thoughts with feathers

I will miss:

2006-09-06T13:54:00.000-06:00

Maren. Kate. the Chandlee building. wearing sleeveless shirts in winter. the dry climate. my own private bathroom. Hermes. the dry dusty sagebrushy hills. the view from Federal. my parents. the exclamation point on the Library! sign. the mountains. the Lux. mango and greenapple jet teas. the Co-op. swimming in the river. Patch. late night jam sessions at Nik's. being a native. English. Ian's stupid apartment. Avocado, the Quaker parrot. brief and sudden thunderstorms. the smell of wildfires. the boys at work, both the attractive ones whom I delighted in seeing in the break room and the ones with pleasant voices whom I rejoiced in being sat near for the day. hugging Reed. wide open spaces. eating home-cooked food. not having to pay for my own shampoo/laudry detergent/food/etc. carpet. dressing up and going to the Flying M. driving around for lack of anything better to do. low-flying planes. the Record Exchange. knowing where everything is. privacy. Biology with Kimball. band. benches. knowing the geography of the country I'm living in. having a machine that washes dishes. hard, chlorinated water that smells delicious in the shower in the summer. minesweeper. having a printer. parks. urban sprawl. the privledge that is driving. IHOP. Parilla. Basque-ness. fresh apricots and tomatoes. the first crocuses in the spring. catalpa trees. a campus that fits into four city blocks. an excuse to complain about lack of culture. the solace only found in nothingness. home.

Applelicious

2006-07-31T11:09:00.000-06:00

I think the only thing I really miss about using a PC is Minesweeper. But there are still multitudes of things for me to do to waste time in lieu of that. Like play crazyhouse chess (because I'm apparently better at that than I am at the real kind).

I looked through my sixth grade yearbook the other day--such a small class that we could afford to have a large picture and a biography of every student. Reading the biographies reminds me of how very simple life was back then. Likes: science, pizza, hip-hop, using the computer, spelling, Comp USA, Antarctica, bacon cheeseburgers, catching really big fish, Australia, strawberries and brown sugar, collecting stuff, math, singing, going out with girls, peaches, pop rock. Dislikes: messy rooms, Mexican food, spiders, killer zombies, long lines at lunch, rollerbladers, hot dogs, Pokemon, bees, country music, tomatoes, untrue friends, people throwing alka seltzer bombs in his backpack, pickles, grocery shopping, hateful people, brussels sprouts. Life goals: fulfill her dreams, be a successful man, have a family and a good job, become an actress, compete in the Iron Man, get a driver's license, be with people, spend more time sleeping, to be happy and humble or a veterinarian, be a father, be a nice person, play professional hockey, be an NBA star, be a lawyer someday, be an artist, become a rapper, pass college, support a family, have a good life, have a fun life, help animals, still deciding.

Looking at the pictures made me realize what tragically beautiful children we all were--how tragically beautiful all children are at that age. In each face is a bit of pride and accomplishment, each one of us naïvely yet supremely happy to have made it through elementary school. There is none of the tarnishing, melancholy trash of junior high in these fresh faces, and no mark of the "life is hard" lessons that most of us have learned by now. All of that comes later. Only joy and vision.

Are these really the same faces I see flipping through my senior yearbook? The pride and accomplishment is still there in most of us, but now it's alse easy to see the price we've paid to get this far. (As far as I'm concerned, that's the way it should be, as horrible and masochistic that may sound. If you're living a life without consequences, you are not living nearly deeply enough.) Some are still recovering from the shock of junior high, from the self-doubt and not knowing. Some still haven't a clue as to who they are--they may not find out until a few years of college or a job or what have you. A few still look forward optimistically, still have some of the freshness I see in my sixth-grade classmates, and those are the ones who'll get hurt when they step out into the real world. They'll make it, though. They've made it this far. Many, however, look out of the book with an air of measured confidence. Confidence in their own abilities, confidence in the place they've worked hard to get to, confidence that everything, eventually, will turn out ok. That's all one can really hope for.

2006-07-10T22:14:00.000-06:00

And now, in this coffeehouse, Islands are playing. Which is perfect, really.

Who knew volcanoes?

Halcyon

2006-07-10T22:09:00.000-06:00

Rebecca has been back in town for a week, and last week was Icarus' week in town between church missions, and besides which Pitseleh's boy was away in New York so she had lots of time for spending on friends. So naturally it was a busy week. I met Rebecca at the airport Sunday after another one of my godawful eight-hour weekend shifts (all first attempts, but that doesn't mean I got a particularly good completion rate). Her flight was late and then there was some ridiculous farfetched-sounding problem with the luggage, the carryon got stuck at the front or something? And of course that took forever to fix. But she's home now. So we spent time on Monday, having coffee and lurking in Albertson's and generally wreaking havoc.

Tuesday was for Pitseleh-- the fourth of July. Will I be more into Canadian Independance Day next year? The fourth was scarcely significant this year, not in the holiday sense. There was no flight east and no humidity and no minigolf and no bratwurst and no chaotic, firework-saturated family reunion. No post-explosives D&D game and no smell of sulphur mingled with cigars. No, Pitseleh and I just drove around. We ate and thrifted downtown, then climbed to the top of a parking garage to bask in the rain (it thunderstormed hardcore while we were in the thrift store) and watch the sun set around the clouds for a bit. The only thing that stayed open was Starbucks, so we spent some time there with Alexander, and then, after giving up on watching the public fireworks at the baseball field (because fireworks aren't really exciting, I've decided, unless you're either right up there next to them or if you're up high somewhere where you can see) we went to her house and watched "Saved". Which was not something I'd ever planned on seeing--Mandy Moore and all that--but that, though I hate to admit it, I actually liked well enough. Besides the fact that the idea of overzealous religious freaks makes me slightly uncomfortable, as I am related to and spend time around so many of them. Maybe not the most exciting and explosive way to spend the fourth, but worthwhile nonetheless.

Thursday was Pirates night. A night to remind me just how much I am like my parents, in that I grow irritated when people can't get largescale plans together until the very last minute--and that night didn't fall together until the very last minute. After making calls Wednesday and getting nowhere, and making calls all day Thursday, things were still up in the air when I got off work at eight. Besides which, no one could find Rebecca. She may be right that I know her better that she knows her, because I made a guess at where she was, and I was right. She was at Icarus'. So up there I went, and we played "soccer" (we're training to form our own World Cup team, right after forming our own tiny country which will be know as either Coolstonia or Radistan--at least, no one else has thrown in any ideas for country names besides those two that I came up with) and danced in Icarus' backyard, and then Rebecca and I took the Golf out to the megaplex and tied on bandanas and sloppily applied eye makeup in the parking lot, and stood around in coffeehouses and lobbies waiting for Nea to come with the tickets and when she finally got there the theatre we were supposed to be in was full, so we went into another one, and Rebecca and I sat rather on the fringe, feeling a bit alienated and talking to Mathuin and Faustus about smoking and other such deep philosophical topics. And then the movie started, and it was good enough even though there were no new golden lines and parts of the plot dragged and the cliffhanger ending was cheap and the huge Diet Coke we bought thankfully lasted through the whole long thing. And afterwards I ran into the Catholic boy who wore hornrimmed glasses at last summer's writing camp in the lobby, and then Rebecca and I just kind of--left. Because who wants to go to IHOP at 3:30 after sitting through a long, slightly disappointing movie, especially when one has to work the next day? But things have fallen into such a lovely state of disrepair that no one really seems to care anymore, and frankly I think we're all happier this way.

Friday was for Pitseleh again-- More aimless driving. More coffee. Late night time spent in WalMart. A pair of gothy piratey earrings. Two Almond Joys. An issue of Cosmo. Freeway driving late at night. Green apple slurpees at the 7-11. And then Saturday, Rebecca's surprise cominghome/birthday party (eighteen at last tomorrow). And she was actually surprised. I was proud to have helped throw it together (quoth she, in the semisarcastic way that I've missed, "You knew about this? I hate you!"). I was surprised that more bench folk didn't come--but the apathy is comforting somehow, as I said before. It's an awful lot of pressure to be held liable for your relationship to a whole large group of interconnected people, especially when the lot of you are about to be scattered every which way. But Saturday--the party, after the mad dash on my part to throw together the gift lastminute, consisting of junk food and Twister and a wicked waterfight. And afterwards, of course, salsa dancing. Rebecca and I tried (unsuccessfully) to convince the rest of the guests to come with us, but apparently they were all too cool for us. It was the two of us plus Icarus, who came straight from work. I shut my finger in the door on the way in and that's still hurting, and the place was empty and unexciting enough that we opted to leave early (Icarus had to leave earlyish anyway, so he could sleep and get up at 4am to leave for Cali Sunday morning). Rebecca and I went to the megamart, after Diet Cokes but leaving instead with a mint julep face masque that dried with a decidedly exhilirating coolness as we drove the freeway and mainstreets.

Sunday eight hour shift again, then reading in the dying light on the hill at night. ("A Scanner Darkly" comes to town this Friday, and I've told Icarus I'll see it with him next week when he comes back into town, but I'm determined to finish the book before then.) And then today--errands and laundry and library, as has come to befit a Monday, and now sitting in a coffeehouse hooked up to espresso and WiFi (my laptop bag finally came FedEx today, and I had the excitment of signing for it) and watching the young girls come through in their too-hip clothes and their too-dark eye makeup. An eye makeup habit like that must cost somewhere near what a hardcore smoker spends on ciggies--the only difference is between packs per day versus tubes per day. At least you can get a buzz from the nicotine, but what purpose does looking like a raccoon serve?

It seems ridiculous that things should be going so well, because at the same time I'm shopping for luggage and discussing foreign bank accounts with my parents on a nearly daily basis. I suppose that this is the stuff I'll remember when I'm off and away next year, and if so I think I can finally understand why anyone would come back to live in their crap little hometown. This selective memory business is powerful stuff.

New

2006-06-25T01:48:00.000-06:00

Hooray for laptop and hooray for iPod and hooray for music on both and
hooray for adium and hooray for quicksilver and hooray for camino and
hooray for keyboard shortcuts and hooray for first full paycheck
Monday and hooray for FoodNet briefing and hooray for iSight and
hooray for CAQ approval and hooray for Viva Frosh Vegas and hooray for
mentorship and hooray for course selection and hooray for 142 and
hooray for salmon and hooray for low budget film and hooray for
plexiglass and hooray for 6 hour battery life and hooray for debit
and hooray for clean sheets and hooray for fans and open windows and
life.

Limerence

2006-06-21T02:44:00.000-06:00

I feel so... industrious? I went to Icarus' today after work (is it weird I've spent four of the past eight evenings with him?) to work on lightboxes for the movie he's making. The weird, amazing, s.f. pseudo-rotoscoped movie that I'm supposed to be an animator for. Ack. Good thing I have my lightbox now, because I need to start practicing my drawing... or something. So I got to be all, handy with the hammer (the only decent hammer they had... Icarus ended up using the blunt end of a hatchet to hammer for most of the time, which is pretty dangerous, albeit hardcore). And be reminded by Icarus' little sister and her friends why I'm pretty glad I'm an only child. Not that I don't like Icarus' little sister. Or his little brother. Or his older brother. He actually has really cool siblings, as siblings go. And pretty rad parents, too. But still--glad I'm an only child.

And of course I also got to watch "Lost." Because that's what I always end up doing at Icarus'. I got to his house before he did, and that's never completely without awkwardness... I misread when he got off work, so I headed there straight after work. And beat him there by about a half an hour. So I sat on the couch for a while, and his mother made smalltalk with me (very nice woman) and then told me I could go watch "Lost" while I waited, if I wanted. So I did. And then watched more after we were done with the lightboxes. And as sorry as I am to admit it, I'm afraid that Icarus' evil plan to get me addicted to the show is working. Le damn.

Also my laptop came today. Which is exciting. And I bought pretentious indie glasses. But I'm far too tired to talk about either at present.

Going Sailing With The Captain

2006-06-16T02:57:00.000-06:00

What has happened to me? Honestly?

I used to be all... model student. Or whatever. Mademoiselle bon deux chaussures. Mais maintenant? Not so much.

Uff. I went to this party tonight.

It's Icarus' fault, as he's the one who invited me. And I figured I may as well go--because even though these were mostly through-their-first-year-of

-college people, I feel like I missed out on the whole high-school-party scene (Bummer!...not. Binge drinking? LAME.) and plus I thought I'd be able to see some ex-bandos that Icarus said would be there, like Giselle (who was there, and already pretty gone when I got there at 9) and White (who never showed up... neither did Alan, but then that's not much of a surprise). But turns out there weren't really any people there that I knew, not WELL, more like the sorts of people whose names I know and who I've maybe talked to a couple of times because we had a class together, but as previously mentioned most of them were older than me... so I ended up feeling a little out of place.

Total isolation, however, was not in the cards tonight. No, my cheap WinCo fortune cookie told me that "Other people are eager to get to know you" or something to that effect. And at some point, when the tiny bit of Captain Morgan's Passionfruit I'd had in Ginger Ale (which is pretty wussy, I know, but I did have to drive home and couldn't be too safe) had worn off (not as though there was much TO wear off) and I was getting a little tired of watching everyone else get more and more smashed (because that's interesting for a while--especially interesting to see Drunk Icarus) I was approached by and made friends with a Katie and her crew (a work friend of Icarus'). And we proceeded to try to make a full deck of cards and generally sit around and be kind of outsiders, as we were seated around a table and everyone else was being loud in the kitchen. And it was kind of weird, because I was, I think, the youngest one there at that point, and Katie was the oldest one there at that point, having just turned 23 (and her friends and brother were pretty close to that age), but we managed to have a rather grand time nonetheless. And I guess my surprise at that shows just how highschool I am, that I place such weight on ages... because once you get past a certain point it simply doesn't matter. In fact, it simply doesn't matter, period. Because people are people.

Very drunk Icarus showed me to the door when it was time to leave, and I made it home without incident. And the funniest thing of all is that my parents didn't once ask today before I left for work where I was going tonight. I told them I'd make plans (because they went to the lame neighborhood potluck), which in reality I already had because I already knew about the party, but they never asked what the plans were. Not until I got home tonight. So I told them, because it's not like I did anything wrong or anything. And they didn't question, even though they don't know Garret (the host) at all, and Icarus is mostly just a name to them. They never ask anymore. It's amazing, that I've finally earned their trust... or maybe I've had it all along, but haven't thought to test it until now. I don't think that's it. I think that it's mostly that they realize that now that I'm 18 there's not much they can really do anymore... except for not pay for college. But even that's not going to stop me.

The other funny thing is that I've been around quite a lot of alcohol twice in the past 30 days, and Alexander has not been there either time. His plan to get me drunk this summer is not working out so well.

(At work today: I got paid. And some businesswoman I surveyed offered me a job over the phone, because she has customer service positions available and I was "so pleasant to talk to." Ha. I must be doing something right, eh?)

Spawn of Satan

2006-06-14T01:19:00.000-06:00

I found an earwig in my loofah this morning. That's what kind of day it was.

It wasn't so much that I found it, because "found" implies that I was looking. More like I picked up the loofah and started running it under water and the earwig wriggled out. I shrieked, of course, because there are few things worse (in my book, anyway) than an earwig, and it dropped into the tub, where it was quickly drowned in the steamy shower spray (but I squirted some soap on it just to be sure) and I dropped the loofah, too, because... I don't want to deal with that. Especially not when I noticed the little black dots where the loofah had previously been sitting which were, in all likelihood, earwig feces. Ew.

And then was work... where the sample and my luck completely sucked, and I only managed seven completes in my six-hour shift. Which is terrible, when you consider I've been gettin two or three completes per hour every other day I've worked. Uff.

And then I hung out with Icarus, which was unquestionably the best part of my day. We got coffee (or I got coffee) which involved getting wet, because it was raining like mad outside--there was even a tornado a couple of counties over, or so I hear. And we watched the first two episodes of "Lost," which means I'm intrigued by it now, but not quite addicted. And we reminisced about band... which was just silly. And pretty pathetic, when you think about it.

Changes in Attitudes

2006-06-13T01:40:00.000-06:00

Much has happened.

I'm eighteen now, legal to buy cigarettes and vote (which I did, on my birthday asitwere) and drink in Canada and go to strip clubs (but only the full-nudity ones, because they serve alcohol in the other ones... honestly, this state's laws are so fucked up...). My birthday was better this year automatically, just because no one died on it. Now I'm in that awkward place, though, of barely adulthood. I think maybe it was better being an old child than it is being a disturbingly young adult... I'm either at the bottom of a looong ladder or at the top of a loooong fall. Either way it ain't pretty.

I'm steeped in indie-rock-dom. On the golden weekend between school's end and graduation, which also happened to be Memorial Day weekend, Pitseleh, Claude and I escaped from our Valley of Boredom to the effervescent Sasquatch music festival. Which was amazing. Even though it hailed like hell on Saturday, which in the end forced us to sit through stupid Ben Harper in order to see the Flaming Lips (who were AMAZING, like I imagine a good acid trip would be), and we barely slept and there was a drunk annoying guy yelling right next to us during the Decemberists' set and I got hit in the mouth in the mosh pit during Arctic Monkeys and we could not see Clap Your Hands say Yeah AT ALL and Beck's performance quite frankly kind of sucked and there was nothing but portapotties and everything ended up smelling like pot (not because we were smoking it, because we weren't, but because of all the secondhand floating around, especially during Ben Harper), the trip was well worth it, from our stop in Baker City on the way out to our friendly Canadian neighbors who gave us an American flag to the great pictures we took to running into random people from our highschool to the sliding contest that got started when everyone was waiting for the music to start after the hail and realized that there was really nothing better to do, seeing as we had a hail-covered hill and a bunch of people in ponchos to the t-shirts I brought home (which don't smell like pot anymore) to the new bands we discovered, like Big Japan and the Headphones to all the other groups we saw like Nada Surf, Iron & Wine, Sufjan Stevens, Architecture in Helsinki, The Shins... it was amazing. And there is no way I can think of that I could have better spent those four days.

I'm graduated. Flung carelessly and haphazardly somewhere, in its little red naugahyde cover, is my diploma. Kind of a useless document, really... but I'm done, nonetheless. And the afterparty wasn't bad. I played more video games than I should have (mostly just driving games and a DDR ripoff) and a little minigolf and won big at the blackjack table (and won this weird jacket in the raffle) and after the organized fun, had scones and lots of coffee at the shady all night diner on State Street and then climbed the hill that is now the governor's estate to watch the sun rise. (The sun took its sweet time rising... what a douche.) I got home at 7am and went to bed, only to be woken up at 9:30 by a godawful stomacheache (see "lots of coffee," above).

I have a job. And I hate it. But it pays me. And I like that.

I am officially sick and tired of documents and government offices.

I have seen all of "Cowboy Bebop" and I am amazed by it.

And even though I am working, it is summer, dammit, and I am loving it, and living it to the extent of my capabilities.

This is totally from Myspace or something, but I don't care

2006-05-10T23:30:00.000-06:00

Leave me a comment, and...
1. I'll respond with something random I like about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie/recipe reminds me of you.
3. I'll name something we should do together.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me (or just me).
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you - that I remember.
6. I'll leave you a quote that is somehow appropriate to you.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on your journal so you can do the same for other people.

Sophomore Poetic Genius

2006-05-09T21:21:00.000-06:00

I'm so glad that I'm stupid and girly enough that I have a bunch of silly girly journals that I've written in since I was maybe ten, and that I've kept them all and can look through them once in a while when I need a laugh or something inspiring (in the way that makes me think, "Gee, I sure have come a long way"). And every so often I come across something mildly amusing or clever, like this bit of poetry from the June after tenth grade:

...If a fish gets
a bicycle, it better be a
BIKE
No Sesame Street
-trike-
with bigblueplastic
wheels
that make crunching
sounds in dust
and BigBird
on the handles
None of that.
BIKE.
Mountain.
Tough tires.
Fender.
Mirrors.
Headlight.
Flawless.
BIKE
on a BIKE,
a girl can
GET SOMEWHERE

Haha. Wasn't I clever?

YEAH TOAST!

2006-05-02T20:39:00.000-06:00

All around the country, coast to coast
People always ask, What do I like most?
Well I don't wanna brag, I don't wanna boast
So I just tell 'em I like toast!

YEAH TOAST!
YEAH TOAST!

There's no secret to toasting perfection
There's a dial on the side and you make your selection
Turn from the dark to the light and then,
If it pops up too soon push it down again
And make toast!

YEAH TOAST!
YEAH TOAST!

In an act of impossible sweetness, O'Hara brought me toast today at lunch. I told him yesterday that I don't really have a toaster at home--an old nonfunctioning one and a toaster oven, but toaster ovens don't really count--so he brought me toast. Because "No one should have to go without toast." Probably one of the more thoughtful things I've ever had done for me... but not entirely surprising, because O'Hara's an incredibly nice guy. And naturally everyone on the bench made kind of a deal over it (a mix of making a deal out of it and incredulity, actually--as in, " That's O'Hara? He looks way too normal...")

I felt kind of bad though, not knowing what to do. I didn't really eat the toast; I'd just eaten lunch and it was kind of cold, to be honest. And then in Bio he seemed not himself. But honestly--what did he expect me to do? I'm kind of a cold heartless bitch... and I don't tend to get all emotional over anything. I possess a great deal of equanimity. That's just the way I roll.

MAYDAY

2006-05-01T23:16:00.000-06:00

Happy Sex-In-The-Woods Day to everyone. Because that's what May Day is really about.

I was thinking today about that dream I had a few months ago, the one in which my grandmother died again and managed to ruin another holiday, having already ruined my birthday a year ago. And I got to wondering just why it was I even cried as much as I did during the funeral process last year... because it's not like I was close with that grandmother or anything. We only saw her once a year, and I never really felt like she remembered me specifically-- not like I'd expect her to, as she had around 50 nieces and nephews, great- and otherwise, to keep straight. And I realized that maybe that's because I was really in mourning for two people, for the recently deceased and also my other grandmother, the one who died when I was younger--too young to be properly sad. And that was the grandmother who knew who I was, who had a dry sense of humor, who made countless afghans by herself in her house in the Chicago suburb, the one with whom I share hair colour, and possibly spirit (which are things that run much deeper than a name).

And maybe that's why I'm making an afghan of my own now, and why I can never bring myself to dye my hair.

Sneak Preview

2006-04-30T20:39:00.000-06:00

Weekends when I've done my cleaning on Friday are like little bits of summer in advance.

Yesterday I got up (relatively) early to play ultimate frisbee with bandos. Usually I don't like ultimate frisbee, for the very good reason that I kinda such at it (and most sports, honestly...) but I didn't get picked last for teams (ha) and it was more fun because I got to feel like a rebel: we jumped the fence at the alternative middle school so we could play on the nicely groomed grass behind the softball field instead of the sandy mess that the marching field had become. Apparently they'd aerated, then filled the holes with sand, and the sprayed water on the sand... so it was kind of like a beach, only with a lot of grass poking out. Messy. We picked teams twice, and mine lost both times... less because we were bad and more because Ed was on the other team both times, and he is more or less amazing at ultimate frisbee. And after we went to TCBY, where I had a sorbet fizz (which is just sorbet with Sprite mixed in to give it a kind of milkshake-y consistency) which I hadn't had in ages.

And in the afternoon, I went out and about (or shall I say oot and aboot?) with Pitseleh, collecting another tie to add to my collection, a golden silk Garcia with Oriental-looking fish, and a book-- The Starving Artist's Way. Because the way I figure, starving artist is more or less equal to starving college student, which I'll be in a few months. In the evening I stayed in, because six and a half hours is enough to be out for one day.

Today I was sore. I'm out of shape. Boo-rah. I decided the best way to work out the stiffness would probably be to take a little walk, but I kind of ignored the "little" part and walked down to the closest coffee shop, about a mile away, because Giselle was working today and I promised I'd come and buy a frappe from her because she has so much fun making them. I sat in there shivering and reading Heart of Darkness for about an hour and then walked the mile home, so all in all I'll probably be sorer tomorrow than I was today. Sigh. C'est la vie.

In other news, I've decided to knit myself an afghan. Because clearly now that it's AP test time, I'll need something extra to do with my time...

Also: Dropping my pseudonym. I was going to wait until my eight-teenth, because that would feel more official or something, but I'm impatient. Blogger may or may not change the post name on all of my posts. If it does, rad, and if it doesn't, meh. Don't think I'm going to go back and repost or anything like that. Also don't think that I'll change everyone else's pseudos either--I'm keeping those, because realistically it'll only be a little while longer, and changing would make things even more confusing than they already are.

Contraband

2006-04-24T22:30:00.000-06:00

The following articles are not accepted for transportation to countries outside the United States:

Animal products, nondomesticated
Cash
Corpses
Firearms
Furs
Human Remains
Industrial Diamonds
Ivory
Letters of Credit Shipments
Live Animals
Pornographic Materials
Precious Stones
Postage Stamps

Exactly one month from yesterday I shall be eight-teen.

Ack.

Heart's gone the colour of coca-cola

2006-04-16T20:56:00.000-06:00

Today is Easter, and today it snowed.

It's funny, I looked forward to this day but I forgot all about eggs and Jesus and rabbits and the springtime aspect of it because I was focused on the jeans. Mum asked me yesterday, "What's the point? Why did you give up jeans?" And I couldn't really answer, because I didn't have a good answer. I only thought a few months ago that it would be funny to be able to say that I gave up pants for Lent, but realized that February is when Lent starts and it's too cold then to run around in shorts and skirts and capris. So it was jeans instead. Plus, I'd never given anything up. So maybe that's a sacreligious, disrespectful reason to observe Lent... but I don't care, because I've been generally sacreligious for a long time now.

What a dull weekend. Still productive and fun in a small way, but two nights of staying in and watching DVDs followed by a Sunday... I'm glad to have seen "Garden State" and "Dead Man" but I'll admit nonetheless to being a little bored. I had to go out to the bookstore today and spend money on my very own copy of The Feminine Mystique (because I'm sick of library fines) just to get myself out of the goddamn house. I feel paranoid today. Every creepy man in the bookstore leered at me. I'm on edge, possibly because I had a nightmare last night about my concerto, in which I wasn't ready and then I was late to play it and I didn't want to play so I hid behind the woodwind risers. I can't handle spring this year. There is too much to think about. I always had the impression that senioritis was about anticipation, and about not caring about schoolwork because you know you'll be gone next year. I never expected that there would be so much fear inherent.

Well. Happy Sunday.

P-rom

2006-04-16T12:54:00.000-06:00

(My new favourite thing is driving at dusk in the rain, the windows cracked, and playing Godspeed You! Black Emperor.)

It's been a full week since prom. Which I suppose means I ought to say something on that subject.

I went out Friday night with Pitseleh for makeup. Mum let me stay out until one that night, so that I could watch a movie at Claude's with he and Pitseleh and Alexander (which was fun--and made me even sadder that Alexander can't come to Sasquatch with us) but I was up later, after I got home, discovering why, exactly, I have never been much of one for wearing makeup. Ugh.

So I knew ahead of time, that I'd need to give myself plenty of time to be patient with getting ready. I didn't want to do it-- I didn't want to go. It was the makeup, and the wearing heels, and the disdain I usually reserve for school dances, and the lingering insecurities I had about going stag. Going in a group with six other lovely dateless ladies almost seemed to make it worse. But at 4:30, I forced myself into the bathroom, armed with my new makeup, lots of bobby pins, patience, the Danca da Maozinha CD Rebecca made last year, and a steely resolve to do this thing right. I let myself have five whole minutes just to get the liquid eyeliner; that was a pain and so was the outrageous lipstick but it was worth it, to get that 1920's look I was going for. I got lazy with the hair--a simple bun with a side part, which made me feel inadequate next to everyone else with their professionally done tresses, but... feh. I managed, then, to get into my dress and pearls without smudging makeup on anything and was out the door by 6--which was when we were all scheduled to meet at Ellie's house for pictures. Oops.

Pictures, then--Ellie in her satiny pink affair with matching roses, Miranda in stunning poofy green, Nea in an amazing antique-looking burgundy gown, Bairdy looking beautiful in coral even though it wasn't the dress she really wanted, Andi in cream and turquoise, Briar in a short dress that was lovely in a not-so-prommy way but still appropriate, and Elizabeth lovely in yellow. The six of us (all above mentioned minus Nea minus Andi plus me) met one more at Angell's for dinner ($13 caeser salad and a split $5 creme brulee... yikes. I really needed someone to ask me, just so I wouldn't have to pay for it all.) And that wasn't the prommiest place to have dinner. But there WAS a hill, for Miranda not to fall down, and there WAS a trophy head of some animal above our table whom we dubbed Tobias, and there WAS a little awkwardness in the elevator in the parking garage with the overacheiving son of my father's colleague.

We made it out of the restaurant and to the old Powerhouse, where the dance proper was being held, with an hour and fifteen minutes of prom left-- a small enough window of time that I was a little sad to see it end, but really perfect, because you don't want to stay until you're sick of it. White Christmas lights and a chocolate fountain and all of the teachers dressed as characters from Clue (the principal was Colonel Mustard). The Benchies did the usual dancing-and-singing-in-a-circle thing, but I also spent time up front with Pitseleh (her date a prom court member, and wearing a kilt) and Gwen and Alexander and Claude and Reva, and "moshed" with Sheila and O'Hara.

On our way out, I realized that being hit by a limo while dressed in a formal or tuxedo could be a pretty rad way to die. I drove myself and Miranda to Andi's (her dress so poofy that it took serious time and effort for her to climb into the car, and I couldn't see over the skirt to the passenger side mirror) for pie. I had pumpkin-- and watched as everyone took turns tormenting Andi's poor, anti-social Psycho Kitty. I left a little after midnight, because the rest had plans to stay out all night whereas I needed to be home by two, and also because I am not in choir. I drove then to Reba's (all the way 'cross town; I spent to much time that night driving) where I had missed the chocolate mousse, but came in time for craziness and witnessed the beginning of the end of something.

I was home a couple of minutes late: I decided it'd be better to get home after two and risk the chastisement of my parents than to speed and get pulled over and ticketed for being out after legal curfew. (Bollocks to legal curfew.) The oldies were actually in bed-- shocking!-- so I needed slip quietly out of makeup and dress and hellish heels and into bed. A successful night.

I decided, later, that it was better to have gone stag. I have seen too many people ruin their proms with stress over dates. It's supposed to be an extravagent evening, yes, but it's also supposed to be fun, and there is no point in going if that gets forgotten under worries about dinner and corsages/boutenniers and pictures and sex. Most of all I'm just glad I went. Because... now I know.

Happy Yuri's Night

2006-04-12T23:06:00.000-06:00

Yuri as in Gagarin.

Yuri as in cosmonaut.

Yuri as in Ozma.

3.5 Hours

2006-04-07T07:20:00.000-06:00

I DON'T NEED SLEEP!!!!!!!!

Kierkegaard-ishness and Proma, Part II

2006-04-02T20:44:00.000-06:00

I am overcome with that feeling of irrepressable, irrational dread that used to strike me often as a child. I don't know what its causes were then, but it led to many upset stomachs and skipped days of school and sleepless worried nights. I used to worry about worrying, and I've learned to stop doing that. Learned to stop worrying about most things, really, because in the long run it just doesn't matter. I suppose I should stop telling people that I think that way, because it always seems to get me into trouble. My mother's response was, "Oh, well that explains a lot." Katrina, in a heated debate in Euro one day over Waiting for Godot (which was especially painful because I adore that play, Beckett is a genius, and she just didn't get it) said to me, "Well, if you really think that nothing matters and that life is pointless, you can go on thinking that, because it will improve the grading curve for me." That's not what I meant, exactly. I didn't mean that life is pointless and we should all just give up. That's exactly what would make things worse. But in the long run, one shouldn't expect the small things one does to have a lasting impact.

But the dread is here, nonetheless, and it's nothing so un-pinpoint-able as it used to be. Mostly today I think that it's the cold and the caffeine and daylight savings and all the homework I neglected to do over break. Fah. And I have to go back to school tomorrow. Double fah. And prom is in less than a week.

That's the other bad thing--that I'm even thinking about Prom. Of course there's Proma again this year, and it's even worse because I'm involved. Because I'm putting forth the effort and such to find my concerto dress early and seek out matching accessories and agonizing over how I'll wear my hair.

Ugh. I feel like such a girl.

Love Reed, Part II

2006-03-29T19:09:00.000-07:00

I checked my email for the second time today just now, and there it was, right under my calculus grade report--from the Dean of Admissions at Reed College--and I opened it--"We have exciting news for you; click here to find out!!"--

Which led me to a little Flash movie telling me I've been accepted. It's even more convoluted than the way McGill told me I'd gotten in.

I feel like crying, mostly because it feels like a tease. Here, end of March, I still hadn't heard from them and I'd kind of given up. I mean, I was pretty sure I'd get in, but what if I didn't? It actually would have been easier that way, because I know that it's going to be too expensive, and I know that it'll probably still be McGill, but this just gets my hopes up.

Getting accepted to my first choice school was supposed to be this wonderful thing, and in away it's relieving, but at the same time-- I love Reed and I love Portland and I love the rain and the people are my people and classes are my style and Montreal is thrilling but it's too far and too cold and too foreign at the same time and ever since I visited a year ago, there has really been no other place I wanted to go except Reed, and

it looks pretty grim.

If anyone wants to start buying me lottery tickets, to get me some money for college, I will be grateful.

"Quirky" is the nice word for it

2006-03-28T19:05:00.000-07:00

Your Quirk Factor: 84%

You're beyond quirky... You're downright bizarre.
You've lost touch with social norms and what's appropriate. And you're loving every minute of it!

How Quirky Are You?

Not Even Feh

2006-03-21T12:41:00.000-07:00

That's it, then--everything falls through at once. Yesterday, the financial aid letter from Macalester. The news? Too expensive. After all of that "we give great merit scholarships!" stuff they told me, it's not enough (mostly because merit scholarships don't really ADD anything, merely decrease loan and workstudy). Which puts me in a pretty position, because we STILL have tickets to Minnesota for this weekend, and it's too late to change that, but it's a bit of a lame duck trip now that Mac's not a real option. I'll have to turn it into some sort of interstate shoe quest--the perfect shoes for the purple flapper-ish concerto/prom dress I found on Friday. (That was a relief. I'd think dress shopping could be fun, but mostly I just think that my male friends are lucky that they can wear tuxes everywhere, as opressive and uncomfortable as tuxes may be. At least in a tux you don't have to worry about stylishness, because they're timeless, or finding a strapless backless bra.)

And then today, in Calc (he waited until calc, fourth period, to tell me) Alexander tells me that he can't go to Sasquatch. I should've suspected, when it was taking him so long to come up with a definite yea/nay. But... man, what a letdown. I know it's not his fault, and I know that rest of us will be able to find the fourth person that my parents require and go without Alexander, but--it won't be the same without him. It was supposed to be the four of us, one last (first?) wild hurrah at the end of highschool, sans parentals and stirring up our own brand of mild trouble in central Washington. I have to believe he tried hard to make this work, because I know how badly he wants to go, but it's disappointing nonetheless.

Nowadays, when people ask me how I am (and they've been doing that an especially large amount lately; it starts to get annoying) I mostly say "Not bad." Not good, either, but... not bad. What I really ought to say is "As well as can be expected, all things considered," but then they'd ask about the all things and I'd have to explain, and that's too much of a mouthful for small talk anyway.

Running on Empty

2006-03-21T07:22:00.000-07:00

I am so sick of even trying. Senior year is a JOKE. Because honestly, the reason that there's senioritis is that none of us should be at school anymore. It's not like we need senior year. That much is obvious: only two and a half required classes, and those are English, Government, and Econ. English gets pretty repetitive after 11 years, and the other two are solely for the purpose of "indoctrination of the young" ( i.e. capitalist/democratic brainwashing).

I really should have listened when the older students told me not too take too many AP classes or pick up too many committments senior year, but here I am with 6 AP tests coming in May, plus a crapload of other stuff, and all I'm feeling like doing is drinking coffee and reading 400-page books. And on top of that, spring break is two weeks too late. I suppose I should keep "working hard" right up until then, especially considering the government test on Mexico that has been foolishly, ungraciously, stupidly placed on that date, but honestly, to hell with that. If they still expect us to get decent grades, they shouldn't give us so much work. That's a principle that should be easy enough to understand.

Tomorrow is Spring

2006-03-19T22:59:00.000-07:00

I have taken to mooning about like the closet romantic that I am. I dream about moonbeams and green grass and small rabbits and warm nights and swimming and hot pavement. And then I realize that if I go to school in Montreal, as I looks as though I probably will, I will freeze for nine months out of the year, despite my generally high tolerance of cold. Course, if it's Oregon instead I'll be rather faced with rain. Rain I love, but I should make a vow to soak up the heat this summer while I can in either case, promise myself to spend as much time outside (in the shade, of course, or slathered in sunblock, because I've decided that I'm sick of getting tan) in the sweltering heat as possible. I like to think that it's all a very long way off-- adulthood, graduation, summer, my departure-- but tomorrow is spring and that leaves less than one season between me and rapid, violent change.

I've been looking forward to summer since October, probably. Since I realized that senior year is really just a formality. I think all of the looking forward made the winter even harder than usual. But looking forward is all I really can do anymore, because looking back just seems pathetic and looking at the present I'm afraid would be too depressing.

I suppose I could close my eyes altogether. But that's not exactly what I call living.

Happy Pi Day!

2006-03-14T18:34:00.000-07:00

I was actually up at 1:59 this morning, but was too tired to realize that today was today and definitely too tired to celebrate. I settled for a tart after school (because I couldn't get a slice of pie, and tarts are sort of like pies).

Ellie and I went to Nea's afterschool today to study for the Biology test tomorrow. We spent several hours studying the respiratory, circulatory, immune, and digestive systems (though some of the time was spent just being generally deviant) and then, the first thing I saw upon signing into Gmail was the word of the day, which was--

duodenum.

And I laughed.

Shining Like A National Guitar

2006-03-09T19:17:00.000-07:00

frustrating (adj): being able to see in Firefox's title bar that I have 6 new messages in my Gmail account, but not being able to read them. Also knowing that Icarus is probably home from work and online by now and that he probably got his sitar today, but not being able to talk to him and know for sure.

UGH. DAMN GMAIL.

(No, seriously I love it most of the time, even though it's slightly unsettling that Google is taking over the world.)

I'm sick, and as such could not pay attention to the video on China in Gov today, nor could I focus on the Kierkegaard I brought to read instead of being a good student. (Really, it's my fault, for not bringing a more engaging book.) Math was even worse. That's when the fever and coughing really set in. Which was a shame, because we went over a lot of new stuff today. Meh. I decided not to play in band, because I'm sick and furthermore I felt I deserved a day off. Instead I sat at the piano and tried again to read Kierkegaard, with slightly more success than I'd had in the morning, but I've still a lot to go. The good news, I guess, is that I feel a little better about how I did at festival yesterday. I played terribly. I wasn't feeling up to it (I never am; I always get sick right before festival) and I just... kind of gave up, to be honest. I mean I was tired and I didn't even really try. Plus I was the very first, and there were scads of people in the rooms, so-- nerves, naturally. So when it was all over and the judge called me over (she knows me, too well almost, because she's everywhere) she started telling me all this stuff about my performance--"more rubato, more dynamics, more air support!"--that I thought I'd been doing but deepdown knew I should've done better, but I really just wanted to tell her, "Look, I know I sucked it up and Debussy must be spinning in his grave in a very French, impressionistic way, so you really needn't tell me any of this, because I'm clearly not going to state and I'm a senior and all you're doing is embarassing me in front of this incongruous shitload of people who happen to be in the room when I really need to get out of here so that I can find a hole to cry in." And it was really hard to write and English timed write right after that, what with the almost-crying and all. I'd seen the score when the judge was talking at me. It was a 31. You need at least a 32 to get first division and qualify for State, so... And that was all I could think about, was those four points I'd missed. By the end of last night I'd rationalized most of the pain away. I figured it's better if I don't go to State anyway, because I have to play my concerto at the Youth Symphony concert that same weekend, and it'll be tough to work two solos up to such a high level at once, especially when one of the pieces is Debussy. Plus--I was first chair in All-State orchestra this year... which means I already got first in state, in a sense.

But it wasn't as bad as I'd thought. Judge changed the score (That happens a lot. Better when it goes up than when it goes down...) so when I got the evaluation today, I was sitting at a cool 32 points. Which puts me in the Superior range. That's a relief, even if I don't end up going to State, because I've gotten a superior every other year, and... I wouldn't know what to think if I couldn't muster one this year. Maybe that I ought to sell Jimmy to pay for college.

So, despite sickness and disappointment and Gmail's shortcomings, life's not so bad. After all, I have the Islands' version of "Graceland" to rock out to, and we voted for prom court and two nerd boys are in the running. And who knows, I might just be sick enough to miss school tomorrow!

I Was Born

2006-03-07T21:55:00.000-07:00

...and now am reborn, because my life rocks when I have things to look forward to.

Awesome and notable currents:

I just discovered (and it makes me ashamed of how out of it I am) that the Unicorns are not completely dead and gone! And their future projects will NOT all be hiphop, either, as I had previously feared. No, Nick and Jaime are teaming up with some other people (like McGill music students, and a bass clarinetist, and some members of The Arcade Fire) to form Islands, which is actually GOING somewhere (unlike Th' Corn Gangg, which doesn't seem as though it will ever release an album...) and will release an album on April 4. I'm feeling another walk-to-the-RX-during-lunch-and-buy-the-album-the-day-it-comes-out adventure.
I totally rocked my last math test, which I was terrified of. (Perfect score, baby! ...ouch. I promise I'll never use "baby" in that context ever again.)
Icarus' sitar is scheduled to arrive on Thursday. I'm excited for him; he's been waiting for this for a long time.
Solo festival is tomorrow, and... well, I'm feeling pretty good about this Debussy business.
One word: SASQUATCH. It's in May, Memorial weekend between the last day of school and graduation, which is the absolute perfect time to go except that I should be looking for a job then, but-- The Decemberists, Beck, The Shins, The Flaming Lips, Iron & Wine, Sufjan Stevens, Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah, and more, all in the same place one wonderful weekend. This sounds like just the kind of thing the oldies would be fullscore against-- but they actually seem like they might let me go. And even help pay for it. As some sort of birthday gift. Wow.

Challenges (i.e. Things That Suck):

Festival is tomorrow. (Sure, I feel pretty ready, but it's just more stress...)
I'm sick. Damn. It kept me up all night last night, which sucked mega h-core.
I have to finish my correspondance econ course soon, or I won't graduate. Boo rah.

Time for sleep, methinks. Yep.

Schedule

2006-02-28T19:13:00.000-07:00

Mondays are for clarinet lessons and going to bed early.

Tuesdays are for writing, WAA, and Globe Trekker.

Wednesdays are for Youth Symphony, and that is enough for one night

Thursdays are for pleasure reading and random walks.

Fridays are for eating out, or sporting events, or driving around.

Saturdays are for cleaning and then for calm fun (movies, for instance).

Sundays are for coffee in the mornings and record stores in the afternoon.

So you see, I really don't have any time for homework.

My Vagina Is Angry

2006-02-27T17:54:00.000-07:00

Because my vagina hates government homework. Ugh. Russia is dandy, but 90 pages of textbook reading is not.

Pitseleh, Gwen and I planned on seeing The Vagina Monologues on Friday, because it was showing for V-Day and all. The 'rents were a little hesitant to let me go, mostly because I think pater didn't want me to find out what a vagina is. No, they claimed it was for my own safety, because there's been grafitti up around campus, anti- VM grafitti, calling it smut and whatnot and they were afraid there would be protests. Actually, there WAS a protest during the Friday night show-- but I wasn't there to see it. When the three of us got there, the show was sold out. And the Saturday show was, too. So instead of being cultured, we went looking for music at the RX. Pitseleh asked me for suggestions, and I ended up convincing her that she needed and Architecture in Helsinki CD, and I convinced myself that I needed to buy "McLusky Do Dallas." Actually, the guy behind the counter played a part in that second convincing. I brought the CD up to the counter, and he says "This is a really great album! McLusky's a great band." Dunno that I've ever actually been complimented on my musical selection by an RX employee before. It felt like cheating, because when I bought it I hadn't even heard anything by McLusky. I love it now, though, and I may need to buy more because said man behind the counter said that while "Do Dallas" is more their punk, scream swear words album, "The Difference Between Me and You is That I'm Not On Fire" is more of an idie-rock work. And we all know how I feel about indie rock. We still had time to kill, and Gwen and I had Barnes & Noble gift certificates besides, so we went out there and browsed for hours (which annoyed Pitseleh to no end). I was terribly disappointed to find that they didn't carry The Portable Beat Reader, which was what I REALLY wanted to buy (also the service in that place is just awful) but I did walk away with The Hipster Handbook , and I adore it.

But all of that materialistic fun, and the babysitting I did for the fascinatingly foreign family that lives across the street (The mum got her master's at McGill, which gave us a bit of something to talk about.) was not enough to take my mind off the monologues, so Pitseleh bought the three of us tix for the Sunday matinee, and we went and were promptly enlightened. We saw the English teacher there, and that was awkward. I heart my English teacher; she's the best I've had in years. But she was at The Vagina Monologues with her husband (and I felt reeeaaally sorry for him...) and then--she sat next to us (or should I say, next to me) and-- AWKWARD. But I lived, and I loved it, and I didn't need sturdy shoes to run from protesters like my parents said I would. In other news, we are finally getting into iced coffee season, and I love it.

On an unrelated topic, it really bothers me that people always say "no problem" now instead of "you're welcome." Doesn't that bother you?

This is kind of related to Gov, if it tries really hard

2006-02-22T00:37:00.000-07:00

If I were a Dead Russian Composer, I would be Dmitri Shostakovich!

I am a shy, nervous, unassuming, fidgety, and stuttery little person who began composing the same year I started music lessons of any sort. I wrote the first of my fifteen symphonies at age 18, and my second opera, "Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District," when I was only 26. Unfortunately, Stalin hated the opera, and put me on the Enemy Of The People List for life. I nevertheless kept composing the works I wanted to write in private; some of my vocal cycles and 15 string quartets mock the Soviet System in notes. And I somehow was NOT killed in the process! And Harry Potter(c) stole my glasses and broke them!

Who would you be? Dead Russian Composer Personality Test

Dislikes:

2006-02-21T21:58:00.000-07:00

earwigs. hangnails. pork. government. TMJ. Euro tests. daylight savings time. people who say "anyways" instead of "anyway." heartburn. sherry. sleep deprivation. zits. Fredericks. bigotry. carpal tunnel. Listerine. processed foods. fat days. parasites. eating disorders. pointless war. partisanism. polyester dresses. block calculus. "classic" literature that actually sucks. phonies. music snobbery. hypocrisy (haha). mapmakers. organized religion. procrastination. split ends. conscription. rubrics. dead batteries. broken alarms that don't go off. third quarter. being wrong. playing tests. burnt CDs that my stereo won't play. getting plain bread for lunch. PE. suffocation. impatience. California poppies. colds. chapped lips. yellowjackets. olives. not knowing the words. poorly-conceived documentaries. bad poetry. drug addiction. PCs. economics. penpals who don't write back. faulty zippers. scratched CDs. broken promises. embarassment. public speaking. too much attention. noisy neighbors. some small children. weak coffee. teen magazines. denim skirts. stale cookies. too many textbooks. obscenely vague college acceptance letters. PMS. 7-day weeks (too short). honor society. guilt. lying (especially when it's necessary). cell phones. epics. action movies. instant messenger overdependance. repression. hunger. sulphur. deadlines. histrionics. baseball. bitterness. trying to think of things I dislike (because sometimes it seems there aren't enough).

Good Morning, Love

2006-02-14T07:11:00.000-07:00

Valentine's day-------

Honestly, what a shrill, pointless holiday. I keep trying to explain that to mother, how ridiculous it is to have a day dedicated to giving roses and eating chocolates. More than anything, I think it's an excuse to eat candy. Now, that's what Halloween has become, but at least Halloween doesn't pretend to be anything beyond a day to eat candy. Valentine's day, though, acts all high and mighty and pretends to be all about love. Mumma said, "Some day you'll feel different." I hope I never do. Because, and I know this is the old adage of the V-Day opposers, you shouldn't need a specific day to show your love for someone else. In fact, if anything, giving gifts today seems less sincere than it would on any other day. So I'll pass on getting all festive and mushy today, thanks.

But I won't object if my parents want to give me Threadless shirts...

Who Loves The Sun?

2006-02-09T20:16:00.000-07:00

Who loves the sun?
Who cares that it makes plants grow?
Who cares what it does
Since you broke my heart?

Who loves the wind?
Who cares that it makes breezes?
Who cares what it does
Since you broke my heart?

Bah buh bah bah
Who loves the sun?
Bah buh bah bah
Who loves the sun?
Bah buh bah bah
Not everyone
Bah buh bah bah
Who loves the sun?

Who loves the rain?
Who cares that it makes flowers?
Who cares that it makes showers
Since you broke my heart?

Who loves the sun?
Who cares that it is shiney?
Who cares what it does
Since you broke my heart?

Bah buh bah bah
Who loves the sun?
Bah buh bah bah
Who loves the sun?
Bah buh bah bah
Not everyone
Bah buh bah bah
Who loves the

Oooo ah ah ah ah ah ah...

Bah buh bah bah
Who loves the sun?
Bah buh bah bah
Who loves the sun?
Bah buh bah bah
Not just anyone
Bah buh bah bah
Who loves the sun?

My dad thought that David Bowie was in the Velvet Underground... forcing me to rifle through the pages of Wikipedia to prove him wrong before he realized he was actually thinking of Lou Reed. Oy vey.

Lord Byron was Hot

2006-02-08T01:35:00.000-07:00

Is it time for an update? Oh yes it is.

It's that musical hell time of the year. I'm missing three Thursday block days in a row--already have missed two and will miss one this week. Which means missing 12 hours total each of Government (not so tragic, as I hate that class, but I'll be out of sync with my Iran group because they've been doing research which I've been missing out on) and Calculus (which bites, h-core, because... tough stuff we're doing now). All-State was two weeks ago. I was slightly disillusioned, because these honor groups are supposed to be a great opportunity to meet new people, but they're not, really, because you spend all day in rehearsal ("It's like a road trip, only you're playing the whole time") and the few hours of free time (like during meals and "evening activities") are usually spent with people you already know. I did get to know Dag a lot better, which is a good thing, because he's a cool guy and in the almost three years since I've met him, I really haven't talked to him much. I've always seen him as more of a rival than anything. I suppose my consistently beating him every time we've been in competition over the past year or so ( i.e. State Solo, All-State, Honor Band, Concerto Competition...) has made me secure enough in my being better than him that I'm able to enjoy him as a person.

Musical Movies was last week. Undoubtedly my favorite thing that happens, musically, all year long. Plus, they had Ben Model, the guy from NY who writes the music we play for the movies, in town for the event, to play the theatre organ for a couple of short films. He's actually a professional silent movie accompanist. How cool is that? I wish I could do that as my job, but I somehow doubt there's enough demand.

Pep band has been here and there. The girls are going through playoffs again this year. It's been districts for the past week or so, and though they lost the game that would get them into State tournament easily, they're still going. I'm proud. I find that I care a lot more about how the team's doing when I have friends on the team. It was hard to get into games as a sophomore, because most of the varsity players are seniors that I knew only by name, in connection to their sport. Also, senior night for the boys' team was tonight. I hate playing pep band for the boys' basketball team, because the games are always so boring. Usually the guys don't seem to connect well as a team, and they give up really easily. They lose most games by around 20 points and by the end the game is moving so slow that it doesn't even look like basketball anymore. It's no wonder we're last in the district.. So I was really tempted to skip the game tonight, but I'm glad I didn't. The team played one of the best, most exciting games I've seen all year. The game was against the number one team in the district, and we didn't win, but they only beat us by five and the home team played an excellent game, which still made it exciting. My throat's sore from cheering. Man. It's like watching our football team win for the first time in years last fall.

I have been staying up ridiculously late every night, and I'm not sure why. Because sleep is boring. And because of homework.

I've finally finished knitting my new scarf.

After pep band on Saturday, we all went to Sheila's house to watch a movie--Austin Powers 2. I'm not a big Austin Powers fan. But there was a line in there, something like "What the French call a certain, 'I don't know what.'" Only Ralph and I laughed, because we are francophonic like that. It made me smile.

Oh. And. Got the news today that I've made it to National Merit Finalist. Because I'm just that awesome, what.

O'Hara Is My New Best Friend

2006-01-24T18:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the beginning of the New Semester, which means new seating charts in all the classes. Mostly that's the teachers saying "Ok, everyone pick where you want to sit and I'll write it down on the seating chart!" So English is pretty rad now, because all of the benchies sit in the back. But I'm sure we can handle it. It's not like we're so immature that we're going to do nothing but talk in that class now or anything...

The thing I was worried about was Biology. Because I knew he'd let us choose, and that makes it hard in a class where I don't really know anyone/don't really want to sit by anyone in particular. So someone says at lunch (I think it was Ellie, but it might have been Nea... my memory REALLY needs more than 4 hours of sleep per night to function), "Just pick the seat, and whoever sits next to you will be your new best friend!" And in Biology, I am too tired to move, plus I've been pretty happy with my seat quite honestly, so I stayed where I've been all year. And O'Hara stayed where he's been all year, right next to me, which makes him my new best friend. It's kind of a relief, because if not for O'Hara I don't think I ever would have thought about invisible, photosynthetic, super-smart squirrels or microscopic rodeos, and I was kind of worried I wouldn't be able to do that second semester.

In other news, Oz has made his way into my government class. And into my comparative government project group. Which means that I will be studying Iranian government with him over the course of the next semester. And that he sits within arm's reach. I helped him with his English homework today.

ACK.

Sleep deprived all over again

2006-01-23T02:08:00.000-07:00

Nurr. I have to expect something like this to happen when I don't start a major research paper until nine the night before it's due and then repeatedly become distracted because I'm typing it on a computer which has the ability to do all sorts of cool nifty things other than type essays. I really hate English right now though, even though I know it's my fault. Because I'm a terrible person like that.

"No girl was ever seduced by a book."

2006-01-22T22:18:00.000-07:00

I am remembering
last year when we argued
on a bus over
the existance of (True) Love.

I postulated that Love is
more of an ideal than anything to be
Truly Believed in, and he said
Yes, everyone has an ideal person in mind
--but that is not what I meant.

I meant that love is like a cookie cutter,
and we search for someone to fill it but
know that no one can fill all the gaps
exactly, it will always be like forcing mis-
matched puzzle pieces together after hours
of work when the frustration
sets in-- but that flawed
meshing is all that we have
so we must learn to
be happy in our imperfection.

L'amour? Pas vraiment.

He seemed somewhat
offended by my heresy at
the time, even tried to
force belief on me:
"If you admit that you believe in
Love," he offered, "I will give
you the dreaming key to unlock
the mind" but I would not be
compromised.

Eventually he relented to
loaning me the book if I would let
him read some of my words, and
I agreed but I think he was
disappointed in me.

I can't help that I am a cynic,
dear. Perhaps I was born that
way or maybe it comes of being
raised in a house where honest spirituality has
died, where the Bible is talked about
halfheartedly and family members meditate
in the private secrecy of bedrooms
and on Thanksgiving we argue over
whether or not to say Grace.

I envy piety, but it is not for me. I
wish I could believe in Love and God and
beauty but I
know that belief would be
empty because none
of those things is really
worth believing in.

Still I wish
that I had at least humored him
and I vaguely tell myself
some days that if he were here
again I might be more
receptive, because I know there
was something in the shy way
he let me touch his hair--
maybe I would even end up
believing just a little.

But probably not.

I Heart Mil Millington

2006-01-21T19:23:00.000-07:00

"Everything nowadays tries to be a bit of a lark--'The Fun Way to Learn,' 'The Fun Way to Diet,' 'The Fun Way to Bank.' Well, arse to that. Most stuff isn't fun; the world is eighty percent misery, suffering, injustice and gnawing existential bleakness. A further seventeen percent is sheer, suffocating boredom. That leaves us with a couple of minutes of stolen 'fun' a week, tops. Far better we spend that fun, I gently suggest, somewhere other than ruining a potentially serviceable bout of sex by guffawing the erotic frisson away. If you want a head-spinning whirlpool of desire, hunger, madness and ecstasy, then let's have sex--if you want a bit of fun, play bleeding Pictionary or something."

HA.

I'm in a rather cynical mood just now.

The Difference Between You And Me Is That I'm Not On Fire

2006-01-12T21:50:00.000-07:00

I am bingeing...

...on the Dandy Warhols. Seriously, they never cease to amaze me. Here I was thinking that I needed some music, maybe some rockin' hardcore-ish stuff, but I think now that really my problem was that in the depressive funk I was/am in, I wasn't up to listening to ANY kind of music, so I sort of went through withdraw, which just made it worse. Kind of like when you've got the blues and the last thing you want to do is to spend time around people, but in reality that's what'll make you feel better but you don't want to do it, maybe because of pride or maybe for no reason whatsoever, and then you just get in this vicious cycle until someone drags you out, and you hate them for it at first, but... yeah. Or like when you're sick with a chest cold, and the last thing you want to do is take Robitusson because it tastes fucking disgusting, but you know it'll make you feel better so you do it anyway. Except I'm not like that with Robitusson. I mean, I hated it like the plague when I was a little kid, but now it actually tastes really good when I need it. That's how I can tell that I'm better-- when the Robitusson tastes icky again. Speaking of which, pretty sure I'm coming down with something. And I have a math test tomorrow. (That's only sort of unrelated.) Radcore.

But the Dandies. Even their early, drug-induced stuff appeals to me. And I never liked that stuff before. "Come Down" as an album just doesn't do much for me, except maybe some of the more upbeat tracks like "Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth" and "Minnesoter", but those wear on my nerves after a while. But maybe this will be like the Robitusson: I'll know when I'm better because I'll get sick of that album, and of hearing "I could rock her/Like a doctor/If I found a way to get her off first/I could own her/The crazy loner/If I found a way to Minnesoter". Most ridiculous lyrics EVER.

So O'Hara turns to me yesterday and Bio and says, "You know, the Decemberists really don't make sense. That song 'The Infanta'? Because, an infanta is like, the first daughter of a Spanish or Portuguese king, right? But then she's riding in a palanquin, and that was used by the Indian nobles, and she's all adorned with sequins and that was an Islamic tradition. And I understand that it could have to do with the Moors in Spain, but it was still more of an Ottoman Turk thing..." I think he would have gone on for a fair bit more if I hadn't stopped him to tell him that it's not supposed to make sense, perse. The words just sound cool. Sheesh. (Unless I'm the one who's missing something, in which case I profusely apologise to Colin Meloy.)

Zed

2006-01-11T22:56:00.000-07:00

I am tired but this week I don't even care. I think the teachers are all slacking off in anticipation of the finals we'll be taking next week. Which means I probably ought to be studying, but I amn't. That is such a little kid word of mine. I have been feeling nostalgic lately. Today in Euro esteemed teacher was talking about this huge hunting/fishing store that's going to go in downtown, and how it's supposedly going to be some huge tourist attraction? Like REI for right-wingers? I don't buy that, but Alexander says, "Berit, when we come back in ten years this is going to be a big city." Which is true, and it's a freaky thought, because I've gotten used to this quaint, awkward gangly teenager of a city. But now that I am on the cusp of adulthood, my city is as well. It's about to go full-blown. All of this right after I realize that I shouldn't have complained for so many years about the boringness of this place... I mean, I still want to get out, but there's a lot here that I'll miss. We may never get many good concerts. We don't have that big spectacular stuff, and the political atmosphere of the place leaves something to be desired, but there are still little things tucked away that I will miss. Independant coffeehouses, New-York style pizza places, consignment clothing stores, the river, the big hill down the block, the wicked rock formations on the edge of town... I lament being on the edge of nothingness, but it's a nice thing sometimes. There is skiing less than an hour away, practically within the city limits. Gah. Can I be getting homesick without having left yet? I hope not.

Love Reed

2006-01-10T22:18:00.000-07:00

Well boy-o, there is another step in the right direction. I promised mummy that I'd get the Reed essay done tonight, elsewise no WAA or Globe Trekker. So it was done by 6:15. And it went into the mail by 9. And I am ecstatic. I feel like dancing around the house like a maniac, but I'll settle for listening to "(Tony, This Song is Called) Lou Weed" which has been stuck in my head all day anyway.

AAAAAAA. This was the important one. And it's DONE. The stress has been collecting in my shoulders for the past week and a half and I can feel them beginning to limber up again. I have had four tests in the past two days, but oh how glorious today was! Positive feelings on the calc test today, got back 100% on my Euro test from yesterday, and we got a nice video with overdone music in bio today. (Besides which, O'Hara was back today after missing Friday and yesterday, which is enough to make things better.) AND-- mark this down-- I got called down to the "career center" today during band (so I got out of warmups) and they actually gave me a piece of useful information. Shocking.

Anyway, even though the stress is diminishing that don't change the fact that I ain't slept much these past few days. So I think I should do that now.

The Jack Kerouac Quote of the Day (a stanza, meant to be read aloud):

"They take aim on little balls and break
em up to fall, in plicky pockpockets
for little children's names drawing
pictures in the games in the whistle
of the ol corant tree splashing"

Not deep perse, but... I like it.

The Word Of the Day is "Quaalude"

2006-01-09T22:19:00.000-07:00

Mostly just because it has a double-a and a q all in the same word, and that makes it pretty awesome by my standards. Also because I've been reading about drugs a fair bit lately. There's this book, my mom read it a few years back and I ran across it and thought why not, about a coevolutionary relationship between people and plants, and... it's fascinating. Now, I am not condoning the use of drugs (see 25 March 2005 post entitled "Drugs Are Lame") but... I think drugs should be legal. Maybe not ALL drugs, but surely there are quite a few things on Schedule I and II that aren't all that bad... it's just this inherent dislike that our culture seems to have against them. (Aforementioned book says that the marijuana situation has actually gotten "worse" since the "war on drugs"-- as in it led to stronger strains of pot, etc.) The way I see it is kind of like the way I see abortion. I don't LIKE abortion-- I don't think anyone really does, but I think that it's necessary for the option to be there. So even though I don't LIKE drugs, perse, I still think they should be legal based on priciple. Plus, if drugs were legal, they could be regulated (thus safer-ish) and taxed, and maybe there'd finally be some sort of amelioration of this deficit we have... Meh, I'm just talking. Actually, I'm done talking. Now I'm just going to bed.

The Jack Kerouac Quote of the Day:
"The reason why there are so many things/Is because the mind breaks it up"

On The Bus Mall

2006-01-07T19:27:00.000-07:00

I finished it. I am done with my Common Application.

Which does not mean, in any way, that I am finished with the application process. I still have to do supplements.

But c'mon. Those are easy. Except the essays, but... still.

I am so very close.

Shiny

2006-01-01T21:40:00.000-07:00

At last, tis 2006... which means I graduate in roughly 6 months. Yikes.

Lily has just informed me that how you spend New Year's Eve (as in, the nighttime celebrations you partake in to welcome in the new year) is how you will spend the coming year. In which case it ought to be good, as I spent last night enjoying the company of good friends. Today wasn't so bad, either, even if I had to do math homework. Doesn't matter too much in any case, though. Almost anything would seem good in comparison to last year.

Things I Wanted To/Should Have Done Over Winter Break But Didn't

2005-12-30T11:31:00.000-07:00

Read parts I-IV in Hardy's Jude the Obscure
Math homework
Start reading the next Euro unit
Start reading the next Government unit
Write my college application essays
Finish my goddamn applications entirely, for that matter
Finish the last two assignments of my correspondance economics course
Clean my room
Go skiing
Stay up all night and watch movies with friends (specifically Miranda) like old times
Work on the honor society ISP with Pitseleh
Catch up on sleep
Cook an elaborate meal
Act like a decent daughter for once (i.e. go on some nice family outing)
Get some exercise
Send thankyou notes to the teachers who wrote me recommendations
Burn hella CDs for people
Hang out with Bert (this one is his fault, though)
Have people over for pizza and such, if for no other reason than my parents said I could
Write/edit something to a level that would be acceptable for Valley Visions submission
Write the next chapter of my dying ninth grade story
Write anything at all
Bake Christmas cookies
Yoga
Patch the latest holes in my jeans
Read The Dharma Bums
Practice the All Northwest music I've barely glanced at yet
Practice the Mozart concerto I must learn for May
Call Miss Jones about pep band
Check the water for the Christmas tree every day
Eat properly
Be happy, as it's the holidays
Get up and be dressed before noon on most days
Get a haircut

What I Did Instead:

Stayed up late each night and got up at an equally absurd hour
Read lots of ridiculous, teenaged books
Knitted
Pretended to be making progress on my applications so my parents would let me out of the house
Reread the "Buttercup Festival" archives
Waited impatiently online each night for the "Questionable Content" update
Moped (mostly because the snow disappeared right before Christmas)
Burnt an absurd amount of incense
Seperated my CDs by genre and then alphabetized them

Bored and it's late

2005-12-29T00:13:00.000-07:00

001* Kindergarten teacher's name: Mrs. Jonas
002* Last words you said: Laughed, to myself. Cuz I'm a dork.
003* Last song you sang: "Praise You" by Fatboy Slim
004* Last person you hugged?: umm... probably Bunny, when he was here. Or my mom. I don't hug much.
005* Last thing you laughed at: Buttercup Festival
006* Last time you said I dont remember: To myself, to the hug question
007* Last time you cried: mrrr... last week sometime
008*Last friend u talked to: Sarah, online. Offline... dunno, quite frankly
009* What color socks are you wearing: barefoot. pair today was grey with purple and green spots
010* What's under your bed: clothes, and a shitload of stuffed animals
011* What time did you wake up today: too late. nng.
012* Current taste: I need to brush my teeth
013* Current hair: long. blonde. vaguely sinister.
014* Current love: KNITTING. AND CAPS LOCK.
015* Current annoyance: break is almost over and I HAVE NOT DONE ANYTHING. also mother, bothering me about the college thing.
016* Current longing: to see old friends again
017* Current desktop background: picture of me and cousins at grandma's farm, in the green green May
018* Current worry: break is almost over
019* Current hate: college apps. writer's block.
020* Current favorite article of clothing: new scarf
021* Favorite physical feature of the other sex: murr... shoulders. that sounds lame.
022* Last CD that you listened to: "Amelie" soundtrack
023* Favorite place to be: somewhere new, and interesting, where I don't even notice how wonderful where I am is because I am too busy enjoying the people I am with.
024* Least favorite place: in a college radiostation room where everyone is smoking pot but me. awkward.
025* Time you wake up: too late, or too early. never at the right time.
026* If you could play an instrument: if I were as cool as Kim Deal, I would play bass like a mother
027* Favorite color: turquoises and teals and bright pale greens
028* Do you believe in an afterlife: in some form or another, yes
029* How tall are you: fivesix
030* Current favorite word/saying: "radcore"
031* Favorite book: "On The Road" most likely
032* Favorite season: spring or summer. sometime when the nights are warm
033* Person from your past you'd like to talk to: I'd really like to talk to my kindergarten best friend again...
034* Person from your past that you don't want to see again? oh, all too many of them
035* Do you go to college or High school: high school
036* What is your career going to be: psychologist/translator/international deviant/starving writer/jazz clarinetteer
037* How many kids do you want: one or two, maybe

*HAVE YOU EVER...*
038* had a pet that you killed: not on purpose, I'm sure
039* Said "I love you" and meant it: yes, but it wasn't "I love you", if that makes sense.
040* Gotten in a fight with your dog/cat/bird/fish, etc: oh yes.
041* Been to New York: yes
042* Been to Florida: not yet
043* Been to California: many a time
044* Been to Hawaii: not yet
045* Been to Mexico: not yet
046* Been to China: no, but I know someone who is going...
047* Have you ever met anyone off the net?: NO
048* Dreamed something really crazy and then it happened the next day?: yes! also it happened many years later. man that was weird...
049* Wished you were a pirate? who hasn't?
050* Wished you were a ninja? briefly
051* Went out with some one and regretted it: yes, a bit

*RANDOM*
052* Do you have a crush on someone: oh yes
053* What book are you reading now?: Jude The Obscure by Thomas Hardy. Also Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance . Also Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About by Mil Millington.
054* Worst feeling in the world: that sinky in the pit of the stomach feeling. ugh.
055* What is the first thing you think when you wake in the morning?: nnnnngggg....
056* How many rings before you answer: two? three? four? depends on how close the phone is, really
057* Future daughter's name: Roxanne or Celia or Alice
056* Future son's name: August or Jack or Max
059* What do you sleep with? the lights off
060* Favorite TV show: Globe Trekker. I'm a nerd.
061* Who do you wish was here with you? hmmmm
062* Tattoos: none yet
063* Piercings: just ears

*THE EXTRA STUFF*
064* Do you do drugs: nada
065* Do you drink: nopers
66* What toothpaste do you use: colgate total
067* What kind of Shampoo and Conditioner do u use: all natural henna stuff
068* What are you most scared of: despair. the truth.
069* What clothes do you sleep in: whateva
070* Who is the last person that called you: my partner for the Euro salon project
071* Where do you want to get married: who cares?
072* If you could change anything about yourself what would that be: mrr. it'd be nice to be not so goddamn shy and insecure, I think
073* Who do you really hate: no one
074* Been In Love: never
075* Are you timely or always late: ALWAYS late.
076* Do you have a job: no, I'm trying to put off work for as long as I can
077* Do you like being around people: some of them, sometimes
078* Best feeling in the world: that feeling, where you know you have a whole day and you don't have to do anything... like freedom, only that's not quite the word
079* Do you have any stuffed animals: lots. they hide under my bed.
080* Are you a health freak: ocasionally. like now I'm on this celery kick...
081* Do you have a "Type" of person you always go after: considering I don't actively "go after" anyone, I'd have to say no
082* Do you want someone you don't have?: yes
083* Are you lonely right now: yes, but I like it
084* Ever afraid you'll never get married: no, marriage is overrated
085* Do you want to get married: not necessarily, but probably will
086* Do you want kids?: yes

*IN THE LAST 48 HOURS, HAVE YOU...*
087* Cried: no
088* Bought Something: yes (see previous post)
089* Gotten Sick: not physically...
090* Sang: YES
091* Said I Love You: no
092* Wanted To Tell Someone You Loved them: yes
093* Met Someone: no
094* Moved On: no
095* Talked To Someone: no, I live in a box...
096* Had A Serious Talk: no. I never have those.
097* Missed Someone: yes. a lot.
098* Hugged Someone: no
099* Yelled at Someone: yes, the oldies
100* Dreamed About Someone You Can't Be With: yes

I've Decided To Run For God In '07

2005-12-28T22:59:00.000-07:00

I have such little life that I went to the outlet mall with my mother today. That was after I spent my morning reading my economics textbook and Jude The Obscure, which I have to do for English. But oh, I was fated to go! We went to Bass, because we had $25 of credit there or something, and there was nothing worth buying so mom made me get a fat lot of socks. But then, oh then-- I wanted to go to the bookstore, the cheap throwback bookstore, which was all the way across the way from Bass, so we parked in the middle. But as we were about to leave with the socks, the wind picked up and a fury of hailstones was unleashed upon us poor mortals as God came down out of the sky in great gorgeous strands of electric purple lightning. I ran to the car, and then drove it closer to the bookstore, and, somewhat wet and disheveled, went inside. The man inside said, "How are you this evening, besides wet?" (When we left, he said "Have a nice evening, or what's left of it anyway." as it was rather late at the time. I hate that, when clerks and such try to be clever in a pseudo-cynical sort of way, even though that is essentially what I do all the fucking time.) Anyway, I look through the fiction section, which, as one might imagine, is full of utter CRAP. I do stumble upon a book called The Clarinet Polka, about a Polish war veteran who falls in love with the clarinetist in the Polka band that his sister has... and I actually considered buying it, just... y'know, because. But it was mostly war description, from the couple of pages I read. Rather a dry style, too. Anyway. The only gold to be found in those places is in the "Classics" and "Literature" sections. I looked over the classics, and they are those el-cheapo editions that are four bucks apiece or three for ten, and briefly toyed with the idea of buying three but then realized I had no money. So, moseying into the "Literature" section (which is bounded by "Classics" and "Erotica"), I found a good edition of The Great Gatsby and considered buying it, because it was surely worth the four dollars, but then--

Minor Characters, by Joyce Johnson, sitting there on the shelf for five bucks! I could not believe my luck. Not so lucky that that is one of hers that I have already READ, but I adore her so that I was planning on buying all of her work eventually anyway, and what a better place to start? I suppose I should be surprised to find her in a discount bookstore, considering that most of her work is out of print. So I bought it, and I went home, feeling that the evening had not been such a waste after all.

This is what happy feels like

2005-12-23T20:48:00.000-07:00

The house smells like espresso and Christmas tree, and my room smells like spicy carnations, and my belly is full of delicious mole, and I am done with one more college application, and my Christmas shopping is done, and I have good music, and I am perfectly relaxed and lucid and... lovely.

I had forgotten this feeling.

I am also newly in love with "Buttercup Festival", and all of David Troupes' work in general. ("I held a mirror up to the world, and the damn thing checked its hair.")

I Am In Shock

2005-12-22T21:44:00.000-07:00

I just spent (no joke) $27.24 on postage. It seems that international postage, just like international phone rates, can be a real bitch. I had to do a double take when the post office lady told me, and then there was the nervous rustling through my wallet, nervous because I wasn't sure I had enough. And then I filled out the mandatory, official looking, little green customs slip, which at first made me really nervous, and I kept missing things I was supposed to fill in, but when I was done I felt kind of important. I don't know why I should have been nervous. It's not like I'm sending her cocaine or anything. It occurs to me that I probably could have shipped it all for a lot less, if I'd put things in individual packages... because some of the stuff in that box definitely could have gotten there in an envelope. Oh well. It's worth it to have it DONE. Money ain't no thang anyway.

There is still this pervasive, opressive shadow of applications looming over me. I've been trying, though, and for the most part succeeding in getting out and doing something other than stress. There was a birthday party on the weekend, and I saw "Narnia" which put me decidely more in the holiday spirit than I had been previously. Not of it seems very cheerful or desireable to me this year; I'm not entirely sure what it is. I'm pretty sure it has to do with my being so busy that I've lost all track of time and it doesn't even seem like Thanksgiving should have happened yet, and with my father being as Scroogey as ever, and with my mom being on the subdued side because she's facing her first holiday with no parents. I had a dream a night or two ago that my grandmother was sick AGAIN and that she was going to die AGAIN, over Christmas, and that mom was going to have to leave again for the holiday. Which would have been two holidays my grandmother ruined by dying.

Tuesday I dressed up to go out, and I almost killed myself driving that night. I went to a party in the perfectly manicured subdivision out in the hills. I took the shortest route, which goes right through the hills, which probably wasn't the wisest considering the conditions: dark, icy, and hella foggy. And there I was, with four wheel drive and ABS and all, but still on tiny, winding, unfamiliar roads in these terrible conditions. So I did what any sane person would have: I went slow and watched the yellow double cener lines like a hawk. And I made it, and ate sushi and played "Triv Purs" and all that jazz.

And last night-- I always love seeing people I haven't in ever. Albert was in town. Just him, no brother this time, but that doesn't matter because he's my favorite anyway. Gwen arranged for us all (she, I, Miranda, Pitseleh, Albert, Gwen's younger brother, Albert's friend and said friend's girlfriend) to go ice skating, which I am NOT very good at. Neither was Albert; it was his first time and apparently our main motivation for going was to see him fall. Which he did. Several times. He is just the same as always. Still tall and nerdy and totally smitten with Gwen. As is his custom when he is seeing his female friends from junior high, he left early. So we went out for coffee and then to Gwen's house, where we watched a movie about Steve Prefontaine (Gwen's little brother's hero).

So. Life sucks, but not too much. I'm just broke now, is all.

The Joyce Johnson Quote of the Day is:

I don't really want to go to the moon-- I want to see you. Talking to most people is like spitting in the air. Days, weeks go by and nothing said.

Empty

2005-12-15T19:42:00.000-07:00

I am pregnant with that feeling again, where I am hungry but all food seems unappetizing. Hunger starts out like empty, like a pit, like the night sky beheld from the wilderness. But if I wait, the hunger will grow. It will fill me up, until I am swollen and bloated with it.

I don't care if being hungry makes one moody or irritable. I am in a bad enough mood today already.

There is really nothing more to say.

---
The Jack Kerouac Quote of the Day:
"Why on earth (outside sickness and hangovers) aren't people CONTINUALLY DRUNK? I want ecstasy of mind all the time... if I cant have that, shit..."

2005-12-15T16:18:00.000-07:00

I give up.

I Still Don't Understand Genetics

2005-12-11T21:39:00.000-07:00

I was at the mall today with mummy on a holiday-related mission. I told her that if she drove, I would work on college applications essays while we were in traffic (figuring that holiday traffic should give me plenty of time to work an essay), but I had just washed my hair and it was misbehaving, and while trying desperately to get it to de-frizz I got to scrutinizing the color.

I'm a bit insecure about my hair color. I think I'm a blonde. That's what I call myself and that's what it says on my driver's license, but some people don't believe me. I admit it's a dark blonde, but it has that quality to it that makes it decidedly not brown. A sort of brassy, goldish undertone that shows up especially in the sun. And that makes it blonde.

I remember last year in French class, Madame tried to tell a story in which blondes and brunettes engage in a war (because we were learning war vocabulary) and I of course sat on the blonde side, and so did the German exchange student. Because he thought he had blonde hair, and he did, but... people question sometimes. It's awkward to be in between.

So I'm sitting shotgun in the Target parking lot, staring at my hair, and I ask my mom, "Mom, what color would you say my hair is?" (because that is the sort of weird, straightforward mood I was in today). And she says, "I think it's blonde. It's dark-- wow, it has gotten a lot darker, hasn't it? You know, in the sun like that it looks like the color your Grandma S's hair used to be. Kind of a creamy color, instead of a yellowy blonde. I remember thinking it's a really unusual color, but it's nice."

It's nice to know I have something to remember my grandmother by.

A La Miss Jones

2005-12-11T09:42:00.000-07:00

My Top 25 Most Played songs on iTunes:

"Sea Ghost" by The Unicorns
"Let It Be" by The Beatles
"Watermark" by The Weakerthans
"El Scorcho" by Weezer
"Palmcorder Yajna" by The Mountain Goats
"Apology Song" by The Decemberists
"(Hospital Vespers)" by The Weakerthans
"Confessions of a Futon Revolutionist" by The Weakerthans
"The Letter That Never Came" by Thomas Newman
"Mr. Wonderful"
"Oh, Goddammit" by Hot Hot Heat
"Crips" by Ratatat
"Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps" by Cake
"Primitive (The Way I Treat You)" by Ambulance Ltd.
"A Cautionary Song" by The Decemberists
"Rebellion (Lies)" by The Arcade Fire
"We Used To Be Friends" by the Dandy Warhols
"Where Is My Mind?" by The Pixies
"Homework" from the Arthur soundtrack
"I Am Downright Amazed at What I Can Destroy With Just A Hammer" by Atom and His Package
"Where Would I Be?" by Cake
"Gravedigger (acoustic" by Dave Matthews
"Camisa Negra" by Juanes
"17 Years" by Ratatat
"Take Me To The Hospital" by The Faint

Tell Me What's That For

2005-12-09T23:42:00.000-07:00

Ever get in that mood where you're kind of tired, but you really don't feel like going to sleep? Because sleep is a waste of time and you'd rather be reading or listening to music or writing or pondering or any other of a number of things you never get to do anymore because you're always scurrying about, jumping through someone else's hoops, meeting someone else's deadlines? But you know you should sleep because you have a huge audition tomorrow, one whose favorable outcome you've hoped for since ninth grade, and you have a ton of homework this weekend to boot, plus you need to finish college applications that are due next Thursday and ohmigosh Christmas is coming and you need to brave the mall again to buy presents for your friends? And you tell yourself you wish there were someone online for you to talk to but really you know you're happier in melancholy solitude and you're hell despondant because you resent the changes that have carried you from a generally dandy status quo and you begin to notice that although you often feel confident and put-together in your everyday interactions you are actually just as shy and self-conscious as ever? And you really don't want to go to bed because that would involve brushing teeth and changing clothes and the like and you'd rather just sit awake and wallow in self-pity?

But I don't like being the last one up, because then I have to turn off the lights and I get paranoid, so I'll go.

TIP #33: Is also the Jack Kerouac Quote of the Day: "Only damn fools pay no attention to visions."

Burning the Quarter-To-Midnight Oil

2005-12-08T23:52:00.000-07:00

Euro again. Bah humbug.

I went with Giselle during band today (whilst we were SUPPOSED to be helping move post concert crap from the auditorium) to visit Madame. Giselle was actually on a quest for a pianist, but he wasn't there so we sat in swivelly chairs for a while, made comments, raised our hands for useless extra credit points, and were generally disruptive. (Rebecca, your love of block band "adventures" has finally worn off on me, and now I regret never having taken part previously. Ay, being a senior must be making me reckless.) It reminded me that I actually miss French, and it's funny how I tried tonight to think in French for a little while and was actually pretty successful. It's all still there, somewhere. I think 'twill be a shame if I never get to use it.

And now the tip of the day (yes, a Tip and a Keroac Quote in the same day), brought to you by the letter Sleep Deprivation:

TIP #32: Ofttimes the only difference twixt idiocy and coolness is confidence.

The Void

2005-12-08T16:48:00.000-07:00

Oh, how I miss the band of yesteryear!

I am always reminded of the void within my soul when Smythers plays a recording of last year's band. Today, with six minutes left of class (having spent the rest of the two hour block period moving stuff, screwing off, and fiddling with pep band tunes) he commenced to play "Cajun Folk Songs II" and... I got that feeling again. First, the residual feeling of perfection, because the band played so well last year, but that tearing-me-apart-from-the-inside feeling, because I know that this year's band won't come anything close to last year's.

I have received a spirit-lifting piece of advice, however, from the Other Side--

My only advice is, don't compromise where you really want to be. Unless it costs a crapload of money, then it's probably not worth it (in my opinion). College is what you make of it, you'll love it.

Funny, that Icarus should specifically mention cost when that is precisely my problem. I mean, sure, I could go to University of Arizona and never have to worry about icky demons like debt (at least not as a young, fresh-outta-college person) but... for what reason? What point in going if you're not going somewhere you want to go?

Quite frankly, all of this "You can't afford that. You don't want to be in debt. It'll take years to pay off." is starting to sound like a challenge to me. I dream of going to that small liberal arts school, and when I'm done and get a wonderful, well-paying job fresh out and have not a smirch of debt after a few scant years, I shall stick out my tongue at all of them.

I suppose before all of that, I must write my admissions essays, mustn't I?

And now, the random Jack Keroac quote of the day:

And I said, "That last thing is what you can't get, Carlo. Nobody can get that last thing. We keep on living in hopes of catching it once and for all."

Oh joy, what a Thursday this is.

Beat

2005-12-07T22:35:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I discovered Joyce Johnson.

I have been making an effort to read lately, and... it's been working. On Monday, while I was at home and sick, I read Candide. And the previous weekend, I read Minor Characters.

I'd always wondered, What about the Beat women? And it's sad, that there kind of weren't any. That they were overshadowed by the men, afraid to hitchhike and get their work published. Plus, free love doesn't work so well if you're the half who has to worry about pregnancy.

Nevertheless, I am enamored with the era. Compared to the 50's, the 60's seem so... pointless. Don't get me wrong, I can dig the whole Not-all-who-wander-are-lost thing, but-- Kerouac and Ginsberg and Cassady and Hunke and Burroughs and all the rest-- they were searching for, well... for something. And what a beautifully conducted search.

It got me thinking about how things might be different I'd never discovered this world. Not meaning that upon finishing On The Road I had a startling revelation and a ray of otherworldly light stretched down through the clouds and through my bedroom window, thus bestowing me with wisdom and a sense of perfection. But I can't deny that my thinking and my goals and certainly my writing style have changed since then, as silly and teenaged and amateur as that might sound. And it dawned on me that none of this would be so, if not for that sad, old boy who two years ago urged me: "Read Howl. Read Kerouac." I am eternally grateful for that.

James Blunt Is Creepy

2005-12-04T00:28:00.000-07:00

His song, that Beautiful song, has been haunting the radio waves as of late, and I'd begun to grow accustomed to it. To like it, even. Nice little guitar line to it, and I dig the quality of his voice. I guess I never really listened to the lyrics, except for that soaring, simplistically repetitive chorus.

But he was on SNL tonight (Not a bad episode; I continue to hold onto the small hope that the show might be getting better after the abysmality of last season.) And now I am terrified of him.

There is, first and foremost, his uncanny resemblance to Beck. Same face, stubble, and eyes, sort of, and hair. I am a Beck fan. Not only is he a damn fine chameleonic musician, but quite an attractive man to boot. But man, this James Blunt resemblance... Freaked me out.

Furthermore, Blunt barely took his eyes from the camera throughout his performance. Not only is that off-putting because it lends a neophytic air of self-consciousness to the whole thing, but... it was like he was staring at me, and that was equally as uncanny as his appearance. The entire time, staring out of the TV set and straight into my soul, making me feel completely naked-- That is not a good feeling to get from watching some guy sing on SNL. A kind of "creepy-guy" vibe to that man.

And the lyrics match his appearance: creepy. I suppose I never really listened before, and at first his single almost sounds kind of sweet. But now I realize that it's really about a woman he saw on a bus with another man and was instantly in love with and is sad he can't be with her but knows that the special moment they shared will last forever and ever. Pretty stalker-ish, if you ask me.

And I'm just flat-out disappointed by the sameness of the first and second songs. A little creepiness would be acceptable, if there were some creativity under it all... but not so.

Enough of that. This I just found amusing:

You Have a Melancholic Temperament

Introspective and reflective, you think about everything and anything.
You are a soft-hearted daydreamer. You long for your ideal life.
You love silence and solitude. Everyday life is usually too chaotic for you.

Given enough time alone, it's easy for you to find inner peace.
You tend to be spiritual, having found your own meaning of life.
Wise and patient, you can help people through difficult times.

At your worst, you brood and sulk. Your negative thoughts can trap you.
You are reserved and withdrawn. This makes it hard to connect to others.
You tend to over think small things, making decisions difficult.

What Temperment Are You?

You will acquire great riches

2005-11-29T15:18:00.000-07:00

I had a fortune cookie for lunch today. "You are a happy man" it said.

I'm really glad my fortune cookie told me that. I never would have figured it out on my own.

Overacheiving Knowitall

2005-11-21T20:50:00.000-07:00

I was one in junior high... man, I freaked out if I got anything less than a 95. But in tenth grade, and even more in eleventh, I got a little too used to the idea of "selective slacking" (which, as anyone who's been past junior year knows, is pretty much necessary if you want to pass any of your classes) and I think I went a little past the "selective" part. Especially last year... man, it was bad. I get into this habit of only trying in classes that I like (I still do this in Government--slack because I hate it, that is)... and those are usually the ones I'm good at anyway, so wasted effort, right? Exactly.

This year I've repented. I've overdone it, though. I try way too frikkin' hard. Especially in English. English is killing me. I find myself writing four pages when I'm asked to write two. I stay up late working on assignments that really shouldn't require that much thought. The worst part is, I can't stop myself. I have this need to live up to the reputation I've built for myself. It's sick, I tell you. And sadly, there are no support groups...

How does this relate to ANYTHING? Well... it doesn't. Except that as I was reading ahead(i.e. finishing) in our current novel, which happens to be Kate Chopin's The Awakening and a new favourite of mine, I happened upon a quote, and... it's perfect:

"Some way I don't feel moved to speak of things that trouble me. Don't think I am ungrateful or that I don't appreciate your sympathy. There are periods of despondancy and suffering which take possession of me. But I don't want anything but my own way."

And that, yeah, sounds really selfish... but could anyone honestly have said it any better than Edna Pontellier has? There is some value in commiseration and the giving of advice, but there are some things that one must battle on one's own. Not only is there a certain satisfaction to it--similar to the feeling gained when one has just triumphed, single-handedly, over a 1000 piece puzzle that has no picture but is all green (props to O'Hara there). There is also the fact that no one knows you (forgive me for taking the second person here) better than you... and if you can't make decisions for yourself, well, then you're doomed to eternal existential torment, aren't you?

That explains why senior year can't be that idyllic, stick-together-before-it's-all-over world we all want it to be. We are growing--apart, in some ways, not by choice but because we have to. Because we know that Next Year, the same trustworthies won't be there. Next Year, we'll be tossed in the water individually and left to flounder and fend for ourselves.

Does that mean I'm going to purposefully sequester myself this year, so that when the time comes I'll be adequately prepared to go out on my own and the pain of seperation won't be quite so sharp?

No. I've tried that before. It never works out.

I am going to miss every one of my friends. I am going to miss the ones I see every day and the ones who are seldom around any more. Not only the ones whose voices always echo through the halls to guide me to the Bench, but also the ones who never say a word. The ones who are no longer so close to me, the ones who are not my age, the ones I have known for 14 years and the ones I am only just beginning to know.

I will miss late night drives, Target, JELL-O, stawberry ice cream pints in movies, Harry Potter parties, puzzles at New Year's, soccer in the park, all-night Elijah Wood movie binges, lunch at Pollo Rey, salsa dancing, singing out car windows at the tops of our lungs, tiny pink binoculars, cheesy tween quiz magazines, The Unicorns, Mongolian BBQ, celebrity obsession, card games, acting like a 40-year-old, hours long bus rides, the Brazilian Macarena, theological discussion in band, trying to name all of the countries in the world, irrelevent snapshots, movie soundtracks, green apple markers, Batgrappling, "CAKE!", late night discussion of iosism and philosophy in general, Tang, wedding dresses at the Youth Ranch, buying brand new albums at lunch on a Tuesday, Disney movies, sunglasses in the dark, pretending to be drunk, foreign music, running into acquaintances at WalMart late at night, KFC, wicked indie concerts, woodwind sectionals, wandering around downtown on New Year's Eve, a fascination with throwing things, Sunday morning study sessions in coffeehouses, and every single silly thing ever said.

I knew a very wise man once, but he wasn't a man at the time, who said quite simply and earnestly that "We've just got to live it up while it lasts."

Since I've by now run out of things to rationalize, be sappy about, and say in general, here is a Random Jack Kerouac Quote Of The Day:

"At night in this part of the West the stars... are big as roman candles and as lonely as the Prince of the Dharma who's lost his ancestral grove and journeys across the spaces between points in the handle of the Big Dipper, trying to find it again. So they slowly wheeled the night, and then long before actual sunrise the great red light appeared far over the dun bleak land toward West Kansas and the birds took up their trill above Denver."

And I Wonder Why I'm Always Tired...

2005-11-18T01:21:00.000-07:00

This is ridiculous.

I'm supposed to write half of an essay for English. I'm also supposed to study for the Biology essay I have to write tomorrow.

I'm almost done with the English. I have a page and a half, and I should have about two pages. But I just don't want to finish. It's boring. Usually I can get into literary analysis, but... not tonight. I think I am merely exhausted, in all senses of the word. Mom's been heckling me to get my teacher recommend forms out this week. She's right, it needs to be done, so I did it tonight-- I looked up all the deadlines and got all of the required forms and made envelopes and updated and printed copies of my brag sheet and found stamps and paperclipped things together and put them in folders with my name on them to give to specific teachers tomorrow. I actually started on the whole thing last night, but didn't finish because I got a new mouthpiece yesterday and I was so excited that I had to leave some time to try playing on it. But the whole thing is so stressful... It's hard for me to talk to my mother at length about college or careers or the future without feeling the need to run to my room and do some serious sobbing. I was talking to her last night about my major. I've been thinking about psychology for nigh on two years now. It makes sense. At first I wanted to do counseling, but I've become more interested in the research component of the subject. Well mother says that if one wishes to do psychological research, one best get a doctorate and become a professor at a university.

There are some problems with that plan. One, I don't know if I want to work hard enough to get a doctorate. A master's seems like a natural thing, but... doctorate seems a little over the top. Two, as both of my parents are professors, I don't want to be one. This goes beyond the typical I-never-want-to-be-like-my-parents complex. It's that I hear them complain about it so much... Besides which I don't think I have the patience to teach. My math teacher was gone today, on a block day of all days. We had the sub who doesn't speak perfect English, and he supervised us while we did problems on related rates. We worked in partners, and I and my partner finished pretty quickly and understood all of the problems, so naturally we ended up helping everyone else. This boy comes back to ask me for help with about ten minutes left in the period, and I tried my best to help him. I stayed about fifteen minutes into lunch, until he finished the problem. But I felt terrible, the whole time. I felt like I had to try to help him, because there was no teacher there, but I don't know how much good I did. I felt like I tried to explain things too fast and that I could only say things one way. (Good teachers know a bunch of different ways to say the same thing, so that if a student doesn't understand they can rephrase.) I felt inept. I don't know that I'm cut out for teaching. Especially not college teaching. If I had to teach, I'd pick English to kids overseas or else high school. Teenagers are fascinating (maybe I only say that because I am one and I am a bit narcissistic). Adults can be so dry and homogenous.

Anyway, that whole debate made me start to question my life plan. Recently I've become more and more interested in language and foreign studies. Maybe I should pursue that instead? Be a linguistics major? Learn Arabic? Work in an embassy? I've always thought it would be cool to be a translator for the UN.

It leaves me feeling insecure. I felt like I had a plan. This is when I most need the confidence and resolve. I need some vision of the future. Otherwise, how ever will I write my "Where do you see yourself in 20 years and what will have been the role of your education?" essay for McGill. I suppose I must accept that things will change. That I am a fickle and capricious thing, and that no matter what I choose to pursue as my major things will turn out ok.

Unless I major in something ridiculous like philosophy. That would be asking for an excuse to starve.

Whelmed

2005-11-15T07:24:00.000-07:00

We had a sort of class discussion in Euro yesterday, about how it's about this time that all the juniors are freaking out. They've been working for nigh on three months by now, and things just keep getting tougher. They're not sure they can do it. They want to quit. I remember that time, and now I'm seeing my junior friends go through it. They say they'll call; they promise to make plans, but inevitably they are tied up by schoolwork or extracurriculars or what have you and it never happens. I know that boat well.

Seniors, on the other hand, are different. We were told at the end of last year that this year would be easier. That junior year is the tough part, junior year is the trial-by-fire, and that senior year is like carrot cake in comparison. So we came in in August, expecting free time, to fill out applications if not to have a little fun, but we were expected to hit the ground running. At the time, we thought "This must be just a passing phase; once we slog past this beginning-of-the-year stuff things'll start rolling downhill." (And I mean downhill in a good way, because you don't have to expend any energy to go downhill.) It never happened. Things just keep getting harder. Plus I'm trying this year, so I have even less time than I did last year, and on top of it I'm expected to fill out college applications and find scholarships and beef up my transcript so a good school will not only take me but offer me lots of money?

I know I can do this.

Doesn't mean I don't want to quit.

The Motherfucking Comet

2005-11-08T22:23:00.000-07:00

The Motherfucking Comet
is more than a dream

more than a speculation, what we
might call the celestial
body we dream of purchasing
before we graduate

is more than a tired, hysterical joke
conceived among friends on a dock
in the dark

is more than the sum of its parts,
more than cold plus shootingstars plus
sharp distant glimmering lights across dark water plus
cheesy horror scifi flicks plus an electric blanket
minus the electricity
plus paranoia voices in the night—

It is the future.
It is inescapable.
It is wonderful
and terrifying
and it is hurtling towards
us at a dizzying speed—

when it hits it will shatter us apart
and scatter the shards of us
to the four winds.

Accomplishment

2005-11-07T21:55:00.000-07:00

I do believe this is the first time I've gotten my Government study guide done before 10. Before 11, even. I am such a pathetic procrastinator... No need to fear, however, I'll still be up for another hour or so. I have English homework to read... Oh, and that pesky group project to do research for.

I don't like working in groups. No, let me rephrase: I don't like working in groups with unfamiliar people. When it's with friends, sure, it's easy. I know how they think and they know how I think and I know what their limits are and I can tell if they mean it when they say "Ok, I guess you're right, we can use that idea." Not so with unfamiliar people. In those groups I am actually hindered, because I don't want to take risks on the potentially really good but definitely really out there ideas. And I don't like to go out on a limb because I know that it affects someone else's grade, not just my own. So. Not looking forward to that.

After that early post this morning, I have 24 months in my archive. Woo. Accomplishment, indeed.

Sleep is Boring

2005-11-07T06:57:00.000-07:00

I have recently come into possession of some Penguin Mints, and therefore no longer have to worry about keeping myself awake through Government.

But shame on me, I am using this knowledge only for Evil. Evil being staying up till midnight reading Rudyard Kipling and books on surfing.

Oops.

Boo

2005-10-31T21:00:00.000-07:00

It's Halloween, but it certainly doesn't seem it. I still don't realize that it is actually today. I was going to buy something crazy to wear to school today, but I never quite found the time. So in observance of the holiday? I did absolutely nothing. Also I am cranky because I have a Euro test tomorrow and a buttload of reading to do.

I was sad today in band. I was passing out new music for concert band, and I only had to pass out one oboe part. And the name at the top of that part was not "Icarus". (Although I did get to see Icarus last week, when he visited us during block band.)

Even sadder? I did not hand out any bassoon parts at all. (Worse, because I've heard not a word from Alan since June.)

I Heart Colin Meloy, Part II

2005-10-30T17:38:00.000-07:00

Yes, band trip was this weekend, but this is also important, and first things first. My account of Tuesday, in painstaking detail.

When I came home on Tuesday, I was in no mood for sleeping, so I did a bit of journaling on the subject, and my first, embarrassingly enthusiastic words were:

"The Decemberists concert was tonight and it was fan fucking tastic!"

And they were. This is where I make another admission: this was the first concert of the sort I'd ever been to. I mean... I've been to classical music concerts, and my parents took me to an Arlo Guthrie concert when I was maybe eleven, a concert where we sat down in plush chairs in an auditorium type room and watched him play. But never this kind of concert.

Maybe that greenness is a contributing factor in how excited I was and how much I enjoyed the whole thing. That doesn't undermine the awesomeness of the thing.

Unfortunately, I had marching practice that night. It was shortened, as last week was our last week of marching and there were no false hopes of actually improving the show; we only wanted to keep it in shape. Thus, practice was scheduled to last from 6pm to 7:30 and I was scheduled to leave at 7:7:30. Which would mean about one hour of marching for me, but asitwere, Smythers TALKED at us for a full half hour about the upcoming trip and alcohol and responsibility and baggage searches, so I only worked for 30 minutes. Rawk. Bert picked me up then, in his craptacular car, and we went to sick Ellie's house where I changed clothes (black shirts were the uniform for the evening) and then we squeezed back into Bert's car. Ellie had to sit in the stowage space, because said car only has two seatbelts. (It also smelled strongly of Febreeze, courtesy of Bert's mother. Ew.)

We knew we would have to park in a garage, and figured the garage attendants wouldn't look too kindly upon illegality (i.e. the general lack of seatbeltage). Thus, he dropped us off--no. We scrambled out of the car whilst stalled at a red light, and stood on the corner like hookers in black t-shirts and waited for Bert to park the car. And then we went in.

The venue is great. There's the floor, yes, but they also serve real food and there is a bar where you can buy al-kee-hol if you are of age and there are a lot of little tables on a level higher than the floor where older folk sit to drink beer from tall foamy glasses and listen quietly. We bought overpriced t-shirts and Ellie changed into hers in the dubious looking bathroom at the end of a long hall plastered with concert posters (silly girl). We moved towards the floor, then, down handicap accessible ramps and past surly, uniformed bouncers. Figuring we would be standing enough in the approaching hours, we sat down near a wall (actually, I crouched, not wanting to let my most favouritest pair of pants, teal corduroys, get dirty, but I relented once my foot fell asleep). It was inevitable that Bert's scruffy crosstown debate friend would see us and come over with the intent of making conversation. Ellie and I, however, largely ignored him. For some reason that terrified him. (Quoth Ellie: "I'm terrifying.") As eight o'clock approached, we rose and progressed to the front of the floor, right near the stage, to watch Cass McCombs, the opening act.

As an opening act, they were bad. The music was good enough, something that I might like to listen to on a Sunday in a coffeehouse whilst studying (though Bert, who was actually listening to the lyrics, tells me that all of the songs were on rather dreary topics, as in suicide), but there was little energy-- thus, not the kind of thing to get one pumped up before an awesomely rockin' indie concert. The girl of the group, who did backup vox and handled the auxiliary percussion, had a scared look about her. Her hair frizzy, her eyes bugged and bagged, she took furtive, flinching, sideways gulps from the bottle she had onstage with her. The lead, with a bit of a swagger, wore his blue collared shirt tucked into his pants, and as he played his guitar solos his stringy black curls fell disheveled over his face, which was creased in a perpetual frown of deep concentration. The bassist was the only one of the three who really seemed to be enjoying himself. He smiled to himself, a sly secretive smile, and bobbed his head to his rhythmic bass line, his shoes doing a happytap dance on the stage floor. I fancied him rather attractive (certainly the best of the trio), but when I realized how uncannily he resembled Rebecca's ex Dublin, I was thoroughly disgusted with myself.

The opening set being excruciatingly long, I think few in the audience were sad to see them walk off the stage and eagerly anticipated the entrance of the Main Act. But another setback: thirty minutes between Cass McCombs and the Decemberists. In that time we stood, fidgeting, and watched equipment get set up. "Peter and the Wolf" played over the sound system. I laughed at that.

Finally, then, the concert began in earnest. And how perfect. Amazing, how much life music gains when you see the enjoyment its makers derive from its making.

Since I'm lazy and pseudo-forgetful, and since Ellie has already done a nice, chronological writeup of her own (I think her order is a little off, as I am sure that "Los Angeles, I'm Yours" was before "We Both Go Down Together", on account of the lewd comments that were made just over my shoulder by Bert's crosstown cronies), I shall merely focus upon the details that stick out in my mind.

A list format is thus appropriate:

AWESOME THINGS AT THE DECEMBERISTS CONCERT:

The little birds, all over the stage--on microphones, amps, keyboards, etc. (because it was the Flight of the Mistle Thrushes Tour). Also the tiny ship on one of the amps.
Colin Meloy's tie, which also had a ship on it.
The person behind me during "Los Angeles, I'm Yours" who cheered at the "I can see your undies" line.
The game of tambourine frisbee that the band played during the break in "The Sporting Life".
At the beginning of "The Sporting Life," I believe, (I am quite sure of it) Colin Meloy got very close to his microphone for a count-off. As he looked contemplatively at his fingers, he intoned deliberately, in French: "Un, Deux. Un, Deux. Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre."
Hearing Colin Meloy pronounce "bloodlines" in "The Engine Driver". He puts a little pause in it, like a turn of sorts. It makes me swoon.
During "Chimbley Sweep", right before the female vocal part, Meloy started getting feedback from his acoustic guitar. He handed it off to a roadie for fixin' (after dropping/knocking it over) and the band proceeded to improvise for several minutes. At first it was just rambling, a lot of weird, electronic noise, but eventually the violinist broke into a twisted version of "Hava Nagila". Best save EVER.
Then, during the same song, Colin Meloy clasped his hands by his face in a most cliched manner as he sang "Her cheeks were blushing".
"The Mariner's Revenge Song" was AMAZING. One of the ones they had the most fun with, for sure. Specifically:
- the electric mandolin
- the mandolinist's crushing/eating of the stagebirds
- Colin Meloy's graphic description of what it would be like to be swallowed by a whale. The audience was supposed to scream on cue, for effect, but our screaming was not to his satisfaction, so he said, to get us in the proper mindset: "Imagine what it would be like to be chewed up and swallowed by a whale. It wouldn't be brief. It's a long process, at least five minutes. Not just swallowed like Pinocchio or Jonah. You're actually getting chewed up into little pieces. The whale starts with your legs, and sort of nibbles away and you're still alive and conscious, and it nibbles right up to your innards, and that's when you really start to fall apart but you're still alive so you're really letting loose now, right before you fall into the actual maw and go on to be digested."
- The gun prop, that said "BANG!"
- The giant whale prop, and its proper manipulation to complement the song lyrics
The Encore!
The first encore was "Mr. Blue Sky" and Meloy... kinda trashed the stage. He stood on stuff and kicked stuff around and swung the mike, swaggering around in a drunken manner.
Thus, when he got to the second encore, which was "Angels in Your Angles" (an excellent last song), he didn't have a mike on a stand, or a guitar, which made playing the guitar pretty impossible. Instead the guitar part was covered on banjo and Meloy sat on the drum stand and sang sweetly into a hand-held mike.

After, I of course did not want to go home. I wanted to go to a coffeehouse and discuss how disappointed I was that they didn't play "Apology Song". But-- school. So Bert drove me home, and the three of us discussed "Apology Song" and how it's not really about a bicycle-- it's secretly about a tiny hooker named Madeleine.

That night I dreamed in shanty format.

T-minus two hours and twenty minutes

2005-10-28T12:44:00.000-06:00

I must sit through Biology and then I'm off. By this time tomorrow, I will be DONE with marching band FOREVER.

It still hasn't sunk it, I don't think.

I Heart Colin Meloy

2005-10-26T21:06:00.000-06:00

Yes, the concert was awesome

No, I don't have time to talk about it tomorrow.

(I have a Government test tomorrow. What a useless class.)

(I also have a Calculus test tomorrow. What a beautiful class.)

PSYCHED

2005-10-25T17:06:00.000-06:00

I am dreadfully excited--

The Decemberists concert has finally arrived.

And I don't care if I'm going with someone who's sick and another person who's ridiculously sarcastic all the time. And I don't care that I have a Bio essay to write tomorrow. I don't care that I still have to go to marching practice tonight. I don't care if I have a Calc test and a Gov test on Thursday and then a Euro test at the beginning of next week.

I'm not going to let all of that bother me, because I am determined to have fun tonight no matter what.

I don't think it should be too hard, because I have been in a superb mood lately. The weekend was very full-- it seemed like a lot longer than three days-- but the fullness wasn't the stressful, busy kind. Friday could have been three days in itself. I went to school, naturally, did some cleaning when I got home, and then went to see "Everything Is Illuminated" with Miranda, Nea, and Soccer K. Miranda, being the Elijah Wood fan that she is, had been looking forward to this movie for... aeons. And she was really disappointed when our city didn't get it on the release date (we had to wait a whole month, because we suck like that). When she started raving about it, I only rolled my eyes as per usual, because I figured it probably wouldn't be that great. (In my estimation, Elijah Wood is not such a stupendous actor. He is only really good at one expression-- that silly, scared, Frodo expression.)

It turns out, however, that I was sorely wrong. The movie was AMAZING. Not just good, but FANTASTIC. As in, it is on my list of favourites now. I could love it just for the gorgeous cinematography, and for the most premium sountrack, but... Great movie. I would highly recommend.

AFTER that I met with the bandos at WinCo. It is traditional that the night before DIII (you know, the huge district marching competition) we TP the houses of the drum majors and the director. So we met in the parking lot, and stood around for a while and then went and bought the TP, and then we ended up standing out by our cars again. And everyone's saying, "Gee, we met at 9 o'clock, but that is way too early to go TPing. What shall we do to kill time?" One of the monkey sophomores streaked in the parking lot, but that wasn't very entertaining (more disgusting) and we started to worry about coppers, so we went for ice cream and then headed for the drum majorette's house. We were trying to be all sneaky-like, but her mum saw us and came out. "She's still at work," the mother says, "but you can go ahead and start. She was really excited about this!" We do just that: we toilet paper the house while the woman knows full well what we are doing, which... kind of defeats the purpose, but is almost MORE fun because you don't have to worry about getting caught; you can take time to really enjoy the beauty of it.

TPing, I have discovered, is a truly beautiful thing. The patterns that the strips of paper make in the air that they fall are so delicate and fine, and there is a peaceful feeling when the yard is finished, and it is quiet and dark but everything is sublimely white. It's like being outside at night when it's snowing. Lovely.

The director's house wasn't quite as fun for that reason. We had to be very concerned about being caught, plus people got mad about crouching in pee and missing out and... stressful. When we were done there, I had to hitch a ride back to my car with Ed (because Sheila, who'd been driving me so far, had the ACTs the next morning and needed to get home). What a terrifying (yet wonderful) experience. Ed's car has seen better days. The window doesn't roll up and it is rickety and there are not even enough seatbelts for the five seats the car has, but we had seven people in there. Driving the freeway was cold on account of the window, but it was cozy and warm inside with all the body heat. It was amazing how comfortable we all seemed in each others' presence.

When we got back into town, Fry (a soph. trumpeteer with awesome shoes) invited us all over to his house to watch "The Incredibles" (have I mentioned that's our show this year?). I convinced my parents to let me stay out until 12:30 (after curfew! gasp!) and... yeah, did that.

Saturday was not quite as remarkable. I shopped dollar stores with Sheila and Cool A to prepare for the band trip to Reno this weekend. Dollar stores rawk my world. In the evening was DIII. We did well-- not as well as we could have, of course, but... well enough. I was happy, though pretty disappointed that there wasn't any funnel cake there for me to buy.

Sunday was scholastic. Study groups and Joseph Conrad and a college admissions interview (which I got more nervous over than I probably should have).

And now it's Tuesday, and it is imperative that I go now, because I still have to make an index card for Biology before I leave for band practice and amazing English-professor music.

And find some money. To buy a shirt.

Flapper

2005-10-17T17:49:00.000-06:00

I just couldn't resist...

Your 1920's Name is:

Tillie Bernadette

What's Your 1920's Name?

I'd Really Prefer Money

2005-10-13T23:00:00.000-06:00

I have a feeling that now that I've configured this whole "Mailto Blogger" thing that I'll be updating a lot more frequently, which is really a bad thing because I should be studying Euro right now.

This whole offering-of-sexual-favors-in-exchange-for-rides-home thing is kind of freaking me out. Maybe that's what that curly guy was getting at last year, or maybe not, but Cotton just came right out and said it. When he asked me for a ride I was reluctant, knowing that I needed to study for aforementioned Euro test and get some actual sleep tonight so that I can think tomorrow and all that jazz.

He: I'll owe you. I'll give you sex.
Me: Umm... I'd really rather just have money. Money works a lot better for me.
He: See, but, I don't have any money.
Me: Well. Whore yourself out, then, and you can give the money to me. It's all the same difference then.

Band is strange like that. (It also occurs to me now that it probably isn't grammatically correct to use "He" and "Me" together, but it's late and I don't care and anyway I like how it sounds.) Our first competition is on Saturday, as in less than 48 hours from now. This is the one we actually have a chance to place at and we are so not ready.

I've also decided that political parties are silly. The day's events have conspired to turn me this way. First there was the quiz we took in AP Government today to find out which party our views are most in line with. There are ten social issues and ten economic issues and then they are graphed against each other (social on the x-axis and economic on the y-axis) and you end up in differently labelled regions of the graph. Apparently I should join the Green Party. (Too bad it's not recognized in my state.)

Then later, after band, as I drove him home, I talked to Cotton briefly about politics. He's a conservative, which is a sort of novelty at our school. He says he figures he would've switched eventually anyway, that his mom used to be uber-liberal but then she became an adult and realized that she had to pay taxes and switched over. She didn't want to pay for other people's abortions, or so Cotton said. (That seems like a ridiculous statement to me, maybe because I've always thought of abortion as a moral issue, rather than an economic one.)

But-- political parties. Silly. (I'm stating the obvious here, and I know it.) So many people now just pick a party, and regardless of the issues or who's for what, that's how they vote every single election. How can you say you agree with a politician when you don't even know what the issues are and what's important to you? Furthermore, a lot of kids, for example, just pick the party that their parents were aligned with. It's almost like religion, in a way. One grows up in it and so knows little else and just sticks with it. One might argue that the apple never falls far from the tree (to quote the old adage) but I think it's something different that simply that. All of this is just politically irresponsible. Few are driven enough to actually become involved in politics in modern America. Taking part in democracy goes beyond simply showing up at the polls on voting day. It is the responsibity of the voter to be informed, too. Otherwise, what's the difference between the average, uninformed voter and the dead people who are voting in Chicago?

I need to stop trying to be convincing and eloquent now. Rather, here is a random quote from Martin Luther:

Imagine what it would be like without women. The home, cities, economic life, and government would virtually disappear. Men cannot do without women. Even if it were possible for men to beget and bear children, they still could not do without women.

I disagree with him on a lot of fronts, but... Good man, that Martin Luther fellow.

This Must Be Senioritis

2005-10-12T17:01:00.000-06:00

My life would be so much easier if I could just-- get Cs.

Seriously. I could sleep, then, and have a life, and-- things would be better.

I know the truth is that I brought this on myself. I'd heard about senioritis, and I'd been warned by Miss Jones and White in different ways to avoid overextension in the senior year, and yet I chose to take 5 AP classes. I chose to be in band and Youth Symphony and whatever other musical opportunity is going to come up.

But would I be happy with less? Would I be satisfied with myself if I hadn't taken math and I hadn't taken extra history and I'd taken Health and Econ during the year instead? I don't think so. I have that self-destructive bent to me, I guess. I think it's that agon/arete thing my AP Euro teacher keeps talking about...

Nevertheless, this all takes up way to much time and energy, so I can leave you today with nothing more than the Jack Keroac Quote of the Day:

"When a man dies he undergoes a mutation in his brain that we know nothing about now but which will be very clear someday if scientists get on the ball. The bastards right now are only interested in seeing if they can blow up the world."

Numbers Game

2005-10-10T17:11:00.000-06:00

1-home football games left to march in
1.25-hours I spent last week talking on the phone long-distance to Lily
2-trips I have taken out of the country (both times to Canada)
3-marching competitions left in my high school career (and quite possibly my life)
4-weeks until the end of first quarter
5-fingers on one hand
6-Weakerthans songs on my computer (not enough!)
6.5-marching practices left (The half is because I'm leaving early one night for a concert. I'm so hardcore.)
7-approximate number of days it takes for a letter to get from here to Chile or vice versa
8-months left of high school
9-points I must earn for every 10 in order to get an A
10-track number of "Bohemian Like You" on the Dandy Warhols' "Thirteen Tales" CD
13-pages I still need to read in Macbeth tonight
14-lines in a sonnet
19-buttons in an Altoids tin in my room
23-months in the archive for this blog (I am steadily approaching the two year mark)
24-pictures on an average roll of film
25-date in October of the Decemberists concert
31-number of today's Tip of the Day

TIP #31: Is the wisdom that is British rap: "Rain taps on your window, always did though, but you didn't hear it when things were so-so."

I heart the Streets.

2005-10-09T22:40:00.000-06:00

I almost forgot the Tip of the Day (for tomorrow, maybe, as it's so late now)

TIP #30: Is from the wise Margaret Atwood: "Sex is like drink, it's bad to start brooding about it too early in the day.

Bedtime. Finally.

"I'm Wasting My Life"

2005-10-09T21:58:00.000-06:00

So. There goes the weekend. Completely out the window. Every long weekend, I tell myself I'm going to get something done. What did I accomplish this time?

Thursday I ran errands all morning-- bought a book for my English class and a birthday present for mi madre. And I played at the football game last night (as previously mentioned, my second-to-last one) and we lost and IHOP fell through and blah blah blah.

Friday I went antiquing (is there an e in that word?) with Dani and bought cool buttons, then went to Mongolian BBQ for a delicious lunch. That afternoon, I went with Ellie Faustus Andi and Nea to the Wallace and Gromit movie. Ellie turned to me at one point during the movie and whispered, "This is the best movie EVER!" (or something to that effect). I'm not sure I'd go that far, but-- it was GOOD. Then in the evening we (my family) stayed in and ordered pizza, and I finally got a chance to watch Scorsese's documentary on Bob Dylan, the one I taped a week or so ago. It was also good, and now I am as anxious as ever to get the record player out and listen to my parents' Dylan LPs. I used to think that I didn't like him, but I think that's only because all I had heard was the one tape we keep in the car, which is "Nashville Skyline". There is a decidedly country twang to that album, and I have a hard time digging it. I like him better as a ragamuffin.

Saturday morning I felt motivated. I told myself I would hurry and finish my room before noon, and then have all afternoon to work on homework. It didn't happen. In fact, I didn't finish my room until after five. Shame on me. And I didn't do anything that evening, either. But I watched the new SNL, and was pleased to discover that it doesn't suck as much this year. The host was Napoleon Dynamite (or rather, the actor who portrayed the character, whose name, I believe, is John Heder) and although I'm not a big fan of the movie, the show was decent. Father and I mused earlier over John Heder's probable status as the first Mormon to host SNL ever, and wondered if that would in any way affect the content of the show. I think it may have, but... it didn't bother me. There was none of the stupid gross humor that I despise. I am, however, very dismayed by the quality of the Weekend Update. Not so good without Tina Fey.

Sunday is today. Sunday I got up before 10 and read Act II of Macbeth just like I was supposed to. I promised myself, once again, that I'd get a bunch of homework done before noon but it didn't happen. In the afternoon I went to a coffeeshop to read my novel for English. I got to see them moving a house when I was out. There is a little green trailer that is (was) up the street, and they cut it in half pulled it away and I got stuck behind one of the halves on my way to coffee. An irate motorcyclist got stuck behind me. I drove by where the building used to be on my way home. It was surreal. Half of the pea-green trailer is still there. It's cut clean away, so you can see the inside like a doll's house, see the appliances still bolted into the wall of the kitchen. The yard is full of rubble and large appliances. It's so oddly empty. When I got home I bathed the dog. Poor dog. It was too cold today for a bath. She was shivering the whole time, but she needed the bath and I needed the money I got for doing it. And this evening? We celebrated mum's birthday, which is actually tomorrow. We had planned on going out to eat, at a restaurant called Korea House. (We were going to go there because we had a coupon. What a cheap way, I think, to choose the location of your birthday dinner. That should only be acceptable if you have a coupon for somewhere you want to go anyway. Otherwise? Tacky.) Unfortunately, downtown is apparently dead on Sunday nights. Korea House was closed, as was Shige's, the sushi place, as was Louie's, mum's favorite Italian restaurant. A small Thai restaurant, however, was open, and we ate there. I'm glad that everything else was closed, because the Thai was excellent. Really spicy, but the spice was nice in a cleansing sort of way. They always talk about atmosphere in regards to restaurants, and this atmosphere was sublime, too. Very mellow. They have a full bar there, and if I were of legal drinking age and hip, I think that is where I would go to drink.

But? All of that, all four days of it, was just procrastination. So I think I'd better go do some math homework now.

Day Orf

2005-10-07T16:00:00.001-06:00

It's been a long time. Such is life. At last, here I am, almost halfway through a four day weekend. The bad part of three day weeks? The teachers feel the need to cram a bunch of tests into those few days. Ugh. Bio, Govt, English, Bio... I made it, though. I'm thinking I ought to do some work tonight, because if not I will be SCREWED.

Last night was my second-to-last home football game. Smythers, the director, was talking to me, asking if I was sad or anything. I honestly don't think I've noticed yet. Anyhow, we lost, but only barely, and the plan was to go to IHOP afterwards, as per usual, but--

Sheila and Mathuin and Ralph said they'd be there. I ended up driving Cotton and his friend, who was small and rather annoying. (I told him at one point I wouldn't mind getting home early, because I was going antiquing this morning. His response? "That's kind of hot, I guess.") The three of us got there, and no one was there, so we just sat there for a while waiting for someone else to show up. We ended up just leaving, and I dropped them and Friend's house and was home by 10:30. And then I went out to get Ben & Jerry's... (sale at Alberston's)

And today I went antiquing with Dani. She told me about how the Scottish journalist she met months ago in Key West called her. From Scotland. It was a productive morning. I now have a bag full of buttons, and two pins that say "NO NUKES" and "ATOMKRAFT-- NEIN DANKE". We dined at Mongolian Barbeque, and I look forward to eating those leftovers. Life is good.

Now I'm off to see the Wallace & Gromit movie. I heart me some claymation.

The Jack Keroac Quote Of The Day:
"People ate lugubrious meals around the waterfalls, their faces green with marine sorrow."

Sounds like a good beginning for something. I'm going to have to play with that.

Nnnng

2005-09-28T22:22:00.000-06:00

So. Much. Homework.

Can't wait till next weekend-- FOUR DAYS OFF IS BLISS.

TIP #29: Bloodlust is a negative emotion and a waste of energy.

Agnosticism

2005-09-23T22:59:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I wish I had a stronger faith.

I have committment issues. Not just with people, but with ideas. That's why I never got baptized. Because I thought that would be committing myself to a particular church. (It's what Bert calls the "Frat Boy" attitude towards religion.)

Sometimes I wish I could belong to a religion, though. Catholicism, with its beautiful ritual, fascinates me. I long to study and learn the names of a whole pantheon of pagan gods. And I would go to the Buddhist Beginner's Mind Sanga on Wednesday nights if I had the time and confidence.

It's not just that sense of belonging. It's that-- I increasingly have this desire to appeal to a higher power. To cross myself, or utter a prayer, or light a candle and believe that that would do something to help. But... it feels weird, because I don't really believe. Which god can I name when I have dedicated myself to a state of godlessness?

We lost our football game tonight. That is expected. It was way too much to hope that we'd go undefeated or make it to State or anything ridiculous like that; I am honestly happy to see the team win just one game. But--

They carried Jacob off the field on a stretcher. There were maybe four minutes left of the game, and the team was going for a second touchdown (to make the loss slightly less humiliating by bumping the score up to 20-14, which we eventually managed) and in the surge, Jacob got hit in the head. The dog pile cleared the area, but he was left there, lying very still. He didn't move for a long time. His dad was brought onto the field, as was a stretcher, and they spent some time getting him onto the thing. It began to rain. What seemed like forever later, they wheeled him off the field. You could tell how worried the rest of the team was, by the way the milled about on the field, uncertain. One brushed Jacob's arm as he passed with the paramedics. The crowd began to clap, and the boy gave a rather heroic thumbs up.

Lily has dodged the bullet that is Hurricane Rita.

New Orleans is in a shambles and our inept government seems to be doing very little to help.

I got my first perfect score on a math test in as long as I can remember.

These are the times when I wish I could implore a higher power.

TIP #28: If you’re looking for you red stilettos, ask for your red stilettos. If you just ask, “Have you seen my shoes?” you might end up with a pair of Jesus sandals.

2005-09-19T21:13:00.000-06:00

I have been thinking of those massive "Complete Works" books.

You know the ones. The huge volumes containing every published word (and maybe some previously unpublished ones) a given author ever wrote.

I think in particularly about one I saw for Poe. There were all of his horror stories. There was his novel. There were his famous poems: "The Raven" and "The Bells" and all the rest.

And then there were a bunch of little love poems he wrote in his youth.

That's what ends up happening in those books. Everything gets in there-- even the things that were never meant to see the light of day.

TIP #27: Suffering is a part of the human condition.

Hippies, Hippies Everywhere

2005-09-18T18:50:00.000-06:00

Ellie and I went to the Street Fair today. I had in mind this big thing where a bunch of us would go in a group, but no one else could come so it was just us but it was still fun. I was a little disappointed that I didn't see more people that I knew, and that were fewer booths than usual. Planned Parenthood, for instance, was not there, so we couldn't get free condoms (which we probably wouldn't have used, but it's fun, all the same) and the Libertarian party did have their booth up. NORML and the United Atheists were still there, though. And I came away with some awesome ties (I want to make a skirt), a jingly anklet, and some glass ball things that ought to keep me entertained in Government. (I can stare into them and try to predict my future.)

Last night I got to feel like a professional writer. The Literary Center, where I do summer camps and volunteer work, called me up and asked me to read at their fundraising dinner. It was pretty darn cool. I didn't get fed (they were having paella, which smelled delicious but was $75 a plate) but they are going to send me a gift certificate... which is sort of like payment, right? So I feel important or something, but I still wanna get published, and get paid for it.

Homework time now.

The random Jack Kerouac quote of the day is thus:

"The days of wrath are yet to come. The balloon won't sustain you much longer. And not only that, but it's an abstract balloon. You'll all go flying to the West Coast and come staggering back in search of your stone."

...kinda gloomy. Meh.

Yawn

2005-09-17T10:48:00.000-06:00

I've just retured from my All-State audition. I think I did... ok. I'm trying to decide, if I get in, how worth it it would really be to go... It is in town and everything this year. I have plenty of time to think of that.

So our football team LOST our Homecoming game last night. I'm a bit upset. 19-7, how sad. It was still a good game, though. The crowd was positively massive and there was a lot of great spirit there, even if we didn't win. We're still 2-1 for the season, which isn't bad at all.

There are dance lessons at the Y today. Free ones. For the dances from "Mad Hot Ballroom". Good movie. And... I wanted to go, but now I'm tired and lazy and I think I better go call Sheila and tell her that I'm a loser.

WARLORDS OF MARS

2005-09-13T21:17:00.000-06:00

NEW DANDY WARHOLS CD!

Ellie and I totally walked to the record store (otherwise known as the RX) to buy it at lunch today, and I totally brought my cheap computer speakers that are actually White's and we totally listened to it on the way back, and in the halls, and in the quad, until lunch was over. And it is wonderful.

(This is where I talk like the music nerd I am.) I'm really pleased with this album. The Dandys are back to their old, classic, retro sound, the sound defines their early albums and is refined further in "Thirteen Tales From Urban Bohemia". Don't get me wrong, I still loved the 80's-esque electronica feel of "Welcome to the Monkey House", but I think there really wasn't much more expanding for the Dandys to do in that musical direction.

And that little bit of musical sunshine today made up for all the bad stuff. I mean... it wouldn't have been a good day, otherwise, but because of that new CD I was able to get through and ignore the crap.

Thinking about Buddhism lately, and how I'm supposed to be antimaterialistic and whatnot, makes me worry, because I am so dependant on music and I always want (i.e. need) more of it.

But I figure music's not really a material thing, so I'm ok, right?

TIP #26: The time it takes to wash your windows is worth it, for the clarity that is gained.

Similar to "Prom-a"

2005-09-12T18:57:00.000-06:00

I am sitting here on a Monday night, listening to the address that the Dalai Lama gave last night up north. It's weird, to listen about Buddhism on the radio while I'm on the internet, looking for a copy of Coleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" that I can print because I need to read it for tomorrow. Makes me wanna meditate, though.

I thank my lucky stars that Homecoming is the third week of school this year. I worried, at first, that that would be a bad thing. That if I were to be asked, I would have much less of a chance of that. But let's face it. No one is going to ask me to Homecoming. For that matter? No one is going to ask me to Prom or any other dance I can think of. So I'm just happy that it's happening early, so that we can get the drama over with. So that I don't have to hear about it for over a month in advance. And it's good that it's over with early, so I don't fall for some guy and wish he would ask me and kind of want to ask him but not do it because I don't really want to dress up and worry about hair and makeup and transportation and who's paying for dinner and whether I'll step on his toes when we slowdance and if we'll have enough to talk about and if I'll say something offensive and if he'll kiss me at the end and if I'll have to worry about icky life decisions before he takes me home-- I would just want to get to know him better.

Isn't that what relationships should be about? It's poisonous, to think of relationships in economic terms as so many people do. To think, "I'd like to date him because I think he'd be good in bed" or, "I should ask her to go see a movie because I think we could be best friends" or, "I really like going up to that cabin on the weekends..." Bad thinking. How can you expect to enjoy a person if all you're thinking of is what you expect to get out of them? Imagine a writer, writing a story that she wants to have a specific theme, that she wants to influence her readers in a certain way. What a dull, strained life those characters must lead! Like acting in a play. Same way with expectations placed on relationships. You are forcing yourself into a role, and you only hurt yourself by it.

So. Off now, for some Coleridge and maybe some Vonnegut later on, and I really ought to try for a way to get that tension out of my shoulders...

So I leave you with

TIP #25: Which is nothing but a cheap restatement of the theme: Never think of relationships in economic terms.

33-6

2005-09-10T23:40:00.000-06:00

In the words of one I admire:

Oh. Em. Gee.

Our football team is 2 and 0.

It's the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine!)

Desiderada

2005-09-08T21:08:00.000-06:00

I was cleaning off my walls (too much clutter!) and I found this. I'd printed it up and stuck it above my mirror god knows how long ago, in seventh grade maybe, because I thought it was great and deep and cool back then:

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy you acheivements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble, it's a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; fo in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

It's amazing to me how closely some of my life priciples match the ones on the list. Maybe it's been affecting my subconscious this whole time? As trite as it is, it brings up some good points. And there are some things on there I wish I'd paid a lot more attention. Like about feigning affection. And avoiding loud people.

I Wish Absinthe Was Legal In This Country

2005-09-05T14:45:00.000-06:00

In a Past Life...

You Were: A Genius Executor of Sacrifices.

Where You Lived: India.

How You Died: Consumption.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

Is That A Scroll In Your Toga, Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

2005-09-04T22:00:00.000-06:00

Yes, it happens once a year--

Toga dance.

Arguably the BEST school dance of the year (I wouldn't know; it's about the only one I go to) Toga is the best excuse to come to school dressed in a sheet. It's bad, when Toga is on Labor Day weekend, because that inherently means less people, but it was decent this year. A little less fun, maybe, because most of the people I spent most of my time with weren't quite willing to be crazy enough to make it really fun. School dances are no fun at all unless you go nutso and lose all inhibitions. (And, contrary to popular belief, it IS possible to be unhibited without the aid of alcohol. I know. I am crazy, but I do not drink. Except when my parents feed me wine. Which isn't often.) Because really, the music is crap and the drama is crap. It's one of those times when thoughlessness is a very good thing.

We spent a fair bit of time outside, and on the fringe of the writhing, sheet-clad mass that occupied the space immediately in front of the DJ table, but at one point Nea and I worked our way into the very center of the mass. It was exactly as it had been described to us earlier in the night: full of guy-sweat. Eww... Also there was a dearth of oxygen, but it was worth it, to be in there for a songlength.

After, we went to Nea's to watch movies (or A Movie, anyway, "Empire Records"). My parents let me stay out after curfew. It was exciting.

Now, because I know everyone has been holding their breaths for the return of the Tips for Living segment, I present to you

TIP #24: There is a distinct difference between "confidence" and "desperation".

Also: Let it be known that I do not like histrionics.

21-10, BABY!

2005-09-01T22:47:00.000-06:00

WE WON A FOOTBALL GAME!!!

Is This It?

2005-08-31T21:02:00.000-06:00

Thus it begins. The last year of high school.

Things that will make this fall awesome:

Toga is on Saturday. Everyone loves an excuse to dress up in a sheet!
The new Dandy Warhols CD comes out on September 13th! This is big stuff. Ellie and I plan to walk to the record store at lunch that day to buy it.
I read 100 pages last night without stopping. This indicates to me that I'll be able to handle the workload this year, and that I won't massively procrastinate so much as in the past.
THE DECEMBERISTS ARE COMING IN OCTOBER! I remember a conversation with my now-AP Euro-teacher this summer, about how good bands never come here. But the Decemberists. are. coming. On a Tuesday night, but my parents have conceded to let me skip band practice to be there. Needless to say, I am psyched.

Awesome and notable things about the first coupla days of school:

Oz is back.
Sophomore orientation (which I lead again this year) was not as asstacular as last time. I'm a horrible tour guide, I admit, but... it was ok, there were two band sophomores in my group and... it went ok. So.
A sophomore in a Unicorns shirt! And today his shirt was Neutral Milk Hotel. I've been to shy or polite or something to say anything so far, but if this keeps up... I'm going to have to freak him out, I'm afraid.
How excited said AP Euro teacher got when I told him that the Decemberists are coming.
The new English teacher, I think, will be good. Hella hard, but good. A good English teacher is a very welcome change.

Challenges (i.e. Things That Suck)

I had to read 100 pages of Frankenstein last night. Because the teacher told us the wrong deadline before.
My AP Government teacher is of an opposing political stance to myself. (This could be a good thing, really. I could learn better this way.)
Biology is BORING. I'm hoping it'll get more interesting as we move forward?
I may never get to see New Orleans.

The good outweighs the bad. I think I'm doing rather well so far, don't you?

Boredom's ABCs

2005-08-26T23:20:00.000-06:00

A- AREA CODE YOU ARE IN RIGHT NOW: 208, w00t

B- BIRTHDAY: May 23, 1988

C- CURRENT CRUSH: I haven't seen anyone for three months, so no one, but there IS someone I miss...

D- FAVORITE DRINK: Izze is good

E- EATING CURRENTLY: Nothing. Last food consumed, though, was Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Therapy. Mmm...

F- FAVORITE FOOD: The cream of tomato soup that I make myself

G- WHO DO YOU GO TO FOR ADVICE? I... don't.

H- CURRENT HATRED: Fat days

I- I THINK: that this year will be better than last

J- CURRENT JOB: none. I plan to avoid work as long as possible.

K- ANY KIDS: not now, but eventually I'll probably have some

L- I LOVE: my bunny

M- FAVORITE MOVIE: currently? Amelie.

N- YOUR PHONE NUMBER: Ha.

O- over or under- Around. Avoidance is the easiest approach.

P- FAVORITE PERFUME/COLOGNE: On me? Mango mandarin body splash (the ONLY thing I buy from Bath and Body Works)

Q- A LITTLE QUIRK ABOUT YOURSELF: Do I have to pick just one?

R- LAST ROAD TRIP: This year, with the oldies, to Oregon

S- DO YOU SMOKE: No.

T- FAVORITE TV SHOW: Globe Trekker rocks my world!

U- COLOR OF YOUR UNDERWEAR: Boring dark blue. The ONLY pair I could find this morning.

V- LAST TIME YOU WERE IN VEGAS: When I was seven, maybe.

W- WISHFUL THINKING: I'll be able to balance all of my AP classes, all my music, and still have time for NHS, French Club, Lunch Buddies, and friends this year.

X- X-RAYS TAKEN THIS YEAR: None. Not even teeth, I don't think.

Y- YOUR FAVORITE YEAR OF YOUR LIFE: mm... 3rd grade? 2nd? Probably 2nd. Or 9th.

Z- ZODIAC SIGN: Gemini (fear me!)

well that was fun...

I like whole grain organic boys

2005-08-26T21:27:00.000-06:00

Today was a good day, as they go. Not good in an over-the-top, wild way that I've gotten used to, but good in the subdued individual way that I'd forgotten about but am learning how to dig again. I dropped dear mummy off at work in the morning, so's I could have the car during the day, but I didn't drive it much. I got home at maybe 8:30, and father left shortly thereafter (without saying anything to me... I think he was in a hurry; he doesn't do well with getting up early.) and I showered and ate and all that jazz and then I started watching "Beauty and the Beast" because I was in a mood. Call me crazy, but I think that's about my favorite Disney movie. "The Little Mermaid" is grand, but... I get sick of the over-the-top happy romantic stuff. Give me something vaguely angsty and navel-gazing and conflicted and French, like "Beauty and the Beast" or "Amelie" or Cyrano de Bergerac. I dig that stuff, big time. So. About halfway through, at my favorite part when they sing and have the snowball fight and dance and stuff, Bert calls about coffee, like he said he would. So I meet him at Flying M and we drink and talk. Talk about nothing, really. About music and food and band and nonsense. But it was good, seeing him again, because it's been so very long since we've actually talked, and... yes.

So I went home after that. I'd thought of stopping at the RX to buy the "Amelie" soundtrack (because the music from that movie makes me feel so happy inside) but I decided against it. I just drove home with mocha running through me and I finished my movie (I cried. Because I'm silly like that.) and then I picked mummy up from work. And then we went out for dinner and I had salad and Mulligatawny (which is like nirvana in a bowl, plus the waiter was cute with a tattoo) and then I came home and I had chocolate ice cream and... lovely.

Introspective kind of day. I'm in a mood where I want to go sit in coffeehouses and write for hours. Because... yes. And as soon as I am done with Frankenstein, I am going to start Dharma Bums. I've waited long enough.

Yesterday was equally sublime. More coffee and cute alternative boys. I went to clarinet, first, and it actually didn't suck, even though I haven't practiced. Aage didn't expect much from me. He knows that I'd just finished with the ordeal that is Band Camp. (No more band camp EVER. I am ecstatic!) So. After I spent a long time in the Flipside Cafe, which is run by the Co-op. The boy behind the counter was cute, looked kind of like Elijah Wood but fair and still managed to be attractive... and he was welcoming and smiling and he complimented me on my shirt. So I ordered dark roast and drank it completely black, to look noir. It wasn't bad. Very complex, that dark roast was. Nice. I sat there on a green vintagey chair and read Frankenstein for about an hour while I drank my coffee (spilling several times). After I had to buy dinner, so I went to the Co-op, and... Co-op boy wasn't there. Not the original, anyway. But there's one there who's starting to grow on me. He has the bad teenaged beard thing going on, but... the most wonderful eyes. Amazing.

Night I went to Sheila's, and watched "The Little Mermaid" with her and Dottie because Dottie hadn't seen it before. Then we played Clue and I won at Scattergories and it was generally a good time. I feel almost weird, spending so much time with juniors who are a year younger than me. Maybe that's another habit I picked up from Rebecca and am starting to exhibit now that she's gone. I left late and drove home and it was weird, because that was the first time I've ever come home to a sleeping house.

Like a Pinch of Salt

2005-08-11T22:36:00.001-06:00

More recollections filter through my consciousness.

It was a day for missing Rebecca. She's been gone for a week now, which is weird. It's one of those time periods that feels simultaneously shorter and longer than it actually was, which I suppose is a sign that I'm keeping busy.

I went to get senior pictures taking this morning. Mom and I went out yesterday to get last-minute picture stuff, namely concealer and foundation. I despise foundation, but she insisted I wear it because it "evens out my skin tone". Whatever. And then she got all dramatic, because senior pictures are like... a big deal. A sign of maturity, I guess. Anyway, the session was fairly early but it went off more or less without a hitch. The photographer was a little weird, but... he's a photographer, right? From what I've seen, they're all a little weird. Now that it's over I'm enormously relieved. Senior year is so filled with little nitpicky things that one has to do, lots and lots of hoops to jump through and I get the feeling that with each one I manage to pass, I'll feel a little bit better. So now that I've got pictures done, all I need to do is college applications and scholarship applications and get measured for a cap and gown and... It's going to be a long, busy year, isn't it?

I'd planned to spend the rest of the day at home, just chilling, like penguins on an iceberg, but Sheila called in the early afternoon and asked if I wanted to go see some DCI thing out at the megaplex. I didn't know anything about it, and she didn't have many details either, having only heard about it from Nort, so I figured it'd just be a movie or something, but it was far more involved. It was actually a live broadcast of the DCI quarterfinals from Massachusetts and it cost $18 to get in. I'll have to remember to pay Sheila back on Monday... We couldn't stay for the whole thing, because it was hours long, but we stayed for two and a half hours and (this is where I go all bando-y for a paragraph or so) what we saw was amazing. Seeing as the bands perform in order of seed, the last ones we saw were the most impressive of the lot, but hey, it's all pretty impressive when compared to the high school stuff I'm used to seeing. The Glassmen show stuck out (a contemporized rendition of Dvorak's New World Symphony) but the best I saw was the Vanguard show. Not only were they the last we saw, but they were seeded 10th, which was an unusually low spot (apparently; I don't really know much about DCI, being a clarinettist myself.) Their show was about Russia, which was enough to make me love it even if the marching and music had been below par. They made the hammer and sickle on the field and wrote out things like "USSR" and "1991" on the field. Wicked cool. They also showed "classic marching moments" for most of the groups, and Vanguard's was amazing. It was the "Legendary Changing of the Pants". The corps is on the field marching in black pants, and then they go through this tunnel in the middle of the field one by one and when they come out on the other side-- their pants are white. And they start going faster, and faster... We need to figure out how to train our high school band how to do that! We'd totally rock D III.

When I came home, I watched the band video from my sophomore year, just because. I hadn't looked at it in over a year. Hands down, Miss Jones and Favorite K far surpass Icarus and Alan in slideshow making ability. Some really classic shots on that reel, too. Lots of me and Rebecca, too, of course. As if we had been attached at the hip. I also noticed for the first time how cutely awkward a certain bassoonist looked back then... Weird Lord, but I'm pathetic!

And I never said anything about the wedding I played at. If I could do one or two each summer, I'd be ecstatic. There was a small glitch, but there always is one and we still got paid $75 per person (each of the three of the Minor Thirds) so I am very happy. Slight awkwardness at the reception, one because the room was full of lawyers (the groom was a lawyer) and two because two guys I know from school were serving at the country club where the party took place. Meh. Miranda and I sat outside most of the time, by the pool, and overheard a weird ritual and found a possessed skinny half-squirrel cat that tried to eat my toes. And the cake was delicious. Overall, a very successful night.

I'm super-psyched fo this weekend. Nea's invited a bunch of us up to her cabin for the weekend. Should be a blast, if only I can finish my next correspondance economics assignment before then...

Feeling Jesus-y

2005-08-10T21:42:00.000-06:00

This has (so far) been a big week for resurrection.

I saw a zombie movie, first off. Maggie and I went to see "Land of the Dead" on Monday night. What a god-awful movie. Honestly. And then at the end, after all the mindless violence, the have a chance to basically obliterate the zombies but they don't, because zombies are people, too. Bah.

And I posted on a story I haven't updated in about two years. (It's on Fictionpress, if you care to know.) That was tough. I had the first part of the chapter written and it'd been sitting around for the longest time, I just had changed so much that it was hard to keep writing without having it sound weird. So I listened to some old music and read some old stuff to get myself in the right mindset and managed (I think) to write in the style I would have back in ninth grade, when the story started, only better. Rawk.

And I did something about the growing apart thing. We went to see "March of the Penguins" last night (good movie) and we drove around afterwards and talked. I hate talking, but I feel a bit better now. Things'll never be the way they once were, but... maybe it's better that way. I'm happy enough with the status quo, and I think she is too, so... puppies and rainbows.

But most important of all was (cue drumroll)-- Co-op Boy!!! He has re-entered my life. I saw him today whilst shopping for groceries. His hair is longer. It looks good. And when I drove home, I had that same old happy feeling I used to get every night that I cooked, mixed with a good bit of bafflement, because honestly, it's been about a year since I've seen him.

I grin, nonetheless.

I Don't Cry Much

2005-08-04T22:36:00.000-06:00

Rebecca left today.

We all went to the airport to see her off this morning, me and Nea and Ellie and Andi and Mathuin and Faustus and Theodore. Nea picked me up at 5, and we all carpooled out. It's weird, being awake in the summer early enough that it's dark. The last time I was up at 4am, I recall, was the night that Harry Potter came out, and I'd been up all night reading. Nea broke a fearsome number of traffic laws. It's not that bad when it's that early, or at least it doesn't seem so. And on our way to the airport, we saw some people moving a house. We saw the yellow flashing lights from a ways away, and we got up close and there was a house, up on wheels and surrounded by escort trucks. In the dark, we almost believed it was flying. It was surreal, like something out of a Russian folktale, we decided.

When we got there, Rebecca had just gotten her ticket. She'd allowed some time to hang out in the little lobby area the airport has before going through security. We all chatted. Her family was there, too. On our way out, Andi remarked "I just realized last night that Rebecca's family is going to be there..." She's one of those people who I never really picture or strongly associate with anyone else. She is always completely individual. That's why I know she'll do ok in Chile. She can handle herself, even if she doesn't believe she can.

We took pictures, and then it was time for her to leave, so there were hugs and parting words and all that good stuff. Lots of crying this morning. Even Theodore cried, a little in his car as we all were leaving the aeroport. Somehow I have trouble, crying in front of people. Maybe it's a trust thing. I'm still glad I brought plenty of tissue.

We waited and watched en masse as Rebecca went through security, and waved as she looked around for her gate, confused, on the other side, finally disappearing down an escalator, smiling and waving.

We left. We were very quiet, all pensive or something. Said a few polite words to Rebecca's parents, too. Kind of weird, to think that I won't being seeing them for a year, either. I like Rebecca's parents. They're weird. Everyone's parents are weird, I guess. But it's their being weird in a different way than my parents are weird that fascinates me. The concept of parents is kind of a fascinating one... Anyway, we got back into our cars and drove off. I saw Theodore cry a little before he pulled away. Cute. Like the ultimate sign of how much we're all going to miss Rebecca. Ellie cried a lot. Of course... she's known Rebecca for longer. Still, as close as Rebecca and I were at the end, I feel like I should have been more devastated. But I wasn't. I mean... I know this isn't good-bye forever or anything. I'll see her again next summer, and I know we'll be in touch until then, that she won't be one of the ones that says she'll write and then doesn't. People move. Life goes on. Email is a beautiful thing.

We trouped over to Nea's for breakfast then. We all pitched in to make the meal. I helped with coffee. Andi, I must admit, did most of the work. As in, she made the pancakes on her own. Theo fell asleep on the couch (no caffeine for Mormons) and we drew on his feet with sharpies. It was nice, just to have all of us together. There was no pressure, really, to talk or be thoughtful or anything. It was that kind of... just-enjoy-each-others'-presence sorts of things. Teenagers underestimate the niceness of those things. Any silence is automatically labelled as being "awkward". But... talk is cheap. Why waste breath to say something worthless?

On the way home, we stopped at Andi's to meet her new kitten. He is "small and black" and fuzzy and his first name is Milo. He has a lot of surnames and an epithet, but I don't remember those. He peed and kept trying to escape. The older I get, the less I love animals. Pets, anyway. Too messy. What's wrong with me?

And now I think I'll go mope for a while.

Too Many Books

2005-07-28T23:12:00.000-06:00

I'm noticing how much books and such can alter a person's perception, namely my perception as I'm the only one I've really got to work off of as a model, but it's funny really. Funny how books and classes and people and experiences and new ideas and even little phrases can alter the way a person thinks. Each new volume leafed through, each new personality encountered, each new day alters the mechanical workings of the brain just a little bit. The grey-matter gears grind on one another, worn out parts are replaced or tossed out, extensions are added, and each synapse is whittled down or built up to fit precisely in this tiny little ecosystem of thoughts. Each day this happens. Thought is fluid. It has to be. The rigid mind must resign itself to dogmatic despair.

Those new little bits gleaned from here and there test the mold that consciousness has already fitted itself into. The reworking is commonly called maturation. Eventually, I suppose, the mind will either reach a point where it’s perfect, where every new idea fits perfectly without having to alter traditional processes, or the mechanisms will reach the tired point where they can’t be tinkered with any more without breaking, like a paper clip that’s been bent back and forth too many times. And that’s how you get the different types of adults. There are the adjusted ones who can take everything in stride, the ones to whom the world seems to make perfect sense. There are the harsh, opinionated ones who will never change to fit the times, the ones who refer huffily to “kids these days”. Then, I guess, are the midlife crisis types, the ones who trade in the old thinking for a new model that they can toy with for longer, the ones who never really get into the swing of things. These are the ones that are still grasping for straws in their fifties, the ones who maybe try to live vicariously and amend past mistakes through their children. Which means that out of those options, only one is favorable. Maybe that makes it important to choose carefully what you read and what you say and what you do and who you surround yourself with and all that jazz.

But when you think about it all so much, where’s the point in living?

I don’t know. I’m just thinking on paper, really.

2005-07-11T17:27:00.000-06:00

Since when did "Let It Be" become my big-time theme song to inspiration? Those piano chord progressions at the beginning, and then it just... builds. It's a comfort song, warm fuzzies, everything-will-be-okay song. Or it could just be the memory of the song played in a band practice room on piano and bassoon...

Band will not be the same next year at all.

Slanguage!

2005-07-10T21:09:00.000-06:00

Your Slanguage Profile

Aussie Slang: 50%

Canadian Slang: 50%

Prison Slang: 50%

British Slang: 25%

Victorian Slang: 25%

New England Slang: 0%

Southern Slang: 0%

What Slanguage Do You Speak?

An American in Montreal, Part II

2005-06-28T22:17:00.000-06:00

At last, a campus tour! This ought to have been the only one of the summer. I'm quite proud of myself for that, for keeping some fun in my summer. School shopping gets awfully tiring.

The tour was spectacular. The guide was Irish coming from Boston, so she had the inside scoop on being an international student. The campus is beautiful. It has that truly academic feel to it that is usually reserved for big, ancient universities. The buildings are a mix of contemporary and castle-esque. The building where Rutherford did his famous gold foil experiment is a campus library. Call me a nerd, but I think that's pretty darn cool. Dorms are all single rooms (rawk) or there's the apartments you can rent through the school. Also: there are trips to Cuba every winter. I am so there.

Unfortunately, it was another ridiculously hot day (over 30 degrees!). Mum wanted to take the Metro to a botanical garden this afternoon, but the heat was enough to keep us inside doing laundry all day. In the evening, we went to Mont Royale park, which is just shy of downtown. It's this big hill (almost a mountain) with bunches of nice, woodsy trails on it. We got lost on it, wandering down late-ish to eat at the same Italian place we sampled on our very first day. The food was even better this time around, possibly because I was hungry from all that walking, and our waiter strongly resembled Beck. Weird.

I've gotten used to the whole Francophone thing. I even like it. A lot different, sure, but it has that cool factor. That "I go to school in Canada and am almost totally bilingual" apeal. Because if I lived in Quebec, it'd be an opportune time to learn French (I don't really speak it now, I've just gotten really good at pretending).

It's back to the States tomorrow.