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
Saturday, May 12, 2007
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.
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