, my mother has almost completely backed down from her Hitler-esque mandate when I made it clear that it would not be followed. I think my gracious gesture to pause my movies during meals won her over.
-I plan to use the much-feared experience of getting my wisdom teeth out and the proceeding pain and restrictions on food to lose weight. How can I not drop pounds when all I am allowed to eat initially after the operation is jello, ice cream and yogurt. (I only like savory foods for actual sustenence.) This may sound like it is bordering on scary-diet behavior, but I think it is merely a prudent method of maximizing expected gains from the whole debacle...gains which will be further increased by watching all of Grey's Anatomy Season 3 while I am "in recovery."
-My sister is dope shit.....even when she gets cranky and pulls the strings of her hood tight and ties them so that only a fistfull of her face is showing under her sunglasses. It is especially enjoyable that during those instances she responds to the name Alien.
-I thoroughly appreciated the movie The Thomas Crown Affair. But I did not appreciate seeing Rene Russo naked, or seeing her wildly get it on with Pierce Brosnin all over his house. Seriously? Marble staircase sex? Seriously? Seriously. Spare me.
That is all.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Pole Dancers For Peace
I am unleashing my unabashed liberal views on the streets of Baltimore. When mi madre let me know that we would be participating in a peace stand on 9/11, I thought it would be vigil-like and, well, boring. Fortunately, it turned out to be more along the lines of yelling at passing cars from a busy intersection along which a gaggle of peace protesters were gathered. People were supposedly gathered all along N. Charles throughout the city, but I am sure that nobody was as entertaining in their peacefulness as my mother, sister and me.
I couldn't be as original in my poster-making as I wanted to be...my mother kabashed the 'Pole Dancers for Peace' idea before it even got on paper--I wasn't going to actually pole dance, just lean seductively against the telephone pole. I was similarly disallowed from promoting Barack because peace is apparently non-partisan according to the Baltimore Women in Black who coordinated the 'peace path.' My anti-Baltimore mayoral candidate (who shall remain nameless so that I don't get cussed out by crazy politicians on this blog again) slogan, "Another day, another death, Vote ____ _____ for Mayor and uphold the 'peace'" was also disqualified by my discerning mother. However, due to my undaunted creative genius, I was able to pull together a Chicago outfit (cubs hat and CHICAGO shirt), that was supposed to be an implied plug for Obama when combined with my 'Vote for Peace in 2008' sign. Only one person really got the message as far as I know, but a lot of people honked for peace in general.
Also, I should note that I am actually terrified of my lump-under-the-arm-removal surgery. I haven't been sleeping well because I'm scared of dying of cancer. The doctor didn't tell me straight out that she thought there was any chance that it was cancerous, but she did say that the general surgeon would want to take it out and biopsy it. I'm not stupid, I know what biopsy means. It means, see if it is cancer and if it is there is a good chance you will be checking out of this world just like Olive did. Maybe unlikely, but I am a hypochondriac and am particularly paranoid ever since the aforementioned checking out of Olive, and the past few weeks of "maybe you have lupis...maybe not...but your blood results do show markers of an auto-immune disease." Pssht. Whatever.
I'm in pretty good spirits right now anyway because I got the ass-kickingest 80's slash 90's sweatshirt today, aaaand I just found out that Amanda Bynes has a new movie coming out. Score.
"I'm a hustler, I'm a, I'm a huster."
-Mi hermanita y yo every time we see one of the Hustler golf carts rolling around Baltimore to take YOU and YOUR FRIENDS to the nearest Hustler Club.
I couldn't be as original in my poster-making as I wanted to be...my mother kabashed the 'Pole Dancers for Peace' idea before it even got on paper--I wasn't going to actually pole dance, just lean seductively against the telephone pole. I was similarly disallowed from promoting Barack because peace is apparently non-partisan according to the Baltimore Women in Black who coordinated the 'peace path.' My anti-Baltimore mayoral candidate (who shall remain nameless so that I don't get cussed out by crazy politicians on this blog again) slogan, "Another day, another death, Vote ____ _____ for Mayor and uphold the 'peace'" was also disqualified by my discerning mother. However, due to my undaunted creative genius, I was able to pull together a Chicago outfit (cubs hat and CHICAGO shirt), that was supposed to be an implied plug for Obama when combined with my 'Vote for Peace in 2008' sign. Only one person really got the message as far as I know, but a lot of people honked for peace in general.
Also, I should note that I am actually terrified of my lump-under-the-arm-removal surgery. I haven't been sleeping well because I'm scared of dying of cancer. The doctor didn't tell me straight out that she thought there was any chance that it was cancerous, but she did say that the general surgeon would want to take it out and biopsy it. I'm not stupid, I know what biopsy means. It means, see if it is cancer and if it is there is a good chance you will be checking out of this world just like Olive did. Maybe unlikely, but I am a hypochondriac and am particularly paranoid ever since the aforementioned checking out of Olive, and the past few weeks of "maybe you have lupis...maybe not...but your blood results do show markers of an auto-immune disease." Pssht. Whatever.
I'm in pretty good spirits right now anyway because I got the ass-kickingest 80's slash 90's sweatshirt today, aaaand I just found out that Amanda Bynes has a new movie coming out. Score.
"I'm a hustler, I'm a, I'm a huster."
-Mi hermanita y yo every time we see one of the Hustler golf carts rolling around Baltimore to take YOU and YOUR FRIENDS to the nearest Hustler Club.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Phoebe goes to the doctor, the blood lab and to a surgical consult
Today blew. It was the kind of day that you knew was going downhill as soon as you were shaken urgently awake much too early and required to perform some ridiculous task. Today the shaker was mi madre and the task was getting my blood test results faxed from Seattle so that I could take them to my B-town doctor. Happily I don't necessarily have lupis. Yesss. Unfortunately, I am mildy anemic (big surprise) and also have low/positive immune deficiency markers which means that I may or may not have some kind of immune definciency disease. Earlier when I asked what kind of diseases those were I was bluntly told, "well, you know, like AIDS, lupis, etc." Fantastic.
I also have to get two unrelated surgeries in the next month. I have to get four impacted wisdom teeth yanked (this does not count as a simple teeth-pulling because you have to go to an oral SURGEON and they have to break your bone), and I have to get a possibly-but-not-likely-cancerous bump removed from under my arm.
So much for being able to rest now that I'm done with school.
On the plus side, though, I met a cute professional squash player from Botswana today, and Season 3 of Grey's Anatomy comes out on dvd tomorrow. Who cares about operations and HIV when you have Dr. McDreamy and some dude with dreads in your life?
"Tommy Lee Jones would NEVER marry Pamela Anderson or punch Kid Rock."
-mi madre ....I agree
I also have to get two unrelated surgeries in the next month. I have to get four impacted wisdom teeth yanked (this does not count as a simple teeth-pulling because you have to go to an oral SURGEON and they have to break your bone), and I have to get a possibly-but-not-likely-cancerous bump removed from under my arm.
So much for being able to rest now that I'm done with school.
On the plus side, though, I met a cute professional squash player from Botswana today, and Season 3 of Grey's Anatomy comes out on dvd tomorrow. Who cares about operations and HIV when you have Dr. McDreamy and some dude with dreads in your life?
"Tommy Lee Jones would NEVER marry Pamela Anderson or punch Kid Rock."
-mi madre ....I agree
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Another day, another death...Vote _____ for Mayor of Baltimore!
I've gotten a little worried about my dad recently. The man who single-handedly inspired my hatred of the death penalty, my love of Ron Sims and my animosity towards Reagan has been taking babysteps towards the dark side, in my opinion. I think it is mainly the fault of his job, but he's been getting a little bitter, and his bitterness is leading him towards the GOP.
This is not that big of a problem because 1) he's not actually even close to being Republican (yet)...he is just disillusioned with things like welfare and is apparently opposed to immigration reform and 2) he can't vote anyway because he's not a US citizen.
I think it will be okay as soon as he moves away from Baltimore and no longer has to deal with the murder-a-day complications of living in one of the most violent slash impoverished slash old-school urban cities in America.
"When I am a sister, I will be soccer-ing all the time."
-my little sis at the age of two, watching my soccer game
This is not that big of a problem because 1) he's not actually even close to being Republican (yet)...he is just disillusioned with things like welfare and is apparently opposed to immigration reform and 2) he can't vote anyway because he's not a US citizen.
I think it will be okay as soon as he moves away from Baltimore and no longer has to deal with the murder-a-day complications of living in one of the most violent slash impoverished slash old-school urban cities in America.
"When I am a sister, I will be soccer-ing all the time."
-my little sis at the age of two, watching my soccer game
Saturday, September 8, 2007
"Ooh, child..."
Seattle is my home. Seattle is where all my friends are. And I would practically do anything right now to be back there. The only reason that there is a practically in that sentence preventing it from becoming reality is because I love South Africa, I love my family, and I want to go there and spend time with them.
I just hate the fact that I have to give up my Seattle life and friends to do it.
I know its not giving them up for good, but I know how things go. A third of my friends will all but forget about me, not because they don't love me, but because I will be absent. Another third will miss me for now, but never see me again because our paths just won't cross in the future. The final third keeps me sane. But I can't help but wonder who fate and destiny and chance will put into that group.
Yes, this is me being emo. But there is nothing in the world that I hate more than saying goodbye. Not Reagan. Not even the death penalty.
On a sillier note, here is a classic quote from my mother, followed by a series of unsent half-kidding messages that a friend and I wrote once:
"Mojo, don't kick her right now. She has a lot on her mind."
-my mother, addressing my sister regarding our cat that they had just stapled into a paper bag.
The Phoebe and Chloe letters-only somewhat censored:
"Basically I just wanted to let you know that I have a silly crush on you. This
is probably semi-illegitimate, but I can't seem to make it go away, even though I have tried to. I understand if you can't see me again, which is fine I probably shouldn't be telling you this, I just feel weird not telling you. I hope we can still go out to coffee [bleep bleep bleep bleep], because I genuinely [bleep bleep] and I also respect your opinion and simply enjoy spending time with you. Let me know what you think. Sorry for being so ridiculous. If I don't hear from you again, have
a lovely quarter and good luck on your exams. (:
Chloe
[Jake] in da house!
But I wish it was [jake] in da bed!
Yah, I totally want your nuts.
-Chloe
Hey [jake],
So, like oh my GoD! i tHiNk I haVe a liTtLe cRush on YoU!
[Jake],
You are my [Matt Johnson].
Don't worry, I know where you live and we'll be together eventually.
Love, Chloe
ps. I could kill you and no one would know.
Dear [Matt Johnson],
I want your nuts.
-Phoebe B.
[Matt],
I think that heaven would just be the two of us, a bubble bath, and some orange
soda. I really like orange soda. Don't worry, I'll find you.
Kisses! Phoebe
[Jake],
If you marry someone who is not me, I will hide as a midget clown among your
children's stuffed animals...
C"
Now, wasn't that lovely?
"...things are gonna get easier."
-The Five Stairsteps
I just hate the fact that I have to give up my Seattle life and friends to do it.
I know its not giving them up for good, but I know how things go. A third of my friends will all but forget about me, not because they don't love me, but because I will be absent. Another third will miss me for now, but never see me again because our paths just won't cross in the future. The final third keeps me sane. But I can't help but wonder who fate and destiny and chance will put into that group.
Yes, this is me being emo. But there is nothing in the world that I hate more than saying goodbye. Not Reagan. Not even the death penalty.
On a sillier note, here is a classic quote from my mother, followed by a series of unsent half-kidding messages that a friend and I wrote once:
"Mojo, don't kick her right now. She has a lot on her mind."
-my mother, addressing my sister regarding our cat that they had just stapled into a paper bag.
The Phoebe and Chloe letters-only somewhat censored:
"Basically I just wanted to let you know that I have a silly crush on you. This
is probably semi-illegitimate, but I can't seem to make it go away, even though I have tried to. I understand if you can't see me again, which is fine I probably shouldn't be telling you this, I just feel weird not telling you. I hope we can still go out to coffee [bleep bleep bleep bleep], because I genuinely [bleep bleep] and I also respect your opinion and simply enjoy spending time with you. Let me know what you think. Sorry for being so ridiculous. If I don't hear from you again, have
a lovely quarter and good luck on your exams. (:
Chloe
[Jake] in da house!
But I wish it was [jake] in da bed!
Yah, I totally want your nuts.
-Chloe
Hey [jake],
So, like oh my GoD! i tHiNk I haVe a liTtLe cRush on YoU!
[Jake],
You are my [Matt Johnson].
Don't worry, I know where you live and we'll be together eventually.
Love, Chloe
ps. I could kill you and no one would know.
Dear [Matt Johnson],
I want your nuts.
-Phoebe B.
[Matt],
I think that heaven would just be the two of us, a bubble bath, and some orange
soda. I really like orange soda. Don't worry, I'll find you.
Kisses! Phoebe
[Jake],
If you marry someone who is not me, I will hide as a midget clown among your
children's stuffed animals...
C"
Now, wasn't that lovely?
"...things are gonna get easier."
-The Five Stairsteps
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Happy Birthday, Harry Potter!
Here are my current major qualms about being a girl:
1) Stretch marks....you don't even get them because you're fat...just because you happened to get taller at some point in your life. And then, THEY NEVER GO AWAY.
2) Dropping your birth control pills down the sink accidentally. What a great way to not get pregnant! The sad thing here is that I don't think most people are dumb enough to lose a pill in the three seconds between popping it out of the package and swallowing it. Plus, I'm not even sleeping with anybody, so I won't actually get knocked up.
3) Being looked at by skeezeballs when you pass by.
4) Being annoyed that you are not looked at by non-skeezeballs when you pass by.
5) Getting "hollered at" in front of your father....it's just awkward.
6) Blushing. Maybe some guys do it too, but I haven't really seen it. And the next time someone says to me "OMG, you are like sooo red right now! Do you know that?!" I will actually knife them.
7) When you have a bad day, instead of people being like, "Oh yeah, just leave him alone, he's in a bad mood," they're like, "God, why are you being a bitch? Is it that time of the month?"
Life is basically just really really hard. Not really because of that list, though, more because I have been working literally 11 hours a day on Spanish+my thesis. What makes it bearable is that for the past three nights I have watched She's the Man every night. That movie is dope shit, and if you don't think it's hysterically funny, then you can go kick rocks.
"Bobby was the first guy working on his game, even before the coaches showed up. Bobby was making me look bad. He was not only pushing himself to get better, he was pushing us to get better."
-Brandon Roy
(awww...I heart Bobby Jones. He can come back to Seattle too, as soon as the Sonics leave and Paul Allan brings B-Roy and the Trailblazers here, and then Bobby gets traded to them.)
1) Stretch marks....you don't even get them because you're fat...just because you happened to get taller at some point in your life. And then, THEY NEVER GO AWAY.
2) Dropping your birth control pills down the sink accidentally. What a great way to not get pregnant! The sad thing here is that I don't think most people are dumb enough to lose a pill in the three seconds between popping it out of the package and swallowing it. Plus, I'm not even sleeping with anybody, so I won't actually get knocked up.
3) Being looked at by skeezeballs when you pass by.
4) Being annoyed that you are not looked at by non-skeezeballs when you pass by.
5) Getting "hollered at" in front of your father....it's just awkward.
6) Blushing. Maybe some guys do it too, but I haven't really seen it. And the next time someone says to me "OMG, you are like sooo red right now! Do you know that?!" I will actually knife them.
7) When you have a bad day, instead of people being like, "Oh yeah, just leave him alone, he's in a bad mood," they're like, "God, why are you being a bitch? Is it that time of the month?"
Life is basically just really really hard. Not really because of that list, though, more because I have been working literally 11 hours a day on Spanish+my thesis. What makes it bearable is that for the past three nights I have watched She's the Man every night. That movie is dope shit, and if you don't think it's hysterically funny, then you can go kick rocks.
"Bobby was the first guy working on his game, even before the coaches showed up. Bobby was making me look bad. He was not only pushing himself to get better, he was pushing us to get better."
-Brandon Roy
(awww...I heart Bobby Jones. He can come back to Seattle too, as soon as the Sonics leave and Paul Allan brings B-Roy and the Trailblazers here, and then Bobby gets traded to them.)
Friday, July 27, 2007
Ann Coulter es una perra.
Wow. What do you say to someone who you haven't spoken to in 3 years? Apparently, if you are me, you write a whole lot of nonsense and you make it even more cool by putting it in a numbered list.
In the spirit of lists, here are three things that I learned today:
1) That the group Californians for Obama (or some other name like that) is actually a fundraising front for this ex-Republican (ex for about 8 months) who decided that it would be a great way to make some personal dinero. Classy. And typical.
2) Even though they say that you have until 10 pm to leave the IMA after it officially closes at 9:30, they are lying. If you try to use the weights for an extra 5 minutes after 9:30 an enormous man will come and personally kick you out. And calling him an ass-hat under your breath doesn't improve the situation.
3) Frogs can survive in horrible conditions for a long time. Mitch has this tiny frog that I Chloe and I named Moose because we misread a can of alcoholic energy drink that was on the coffee table (it was actually Joose). Moose only ever gets food when Chlose and I think of it, though, and Mitch hardly ever cleans the tank because she's so busy. The water will actuallly become really thick and develop these sheets of water mold right through the middle of the tank. But Moose is a trooper, and he was still alive as of 10 minutes ago when I went to check on him. This is amazing to me.
"Yo no creo que pueda vivir como soy ahora por mucho más tiempo."
-Mi tarea (I don't neccesarily think that my grammar is correct)
In the spirit of lists, here are three things that I learned today:
1) That the group Californians for Obama (or some other name like that) is actually a fundraising front for this ex-Republican (ex for about 8 months) who decided that it would be a great way to make some personal dinero. Classy. And typical.
2) Even though they say that you have until 10 pm to leave the IMA after it officially closes at 9:30, they are lying. If you try to use the weights for an extra 5 minutes after 9:30 an enormous man will come and personally kick you out. And calling him an ass-hat under your breath doesn't improve the situation.
3) Frogs can survive in horrible conditions for a long time. Mitch has this tiny frog that I Chloe and I named Moose because we misread a can of alcoholic energy drink that was on the coffee table (it was actually Joose). Moose only ever gets food when Chlose and I think of it, though, and Mitch hardly ever cleans the tank because she's so busy. The water will actuallly become really thick and develop these sheets of water mold right through the middle of the tank. But Moose is a trooper, and he was still alive as of 10 minutes ago when I went to check on him. This is amazing to me.
"Yo no creo que pueda vivir como soy ahora por mucho más tiempo."
-Mi tarea (I don't neccesarily think that my grammar is correct)
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Barack and Roll
PS to my last post...Aaron is the shit and I HEART him too.
I have almost just decided to wait another year before going to law school. As in, I will begin (fingers crossed that I actually get in somewhere) in Fall 2009. I have to decide whether I want to start in 08 right now because if so, I have to take the LSAT in exactly two months, before I go to SA. It seems ridiculous to be making big life decisions on the fly and based on advise from friends, but that is my reality. And my friends are saying that I should wait to take the LSAT and take another year off. But that makes me sad because 1) then I won't be in the same year as some of my friends who might go to law school in 08, and 2) I will have lost the jump start on life that I got from going to college early.
And I have something to say about Hillary Clinton. While I admire her greatly and am very happy to have her representing NY in the Senate, I do not think that she is the uber experienced shoe-in for President that the media and so many other people treat her as. I know I am clearly biased towards Barack, but really? Was everyone else just watching another debate this week? Because Hillary hardly dominated. And if Barack supposedly displayed his inexperience in answering that he would end the US' policy of ignoring dictators in order to somehow pressure them into cooperation, then experience is not what this country needs. Hillary is too old school (in the non-coolest sense possible) and her position on the war in Iraq suggests calculation rather than anything resembling leadership.
If Barack does not win the Democratic nomination (assuming that Gore doesn't get it either) then we have once again lost.
"You know, my faith is one that admits some doubt."
-Barack Obama
I have almost just decided to wait another year before going to law school. As in, I will begin (fingers crossed that I actually get in somewhere) in Fall 2009. I have to decide whether I want to start in 08 right now because if so, I have to take the LSAT in exactly two months, before I go to SA. It seems ridiculous to be making big life decisions on the fly and based on advise from friends, but that is my reality. And my friends are saying that I should wait to take the LSAT and take another year off. But that makes me sad because 1) then I won't be in the same year as some of my friends who might go to law school in 08, and 2) I will have lost the jump start on life that I got from going to college early.
And I have something to say about Hillary Clinton. While I admire her greatly and am very happy to have her representing NY in the Senate, I do not think that she is the uber experienced shoe-in for President that the media and so many other people treat her as. I know I am clearly biased towards Barack, but really? Was everyone else just watching another debate this week? Because Hillary hardly dominated. And if Barack supposedly displayed his inexperience in answering that he would end the US' policy of ignoring dictators in order to somehow pressure them into cooperation, then experience is not what this country needs. Hillary is too old school (in the non-coolest sense possible) and her position on the war in Iraq suggests calculation rather than anything resembling leadership.
If Barack does not win the Democratic nomination (assuming that Gore doesn't get it either) then we have once again lost.
"You know, my faith is one that admits some doubt."
-Barack Obama
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Happiness is a yellow nightie.
I HEART my español class. They are adorable, except for the old one who is slightly skeezy. But, just like everything and everyone in my life, I know that I am more excited about them than they are about me. I always care more about the people I'm around than vice versa. And it's really not that I'm being emo here and complaining that nobody loves me...I just heart everyone else A LOT so things are automatically unbalanced.
Still, the few cases in my life that I can think of where someone obviously cared about me more than I cared about them were trainwrecks. I actually tend to hate it when other people seem too attached to me. Especially boys. It would probably be okay if they were the right guys, but they were oh so wrong.
And SERIOUSLY??? I have had it up to here with this neighborhood. I can understand crazy late night parties. But if the reason that I can't sleep at 2 am is because someone had the bright idea to start drilling shit in the middle of the night, then that is ridiculous and they deserve to be TP-ed or something else similarly old-fashioned and shenanigan-ish.
Speaking of ridiculous, J-Mu rolled in at midnight tonight hiccuping non-stop and only just coherent enough to not be fooled into thinking that he had stuff drawn on his face again. He yelled good-naturedly at B-hawk for awhile, gave me a two-minute lecture on getting my mind out of the gutter, and then promptly fell asleep clutching Nan Nan's pillow on the couch. I think that he is a fabulous addition to the house. Nan Nan is still my favorite thought because nobody can beat him randomly taking Whitney and me out to dessert in our pajamas at midnight just to make us feel better.
"The law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread."
-Senator Douglas, Congressional Record (1957 Civil Rights Act debate) quoting Anatole France's The Red Lily in response to the argument that "Negroes can challenge the voting rights of whites too."
Still, the few cases in my life that I can think of where someone obviously cared about me more than I cared about them were trainwrecks. I actually tend to hate it when other people seem too attached to me. Especially boys. It would probably be okay if they were the right guys, but they were oh so wrong.
And SERIOUSLY??? I have had it up to here with this neighborhood. I can understand crazy late night parties. But if the reason that I can't sleep at 2 am is because someone had the bright idea to start drilling shit in the middle of the night, then that is ridiculous and they deserve to be TP-ed or something else similarly old-fashioned and shenanigan-ish.
Speaking of ridiculous, J-Mu rolled in at midnight tonight hiccuping non-stop and only just coherent enough to not be fooled into thinking that he had stuff drawn on his face again. He yelled good-naturedly at B-hawk for awhile, gave me a two-minute lecture on getting my mind out of the gutter, and then promptly fell asleep clutching Nan Nan's pillow on the couch. I think that he is a fabulous addition to the house. Nan Nan is still my favorite thought because nobody can beat him randomly taking Whitney and me out to dessert in our pajamas at midnight just to make us feel better.
"The law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread."
-Senator Douglas, Congressional Record (1957 Civil Rights Act debate) quoting Anatole France's The Red Lily in response to the argument that "Negroes can challenge the voting rights of whites too."
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Flu, Hurt, Pain, Ache, Sick
I feel awful. It's especialmente triste because I did this to myself. I stopped eating for periods of 8 hours on Monday and Tuesday because I was in class and then in the library. See, I'm actually sacrificing my body for my thesis and my español. Now there is no going back. I have to finish it in time.
In other news, I have reverted to sleeping with a teddy bear. Sondra to be exact. Just while I'm sick. It's my replacement for someone actually taking care of me. I hate growing up.
And the Indian one got dumped by the girlfriend of four months that I did not know he had. I am obviously a great friend. Even B-hawk knew. I choose to believe that's because he is also a boy and not because he is a better person than me.
"Females have victim complexes."
-Nicholas (hombre en mi español clase)
In other news, I have reverted to sleeping with a teddy bear. Sondra to be exact. Just while I'm sick. It's my replacement for someone actually taking care of me. I hate growing up.
And the Indian one got dumped by the girlfriend of four months that I did not know he had. I am obviously a great friend. Even B-hawk knew. I choose to believe that's because he is also a boy and not because he is a better person than me.
"Females have victim complexes."
-Nicholas (hombre en mi español clase)
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Su esposa es Jackie O.
Tonight's shenanigans are going to make tomorrow's espanol clase hell. Anyone could've seen that going over to Stephan's house for "10-minute flip cup" was going to devolve into a several hour long stint that left me too tipsy to sleep and instead raring to go for Grey's Anatomy. It's all well and good, though because come next year I will have no friends and nothing but memories to keep me sane. I'm not being pessimistic. I know how this will go down. The same way Baltimore went down last summer. I had nobody but mis padres y mi hermana to keep me company and for some reason they are just not enough anymore. Yes, when I leave next year I will still have the friends that I have left behind, but even Chloe, who like J-Mu says is my "bfff" will not be able to keep me from lonely self-destructiveness across continents. And even though he will be there, Josh, like every boy I've ever liked, is not dependable at all and so he is actually negative points in the keeping me happy equation.
The list of boys I have liked is shady at best. I have a type that has no physical requirements or correlations at all. Instead my typical crush/boyfriend is roughly equivalent to the character of Alex on Grey's Anatomy. Not to be a television nerd, but there it is. I tend to like cocky, inconsiderate guys. I am oh so open to liking other people to, but those are the ones who pop into my head unannounced, and no other guys seem to have much interest, excluding the dance-with-you-and-then-hit-on-you-at-a-party type that I just cannot seem to humor.
And now I can hear birds, and the sun is coming up, and the drunk boys next-door still won't shut up. And all I want is to have fun this summer without already being depressed about how lonely and forgotten I will be next year. And I miss mi favorito amigo who I just can't handle anymore. Am I a bitch? Probably. But I'm just trying to protect myself. Because nobody else is going to but me.
The list of boys I have liked is shady at best. I have a type that has no physical requirements or correlations at all. Instead my typical crush/boyfriend is roughly equivalent to the character of Alex on Grey's Anatomy. Not to be a television nerd, but there it is. I tend to like cocky, inconsiderate guys. I am oh so open to liking other people to, but those are the ones who pop into my head unannounced, and no other guys seem to have much interest, excluding the dance-with-you-and-then-hit-on-you-at-a-party type that I just cannot seem to humor.
And now I can hear birds, and the sun is coming up, and the drunk boys next-door still won't shut up. And all I want is to have fun this summer without already being depressed about how lonely and forgotten I will be next year. And I miss mi favorito amigo who I just can't handle anymore. Am I a bitch? Probably. But I'm just trying to protect myself. Because nobody else is going to but me.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Polka Dot Renaissance
Not having people's phone numbers entered in my new hand-me-down phone is turning out to be ridiculously awkward. All day I was answering the phone and having people invite me places, or ask me questions with me just pretending to know who they were and frantically trying to recognize their voice.
So by the end of the day I had had it with faking recognition. When the last person called when I was at Alki and said "hey how are you?" I immediately was like "Good, and who is this?" When I couldn't hear their response I asked again and the response I got was a very annoyed "YOUR FATHER." Apparently, that is one number that I should have memorized.
Tomorrow night is Spring Cocktail, and the year will then have come full circle. I think I feel a lot more myself now than I have for awhile. This Spring has been difficult, even with all my underreactions to things. But now that Olive's death day has come and passed I am less stressed out about not feeling enough or remembering enough or knowing how to act about everything. There is something uncomfortable about thinking "one year ago my best friend was still alive and kicking." Or rather, not kicking, but at least breathing and talking. I don't know what it is, but knowing that now, a year ago she was dead already makes things seem not so tragic and mysterious. Plus, Relay for Life was good for me this past weekend. I discovered that I can genuinely cry again, which is actually kind of important. It's one of those functions that you don't quite miss until it's gone. And when it is gone, you are stuck feeling abnormal and unfulfilled like a sneeze that doesn't come.
My hair smells like smoke from the fire at the beach. Barbequeing in the rain turned out to be amazing. Hmmm. Novelty.
"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered."
-NELSON MANDELA, Long Walk to Freedom
So by the end of the day I had had it with faking recognition. When the last person called when I was at Alki and said "hey how are you?" I immediately was like "Good, and who is this?" When I couldn't hear their response I asked again and the response I got was a very annoyed "YOUR FATHER." Apparently, that is one number that I should have memorized.
Tomorrow night is Spring Cocktail, and the year will then have come full circle. I think I feel a lot more myself now than I have for awhile. This Spring has been difficult, even with all my underreactions to things. But now that Olive's death day has come and passed I am less stressed out about not feeling enough or remembering enough or knowing how to act about everything. There is something uncomfortable about thinking "one year ago my best friend was still alive and kicking." Or rather, not kicking, but at least breathing and talking. I don't know what it is, but knowing that now, a year ago she was dead already makes things seem not so tragic and mysterious. Plus, Relay for Life was good for me this past weekend. I discovered that I can genuinely cry again, which is actually kind of important. It's one of those functions that you don't quite miss until it's gone. And when it is gone, you are stuck feeling abnormal and unfulfilled like a sneeze that doesn't come.
My hair smells like smoke from the fire at the beach. Barbequeing in the rain turned out to be amazing. Hmmm. Novelty.
"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered."
-NELSON MANDELA, Long Walk to Freedom
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Oh Go Fall in a Well
Damn interesting thought today:
I was passing this girl who I have come into contact with only a couple of times and who I don't really know at all. Further, one of the times that I interacted with her I didn't particularly like her. But today when I saw her I all of a sudden realized that if I was a guy (or I suppose if I was lesbian) that girl would be the type that I would like. It's really not at all that I was having a bi moment...I wouldn't hesitate to admit it if I was, I swear. I somehow just knew that if I was a guy, I would want to date someone like her.
This is interesting because she is not similar to me at all. Maybe she is what I secretly slash subconciously want to be like. [Yes, I just spelled out slash. Go with it.] She is one of those jock type girls, which I am sort of like, but not to that extent, and to the extent that guys would respect me like that. Guys consider me very girly, I think. She's also incredibly confident and not at all fake. Bitchy in some situations, but more in a ballsy sense. I can't imagine her wearing 12-year old clothes like I do, or 80's gear, but that's that.
"You are who you pretend to be."
-Kurt Vonnegut (RIP)
I was passing this girl who I have come into contact with only a couple of times and who I don't really know at all. Further, one of the times that I interacted with her I didn't particularly like her. But today when I saw her I all of a sudden realized that if I was a guy (or I suppose if I was lesbian) that girl would be the type that I would like. It's really not at all that I was having a bi moment...I wouldn't hesitate to admit it if I was, I swear. I somehow just knew that if I was a guy, I would want to date someone like her.
This is interesting because she is not similar to me at all. Maybe she is what I secretly slash subconciously want to be like. [Yes, I just spelled out slash. Go with it.] She is one of those jock type girls, which I am sort of like, but not to that extent, and to the extent that guys would respect me like that. Guys consider me very girly, I think. She's also incredibly confident and not at all fake. Bitchy in some situations, but more in a ballsy sense. I can't imagine her wearing 12-year old clothes like I do, or 80's gear, but that's that.
"You are who you pretend to be."
-Kurt Vonnegut (RIP)
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Put On Some Pants
It's amazing how much my life comes to a screeching halt when I can't use my phone. Everyone knows my phone is a piece of crap. The screen broke when I dropped it off a balcony so I could never read texts, and then I covered the entire phone with a sticker and pink rhinestones, so it looked even more ghetto fabulous. Last night, though, it ate it for good.
Someone raised their hand to give me a high-5 even though I clearly couldn't participate because I had a keg cup in one hand and my phone in the other. But, being a typical guy, he just kept his hand there until I conceded and gave him the back of my hand (the one still holding my cell phone). He smacked it sending my cell flying out of my hand and straight into my drink. We dried it off, and I just ignored it for most of the night until I got home and heard the phone battery litterally fizzing on my desk while I tried to fall asleep. Party hardy.
So, tonight I was very sad because no phone=nobody to do things with. Chloe also went out to the Mariner's game leaving me in the house alone. I was having a personal pity party so I went to take a nap/watched the Mummy online. But finally, Miki took me out on a roommate date to see In the Land of Women. It was not exactly a bundle of giggles type movie, but overall I enjoyed it immensely. Nothing like Adam Brody to cheer you up.
The bit where Meg Ryan is throwing up from chemo phased me a little bit, though. Except for things like facial paralysis and tiredness, Olive never really let me see the hard part of having cancer, so whenever I am confronted with visual images of people being really sick, I have a hard time. Still, me having a hard time does not involve tears or anything like that. Just a slight pang that I think is something like the regular-person feelings I used to experience. Maybe I'll cry tomorrow at the Relay for Life luminaria thing. I think I would like that. I know it made me sob last year, but there's no guarantee that I'll do it again just because of that, since I never even cried on her d-day this year. I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.
"Hey Grandma, not okay to answer the door when you're not wearing clothes."
-Carter Webb
Someone raised their hand to give me a high-5 even though I clearly couldn't participate because I had a keg cup in one hand and my phone in the other. But, being a typical guy, he just kept his hand there until I conceded and gave him the back of my hand (the one still holding my cell phone). He smacked it sending my cell flying out of my hand and straight into my drink. We dried it off, and I just ignored it for most of the night until I got home and heard the phone battery litterally fizzing on my desk while I tried to fall asleep. Party hardy.
So, tonight I was very sad because no phone=nobody to do things with. Chloe also went out to the Mariner's game leaving me in the house alone. I was having a personal pity party so I went to take a nap/watched the Mummy online. But finally, Miki took me out on a roommate date to see In the Land of Women. It was not exactly a bundle of giggles type movie, but overall I enjoyed it immensely. Nothing like Adam Brody to cheer you up.
The bit where Meg Ryan is throwing up from chemo phased me a little bit, though. Except for things like facial paralysis and tiredness, Olive never really let me see the hard part of having cancer, so whenever I am confronted with visual images of people being really sick, I have a hard time. Still, me having a hard time does not involve tears or anything like that. Just a slight pang that I think is something like the regular-person feelings I used to experience. Maybe I'll cry tomorrow at the Relay for Life luminaria thing. I think I would like that. I know it made me sob last year, but there's no guarantee that I'll do it again just because of that, since I never even cried on her d-day this year. I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish.
"Hey Grandma, not okay to answer the door when you're not wearing clothes."
-Carter Webb
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
This is what's up.
I don't care that you are my friends and are guys, and I hang out with you.....you cannot aaaallllways treat me as one of the guys. This is okay most of the time, but the sad reality (I suppose) is that I am not a guy. And in order to really be my friend, you have to sometimes treat me like a girl. This doesn't mean commenting on my boobs. Feeling familiar enough to me to tell me, even jokingly, that my boobs are small is not a comment that you make to a girl. That is something you say when you are treating your friend like she is a guy and does not actually have feelings like a girl. A girl would never say that to her friend either. It is okay for me to say that about myself around you, but NOT vice versa. And I'm sorry if you find this confusing, but that's just the way it is.
Also, it's fine if you tell me when you think girls are hot, discuss your sexploits, etc. I usually don't care. But sometimes I get tired of it, and you should probably pick up on the me not being receptive on occasion. Not all the time. Once again, I am usually completely fine with being that girl. The one that is in the friend zone and hears all the boy-talk and ridiculousness. You have to understand, though, that every a million times that you mention how hot some random girl is, you should say something mildly nice to me. This is not because I want you to be attracted to me or am a particularly jealous person. This is because nobody can stand hearing so many comments about how amazing other people are looking without thinking that there must be something wrong with you because all you ever get is a choice between "damn, you look like shit today," or "what's up with your hair? Are you trying a new, like, style or something?" It's all a little much.
And finally, I'm tired of being told not to hang out with certain friends and not call to see what they're doing because they might be "getting their game on". Look, I'm not trying to cockblock. If I have guy friends does that mean that I just have to wait for them to call me because I might be interfering with their game on any random night? And if I bring my best friend to a party and my guy friend starts hitting on her, I'm just supposed to hang out alone for an hour to make sure that I don't interfere with his game too? Where's the part where I actually get something in return for being friends with you people?
Like I said, when I think about it, it is all a little too much. I think I'm too sensitive to be that girl for much longer.
"I am fond of children--except boys."
-Lewis Carroll
“If you can make a girl laugh - you can make her do anything.”
-Marilyn Monroe
Also, it's fine if you tell me when you think girls are hot, discuss your sexploits, etc. I usually don't care. But sometimes I get tired of it, and you should probably pick up on the me not being receptive on occasion. Not all the time. Once again, I am usually completely fine with being that girl. The one that is in the friend zone and hears all the boy-talk and ridiculousness. You have to understand, though, that every a million times that you mention how hot some random girl is, you should say something mildly nice to me. This is not because I want you to be attracted to me or am a particularly jealous person. This is because nobody can stand hearing so many comments about how amazing other people are looking without thinking that there must be something wrong with you because all you ever get is a choice between "damn, you look like shit today," or "what's up with your hair? Are you trying a new, like, style or something?" It's all a little much.
And finally, I'm tired of being told not to hang out with certain friends and not call to see what they're doing because they might be "getting their game on". Look, I'm not trying to cockblock. If I have guy friends does that mean that I just have to wait for them to call me because I might be interfering with their game on any random night? And if I bring my best friend to a party and my guy friend starts hitting on her, I'm just supposed to hang out alone for an hour to make sure that I don't interfere with his game too? Where's the part where I actually get something in return for being friends with you people?
Like I said, when I think about it, it is all a little too much. I think I'm too sensitive to be that girl for much longer.
"I am fond of children--except boys."
-Lewis Carroll
“If you can make a girl laugh - you can make her do anything.”
-Marilyn Monroe
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Please Recycle
My dad sent me a card today which was the nicest thing in the world. I am fairly positive that he procured it from my mother in terms of the actual card-making (although I would feel bad if it turned out that he did make it after me saying that), but he picked out the three pictures of us I'm sure, and he did the writing. I am very impressed. My dad was never really the I'll write to you type.
I know how all this came about, and in retrospect it's a little bit funny. My mom wrote me a letter a couple weeks ago, and so I wrote her back, adressing the letter just to her since she was the one who wrote to me. I thought it would be fairly standard, although I did wonder if my dad would feel left out. Anyway, my mom told me on the phone that he did feel left out, and several days later I get my first piece of mail from my dad...a hand-made card with copious pictures, no less.
Damn it. The house keeps creaking and it's making me think that the scary neighbor from Disturbia is attempting to shimmy in my window or something.
On a similarly sketchy note, our Jewish roommate cooked on a backing sheet a couple of weeks ago and its just been sitting in the kitchen sink waiting to be cleaned ever since. Mitch repeatedly asked him to wash it, and B-hawk even put it in his room. But it always ended up right back in the sink, still dirty. So, this weekend I took it and deposited it on top of all the laundry on his bed. And nooow, it has totally disappeared. The laundry is still there, but the baking sheet is nowhere to be found...not in his room or the kitchen. I'm pretty sure that he got pissed and just chucked it in the garbahey. Classy kid.
"There must be a reason why some people can afford to live well. They must have worked for it. I only feel angry when I see waste. When I see people throwing away things we could use."
-Mother Teresa (1910-1997)
See...the Jewish one will never be a saint now.
I know how all this came about, and in retrospect it's a little bit funny. My mom wrote me a letter a couple weeks ago, and so I wrote her back, adressing the letter just to her since she was the one who wrote to me. I thought it would be fairly standard, although I did wonder if my dad would feel left out. Anyway, my mom told me on the phone that he did feel left out, and several days later I get my first piece of mail from my dad...a hand-made card with copious pictures, no less.
Damn it. The house keeps creaking and it's making me think that the scary neighbor from Disturbia is attempting to shimmy in my window or something.
On a similarly sketchy note, our Jewish roommate cooked on a backing sheet a couple of weeks ago and its just been sitting in the kitchen sink waiting to be cleaned ever since. Mitch repeatedly asked him to wash it, and B-hawk even put it in his room. But it always ended up right back in the sink, still dirty. So, this weekend I took it and deposited it on top of all the laundry on his bed. And nooow, it has totally disappeared. The laundry is still there, but the baking sheet is nowhere to be found...not in his room or the kitchen. I'm pretty sure that he got pissed and just chucked it in the garbahey. Classy kid.
"There must be a reason why some people can afford to live well. They must have worked for it. I only feel angry when I see waste. When I see people throwing away things we could use."
-Mother Teresa (1910-1997)
See...the Jewish one will never be a saint now.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Cinco de oh my, and so on
I have to say that while this entire weekend was pretty renegade, Friday night was the absolute best bit, containing a Senate dance party, Shia la Boef, stealth parking manuevers, ninja outfits, party crashing and so much more.
Chloe and I started the night off low key...in bed watching the Lost episodes that we're behind on, because actually keeping up with the show every week is just too difficult with our packed social agendas. Then we booked it down to the Ave for the last Senate show of the year. Even though we got there an hour before it started, the room was already packed with people sitting all over the floor and standing at the back. Being absolutely renegade, though, we pushed our way to the very front and created spots right in front of the stage...literally there was nobody in front of us at all. The people we sat in front of were hating life I'm sure, or rather, just hating us...especially when we were all dancing instead of sitting down, because I am unreasonably tall for a girl.
Then we peaced to Starbucks. I found a new drink that replaces caramel macchiatos as my fave: the dulce de leche latte. Ace. Next we drove downtown and saw Disturbia, which made me heart Shia laBeof even more. Did you know that his name means "thank God for beef"? It was fabulous and we shrieked and gasped through the whole thing. Except for I suck and get so into movies that I try to tell the characters what to do. Chloe had to sush me because apparently I was going "shhhh!" to Shia really loudly and disturbing the other ppl. Whatev, though, because I was just trying to save his life. Chloe also got so frustrated with him that she literally yelled "fuck!" in the middle of the most suspenseful part. Basically, all the other people in the theater were also hating life because of the two of us.
And of course, when we left the theater we needed to sneak out of the Pacific Place parking lot without paying. I'm sorry, but we don't have mad cash on hand, like regular Seattlelites. In fact, we are so classically-collegiate poor that our gas was disconnected earlier this week, and until today we were operating without heat or hot water. Whoopsies. IMA showers, anyone? Anyway, we totally blew it the first two times, though. First, we pulled up behind a car and then their ticket didn't work so the guys who work there had to lift the bar for them and would've definitely seen us drive through behind them. Next, we pulled up behind a car only to see the Security Guard roll up in his golf cart. Then, finally we made it through. I don't know why we were so scared by the end. Even if they saw us do it, it's not like the Security Guards could run us down with their little golf carts. Still, someone told me recently that they take a picture of your license plate when you do that and sometimes report it to the police. Maybe one day when I'm 30 I will wake up to a thousand dollars in tickets. The key here is that I will be such a successful lawyer by then that I will be able to choose between arguing my way out of the tickets in court, or simply dropping a grand because that'll be like pocket change to my future self. (Here, I am very much kidding, and will most likely be struggling to get by each week because of my measly public defender salary.)
Anyway: Ninja Outfits. We were oh so inspired by Disturbia that we decided to dress up Alias-style and go create a disturbance at Stephen's house. We figured we would make a huge noise in the back and then enter through the front (always unlocked) and quickly turn off all the lights and hide so we can pop out and terrify them. However, we blew it from the beginning when, crawling next to a car, I turned around to whisper to Chloe and promptly ran into the side mirror with my head. Then, it turned out that Stephen wasn't even home and his roommates caught us instead. While regrouping on the sidewalk, Stephen actually walked by us on his way home, so we had to run into someone's back yard, shimmy behind a shed, and jump a wire fence. Then, Chloe gave me an almost-black eye when somehow her phone went into my face in the dark. We did, however, eventually succeed in sneaking into Stephen's basement, creeping up the stairs and then ambushing him in the kitchen. Next time we will be better, though.
We meant to try someone else later that night, but then it turned out that he was outside his house already with some girl, and while we were planning our attack, they started making out. We decided to be good girls and did not interfere. Instead, we went home and crashed our neighbor's party. We were not impressed. The guys were so wasted that, I shit you not, they were asking us if we were sisters since they said we looked so much alike. Tres high. Chloe and I look about as similar as Lindsay Lohan and Corrine Bailey-Rae.
Anyway, Cinco de Mayo was not as eventful, with several lame parties before we found a sufficiently overcrowded place of mayhem. I'm super surprised that our last venue didn't get broken up by the cops, because in Will's words "it was off the hook". I also ran into a bunch of people that I knew there, including a random guy from my middle school, a Psi U (he was a legit one, though), a girl from Physiology, a bunch of YD's, some Mercer kids, and a guy I took on a coffee tour when I was a Dawg Daze leader. Even more sufficiently carazy was when Chloe and I met up with Stephen, BK and their friend and left for an attic with a fog machine. Sounds sketchy, right? But it was completely amazing. I couldn't even see Stephen and he was right next to me.
And so, the point of all this is that I had an extremely busy weekend and it is therefore legit that I did not start my paper, or the readings that I had to base my paper, on until tonight....and of course I only just finished it and sent it in. Even if my professor does not notice that I sent it in at 5 am, I am sure he will notice that it is actually 11 pt. size font, with the character spacing condensed by .3, and is thus a page over the limit. Pshaw. Page limits are for losers.
Chloe and I started the night off low key...in bed watching the Lost episodes that we're behind on, because actually keeping up with the show every week is just too difficult with our packed social agendas. Then we booked it down to the Ave for the last Senate show of the year. Even though we got there an hour before it started, the room was already packed with people sitting all over the floor and standing at the back. Being absolutely renegade, though, we pushed our way to the very front and created spots right in front of the stage...literally there was nobody in front of us at all. The people we sat in front of were hating life I'm sure, or rather, just hating us...especially when we were all dancing instead of sitting down, because I am unreasonably tall for a girl.
Then we peaced to Starbucks. I found a new drink that replaces caramel macchiatos as my fave: the dulce de leche latte. Ace. Next we drove downtown and saw Disturbia, which made me heart Shia laBeof even more. Did you know that his name means "thank God for beef"? It was fabulous and we shrieked and gasped through the whole thing. Except for I suck and get so into movies that I try to tell the characters what to do. Chloe had to sush me because apparently I was going "shhhh!" to Shia really loudly and disturbing the other ppl. Whatev, though, because I was just trying to save his life. Chloe also got so frustrated with him that she literally yelled "fuck!" in the middle of the most suspenseful part. Basically, all the other people in the theater were also hating life because of the two of us.
And of course, when we left the theater we needed to sneak out of the Pacific Place parking lot without paying. I'm sorry, but we don't have mad cash on hand, like regular Seattlelites. In fact, we are so classically-collegiate poor that our gas was disconnected earlier this week, and until today we were operating without heat or hot water. Whoopsies. IMA showers, anyone? Anyway, we totally blew it the first two times, though. First, we pulled up behind a car and then their ticket didn't work so the guys who work there had to lift the bar for them and would've definitely seen us drive through behind them. Next, we pulled up behind a car only to see the Security Guard roll up in his golf cart. Then, finally we made it through. I don't know why we were so scared by the end. Even if they saw us do it, it's not like the Security Guards could run us down with their little golf carts. Still, someone told me recently that they take a picture of your license plate when you do that and sometimes report it to the police. Maybe one day when I'm 30 I will wake up to a thousand dollars in tickets. The key here is that I will be such a successful lawyer by then that I will be able to choose between arguing my way out of the tickets in court, or simply dropping a grand because that'll be like pocket change to my future self. (Here, I am very much kidding, and will most likely be struggling to get by each week because of my measly public defender salary.)
Anyway: Ninja Outfits. We were oh so inspired by Disturbia that we decided to dress up Alias-style and go create a disturbance at Stephen's house. We figured we would make a huge noise in the back and then enter through the front (always unlocked) and quickly turn off all the lights and hide so we can pop out and terrify them. However, we blew it from the beginning when, crawling next to a car, I turned around to whisper to Chloe and promptly ran into the side mirror with my head. Then, it turned out that Stephen wasn't even home and his roommates caught us instead. While regrouping on the sidewalk, Stephen actually walked by us on his way home, so we had to run into someone's back yard, shimmy behind a shed, and jump a wire fence. Then, Chloe gave me an almost-black eye when somehow her phone went into my face in the dark. We did, however, eventually succeed in sneaking into Stephen's basement, creeping up the stairs and then ambushing him in the kitchen. Next time we will be better, though.
We meant to try someone else later that night, but then it turned out that he was outside his house already with some girl, and while we were planning our attack, they started making out. We decided to be good girls and did not interfere. Instead, we went home and crashed our neighbor's party. We were not impressed. The guys were so wasted that, I shit you not, they were asking us if we were sisters since they said we looked so much alike. Tres high. Chloe and I look about as similar as Lindsay Lohan and Corrine Bailey-Rae.
Anyway, Cinco de Mayo was not as eventful, with several lame parties before we found a sufficiently overcrowded place of mayhem. I'm super surprised that our last venue didn't get broken up by the cops, because in Will's words "it was off the hook". I also ran into a bunch of people that I knew there, including a random guy from my middle school, a Psi U (he was a legit one, though), a girl from Physiology, a bunch of YD's, some Mercer kids, and a guy I took on a coffee tour when I was a Dawg Daze leader. Even more sufficiently carazy was when Chloe and I met up with Stephen, BK and their friend and left for an attic with a fog machine. Sounds sketchy, right? But it was completely amazing. I couldn't even see Stephen and he was right next to me.
And so, the point of all this is that I had an extremely busy weekend and it is therefore legit that I did not start my paper, or the readings that I had to base my paper, on until tonight....and of course I only just finished it and sent it in. Even if my professor does not notice that I sent it in at 5 am, I am sure he will notice that it is actually 11 pt. size font, with the character spacing condensed by .3, and is thus a page over the limit. Pshaw. Page limits are for losers.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Mad Baggage
Today went okay. No tears.
Ummm...nothing more to say, except that I think I just gt sick from eating too much celery.
Ummm...nothing more to say, except that I think I just gt sick from eating too much celery.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Little girl, you're in the middle of the ride.
May Day is over. Today is my little sister's half birthday. And the one year anniversary of my best friend's death. I like that I can hear it raining hard right now.
This year I have had so much trouble feeling. That is, feeling anything at all about her and her being not alive anymore. I don't know if it is prolonged denial, or that the whole concept of death is a little too much for my brain, and like a small child I'm operating at the "out of sight, out of mind" stage of consciousness.
One thing about me that has changed is my openness with everybody. I used to be so much more reserved. I told Natalie everything about me, everything that I felt and everything that ever happened in my life, and that was enough. Now that she is gone and I don't have her to listen, I tell the whole world little bits and pieces so that it can sort of add up to the everything that I shared with her. I also think that my change in level of personal secrecy happened because right after she died (and a lot in part because she, as my secret-keeper, was gone), I decided to tell my parents something that I had kept from them since I was 5 years old. It was something that I had felt wrist-slittingly guilty about for most of my life and telling my dad was such an enormous relief that I think I just decided never to keep anything about myself supressed ever again.
I'm also different in ways that I can't quite account for, but that I don't think would please Nat. From when we met in 6th grade on, she always used to say that her favorite thing about me was that I was genuine...."angelic" was her word for me in 6th grade. By the time we hit college, she conceded that I was not so angelic any longer, but still completely genuine. But now, for all my sharing everything with everyone, I think I have lost a certain amount of my genuine-ness.
Memories of her:
Getting out of dance class and dancing down 35th street in the summer.
Making fun of the Our Lady of the Lake crossing guards on the way home from middle school.
Cutting class in high school with hall passes that we bought at Office Depot.
Summer debate at UW.
Getting really attached to random groups of people like certain classes, way more than anyone else in the class was attached to the general group.
Movie filming and editing.
Biking to Ballard after school in highschool.
Designing iron-on t-shirts.
Dancing at my family reunions.
Backpacking....the toilet with the best view in the world.
Meeting KK at Matthew's Beach.
Being woken up on my birthday with her outside my window with fresh scones.
Knut my garden gnome.
Dropping out of HS and going to UW together.
Our names for our future children (me=Josh, her=Nectarine and Sesame)
I'm not crying and I haven't in a longlong time. I will be quite satisfied if I do cry later...as in when it is actually tomorrow.
At least I'm not scared that her ghost will come wisk me away anymore like I was scared of last Spring.
"You are hiding....IIII know dat."
-Leonardo DiCaprio, What's Eating Glibert Grape
This year I have had so much trouble feeling. That is, feeling anything at all about her and her being not alive anymore. I don't know if it is prolonged denial, or that the whole concept of death is a little too much for my brain, and like a small child I'm operating at the "out of sight, out of mind" stage of consciousness.
One thing about me that has changed is my openness with everybody. I used to be so much more reserved. I told Natalie everything about me, everything that I felt and everything that ever happened in my life, and that was enough. Now that she is gone and I don't have her to listen, I tell the whole world little bits and pieces so that it can sort of add up to the everything that I shared with her. I also think that my change in level of personal secrecy happened because right after she died (and a lot in part because she, as my secret-keeper, was gone), I decided to tell my parents something that I had kept from them since I was 5 years old. It was something that I had felt wrist-slittingly guilty about for most of my life and telling my dad was such an enormous relief that I think I just decided never to keep anything about myself supressed ever again.
I'm also different in ways that I can't quite account for, but that I don't think would please Nat. From when we met in 6th grade on, she always used to say that her favorite thing about me was that I was genuine...."angelic" was her word for me in 6th grade. By the time we hit college, she conceded that I was not so angelic any longer, but still completely genuine. But now, for all my sharing everything with everyone, I think I have lost a certain amount of my genuine-ness.
Memories of her:
Getting out of dance class and dancing down 35th street in the summer.
Making fun of the Our Lady of the Lake crossing guards on the way home from middle school.
Cutting class in high school with hall passes that we bought at Office Depot.
Summer debate at UW.
Getting really attached to random groups of people like certain classes, way more than anyone else in the class was attached to the general group.
Movie filming and editing.
Biking to Ballard after school in highschool.
Designing iron-on t-shirts.
Dancing at my family reunions.
Backpacking....the toilet with the best view in the world.
Meeting KK at Matthew's Beach.
Being woken up on my birthday with her outside my window with fresh scones.
Knut my garden gnome.
Dropping out of HS and going to UW together.
Our names for our future children (me=Josh, her=Nectarine and Sesame)
I'm not crying and I haven't in a longlong time. I will be quite satisfied if I do cry later...as in when it is actually tomorrow.
At least I'm not scared that her ghost will come wisk me away anymore like I was scared of last Spring.
"You are hiding....IIII know dat."
-Leonardo DiCaprio, What's Eating Glibert Grape
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Preferred Menu
I would like to publicly put forth my approval of some delicious foods:
1) cottage cheese- It is wonderful. I eat this out of the container with a spoon on occasion.
2) potato salad- I also ate this out of a container during fall quarter. To be exact I procured a tub of potato salad from Costco and I would sit at the counter and munch out of it with a fork, much to the disdain of my roommates.
3) olives- It was discovered semi-recently that whether or not people like olives is genetic, and I definitely have the olive gene. I particularly like them stuffed with pimento or jalepenos.
4) bagels and lox- these are the spice of my life.
PS- I COVERED my phone in RHINESTONES today.
Profound thought of the day: Having a fabulous story/gossip and not being able to share it is, I think, quite like having sex and almost climaxing, but then not.
1) cottage cheese- It is wonderful. I eat this out of the container with a spoon on occasion.
2) potato salad- I also ate this out of a container during fall quarter. To be exact I procured a tub of potato salad from Costco and I would sit at the counter and munch out of it with a fork, much to the disdain of my roommates.
3) olives- It was discovered semi-recently that whether or not people like olives is genetic, and I definitely have the olive gene. I particularly like them stuffed with pimento or jalepenos.
4) bagels and lox- these are the spice of my life.
PS- I COVERED my phone in RHINESTONES today.
Profound thought of the day: Having a fabulous story/gossip and not being able to share it is, I think, quite like having sex and almost climaxing, but then not.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner
I wish that M. Night Shyamalan would come out with another movie soon...and one as good as Signs or the Village.
Today was relatively kick ass in a very laid back mind on my money and my money on my mind kind of way. Chloe and I woke up at 1pm and went to dim sum and then we walked around the International District and bought sour candy and peach juice. She had the worst hangover ever, though, and didn't stop feeling semi-nauseated until 7pm...poor kid. I, on the other hand, was just more thirsty than I have ever been in my life. I usually can't even choke down one glass of water a day, unless I've just had some very aerobic exercise. But today, I swear to God, I had at least ten huge glasses of water.
Then Mitch and Chloe and I watched Dirty Dancing and had a major living room dance party. The reason that every girl I know loves that movie is because the basic moral of the story is that you can be a huge dork, have poofy hair, and not know how to dance, and still end up being gorgeous on stage with an amazing guy who is in love with you. The End. Clearly life would be so much better if we all just lived in the 80's (and impeached Ronald Reagan).
And to end on a complaint...here is my daily wtfuck moment: How can someone in the house be repeatedly leaving their balled-up TP on the bathroom floor? Seriously. It would be fine if you were ocd and somehow nervously crumpled up toilet paper while you were on the pot and tossed it on the ground, but I know what is really happening is that someone is wiping and then missing the toilet with the paper. Ewwww. You would have to be super-duper high constantly to be making that mistake as many times as there were balls of paper next to the toilet tonight. Keep it classy, guys, and watch where your garbahey is going after you wipe.
"When you took your seat I felt as if a woman had come into my bathroom and I had only the sponge to defend myself."
-Winston Churchill
Today was relatively kick ass in a very laid back mind on my money and my money on my mind kind of way. Chloe and I woke up at 1pm and went to dim sum and then we walked around the International District and bought sour candy and peach juice. She had the worst hangover ever, though, and didn't stop feeling semi-nauseated until 7pm...poor kid. I, on the other hand, was just more thirsty than I have ever been in my life. I usually can't even choke down one glass of water a day, unless I've just had some very aerobic exercise. But today, I swear to God, I had at least ten huge glasses of water.
Then Mitch and Chloe and I watched Dirty Dancing and had a major living room dance party. The reason that every girl I know loves that movie is because the basic moral of the story is that you can be a huge dork, have poofy hair, and not know how to dance, and still end up being gorgeous on stage with an amazing guy who is in love with you. The End. Clearly life would be so much better if we all just lived in the 80's (and impeached Ronald Reagan).
And to end on a complaint...here is my daily wtfuck moment: How can someone in the house be repeatedly leaving their balled-up TP on the bathroom floor? Seriously. It would be fine if you were ocd and somehow nervously crumpled up toilet paper while you were on the pot and tossed it on the ground, but I know what is really happening is that someone is wiping and then missing the toilet with the paper. Ewwww. You would have to be super-duper high constantly to be making that mistake as many times as there were balls of paper next to the toilet tonight. Keep it classy, guys, and watch where your garbahey is going after you wipe.
"When you took your seat I felt as if a woman had come into my bathroom and I had only the sponge to defend myself."
-Winston Churchill
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Mute Me, Please
Just so we're clear, Stephen is like my favorite friend EVER. Shiiiiit. He's funny as hell. And that kid who I hate is my least favorite friend. I couldn't even remember why I was mad at him by the time I got home, but I know it was legit because I was actually mad....not sorta peeved at a random person mad, but I really hate you Jerome-type mad. Still, I was like, "oh I'm ridiculous, let's forget about me being a coldhearted bitch." But then I listened to all my missed voicemails from the night and heard two douchebag ho voicemails from him in a row. All I have to say is that certain people are both inconsiderate, rude and patronizing...and ANNOYING all at once.
BUT, tonight was exciting since I had never smoked meh in a crack pipe in a tree before.
Not that that happened tonight or anything.
BUT, tonight was exciting since I had never smoked meh in a crack pipe in a tree before.
Not that that happened tonight or anything.
Friday, April 27, 2007
I'm so dizzy....
Do you know that song? It's an oldie. I grew up on those...97.3 kbsg. I also had it on the Sugar beats tape of mine. Whoa, you haven't lived till you've experienced sugar beats, that's for sure.
Side note: Bad things happen when I mix meh with meh. LIke I can't fall asleep because the digital numbers on my alarm clock are getting jiggy with it and won't stay still. At least I didn't have to be accompanied home by creepy mc-creepersons. That's right. I was strategic in my exit timing....and then Stehen and I got pizza, but that is NOT going in my diet log. Screw physiology, what happens after 3 am, stays a secret, right? RIght.
"Na na na na na-na-na, getting jiggy with it."
-WIll Smith, a la Kegger for Cancer music
Side note: Bad things happen when I mix meh with meh. LIke I can't fall asleep because the digital numbers on my alarm clock are getting jiggy with it and won't stay still. At least I didn't have to be accompanied home by creepy mc-creepersons. That's right. I was strategic in my exit timing....and then Stehen and I got pizza, but that is NOT going in my diet log. Screw physiology, what happens after 3 am, stays a secret, right? RIght.
"Na na na na na-na-na, getting jiggy with it."
-WIll Smith, a la Kegger for Cancer music
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Grammar Whore
It's truly terrible how I never write in here anymore. It's not that I'm more busy this quarter, it's just that a) I have to wake up super early every morning now, so I'm completely shot by the time I go to bed an would normally write, and b) I'm losing myself a bit this quarter. The kind of fly by the seat of your pants, just skating by, not really paying attention to myself, just paying attention to what's happening to me life. Shit son. I need serious grounding.
Thoughts from today:
-I love when people touch my head. I know that I have said this before, but it is amazing. If anyone ever wanted to make me do something or coerce me into some type of agreement, if they stroked my hair or even just put their hand on top of my head I would pretty much just consent. It just makes me automatically trust whoever is touching me and feel taken care of. It may sound cheesy, but it's my achilles heel, I guess.
-I am completely elated that my last quarter of my senior year we are FINALLY doing the death penalty as one of the topics for the YD-CR debates. Hells yes, kids. I even promised to go on a date with a boy that I really really don't like if it would be a deal-maker for people. Of course, I don't think I should be held to it, because people's agreement to do DP was not based on the date possibility. Basically, it's off the table now that I got what I wanted. Manipulative douchebag ho, right here.
-I love my mother, and I am pretty much becoming her. I edit the same as her...painstakingly slow, and in-depth. I have to fix all the grammar, etc. before I can even pay any attention at all to content. But it basically is kick-ass by the time I am done. I used to be so frustrated when my mom edited my papers, because I would just want her to read for content, not the other BS. Now I'm just happy that I'm related to her, because clearly, writing--or at least editing it--is in my blood.
Moqtada al Sadr is the leader of the insurgency in Iraq, which I did not know going into my test. Still when the first question was "who is Moqtada al Sadr?" that is the answer I gave. Ha, bitches! I test well. LSAT's anyone? Nope, I'll actually probably coug those just because it would be typical me to choke when I need it the most. Whatev. I can learn to be bohemian and not do school anymore.
"Look at this pen I got. I took it from the cancer kids."
-Bond, after volunteering at the Ronald McDonald House for kids with cancer
Thoughts from today:
-I love when people touch my head. I know that I have said this before, but it is amazing. If anyone ever wanted to make me do something or coerce me into some type of agreement, if they stroked my hair or even just put their hand on top of my head I would pretty much just consent. It just makes me automatically trust whoever is touching me and feel taken care of. It may sound cheesy, but it's my achilles heel, I guess.
-I am completely elated that my last quarter of my senior year we are FINALLY doing the death penalty as one of the topics for the YD-CR debates. Hells yes, kids. I even promised to go on a date with a boy that I really really don't like if it would be a deal-maker for people. Of course, I don't think I should be held to it, because people's agreement to do DP was not based on the date possibility. Basically, it's off the table now that I got what I wanted. Manipulative douchebag ho, right here.
-I love my mother, and I am pretty much becoming her. I edit the same as her...painstakingly slow, and in-depth. I have to fix all the grammar, etc. before I can even pay any attention at all to content. But it basically is kick-ass by the time I am done. I used to be so frustrated when my mom edited my papers, because I would just want her to read for content, not the other BS. Now I'm just happy that I'm related to her, because clearly, writing--or at least editing it--is in my blood.
Moqtada al Sadr is the leader of the insurgency in Iraq, which I did not know going into my test. Still when the first question was "who is Moqtada al Sadr?" that is the answer I gave. Ha, bitches! I test well. LSAT's anyone? Nope, I'll actually probably coug those just because it would be typical me to choke when I need it the most. Whatev. I can learn to be bohemian and not do school anymore.
"Look at this pen I got. I took it from the cancer kids."
-Bond, after volunteering at the Ronald McDonald House for kids with cancer
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Life is Difficult
The House at Pooh Corner
Christopher Robin and I walked along
under branches lit up by the moon.
Posing our questions to owl and eeyore
as our days disappeared all too soon.
But I've wandered much further today than I should
and I can't seem to find my way back to the wood.
So, help me if you can I've got to get
back to the house at Pooh corner by one.
You'd be surprised there's so much to be done,
count all the bees in the hive,
chase all the clouds from the sky.
Back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh.
Winnie the Pooh doesn't know what to do,
got a honey jar stuck on his nose.
He came to me asking help and advice
and from here no one knows where he goes.
So I sent him to ask of te Owl if he's there,
how to loosen a jar from the nose of a bear
So, help me if you can I've got to get
back to the house at Pooh corner by one
You'd be surprised there's so much to be done,
count all the bees in the hive,
chase all the clouds from the sky .
Back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh,
back to the days of Christopher Robin,
back to the ways of Pooh
These days I am so emo. But not in a depressed way, really. Just in a can start trickling tears at any moment kind of way. And because I like my life, not because I am unhappy. I just hate endings, and this is the end of my life as I know it. It's all starting when my med school roommate moves out in a week or so. Who will advise me on all aspects of my social relationships, and give me massages, and life perspective now? PLUS, Kurt Vonnegut is DEAD. And tomorrow elections for YD's happen and that will be over too in a way. I had my last Convention this last weekend. And I'm in the last Polisci class of my life. And at the end of the summer, I'll be peacing out of Seattle. Possibly forever. And the really scary part is that I want to give up South Africa and stay at UW forever and ever amen.
Olive's D-day is getting super close. What should I do then? I'm thinking of taking a bunch of plastic bags and releasing them into the wind somehow so that they blow around. I think that she would appreciate that. Probably. I hope that when I die, people remember me more than I remember her. But just other people, because if I was the one who died, I would want her to remember me the same amount as I remember her. Otherwise it would hurt too much.
Boo! I lovelovelove my friends and Seattle and the rain on the roof sound. delta=sadness.
"Love is more afraid of change than destruction."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Christopher Robin and I walked along
under branches lit up by the moon.
Posing our questions to owl and eeyore
as our days disappeared all too soon.
But I've wandered much further today than I should
and I can't seem to find my way back to the wood.
So, help me if you can I've got to get
back to the house at Pooh corner by one.
You'd be surprised there's so much to be done,
count all the bees in the hive,
chase all the clouds from the sky.
Back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh.
Winnie the Pooh doesn't know what to do,
got a honey jar stuck on his nose.
He came to me asking help and advice
and from here no one knows where he goes.
So I sent him to ask of te Owl if he's there,
how to loosen a jar from the nose of a bear
So, help me if you can I've got to get
back to the house at Pooh corner by one
You'd be surprised there's so much to be done,
count all the bees in the hive,
chase all the clouds from the sky .
Back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh,
back to the days of Christopher Robin,
back to the ways of Pooh
These days I am so emo. But not in a depressed way, really. Just in a can start trickling tears at any moment kind of way. And because I like my life, not because I am unhappy. I just hate endings, and this is the end of my life as I know it. It's all starting when my med school roommate moves out in a week or so. Who will advise me on all aspects of my social relationships, and give me massages, and life perspective now? PLUS, Kurt Vonnegut is DEAD. And tomorrow elections for YD's happen and that will be over too in a way. I had my last Convention this last weekend. And I'm in the last Polisci class of my life. And at the end of the summer, I'll be peacing out of Seattle. Possibly forever. And the really scary part is that I want to give up South Africa and stay at UW forever and ever amen.
Olive's D-day is getting super close. What should I do then? I'm thinking of taking a bunch of plastic bags and releasing them into the wind somehow so that they blow around. I think that she would appreciate that. Probably. I hope that when I die, people remember me more than I remember her. But just other people, because if I was the one who died, I would want her to remember me the same amount as I remember her. Otherwise it would hurt too much.
Boo! I lovelovelove my friends and Seattle and the rain on the roof sound. delta=sadness.
"Love is more afraid of change than destruction."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
Friday, April 13, 2007
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Relax Blondie-style
Chloe just gave me an impromptu head/neck/face massage and suddenly everything is right in my world. It's amazing how small you feel when someone touches the top of your head. But it can be in a good way. Sometimes I need to feel like I am very little and that if things don't work out the way I want them to, it's too bad and all, but it's not my fault and so I shouldn't worry too much about things that are beyond my control in life. Mmmm, zen.
B-hawk gave me his candle tonight that smells like boy. I feel weird burning it in my very girl room, but I think I will anyway because it's yuuuuummy. Fuck anyone who thinks I am silly. I will tell them that we traded room smells for awhile....after all, he took my Walk on the Beach candle in exchange.
For the first time this past Tuesday one of those surprising reaction-type thougts popped into my head during class. This one girl was speaking very partonizingly and without even consciously formulating anything I thought very forcefully "I hate you so much." And I was serious. I am the type of person that overuses the word hate quite copiously, but I have only been serious about hating someone once in my whole life, I am pretty sure. Apparently this girl in my class just triggers a gut reaction in me that is made up of some of the most potent dislike that I have ever felt.
"Oohhh child, things are gonna get easier. Oohh child, things'll get brighter. Oohh child, things are gonna get easier. Oohh, when the world is much lighter."
-The Five Stairsteps
(might not be exactly the right lyrics, but that's what I've always heard when I listen to that song.)
B-hawk gave me his candle tonight that smells like boy. I feel weird burning it in my very girl room, but I think I will anyway because it's yuuuuummy. Fuck anyone who thinks I am silly. I will tell them that we traded room smells for awhile....after all, he took my Walk on the Beach candle in exchange.
For the first time this past Tuesday one of those surprising reaction-type thougts popped into my head during class. This one girl was speaking very partonizingly and without even consciously formulating anything I thought very forcefully "I hate you so much." And I was serious. I am the type of person that overuses the word hate quite copiously, but I have only been serious about hating someone once in my whole life, I am pretty sure. Apparently this girl in my class just triggers a gut reaction in me that is made up of some of the most potent dislike that I have ever felt.
"Oohhh child, things are gonna get easier. Oohh child, things'll get brighter. Oohh child, things are gonna get easier. Oohh, when the world is much lighter."
-The Five Stairsteps
(might not be exactly the right lyrics, but that's what I've always heard when I listen to that song.)
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Justice Murphy bought illegal drugs twice a day.
I think I have a fever. Tuesdays do that to me....that and the fact that I went running with Chloe (and frisbee playing) when I still am too sick to even get oxygen through my nose. The worst part is that I can't hear shit because I'm so plugged up. It's the most awkward feeling in the world to have to ask people to repeat themselves again and again because you can't tell what they're saying. I sometimes just prefer to smile and nod and pretend that I heard....except the last time I did that I ended up enthusiastically agreeing with a Republican on some topic. I don't remember if I ever even found out what the topic of our conversation was, I just knew that everyone freaked the fuck out at me. Whoopsies, y'all caught me. Closet conservative here.
I wore my Nate Robinson underwear today. Pretty much amazing.
"Ever since the Harriet Miers debacle where even her own party turned on her and forced her to withdraw her nomination, her name has become new slang. You got 'Miered.' Kind of like the last scene in Reservoir Dogs."
-George Lovell, my Supreme Court/Con Law Prof
I wore my Nate Robinson underwear today. Pretty much amazing.
"Ever since the Harriet Miers debacle where even her own party turned on her and forced her to withdraw her nomination, her name has become new slang. You got 'Miered.' Kind of like the last scene in Reservoir Dogs."
-George Lovell, my Supreme Court/Con Law Prof
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Emo like Clove Cigarettes.
I'm having a hard time recently and I don't know why. Little by little I am actually falling completely apart. I haven't even contacted my thesis advisor in weeks. I haven't declared for graduation and the deadline is this Friday. I don't know where I will live in South Africa next year or what exactly I will be doing. I don't study hardly at all. But I don't really party a lot or have that much fun.
This is not me. I have never in my life been so not on top of things. I've always been lacking in punctuality, etc., but never in responsibility and drive.
The biggest thing that worries me is that I'm getting sad. Only for a few nights now, and not ever during the day, but it scares me. I don't want to have to deal with now what I completely bypassed last year. I'm a bounce-back kind of girl, right? So why do I suddenly feel all alone? Did I just have more people to surround myself with last year, and now they've gone away? It's not just Olive, though. I am all of a sudden missing my family too. Easter was odd, being in my Grandmother's house with only Chloe, when I'm used to being completely surrounded by relatives there. I miss that. Whatever happened to holidays? And, while I'm at it, I miss my childhood. It just slipped away while I was writing essay after essay.
This weekend my grandmother accidentally mentioned something about my mom having depression for awhile in high school. I know that is not that big of a deal, and it doesn't mean anything now, but it shocked me because I had never heard anything about it before from my mom. I guess it isn't the sort of thing that comes up randomly like "Oh, btw kids, when I was a senior, I was depressed." But still...you would think that at some point during the 19 years we have spent together, my mom would've mentioned something about it. Like last May after Olive died, or during last summer when I was all alone in Baltimore. It feels awkward to me that my mother intentionally kept something like that from me. If it never came up, she obviously didn't want me to know, and why would she not? I don't think that I'm prying into her private life by wanting to know. I feel like kids have a right to know about their parents lives.
Why do I feel like crying?
PS- Nobody should ever date me. I have a lot of baggage, and I am a little girl. Plus I get hurt a lot, so you would have to deal with a lot of band-aids and neosporin. It's probably not worth it. I also blush too easily. It gets ridiculous.
This is not me. I have never in my life been so not on top of things. I've always been lacking in punctuality, etc., but never in responsibility and drive.
The biggest thing that worries me is that I'm getting sad. Only for a few nights now, and not ever during the day, but it scares me. I don't want to have to deal with now what I completely bypassed last year. I'm a bounce-back kind of girl, right? So why do I suddenly feel all alone? Did I just have more people to surround myself with last year, and now they've gone away? It's not just Olive, though. I am all of a sudden missing my family too. Easter was odd, being in my Grandmother's house with only Chloe, when I'm used to being completely surrounded by relatives there. I miss that. Whatever happened to holidays? And, while I'm at it, I miss my childhood. It just slipped away while I was writing essay after essay.
This weekend my grandmother accidentally mentioned something about my mom having depression for awhile in high school. I know that is not that big of a deal, and it doesn't mean anything now, but it shocked me because I had never heard anything about it before from my mom. I guess it isn't the sort of thing that comes up randomly like "Oh, btw kids, when I was a senior, I was depressed." But still...you would think that at some point during the 19 years we have spent together, my mom would've mentioned something about it. Like last May after Olive died, or during last summer when I was all alone in Baltimore. It feels awkward to me that my mother intentionally kept something like that from me. If it never came up, she obviously didn't want me to know, and why would she not? I don't think that I'm prying into her private life by wanting to know. I feel like kids have a right to know about their parents lives.
Why do I feel like crying?
PS- Nobody should ever date me. I have a lot of baggage, and I am a little girl. Plus I get hurt a lot, so you would have to deal with a lot of band-aids and neosporin. It's probably not worth it. I also blush too easily. It gets ridiculous.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
E to the WA
Phoebe and Chloe travel over the mountains and through the woods to Grandma's house for Easter. The cat was declawed so nobody was maimed, although it still tried to scratch up a storm and looked confused when it didn't succeed in drawing blood. Mwahahaha. That cat is like a no-neck hyena packed with fat. I think it is so angry because it's skin is so taut over its incredible girth.
Phoebe: "People whatever. Yeah."
Chloe: "Diamonds are forever."
Chloe: "I speak for the masses."
Guy at Church: "That's so nice that you girls came to church today. Hopefully you can learn something about the Lord."
...I think this is mildly offensive whether you are religious or not. Both of us thought it was super awkward.
Phoebe: "I don't like how this sound songs."
Sign: "This park is for the enjoyment of Miner's customers only."
"When I get bored I should just sit and imagine fully what it is like to be Queen. [laughter] You don't understand. I don't mean like ordering people around, I mean like the interiors. Like furniture, and my tapestry and my bed hangings, and my various commisions." -Chloe
"I really would have liked to see a bit more from Mitzy, in the way of actually playing more with that ball."
-America's Cutest Puppies (tv show ranking puppies)
Chloe: "I am going to gain so much weight this weekend."
PHoebe: "No! We are NOT going to eat very much this weekend." [unwrapping plate-sized burger]
On the way to E-Wa we saw a car swerving a bit and then recklessly passing other cars at high-speeds and narrowly missing them. Yes? Soon they sped out of sight, before we could call 911 on their ass....es. Um. Bout 5 minutes later Phoebe and Chloe catch up and are blinded by white smoke in the street. Glance to the right. The car is the diatch, biatch (get it, like ditch, bitch?). The headlights illuminating the road. A reminder to all those that think they can get away with drinking and driving. This means you. Phoebe and Chloe are lucky to have escaped with their lives. Nod. Nod. The End.
by Chloe
Phoebe: "People whatever. Yeah."
Chloe: "Diamonds are forever."
Chloe: "I speak for the masses."
Guy at Church: "That's so nice that you girls came to church today. Hopefully you can learn something about the Lord."
...I think this is mildly offensive whether you are religious or not. Both of us thought it was super awkward.
Phoebe: "I don't like how this sound songs."
Sign: "This park is for the enjoyment of Miner's customers only."
"When I get bored I should just sit and imagine fully what it is like to be Queen. [laughter] You don't understand. I don't mean like ordering people around, I mean like the interiors. Like furniture, and my tapestry and my bed hangings, and my various commisions." -Chloe
"I really would have liked to see a bit more from Mitzy, in the way of actually playing more with that ball."
-America's Cutest Puppies (tv show ranking puppies)
Chloe: "I am going to gain so much weight this weekend."
PHoebe: "No! We are NOT going to eat very much this weekend." [unwrapping plate-sized burger]
On the way to E-Wa we saw a car swerving a bit and then recklessly passing other cars at high-speeds and narrowly missing them. Yes? Soon they sped out of sight, before we could call 911 on their ass....es. Um. Bout 5 minutes later Phoebe and Chloe catch up and are blinded by white smoke in the street. Glance to the right. The car is the diatch, biatch (get it, like ditch, bitch?). The headlights illuminating the road. A reminder to all those that think they can get away with drinking and driving. This means you. Phoebe and Chloe are lucky to have escaped with their lives. Nod. Nod. The End.
by Chloe
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
"So though we cannot know..."
I made it through today. And for that I heartily congratulate myself. Who shackled me with 8-hour days on Tuesday? Because that person must have either been exceedingly mean or extremely high. I'm allowing myself to go to bed, because I wouldn't even be able to handle anything else right now except trashy tv, which doesn't make me happy anyway...unless it's the season finale of the Hills which I missed last night.
I feel not cute. That's okay. At least I'm not a baby in a third world country dying of a diarrheal disease, right Olive?
"Do you want to know
If everything glittering
Will turn into the gold
I see in your hair
I feel it could be there
Somehow, tonight
And do you want to find
Something worth saving
The change would do me right
Cause I've been just waiting
And hesitating
With this heart of mine
You're still a mystery
But there's something so easy
In how you're sweet to me
I feel completed
Like it's something I needed
For this heart of mine
There's always something so tragic
About a hopeless romantic
So though we cannot know
If everything glittering
Will turn into the gold
I'm through with waiting
And hesitating
I want you taking
This heart of mine
Heart of mine
Heart of mine"
-Heart of Mine, Peter Salett (Keeping the Faith Soundtrack)
Sung at memorial service....T-one month from yesterday
I feel not cute. That's okay. At least I'm not a baby in a third world country dying of a diarrheal disease, right Olive?
"Do you want to know
If everything glittering
Will turn into the gold
I see in your hair
I feel it could be there
Somehow, tonight
And do you want to find
Something worth saving
The change would do me right
Cause I've been just waiting
And hesitating
With this heart of mine
You're still a mystery
But there's something so easy
In how you're sweet to me
I feel completed
Like it's something I needed
For this heart of mine
There's always something so tragic
About a hopeless romantic
So though we cannot know
If everything glittering
Will turn into the gold
I'm through with waiting
And hesitating
I want you taking
This heart of mine
Heart of mine
Heart of mine"
-Heart of Mine, Peter Salett (Keeping the Faith Soundtrack)
Sung at memorial service....T-one month from yesterday
Not doin' it.
Mmmm. Peppermint schnapps.
On the one hand, I create drama out of everything. On the other hand, this much conflict in my head is probably not a positive start to anything. On the other hand I am reminding myself of Samantha before she and the jewish one started dating. On the other hand, that isn't working out so great either. Still, I don't even know what I want, which might mean that I shouldn't do anything at all. But...I definitely know what I DON'T want, so it would be nice to be rid of all that.
One day I will be in a mental asylum and we will discuss my hyper-analytical nature that drove me over the edge of sanity, and they will all sigh and say, "What a waste, that girl had so much potential. Pity nobody could save her from herself." Nope. I won't let anyone stop me from engaging in my own destructive head games.
"Fuck Sudan, it's all about Bryce."
-at the Suprise party for Bryce that coincidentally happened the same night as the Save Darfur club's fundraising party.
On the one hand, I create drama out of everything. On the other hand, this much conflict in my head is probably not a positive start to anything. On the other hand I am reminding myself of Samantha before she and the jewish one started dating. On the other hand, that isn't working out so great either. Still, I don't even know what I want, which might mean that I shouldn't do anything at all. But...I definitely know what I DON'T want, so it would be nice to be rid of all that.
One day I will be in a mental asylum and we will discuss my hyper-analytical nature that drove me over the edge of sanity, and they will all sigh and say, "What a waste, that girl had so much potential. Pity nobody could save her from herself." Nope. I won't let anyone stop me from engaging in my own destructive head games.
"Fuck Sudan, it's all about Bryce."
-at the Suprise party for Bryce that coincidentally happened the same night as the Save Darfur club's fundraising party.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Ghostride the Honda
I'm listening to LFO right now. Basically I never left middle school.
All I want to right now is to have a dance party. Profound thoughts that I put in this blog, right? It's just that all my energy is going toward figuring out how to construct a last minute Sunday night dance party for myself, and there's no room for anything else in my head. Alternately, I want somebody to play Trivial Pursuit with me. It's been an entire quarter, so I think it is appropriate to have another TP partay.
Ooh! Chloe doesn't know this yet, but when we go to E-Wa for Easter next weekend we are going to attempt to ghostride the whip...or in my case, ghostride my honda. I can just see it now, it will be excellent. We may even be able to recruit some hombres to roll with us and make our ghostride even more of an extravaganza.
It's too bad that I am such a sucker for chaos. I love it, and it's dangerous. I am one of those people who drives past car accidents and practically creates another one because I am so engrossed in observing the destruction. To my great amusement, there was a huge fight in front of my house last night. Two groups of wasted individuals were yelling for over 15 minutes about something unintelligable, and shoving eachother and holding other people back. And then this pick-up that was parked on the other side of the street took off with one of the people in it, and from the heightened yells and "Where's your fucking boy? I'm calling the police!" it was clear that the guy in the truck peaced out after pulling a gun. Welcome to the hood. I will be oh so prepared for South Africa after this. Except, I'm pretty sure that they don't fuck around in SA. They pull guns to steal your shit, not to show off in the middle of a drunken brawl. And after pulling a gun, they actually shoot it, instead of just driving off.
"People marrying cousins is not thaaaat bad." -me
"You went to the South for one week! What happened to you?!" -E
All I want to right now is to have a dance party. Profound thoughts that I put in this blog, right? It's just that all my energy is going toward figuring out how to construct a last minute Sunday night dance party for myself, and there's no room for anything else in my head. Alternately, I want somebody to play Trivial Pursuit with me. It's been an entire quarter, so I think it is appropriate to have another TP partay.
Ooh! Chloe doesn't know this yet, but when we go to E-Wa for Easter next weekend we are going to attempt to ghostride the whip...or in my case, ghostride my honda. I can just see it now, it will be excellent. We may even be able to recruit some hombres to roll with us and make our ghostride even more of an extravaganza.
It's too bad that I am such a sucker for chaos. I love it, and it's dangerous. I am one of those people who drives past car accidents and practically creates another one because I am so engrossed in observing the destruction. To my great amusement, there was a huge fight in front of my house last night. Two groups of wasted individuals were yelling for over 15 minutes about something unintelligable, and shoving eachother and holding other people back. And then this pick-up that was parked on the other side of the street took off with one of the people in it, and from the heightened yells and "Where's your fucking boy? I'm calling the police!" it was clear that the guy in the truck peaced out after pulling a gun. Welcome to the hood. I will be oh so prepared for South Africa after this. Except, I'm pretty sure that they don't fuck around in SA. They pull guns to steal your shit, not to show off in the middle of a drunken brawl. And after pulling a gun, they actually shoot it, instead of just driving off.
"People marrying cousins is not thaaaat bad." -me
"You went to the South for one week! What happened to you?!" -E
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Meh.
I saw someone wearing jellies today. Fantastic.
And in other news...my panties are in a knot. Hmph. What exactly am I supposed to say in response to shiznit like that??
"Who put me in command here?"
-Chloe's thought while practically hallucinating from lack of sleep while reading geopolitics HW.
And in other news...my panties are in a knot. Hmph. What exactly am I supposed to say in response to shiznit like that??
"Who put me in command here?"
-Chloe's thought while practically hallucinating from lack of sleep while reading geopolitics HW.
Ughh...PSYCH! Put your pants back on. Put your pants back on.
The indian one doesn't believe that Chloe and I are being good students. Whatev. The truth is that doing homework at 4 in the morning is as good as it's going to get. The only alternative would be sleeping (or possibly just hanging out) at 4 am, having not started any work at all. Clearly, we are at least attempting to act like good students.
I don't actually know what is going on in my life. What I do know is that people who are so wholly unattached to me should probably stay out of my biz-nass. I don't stalk you and then randomly spout dumb shit about you in front of other people. Number one, because I don't give a shit about your private life. Number two, if something is obvious to you from what you observe when you STALK ME then I have probably already considered it myself and don't need you to point it out for me, thus creating an extremely awkward social situation.
Aaaand, this is for YOU Samantha and Chloe (anyone else, avert your eyes because you will not be amused): What is this shit about wiping the wrong way? Whoever says that you must wipe front to back is high. It is not anatomically sound. Think about it. Plus, I have to say this too...if men were the ones who used tampons I am positive that they would have flushable ones by now. Whoever thinks it's reasonable to put used tampons in the trash and not flush them has obviously never had a period in their life. Seriously. Are you kidding me? You can't even get it to the trash without making a huge mess. People are so high sometimes that I can't even comprehend their ridiculousness.
Don't worry. I only did the reading for one of my three classes. I would rather sit in the sun, bitches.
"I HATE Borat. He is a fucker."
-DG after searching for the Borat dvd for an hour so that she could return it at blockbuster, and finallly realizing that the burned copy with of Borat sitting on the tv, was in fact the actual dvd made to look like it was burned and had the title written with a sharpie.
I don't actually know what is going on in my life. What I do know is that people who are so wholly unattached to me should probably stay out of my biz-nass. I don't stalk you and then randomly spout dumb shit about you in front of other people. Number one, because I don't give a shit about your private life. Number two, if something is obvious to you from what you observe when you STALK ME then I have probably already considered it myself and don't need you to point it out for me, thus creating an extremely awkward social situation.
Aaaand, this is for YOU Samantha and Chloe (anyone else, avert your eyes because you will not be amused): What is this shit about wiping the wrong way? Whoever says that you must wipe front to back is high. It is not anatomically sound. Think about it. Plus, I have to say this too...if men were the ones who used tampons I am positive that they would have flushable ones by now. Whoever thinks it's reasonable to put used tampons in the trash and not flush them has obviously never had a period in their life. Seriously. Are you kidding me? You can't even get it to the trash without making a huge mess. People are so high sometimes that I can't even comprehend their ridiculousness.
Don't worry. I only did the reading for one of my three classes. I would rather sit in the sun, bitches.
"I HATE Borat. He is a fucker."
-DG after searching for the Borat dvd for an hour so that she could return it at blockbuster, and finallly realizing that the burned copy with of Borat sitting on the tv, was in fact the actual dvd made to look like it was burned and had the title written with a sharpie.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
"Insufferable Man"
I've watched Pride and Prejudice so many times now that when I read the book I can't help but hear the actors' dialogue in my head. The same voices and intonation and everything. It's not really a problem, I don't think I could've done better with just my own imagination while reading, but I've never experienced anything quite like it. More than anything, I think it's a testament to the accuracy of the movie and its loyalty to the text.
And the story is so perfect. I honestly don't think I've ever seen/heard/read anything with better plot, character development, wit and tension.
I had an incredibly disturbing-sounding dream this morning right before my dad woke me up at the crack of dawn (in Seattle time) for church. It involved me fighting with my med school roommate because he made some unsupported generalizing comment about Democrats and how we all support people like Al Sharpton. It was pretty realistic, because my med school roommate tends to make slightly patronizing generalizations all the time, and I can imagine one randomly sending me over the edge in the near future. But then, the dream took a typical veer away from reality (I hope) when he slowly and purposefully cut me on my palm with the knife he was chopping food with...twice. And the third time I did it myself, and then started crying and was hugged by the one I have history with.
Then, I was woken up and got into the shower and promptly cut myself quite deeply with a razor--by accident, of course--just above each ankle. It still hurts.
What it made me think about, though, was how one day he (not the med school one, the other) is going to wake up and be completely alone and without friends and wonder how it happened. It happened when you were unceasingly unconcientious, and always took without giving back. We all put up with you, and those of us who have considered you an friend for awhile now don't want to lose you, because we're loyal and we care about you and can remember having fun with you on several occasions. However, the complete indifference you show to most of us on a regular basis will drive us away eventually. And, like I told you already, if you die of cancer I will not attend your funeral. You think I'm joking, but I'm not. It would just be another case of you disappointing me as a friend. And I know that if you heard all this right now you would just write it and me off and say that you don't care and don't consider me a friend anyway. Sadly, I know that that is not true. You do not have that many friends or even acquaintences, and I know who you depend on for emotional support when things get tough. I am your friend, because I have been there for you more than you EVER were for me....even when my best friend died. I am not saying that I want you to end up old and alone, but inevitably one day, the way you take your friends for granted will bite you in the ass. And I would be very curious to know how you will react when that day comes. I would say, "don't come crying to me when it happens," but that's a lie. I'm the kind of doormat friend who will always be there for them no matter how horribly someone treats me (friends, not boyfriends...simportant distinction) because I get overly attached and can't bear to see anyone unhappy. But, because you're so proud, I doubt very much that you will come crying to me. You will probablly find an unsuspecting girl to attach yourself to, and hopefully you'll be able to hang onto her without smothering her (you treat girlfriends quite the opposite of the way you treat your friends). If you do lose her, just don't commit suicide, because that level of emo-ness is beyond even you, dear.
*Here when I refer to suicide as emo, I am not making commentary on all suicides, just those that are inspired by depression of being dumped.
"An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. --Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do."
-Volume 1, Chapter 20, pg. 78
And the story is so perfect. I honestly don't think I've ever seen/heard/read anything with better plot, character development, wit and tension.
I had an incredibly disturbing-sounding dream this morning right before my dad woke me up at the crack of dawn (in Seattle time) for church. It involved me fighting with my med school roommate because he made some unsupported generalizing comment about Democrats and how we all support people like Al Sharpton. It was pretty realistic, because my med school roommate tends to make slightly patronizing generalizations all the time, and I can imagine one randomly sending me over the edge in the near future. But then, the dream took a typical veer away from reality (I hope) when he slowly and purposefully cut me on my palm with the knife he was chopping food with...twice. And the third time I did it myself, and then started crying and was hugged by the one I have history with.
Then, I was woken up and got into the shower and promptly cut myself quite deeply with a razor--by accident, of course--just above each ankle. It still hurts.
What it made me think about, though, was how one day he (not the med school one, the other) is going to wake up and be completely alone and without friends and wonder how it happened. It happened when you were unceasingly unconcientious, and always took without giving back. We all put up with you, and those of us who have considered you an friend for awhile now don't want to lose you, because we're loyal and we care about you and can remember having fun with you on several occasions. However, the complete indifference you show to most of us on a regular basis will drive us away eventually. And, like I told you already, if you die of cancer I will not attend your funeral. You think I'm joking, but I'm not. It would just be another case of you disappointing me as a friend. And I know that if you heard all this right now you would just write it and me off and say that you don't care and don't consider me a friend anyway. Sadly, I know that that is not true. You do not have that many friends or even acquaintences, and I know who you depend on for emotional support when things get tough. I am your friend, because I have been there for you more than you EVER were for me....even when my best friend died. I am not saying that I want you to end up old and alone, but inevitably one day, the way you take your friends for granted will bite you in the ass. And I would be very curious to know how you will react when that day comes. I would say, "don't come crying to me when it happens," but that's a lie. I'm the kind of doormat friend who will always be there for them no matter how horribly someone treats me (friends, not boyfriends...simportant distinction) because I get overly attached and can't bear to see anyone unhappy. But, because you're so proud, I doubt very much that you will come crying to me. You will probablly find an unsuspecting girl to attach yourself to, and hopefully you'll be able to hang onto her without smothering her (you treat girlfriends quite the opposite of the way you treat your friends). If you do lose her, just don't commit suicide, because that level of emo-ness is beyond even you, dear.
*Here when I refer to suicide as emo, I am not making commentary on all suicides, just those that are inspired by depression of being dumped.
"An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. --Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do."
-Volume 1, Chapter 20, pg. 78
Saturday, March 24, 2007
UCLA in the Final Four
I just saw Shooter. The one with Marky Mark of the Funky Bunch. It was ace actually....chock full of liberal commentary, so I naturally ate it up. I particularly liked how in one of the first scenes of the movie, they enter into a CIA office to have an incredibly corrupt discussion and the picture that is in the background as they enter the room is the Gipper himself. Any movie that rightly aligns Ronald Reagan with a murderous, renegade CIA is fine by me.
My father's criticism of the movie was that with the current political climate it is just too easy to make it believable that a politician of that level could wield so much under-the-table influence. I don't quite understand what he was getting at, but it sounds to me more like a criticism of the current political climate. My only question about the movie was whether it is worth it to kill that many people in self defense. Believe me, even though I say I am a pacifist, I am all for the use of extreme violence if someone is trying to kill you. But at what point is it okay to shoot, stab, and blow up tens and tens of officers who are coming to kill you? At that point is seems like you are making a statement that your life is worth more than all the lives you are taking. I'm not saying that he should have just laid down his life to avoid conflict, especially when most of the people trying to kill him were completely corrupt, it just seems a little destructive.
What is also destructive is cancer. I know this probably sounds incredibly trite and not worth mentioning at all, but it is truly shocking how many people are affected by cancer. I bet every single person I know has known someone who had it, has it, or died from it. It's odd because, I think most people are like I was when I thought about cancer before this year. Yes, it's scary and everything, but it doesn't seem that terrifying because you always hear about radiation treatment and cancer survivors and doctors being able to fix everything. But they can't. And with cancer, nobody knows what the fuck to do. People are literally dropping like flies and we have no cure. Elizabeth Edwards, Olive, Tiger Woods' dad, my little sister's best friend and her twin, the women's college basteball coach who just died, my dad's best friend, the Jewish one's dad, Chloe's aunt. I know this doesn't really make a point, because it's just random people that I've heard of or have known, but it astonishes me, because I never considered it such a deadly problem for so many people. But it is. And we have Ronald Reagan to thank for preventing us getting a jump start on necessary stem cell research into a cure for cancer. Biatch.
Me: "My pet peeve is when basketball players can't make their free throws."
My dad: "I know. If they can't make their free throws, they shouldn't be allowed to have tattoos."
My mom: "Or facial hair....or underwear."
Me: "Are they allowed to wear thongs still, then?"
My mom: "Only on the outside of their clothing."
My father's criticism of the movie was that with the current political climate it is just too easy to make it believable that a politician of that level could wield so much under-the-table influence. I don't quite understand what he was getting at, but it sounds to me more like a criticism of the current political climate. My only question about the movie was whether it is worth it to kill that many people in self defense. Believe me, even though I say I am a pacifist, I am all for the use of extreme violence if someone is trying to kill you. But at what point is it okay to shoot, stab, and blow up tens and tens of officers who are coming to kill you? At that point is seems like you are making a statement that your life is worth more than all the lives you are taking. I'm not saying that he should have just laid down his life to avoid conflict, especially when most of the people trying to kill him were completely corrupt, it just seems a little destructive.
What is also destructive is cancer. I know this probably sounds incredibly trite and not worth mentioning at all, but it is truly shocking how many people are affected by cancer. I bet every single person I know has known someone who had it, has it, or died from it. It's odd because, I think most people are like I was when I thought about cancer before this year. Yes, it's scary and everything, but it doesn't seem that terrifying because you always hear about radiation treatment and cancer survivors and doctors being able to fix everything. But they can't. And with cancer, nobody knows what the fuck to do. People are literally dropping like flies and we have no cure. Elizabeth Edwards, Olive, Tiger Woods' dad, my little sister's best friend and her twin, the women's college basteball coach who just died, my dad's best friend, the Jewish one's dad, Chloe's aunt. I know this doesn't really make a point, because it's just random people that I've heard of or have known, but it astonishes me, because I never considered it such a deadly problem for so many people. But it is. And we have Ronald Reagan to thank for preventing us getting a jump start on necessary stem cell research into a cure for cancer. Biatch.
Me: "My pet peeve is when basketball players can't make their free throws."
My dad: "I know. If they can't make their free throws, they shouldn't be allowed to have tattoos."
My mom: "Or facial hair....or underwear."
Me: "Are they allowed to wear thongs still, then?"
My mom: "Only on the outside of their clothing."
ACC, get out my grill
Pac-10 3
Big 10 1
ACC 1
That’s right. Maybe if people in the East Coast (including all the commentators in the US) actually stayed up one night late enough to watch a Pac-10 game, they would see that West Coast is where it’s at for basketball talent, especially this year. Instead, they fawn so much over the “power conference” teams that I would expect their courts to be covered in roses. My dad scrawled the Pac-10 vs Big 10 and ACC tally in the dust on our car, but my mom made him wipe it off because we thought we might get shot at now that we’re in NRA country. Every other car either has a bible verse, a NRA sticker, or a Bush 04 sticker, so you know these people are dangerous. We actually passed a few cars with gun racks too. That was when we knew we had to hold my dad back even more. Like when he was upset when a car cut him off and was going to go know on their window and have a go at them when we all were stopped at a stop light. It wasn't a pick-up or anything, but better censored than lynched, right?
Seriously though. I like the South apart from the raging lunacy that is displayed by the conservative bumper stickers. Every single person you pass on the street smiles and says hi, which actually makes for very warm and fuzzy feelings all around. It is a step up from the indifference you encounter in Seattle and ten steps up from Baltimore’s pure hostility. These people don’t want to enslave me, they just want to be my friend! No, I know that’s not true. But I could totally live in a place like Savannah (which in addition to rhyming with my name, is GORGEOUS and warm), and just not interact with the crazies. I can find a liberal enclave, I am sure. I saw people biking, which combined with their Timbuktu messenger bags, screams liberal.
Besides, John Grisham is from the South. And I like him.
USC lost their Sweet 16 game an hour ago which was a dagger through my heart. But I will survive as long UCLA or Oregon makes it to the Final Four. I’m counting on UCLA. I am even at this exact moment in time wearing my Nate Robinson underwear as a Pac-10 good luck charm for tomorrow’s game against Kansas.
Big 10 1
ACC 1
That’s right. Maybe if people in the East Coast (including all the commentators in the US) actually stayed up one night late enough to watch a Pac-10 game, they would see that West Coast is where it’s at for basketball talent, especially this year. Instead, they fawn so much over the “power conference” teams that I would expect their courts to be covered in roses. My dad scrawled the Pac-10 vs Big 10 and ACC tally in the dust on our car, but my mom made him wipe it off because we thought we might get shot at now that we’re in NRA country. Every other car either has a bible verse, a NRA sticker, or a Bush 04 sticker, so you know these people are dangerous. We actually passed a few cars with gun racks too. That was when we knew we had to hold my dad back even more. Like when he was upset when a car cut him off and was going to go know on their window and have a go at them when we all were stopped at a stop light. It wasn't a pick-up or anything, but better censored than lynched, right?
Seriously though. I like the South apart from the raging lunacy that is displayed by the conservative bumper stickers. Every single person you pass on the street smiles and says hi, which actually makes for very warm and fuzzy feelings all around. It is a step up from the indifference you encounter in Seattle and ten steps up from Baltimore’s pure hostility. These people don’t want to enslave me, they just want to be my friend! No, I know that’s not true. But I could totally live in a place like Savannah (which in addition to rhyming with my name, is GORGEOUS and warm), and just not interact with the crazies. I can find a liberal enclave, I am sure. I saw people biking, which combined with their Timbuktu messenger bags, screams liberal.
Besides, John Grisham is from the South. And I like him.
USC lost their Sweet 16 game an hour ago which was a dagger through my heart. But I will survive as long UCLA or Oregon makes it to the Final Four. I’m counting on UCLA. I am even at this exact moment in time wearing my Nate Robinson underwear as a Pac-10 good luck charm for tomorrow’s game against Kansas.
Spring Break '07
Let’s be honest. This Spring Break trip theme is not so much “plantation-hopping” as it is “Phoebe eats ribs across America”. Yum.
It turns out that plantations are not exactly the spice of life. They’re gorgeous, yes. But you would think that when touring a former plantation, the focus would be on the legacy of slavery that the place depended on, right? Wrong. We went to a plantation called Middleton Place yesterday and I swear to God, the only mention of slaves we heard was one sentence during the house tour where the guide was explaining that slaves could carry a slave tag when traveling to work on other plantations for a day where they could earn money to buy their freedom. Well, hot dog! Exploitation? Who said anything about exploitation?
As for the Union soldiers, those demons from hell burnt down the Middleton’s main house. You can tell that most of the Middleton Place Foundation volunteers think that the Union soldiers should be tarred and feathered for their crimes against humanity. Gosh darn it, the Middletons worked so hard on their acres and acres of beautiful gardens, for it all to be ruined in the name of war. Of course, here, they all seem to be forgetting that the point of the war (for some) was to end the free labor that the Middleton’s gardens and rice fields depended on. The Middletons, you can tell, are a fucking bright bunch too. They owned over 20 plantations and couldn’t even think of something to grow on this plantation until they got some slaves there and watched the slaves grow rice for themselves. So they decided, meh, let’s make that into a cash crop.
Plantation touring is overall a weird experience. If you are into learning about slave-owner family legacies I would highly recommend it, but if you’re looking for something more legit-feeling you might not be super pleased. Although, the baby animals (lambs, bunnies, ducklings, turtles, 6-foot long alligators, etc.) were adorable and made the experience pretty enjoyable by themselves. My dad was upset to hear that we didn’t take a turtle home from the plantation with us. He has this idea that we will get a turtle and then the zany one of our cats, Roo, can ride it about the house.
The ribs are wonderful. I love ribs. I haven’t eaten them for about a year, just because I never have the occasion, but I am making up for lost time this Spring Break. It is a tiny bit awkward when we go around the table and my mom orders shrimp, my sister orders soup, my dad orders salad and I go for the half-rack of babyback ribs, but worth it in the end. At the last place, even the cute southern waiter kid was laughing at me. He had the thickest drawling accent and my mom whispered conspiratorially “I think he’s from around here”. My sister, ever the princess of sarcasm, retorted “No mom, he actually bikes all the way to South Carolina everyday to wait on people.” We called her Stormy when she was a toddler. Just wait until she hits high school.
She’s kind of funny sometimes. I appreciate it, when she isn’t giving me a 30-minute backseat telethon on the joys of press-and-seal wrap in the car. I got that today, between Charleston and Lynchburg, and now I know how to make the pillow, the seat cover, and the noises.
“What does ‘dora’ mean? It’s at the end of so many girl’s names that it must mean something. You know, like *******…Nymphadora…”
-My sister. She was irate when we called her Turtledora for the rest of the day.
It turns out that plantations are not exactly the spice of life. They’re gorgeous, yes. But you would think that when touring a former plantation, the focus would be on the legacy of slavery that the place depended on, right? Wrong. We went to a plantation called Middleton Place yesterday and I swear to God, the only mention of slaves we heard was one sentence during the house tour where the guide was explaining that slaves could carry a slave tag when traveling to work on other plantations for a day where they could earn money to buy their freedom. Well, hot dog! Exploitation? Who said anything about exploitation?
As for the Union soldiers, those demons from hell burnt down the Middleton’s main house. You can tell that most of the Middleton Place Foundation volunteers think that the Union soldiers should be tarred and feathered for their crimes against humanity. Gosh darn it, the Middletons worked so hard on their acres and acres of beautiful gardens, for it all to be ruined in the name of war. Of course, here, they all seem to be forgetting that the point of the war (for some) was to end the free labor that the Middleton’s gardens and rice fields depended on. The Middletons, you can tell, are a fucking bright bunch too. They owned over 20 plantations and couldn’t even think of something to grow on this plantation until they got some slaves there and watched the slaves grow rice for themselves. So they decided, meh, let’s make that into a cash crop.
Plantation touring is overall a weird experience. If you are into learning about slave-owner family legacies I would highly recommend it, but if you’re looking for something more legit-feeling you might not be super pleased. Although, the baby animals (lambs, bunnies, ducklings, turtles, 6-foot long alligators, etc.) were adorable and made the experience pretty enjoyable by themselves. My dad was upset to hear that we didn’t take a turtle home from the plantation with us. He has this idea that we will get a turtle and then the zany one of our cats, Roo, can ride it about the house.
The ribs are wonderful. I love ribs. I haven’t eaten them for about a year, just because I never have the occasion, but I am making up for lost time this Spring Break. It is a tiny bit awkward when we go around the table and my mom orders shrimp, my sister orders soup, my dad orders salad and I go for the half-rack of babyback ribs, but worth it in the end. At the last place, even the cute southern waiter kid was laughing at me. He had the thickest drawling accent and my mom whispered conspiratorially “I think he’s from around here”. My sister, ever the princess of sarcasm, retorted “No mom, he actually bikes all the way to South Carolina everyday to wait on people.” We called her Stormy when she was a toddler. Just wait until she hits high school.
She’s kind of funny sometimes. I appreciate it, when she isn’t giving me a 30-minute backseat telethon on the joys of press-and-seal wrap in the car. I got that today, between Charleston and Lynchburg, and now I know how to make the pillow, the seat cover, and the noises.
“What does ‘dora’ mean? It’s at the end of so many girl’s names that it must mean something. You know, like *******…Nymphadora…”
-My sister. She was irate when we called her Turtledora for the rest of the day.
D-E-N-I-A-L
T minus 41 days
Candy Apple Red Nail Polish
15 lbs.
An aversion to serious music…or at least a lack of real connection to it.
These are things that have changed about me since Olive died. Not much. But the bigger things that have changed are too difficult to articulate, not because they’re too difficult for me to talk about but because the change was too gradual and too difficult to pinpoint.
Sometimes I wonder why nobody ever talks to me about her. Does nobody know? My other half disappeared from the earth almost a year ago. Does it seem like I’m perfectly all right? And even more than that, is no one at all curious what it’s like to lose the person you are closest to in the whole world?
I wish someone would ask. Because it’s odd. It’s not as sad or as lonely as I thought it would be. It is literally like she just vanished, and now I use memories to remind myself that she once existed. This girl who I spent all my time with. Whose name became synonymous with mine to the ears of nearly everybody we knew. We had the same tendencies and reactions. We were both shy, but exuberant. We liked Savage Garden and being introspective. We liked acting. We were extremely silly. We hated being taken for granted. We always felt the same things at the same time. We never ever liked the same boys. We were both warm people, but whenever we hugged each other it was sort of awkward. The kind of awkward hug where both the people are really skinny, instead of one of the people being relatively cuddly. It’s hard to explain, but though we never talked about it, I am sure she would have known exactly what I mean, and we would have laughed at the fact that we both recognized it separately and someone finally brought it up.
We were also different. She was flexible. I was most definitely not. Physically, that is. She also had a more flexible demeanor and was more conscientious. Whenever there was any tension between us—and mind you, this would always be unspoken, and never developed into an actual fight…there were NEVER any fights between us, which I have never experienced with any other friend—she would attempt to resolve it and could not rest until everything was perfect again, and she had restored our emotional chi.
How odd it is, that the person my life was based solidly around for years, is gone and I am still emotionally intact. I don’t feel sad on a day-to-day basis. And I don’t constantly think of her. What should I do, though? How are you supposed to act? You move on. Because you can’t go back. Not to be all metaphorical, but it is literally like that chapter of my life is closed for good. And so I am living in a completely new book. Maybe when more time passes I’ll be able to look back at the Life With Olive book, and slip into memories without apprehension. But for now, the extent of my reminiscing about that time is restricted to what I write in here.
Candy Apple Red Nail Polish
15 lbs.
An aversion to serious music…or at least a lack of real connection to it.
These are things that have changed about me since Olive died. Not much. But the bigger things that have changed are too difficult to articulate, not because they’re too difficult for me to talk about but because the change was too gradual and too difficult to pinpoint.
Sometimes I wonder why nobody ever talks to me about her. Does nobody know? My other half disappeared from the earth almost a year ago. Does it seem like I’m perfectly all right? And even more than that, is no one at all curious what it’s like to lose the person you are closest to in the whole world?
I wish someone would ask. Because it’s odd. It’s not as sad or as lonely as I thought it would be. It is literally like she just vanished, and now I use memories to remind myself that she once existed. This girl who I spent all my time with. Whose name became synonymous with mine to the ears of nearly everybody we knew. We had the same tendencies and reactions. We were both shy, but exuberant. We liked Savage Garden and being introspective. We liked acting. We were extremely silly. We hated being taken for granted. We always felt the same things at the same time. We never ever liked the same boys. We were both warm people, but whenever we hugged each other it was sort of awkward. The kind of awkward hug where both the people are really skinny, instead of one of the people being relatively cuddly. It’s hard to explain, but though we never talked about it, I am sure she would have known exactly what I mean, and we would have laughed at the fact that we both recognized it separately and someone finally brought it up.
We were also different. She was flexible. I was most definitely not. Physically, that is. She also had a more flexible demeanor and was more conscientious. Whenever there was any tension between us—and mind you, this would always be unspoken, and never developed into an actual fight…there were NEVER any fights between us, which I have never experienced with any other friend—she would attempt to resolve it and could not rest until everything was perfect again, and she had restored our emotional chi.
How odd it is, that the person my life was based solidly around for years, is gone and I am still emotionally intact. I don’t feel sad on a day-to-day basis. And I don’t constantly think of her. What should I do, though? How are you supposed to act? You move on. Because you can’t go back. Not to be all metaphorical, but it is literally like that chapter of my life is closed for good. And so I am living in a completely new book. Maybe when more time passes I’ll be able to look back at the Life With Olive book, and slip into memories without apprehension. But for now, the extent of my reminiscing about that time is restricted to what I write in here.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
"Mess with me and you mess with the entire trailer park."
I knew that we had finally hit a southern state yesterday when we stopped for lunch and the people at Subway took a full 20 minutes to make two sandwiches for us. I swear to God, its faster in the HUB...and there, you have to wait in a 10 person line before you can even order.
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina has been a bundle of fun. I don't actually particularly like the place, and I like the people here even less, but it turns out that the older I get, the more I appreciate the hilarity that is my mother, father and sister. Today, after having breakfast at the crack of noon, during which I was called "darlin" more times than I have ever been called it before put together, we jetted off to a sort of outdoor mall/kid-attraction development. The kind of thing that reminds you of Wild Waves with all of its have-fun-in-a-super-fake-place glory. The best part was when we went into one of those beyond hokey t-shirt stores that have literally hundreds of shirts saying things like "Facebook friend request reject" and "I couldn't figure out why the frisbee kept getting bigger and bigger, and then...it hit me." The fabulous part was that my dad bought me one of the most ridiculous ones under the condition that I would actually wear it around campus. I'm pretty much psyched about it.
Funniest family moment: after leaving a candy store my mother mentions that they had free fudge samples and my sister gasps and charges headlong back into the store to claim hers. As soon as my dad registers the conversation and realizes that he is missing out on a free fudge nugget he turns around and follows my sister back into the store at a full-on jog, knocking aside two members of the enormous cheerleading convention that is apparently in town who were exiting. When he came back outside to find me on the ground after snorting my fudge and spitting it all over the ground laughing at him, he defended himself with "Those cheerleaders were clearly confused about which way they were going, so I was just helping them to the side of the walkway."
Next we played the most excellent game of miniature golf that I have ever engaged in. The course was a piece of waterfall-covered, island extravagance, complete with sea monsters in the water and different levels that all the holes were on. On the highest level you could see out far over the water. In my last 8 shots I got a hole-in-one every other time too, which made the entire experience even more noteworthy. Usually, my golf skills are only as good as Dick Cheney is congeneal. And, to top it all off, playing golf in South Carolina holds special significance because SC was the location of the first game of golf in the United States. Booyakasha.
What's weird, though, is that I've seen a maximum of 10 black people since we passed Virginia, not counting my dad. I thought there were supposed to be a lot of African'Americans in the South. Although, granted, if I were fully black, I would NOT be living in a place where the Confederate flag can be seen flying even more often than the American flag (which is nearly everywhere).
“And I want to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that there’s not enough troops in the Army to force the Southern people to break down segregation and admit the nigger race into our theatres, into our swimming pools, into our homes and into our churches.”
-Strom Thurmond, July 17, 1948
Lovely man, produced by the great state of South Carolina, and representing them in the U.S. Senate from '54 to 2003.
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina has been a bundle of fun. I don't actually particularly like the place, and I like the people here even less, but it turns out that the older I get, the more I appreciate the hilarity that is my mother, father and sister. Today, after having breakfast at the crack of noon, during which I was called "darlin" more times than I have ever been called it before put together, we jetted off to a sort of outdoor mall/kid-attraction development. The kind of thing that reminds you of Wild Waves with all of its have-fun-in-a-super-fake-place glory. The best part was when we went into one of those beyond hokey t-shirt stores that have literally hundreds of shirts saying things like "Facebook friend request reject" and "I couldn't figure out why the frisbee kept getting bigger and bigger, and then...it hit me." The fabulous part was that my dad bought me one of the most ridiculous ones under the condition that I would actually wear it around campus. I'm pretty much psyched about it.
Funniest family moment: after leaving a candy store my mother mentions that they had free fudge samples and my sister gasps and charges headlong back into the store to claim hers. As soon as my dad registers the conversation and realizes that he is missing out on a free fudge nugget he turns around and follows my sister back into the store at a full-on jog, knocking aside two members of the enormous cheerleading convention that is apparently in town who were exiting. When he came back outside to find me on the ground after snorting my fudge and spitting it all over the ground laughing at him, he defended himself with "Those cheerleaders were clearly confused about which way they were going, so I was just helping them to the side of the walkway."
Next we played the most excellent game of miniature golf that I have ever engaged in. The course was a piece of waterfall-covered, island extravagance, complete with sea monsters in the water and different levels that all the holes were on. On the highest level you could see out far over the water. In my last 8 shots I got a hole-in-one every other time too, which made the entire experience even more noteworthy. Usually, my golf skills are only as good as Dick Cheney is congeneal. And, to top it all off, playing golf in South Carolina holds special significance because SC was the location of the first game of golf in the United States. Booyakasha.
What's weird, though, is that I've seen a maximum of 10 black people since we passed Virginia, not counting my dad. I thought there were supposed to be a lot of African'Americans in the South. Although, granted, if I were fully black, I would NOT be living in a place where the Confederate flag can be seen flying even more often than the American flag (which is nearly everywhere).
“And I want to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that there’s not enough troops in the Army to force the Southern people to break down segregation and admit the nigger race into our theatres, into our swimming pools, into our homes and into our churches.”
-Strom Thurmond, July 17, 1948
Lovely man, produced by the great state of South Carolina, and representing them in the U.S. Senate from '54 to 2003.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Bitch and a half.
Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, oh my goodness. Small emotional crisis RIGHT NOW!
I hate endings so much. I never understand it. I look forward to the end of the quarter so much because I get so overloaded, especially when I work plus take 20 credits, that I would decombust if it dragged on too long. And then its all over, and its a relief, even though I always wish I had studied harder, edited more and showed up to class on time. But after fully 30 MINUTES of relief, I get depressed. I hate ending things. Even hard things like game theory. And how am I supposed to enjoy Spring Break when it is THE LAST SPRING BREAK OF MY LIFE!!! Where has my life gone??? I am only 19. That's the same age as some COLLEGE FRESHMAN!!!! Who decided that I should have to graduate and lose all my friends and move away to who knows where and be lonely and stressed out this early in my life? Oh, wait that was me at 16 deciding to FUCKING GO TO COLLEGE! I can't just leave my UW bubble this early? I'm not mature enough for this. [insert mom from the Parent Trap voice right there]
I am SO concerned.
I like college.
It's not fair.
What will I do with my life....as in like NEXT YEAR!!! Don't lie, I know I won't be able to be BFF with my friends who are friends right now. It doesn't work like that when you are NOT IN THE SAME COUNTRY AS THEM! And, yes, I'm excited about the prospect of going to South Africa and braving the risk of getting raped by a random person who has a 1 in 4 chance of having AIDS and higher considering the people who are rapists probably are more likely to have contracted HIV during their sexploits. But, I'm excited for the future me to do that one day. As in one day when I'm at least 21 years old, maybe. And maybe I will just curl up in my lovely Pink House that other people are trying to rent for next year. BOO!!! You won't throw as good parties as us, just because you are getting a good party house. Good parties will LEAVE as soon as I leave this University.
And what if I don't get into an excellent law school. I can't HANDLE mediocrity.
God help me. I think I am destined for sadness, disappointment, and everything in the end of the middle of a Jane Austen novel. Except that I won't have a happy ending that ends in love because NOBODY LOVES ME THAT I AM INTERESTED IN BECAUSE I AM A DORK AND MY LIFE IS ENDING WHEN I LEAVE COLLEGE, BECAUSE WHAT IS THERE LEFT TO DO????? I don't know!!! I need a plan. And you know what?! Joshua Johnson does NOT count as a plan. That is some off limits shit that we are not even going to go into right now. We never can again, actually, because Olive was the only one who ever understood that clusterfuck of a 6-year shenangigan. What am I going to do?
Apparently I'm destined for motherhood, because I'm a Cancer...but wait, you need a FUCKING PARTNER for that (pun intended, bitches). WhatEVER.
What is happening in my life???? Damn it. Why are all my friends gone for Spring Break already or still in finals. I need hardcore distraction. March Madness would suffice, except for the fact that the Huskies didn't even make it into the NCAA tournament on the bubble. My life has become so meaningless.
Hmmm. Duke is on. But I don't even like watching theeeem anymore because they're not fun to hate since JJ "panties in a permanent knot" Reddick isn't there to whine and drain 3's anymore.
Oh fabulous. UCLA is on and it might all work out. I can be bohemian next year, right? Pac-10 represent. THis East Coast bias is bullshit, and I feel like this is our year to prove ourselves even if the Huskies won't have our chance at the Final Four.
"Ending a relationship with a Cancer is like giving up your baby for adoption."
...I'm not talking about boy/girl-relationships, but everything from friendships to my relationship with game theory.
I hate endings so much. I never understand it. I look forward to the end of the quarter so much because I get so overloaded, especially when I work plus take 20 credits, that I would decombust if it dragged on too long. And then its all over, and its a relief, even though I always wish I had studied harder, edited more and showed up to class on time. But after fully 30 MINUTES of relief, I get depressed. I hate ending things. Even hard things like game theory. And how am I supposed to enjoy Spring Break when it is THE LAST SPRING BREAK OF MY LIFE!!! Where has my life gone??? I am only 19. That's the same age as some COLLEGE FRESHMAN!!!! Who decided that I should have to graduate and lose all my friends and move away to who knows where and be lonely and stressed out this early in my life? Oh, wait that was me at 16 deciding to FUCKING GO TO COLLEGE! I can't just leave my UW bubble this early? I'm not mature enough for this. [insert mom from the Parent Trap voice right there]
I am SO concerned.
I like college.
It's not fair.
What will I do with my life....as in like NEXT YEAR!!! Don't lie, I know I won't be able to be BFF with my friends who are friends right now. It doesn't work like that when you are NOT IN THE SAME COUNTRY AS THEM! And, yes, I'm excited about the prospect of going to South Africa and braving the risk of getting raped by a random person who has a 1 in 4 chance of having AIDS and higher considering the people who are rapists probably are more likely to have contracted HIV during their sexploits. But, I'm excited for the future me to do that one day. As in one day when I'm at least 21 years old, maybe. And maybe I will just curl up in my lovely Pink House that other people are trying to rent for next year. BOO!!! You won't throw as good parties as us, just because you are getting a good party house. Good parties will LEAVE as soon as I leave this University.
And what if I don't get into an excellent law school. I can't HANDLE mediocrity.
God help me. I think I am destined for sadness, disappointment, and everything in the end of the middle of a Jane Austen novel. Except that I won't have a happy ending that ends in love because NOBODY LOVES ME THAT I AM INTERESTED IN BECAUSE I AM A DORK AND MY LIFE IS ENDING WHEN I LEAVE COLLEGE, BECAUSE WHAT IS THERE LEFT TO DO????? I don't know!!! I need a plan. And you know what?! Joshua Johnson does NOT count as a plan. That is some off limits shit that we are not even going to go into right now. We never can again, actually, because Olive was the only one who ever understood that clusterfuck of a 6-year shenangigan. What am I going to do?
Apparently I'm destined for motherhood, because I'm a Cancer...but wait, you need a FUCKING PARTNER for that (pun intended, bitches). WhatEVER.
What is happening in my life???? Damn it. Why are all my friends gone for Spring Break already or still in finals. I need hardcore distraction. March Madness would suffice, except for the fact that the Huskies didn't even make it into the NCAA tournament on the bubble. My life has become so meaningless.
Hmmm. Duke is on. But I don't even like watching theeeem anymore because they're not fun to hate since JJ "panties in a permanent knot" Reddick isn't there to whine and drain 3's anymore.
Oh fabulous. UCLA is on and it might all work out. I can be bohemian next year, right? Pac-10 represent. THis East Coast bias is bullshit, and I feel like this is our year to prove ourselves even if the Huskies won't have our chance at the Final Four.
"Ending a relationship with a Cancer is like giving up your baby for adoption."
...I'm not talking about boy/girl-relationships, but everything from friendships to my relationship with game theory.
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