Stuff and things.

Cigarettes

2006-09-26T18:44:00.000-07:00

Fuck those things! Dude, I just gave away a half a pack and I'm so proud of myself. They are fucking evil for a multitude of reasons. None of which have to do with the fact that they kill you. They are this totally ridiculous, pleasureless activity that people feel compelled to do anyway. It's sort of like fast food. It's something you build up, and never meets your expectations. They are addicting, and totally mark you. You become a smoker. It's another sect of society. I know you could argue non- smokers are sects of society too, and that may be true, but at least they are marked by not doing something fucking retarded. I don't mind that. Today, when I was smoking a cigarette, I thought about how I'd be an idiot to continue any farther. People have to use patches and shit because they are so reliant on those little moron torches (I say that having smoked a lot of them, so try not to get too offended). Right now, I am in no way physically addicted, and can step away easily, so why not kill it where it lies?

And so I formerly announce: Cigarettes I am breaking up with you. No more occassional flings. You weren't that good anyway.

2006-09-26T08:50:00.000-07:00

I HATE TV HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE IT. I can't stand these reality TV shows, everyone watches and giggles at how stupid these people are. I can't stand the machismo kick people get out of these shows. "Ha ha, I'm sooo much better." No you're not! You're brainwashed, mister. You are being exploited just as much as the people on these shows. It's a game, and you're the fucking rat trying to find the cheese.

Exploiting people is WRONG!!!! It's totally immoral. There is nothing funny about it. I hate how our generation will glue their eyes to the insipid, glowing noise box while people will get covered in rats that bite them, and start crying. I guess the Romans got it right. Throw the Christians to the lions. Hey, that sold out every night! And now we're not much better... sure, these people are volunteers to a degree, but it's for desperate, depressing reasons. It's actually really, really sad.

And another thing- the constant interuptions and adverstisements. You have no control over what you're looking at. It's bad enough we see adds everywhere else in our lives (brand name clothing- another inherent evil) but people just stare at these manipulative advertisements and think, "I need this." Mister, you're brainwashed.

I could go on forever, but I have to go to class.

Kill your TV.

Silly girl-

2006-09-20T10:53:00.000-07:00

I never thought I could get past my pety assumptions
I look at people to fix them, at these social functions
I put my head down to be coy, and build an incubator
In my head to be a human, three hours later.

It's not my will, though I'll tell myself otherwise
It's these shots of cheap whiskey, and this flashy stimuli
It's these minutes I spend thinking I can't tug on my shirt
The way I need to calm down, but be socially alert

The way I can't question anyone else but myself
The way I always look at the trophies on my shelf
Those easy explatives that get in the way
That help me communicate, but aren't what I want to say

Silly girl, another self- destroyer. Another example
of a perfectly wholesome middle class angst- ramble
No reason to complain but my own made up reasons
That still aren't my decision. That don't pass with the seasons

That won't, can't, go away no matter how hard I've tried.
I thought if I jabbed long enough, something would've died.

No one else understands.
I'm so glad.
I'm so glad no one else understands.

Still...

2006-09-19T18:38:00.000-07:00

I'm still afraid to talk to guys I find attractive. Especially this one guy in my creative writing class, who always wears a ski cap and has tatooes all over his arms. I don't think I'll ever talk to him. In fact, I purposefully picked a seat on the opposite side of the room as him so I never have to be put in the awkward position of trying to think of something to say to him. Suppose he needs a pencil or something. I'm not even sure I could dig it out without nervously fumbling and dropping shit all over the place.

I'm really not as cool as I'd like to be.

Whatever. He's probably a douche bag anyway. Most people are. But what if he isn't? What if he's dark, and complicated, and misunderstood, and all those amazingly sexy "bad boy" qualities I'm endlessly falling for? That almost definately means he'll be bad news for me. My hearts been broken about a hundred different ways by those "types." Maybe I should just try re- adjusting my standards. Perhaps, and this is just a hunch, I should try and find someone at least relatively stable. Or maybe... I should just stop thinking about it.

Maybe I should be celebate. Yea, that'll last about a week. Or maybe a few months. I didn't do anything all summer. But then again... there really wasn't very much opportunity at hand. Let's see... there was this incredibly scary dude who came into Walgreens about twice a day, bought candy bars, and constantly slipped me his phone number while asking for mine. He wore the same shirt every day, was bald, and about thirty- five. Not succuming to that didn't exactly take will power, but the really embarassing thing is, I actually did think about calling him a few times. I can't believe I just admitted that.

My nostalgia sneezed my sorrow.
My eyes lipsticked with nervousness.
A monkapiller in a banana shaped cockoon.
The monkafly will emerge, to smoke with me tomorrow.

I'll talk to the smoke released from his throat.
that disappears in ringlets- tastes like lead.
Turns into the wind, that carries my words away.
The wind doesn't hear me, my sentences float.

They turn into poetry, lost forever.
To the clever neverending eternity trap.
A comforting cage, furnished with my organs
I make a bed of my uterus- pull on my lamp lung lever.

The lights go out. I set my heart alarm clock.
That will thud in my ear, when it's time to awake.
Awake for what? A good observation.
A good look at my insides, a warm kidney frock.

To cover the holes all over me.
Now that my body's been detatched.
I'll spend my days fingering my newly made oraphesus.
And squeezing my blood out- to nourish my spine tree.

Underneath I'll unwrap packages.
My liver, spleen, muscles and this-

My heart to shove back inside-
Or will I leave it be? Is it easier to be empty?
I tried to decide for myself
But there goes my chest- opening itself wide again.
No respect for itself, none.
No pride.

2006-09-18T17:00:00.000-07:00

Let's just say I was "influenced" while I wrote my last post. No need to get into details.

The sound of morons screaming at eachother outside of my window is an excellent addition to the fact that I can never get this room lit just right. Right now I'm so agitated I could rip strands of hair out of my head one by one. I have no desire to tell the mongoloids to stop yelling at each other. It's good to listen to this shit I think, and realize what's actually there. They're screaming about not liking each other... it's really profound. I'm learning so much, like that this one dude was checking out this other dude's girlfriend, and that dude says that this guy said something about something... I don't fucking know. This is the most elementary screaming match on earth. I'm actually sort of enjoying it I guess.

I hate yelling. I never want to yell. I don't at all right now, but I wonder if I will once I have kids since my mom does so much. Yelling is absolutely fucking retarded. Anything you can say yelling will have a more realistic impact if you explain it in a logical way. Yelling just encourages an argument. No wonder so many kids hate their parents. You need to sit down with your kids and treat them with respect. Then maybe they'll do the same to other people in the future. Sometimes I can't wait to be a parent, but part of it scares the hell out of me too. I guess that's normal though.

What's weird is these are the prime birth giving years, so it's normal to have these instincts, but our society makes us go through a thousand years of school before we can actually support ourselves. Gawd bless Amerka. Why is a four year degree not "enough" anymore. Now everyone has to get a "masters." I guess it's good people are becoming more educated, but it's really not reflected throughout society. The entire institution of college bothers the hell out of me, to tell you the truth.

What really bothers me is how your bank account determines where you go to school. It's not really intelligence, or anything else. Basically everyone that goes to this school is upper middle class, it makes sense it's a state school. What's the main curriculum here, why education of course. Coincidence? I think not. You see folks, there isn't really social mobility. It's like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. All these upper middle class kids (myself included) are just going to stay upper middle class. Isn't that why we're here? So we have an 85% chance of being a lifeless tax payer.

Rich kids go to private schools, and slightly smarter rich kids go to Ivy leagues, and row boats, and eat vines for about 15 years. After all that they emerge as rich doctors, and lawyers. If you're rich life is aesthetically "awesome" and we're taught they deserve it because they've worked harder, and their pompous yuppy children deserve their fancy educations because their parents worked so hard for it. BULLSHIT- rich people don't work harder! You really think it's that hard to be like an obnoxious CEO, or a sleak wallstreet dick? It's just roles you fall into, because your parents sent you to this fancy school to do this fancy shit, so you can always be a fancy little asshole.

Poor people just get shit on. They're expected to "rise above" and if they don't succeed in this nearly impossible quest, and just fall into the motions of their surroundings which realistically- everybody does (ie- middle class kids become teachers and social service workers, rich kids become filthy CEO's and *cringe* lawyers) Same principle, poor kids become crack heads. Sorry Charlie, unless you're some amazing intellect who can oversee adversity in all degrees and are willing to work about 5,000 times harder than everyone else for about half what they get- you're screwed! Yay capitalism!!!! Isn't life awesome? Isn't this country awesome?

Look at everyone's big stupid houses, and obnoxious luxury sedans. It's all about "Hey look at me! Look what I made of myself" -dicks. No one deserves that shit. It's totally about status which doesn't need to exist.

"But Kelly, if it weren't for all the money involved no one would push themselves." -Hahahahaha. You actually believe that? You think for one minute people's big stupid egos aren't "motivation" enough. Everyone wants to be like "Yea, I'm a doctor. Actually, brain surgeon if you want to be specific. Growing up I always knew I was special..." -dick.

Some people consider me a cynic...

2006-09-17T01:47:00.000-07:00

I don't want to say anything cliche right now. I don't want to say anything predictable, or comfortable, or any shit like that. I want to raise your eye brows. I want you to really like me. I want you to finish this paragaph and wish that you could just call me up on the phone and talk to me right now. Or, I want you to just pass me off. I could handle being "too much" but that's it. I want either of those reactions. I don't want you to treat me like a source of entertainment. I have no desire to 'entertain' you, but I do want you to enjoy yourself. I want you to grow through me, and grow with me. And maybe one day, I will be that type of writer, or that type of teacher, or human being. But I have a lot of growing up to do myself.

Anyone who's reading this right now... I'm sorry, I can't help you! I'm no different from you, really. I mean, come on, am I? So it's absurd for me to be taking on this presumptious title of a 'writer' right now. It's all about my stupid fucking ego. I'm not forty something years old, maybe when I am that's when I'll make a disgusting impact. Not right now. I am exactly like you.

Fucking weird, right? So what are you doing reading this? Isn't there somebody out there you could learn something from? Call up an old teacher, talk to your parents, read a book by someone reflecting on this shit, because, right now, I have no right to write.

Still reading? Wow, you're really fucking stupid. This is the biggest waste of your time. Seriously, ANYTHING would be a better use of time then sitting here reading this. I mean, even maybe sitting in the bathroom for a while... that may be more enlightening than this. Lock yourself in a closet. I think that would be a much better use of your time. Maybe you'll come out a 'wise' fucking man. I have no idea what I'm talking about.

You just watched me space out. Writers do this a lot kiddies. Teachers try to convince you that you're at blame for not being able to process the information you read from a text at all time, do you ever think that maybe the writer spaces out just as much as you do? That maybe, it's not really your 'fault.' Of course not, teachers tell you the writer is God. He is incapable of screwing up because he's been anthologized. They tell you that he's a he. Oh no! Run away! She's being a feminist! This is bad.

All guys should be feminists and all girls should be feminist. It's totally fucking stupid not to be. Pre- conceived gender roles are the most disgusting inventions of man kind. How anybody doesn't want to regurgitate every time they see a Barbie or a GI Joe is totally beyond me.

It isn't done! Oh no. We need to reach a conclusion! Why? Why can't this just be over right now? Why do I need to say something which encorporates all the main ideas right now. Everything in life isn't a fucking essay!

Wow... I'm fucking insane.

I'm

done

seriously

!

Lets. not. fuck? with.... grammar! (that was the funniest thing I've ever come up with). Maybe it isn't really that funny though. Fuck! Self- deprication's a bitch. An annoying little Cho wow wow endlisly tearing pieces of flesh from your leg. Speaking morbidly is hilarious to me. Is anything really that big of a deal?

I'm not afraid of being nothing!

Fuck competition. I'll be nothing. Nothing sounds fine to me. I don't really want to strive anymore.

Why are you fucking reading this? Are you glaring with your critical little eye right now? Are you deciding whether or not you like this right now? Well fuck that! I hope you hate this. I hope this makes you want to bash your head against a wall.

I hope you love this. I hope at this point, you're so happy you read this. I hope I helped you sort through you're stupid little problems, because they're my stupid little problems. Is that the only reason your reading this? Do you have problems?

There's really something wrong with me. I feel guilty all the time.

A lot of self- loathing in a little space: An excercise in contradiction of my previous post.

2006-09-08T15:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I hate myself. Today was a perfect example. A good friend of mine was pouring her heart out to me about her relationship problems, and I did about as much to console her as your average piece of furniture. Actually, less probably;At least furniture would give her somewhere to rest her crying head. I just sat there, looking blankly at her, totally unable to empathize; ocassionally I would mumble something cliche and detatched. Why can't I feel for other people in that way you ask? Why am I such a he- man when it comes to emotional disturbances? Because I'm jealous. Disgustingly, morbidly, jealous of almost everyone. This poor girl I really do care about was crying in front of me and all I could think was 'why don't I have a relationship worthy of crying over?' What kind of person thinks like that? I don't deserve one anyway.

Earlier in class I felt like I hated everyone. So maybe it is better that it came back around to myself. Hating yourself is a little more sophisticated than hating everyone else, wouldn't you say? That class was really annoying though. I kind of don't blame myself for hating everyone at that moment. Although, I probably should've just "checked out" so to speak. I feel like I just made a sucky moment even suckier by analyzing it so much. So, here's what it was. We were doing oral presentations and I guess what bothered me was that everyone clapped for everyone else. No matter how horrible the presentation was, everyone would clap just the same. That would be fine, if they were doing it to be nice, but I don't think they were. Everyone just seemed to be clapping so everyone else would clap for them. Like it was some unwritten contract. It made me physically ill. It really did! I started thinking like that's all life is: endless hand clapping and ass kissing. I thought I might actually regurgitate. Then I thought that maybe I'm just looking at this innocent gesture in the grimmest light possible, and I started feeling really guilty.

At that moment I realized that my hatred of mankind is really just a reflection of my own self- loathing. Hence my last entry.. the one bashing everyone who writes as a cathartic excericize.. I don't even care that I just did it. Because I'm not very different than everyone I hate I guess. It's time to accept it, take a glorious swim in mankind's sespool of reaking vomit, and learn to love it like the worthless pig I know I truly am. Oink oink oink. That's it. (I ended it this way on purpose because that's how I ended my oral presentation and I lost five points for it. Everybody clapped anyway. Long and loud.)

Poetry...

2006-08-28T21:14:00.000-07:00

Is fucking dead. It's very sad to me, actually. What most people consider poetry now is exactly the opposite of everything it was intended to be. Here's what I mean...

I was just reading an article that was probably written in about 1576, although it was published in 1592. It was written by Sir Philip Sidney and was called The Defense of Poesy. In it, he said something very beautiful and thought provoking.

"Now therein all sciences is our poet the monarch. For he doth not only show the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to enter into it. Nay, he doth, as if your journey should lie through a fair vineyard, at the first give you a cluster of grapes, that full of taste, you may long to pass further. He beggineth not with obscure definitions, which must blur the margin with interpretations, and load the memory with doubtfulness; but he cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for, the well enchanting skill of music; and pretending no more doth intend the winning of the mind from wickedness to virtue."

If you break that passage apart, I believe, you can understand what poetry used to mean, and how this meaning has become hopelessly lost in the 'me' generation of poetry (I'll describe what I mean by that shortly). Firstly, he describes poetry as a science. Science is clearly about posing an initial question, and then taking steps to reach a solution. Therefore, if poetry is meant to be a science it should not be approached by the poet as a cathardic excercise. It should be approached as a mature way to sort through questions or life problems the writer may have. It should not end until the problem is resolved, or at least is made less cloudy, or takes on a new meaning. The 'me' generation of poetry has brutally slaughtered poetry, and what remains is a shallow, personal reflection which means nothing to anyone except the person who wrote it. What I mean by 'me' poetry is any poetry which has no purpose other than to release emotions. I am not saying that poetry shouldn't be used for this purpose in some capacity. Not at all! Poetry is an excellent tool for this. What I am saying however, is that the poet should never forget that it is their duty as an artist to "not only show the way, but to give so sweet a prospect into the way as will entice any man to enter it." Always remember, if it is inner turmoil you wish to relinquish with your poetry, that it should just as equally about creativity. If someone writes a poem that doesn't explore writing conventions, use interesting language, pays attention to a rhyme scheme or structure scheme, or tell a comprehensible story to the reader (unless it is meant to be interpretive), the "poet" has accomplished no more than a person who releases their frustration by beating up their pillow.

The next part of the passage, "He beginneth not with obscure definitions... the well enchanting skill of music." refers to the duty of the poet to meet eye to eye with their audience. To not take on a godlike attitude toward their subject, but to be inclusive and embrace the art of story telling. Many of today's poetry- if it is not a childish excercise in morbid purging, is a pompous and pretentious tool of pseudo intellectuals. No good writer should ever try to isolate or off put their audience by cluttering their work with obscure notions and terms with no explanations. If you are going to do that, you should never venture outside of a coffee house, because that isn't how your work is going to have any impact on the real world. Pretension is the ultimate sin of the intellectual. It is what isolates them, and keeps them down. It is fine to use sophisticated language but you must write in a presently understood vernacular! Nothing turns me off more than reading a poem using conjunctions like 'thou' and 'hither' and then finding out it was published in 2005. If you think you have something to say, say it understandably or else the only people who will have any type of reaction are people who already probably think a similar way, and the goal of the poet should be to elevate everyone.

"and pretending no more doth intend the winning of the mind from wickedness to virtue" Poets are people who have the ability to both perceive the world around them in a complex way, and have the sensitivity it requires to express it creatively. The rest of the world can benefit from this, so let them! Teach a lesson, impart your values.

This is what poetry should be. Please save it!

Short Story I wrote

2006-08-22T16:51:00.000-07:00

This is an unfinished shorty story I'm working on. It's going to be a really fucked up story about love and hate and weirdos:

Something very odd happened to me that day. I don't know if I can make you understand how such an unusual feeling could emerge at such a seemingly ordinary moment. There I was sitting and watching a movie with a girl I had always known as a dear but overwhelmingly insecure human being. Someone I enjoyed talking to and being around, but always gave me an uncomfortable feeling for some reason I never quite understood. In fact, I had recently acquired suspicions that she might like me more than a friend and for that reason I had been making a conscious effort to spend less time with her so as to not lead her on. I never wanted anything more than a friendship. The idea of a singular physical encounter had crossed my mind because I did find her sort of attractive, but I had always brushed that off as a fantasy because I felt the awkwardness which would follow wouldn't be worth whatever brief satasfaction I would get from that.

She was an intense girl. There was a lot I didn't understand about her, but I understood that much. I knew she wouldn't let you just walk away without making an impact. I wasn't sure I wanted her to make an impact on me. Sure, she was more interesting than essentially anyone else I had ever known. She was a wreck however, possibly worse than me. She had no confidence, poor social skills, and a tendency to become very withdrawn and nearly impossible to read. Quite frankly, she unnerved me a little bit. Probably because I could relate to her more than I wanted to at times, but I didn't want to think about that, and I wasn't, not yet. I had actually thought about her relatively little up until this point. Up until she began consuming me, and I couldn't go five minutes without thinking about her in such passionate ways that I could become overwhelmed with happiness like I had never known, misery like I had never known, and sometimes I would even make myself physically ill or, just as easily revitalized with the energy of a child. All this from replaying scenarios of whatever relationship we had, thinking of wisdom she imparted, of jokes she told me, and sometimes I would even create scenarios that I had hoped would've occured, or ones more horrible than what had actually happened between us. I torture myself terribly. But honestly, even I had trouble with that because what happened between us was actually pretty horrible.

All of that mess. That pitiful and hopeless obsession which made me at times outright suicidal started that very ordinary day. I cringe to recall it coherently enough to write about it. At least my memories do me the favor of being foggy to ease the pain. But I am tired of hiding behind that. So here it goes:

I looked at her. I just looked over at her because I thought something in the movie was funny, and I wanted some assurance. Have you ever noticed how people do that? Anyway, when I looked over at her I had noticed that not only did she not the the scene was funny, but she had lost interest in the movie altogether. She was reading a book- Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse. A writer who I admire, deeply relate to, and love very much. While she was reading I took the time to really look at her. There is a lot you can learn about someone when you take a thorough look at them. However, in our society this is frowned upon. You are taught it is impolite to stare so most of the time you don't get a chance to really look at the beauty and complications that are very apparent if you were to look hard enough. I felt kind of odd doing what I was doing, I was insecure about it all the while but my desire to see all there was I could see about this wonderful person was too intense to stop. I looked at her cup her hand over her mouth. A habbit I had noticed, and used to apal me, quite honestly. Right now it didn't. I thought it was very interesting now that I was really looking her do it. I never noticed that her top lip curls over the top of her index finger just slightly, so that it rests inside her mouth a little. Now I saw, that this was actually very funny, and I had to hold back my laughter. This was really just a more adult way of sucking her thumb! I looked at the way she sat. She had very good posture, but couldn't quite figure out what to make of her lower body. Her legs would constantly shift. They were always tucked close to her body, but it was like she was slowly trying to brake them away. I found this very funny and cute. Like she knew in her heart of hearts that she wanted nothing more than to hug her legs close to her, but she felt like that way of sitting wasn't desirable to look at, or that it was immature or something, so she was attempting to compromise by sticking her knees shoulder width away from her stomach, but still leaving them in a curled- upwards position. Just as soon as she noticed they were gliding back in towards her she would put them back into that same pre- conceived position. I loved how she thought about these types of things! How bizarre! How utterly weird this human being was! Most people will simply stop sucking their thumb or hugging their legs at a certain age because that is what society expects of us. Not her. She had found a way to balance out her innocent natural inclinations with the cold, hard expectations of the world around her. This was amazing. This meant so much to me. I don't know if you or anyone else can understand, and possibly (quite possibly) I was looking too deeply into this, but to me this embodied an incredible independent spirit. Someone who shapes the world around them as oposed to letting it shape them. She was a mess to. Oh, what a beautiful mess! Her bra strap was clearly hanging out of her shirt, and falling over her shoulder. The skirt she was wearing had ridden itself up to the middle of her stomach, and the already short skirt was now barely covering her underwear. Next I looked at her face. I didn't pay any mind to her pretty she was or wasn't to me. I just looked at her expression as she read. She looked amazed. She looked as I felt while reading this fantastic novel. She was reading so carefully. She would stop at points, and just think, then continue, hungry for more. Most people will never love to read like that. Most people will never love anything like that, and yet, this poor girl has never been able to love another human being in that very special way that only she could, because the only people she has had relationships with don't understand her. If only she could meet Hermann Hesse. If only time and space didn't seperate the few truly great people of the world. I bet he would appreciate her. I bet he would fall in love with her as I was at that moment.

Still, I didn't feel completely in love yet. I thought I did. But what I was feeling at that moment was nothing compared to what I was about to what came next. When I really fell in love was when she noticed me staring at her. I was embarassed when she looked over and caught me gawking, so mesmorized that I wasn't able to hide it. But she didn't get snobby, or looked disturbed, or try to flirt or engage in any typical responce. She looked touched. She gave me a very genuine smile, and nodded approvingly. She was very flattered by this great compliment. Although I was embarassed I was glad that she caught me staring at her because this was a wonderful compliment, and I couldn't imagine anyone more gracious or worthy of receiving it. I put all my pride aside and continued staring at her. Now, the voyeuristic aspect was missing so you would think this observation would be less interesting, but quite the contrary. Staring at her while she knew it was a remarkable bonding experience, better than the best sex that ever was. She began fixing herself. Moving herself in several positions she thought might look appealing, but each one was decidedly more awkward than the last. She was very excited to be looked at like this. So much so that she couldn't focus on anything else. She was obviously not reading, but just posing with the book. She laughed at herself as she tried to look pensive. I laughed too. We didn't chuckle. We really laughed. To the point where tears were streaming down our eyes, and she had fallen off the couch. I didn't take my eyes off of her once.

"I was trying to look smart!" She said in the midst of her laughing fit. I could barely make it out.
"I think you're brilliant." I responded, still laughing so hard that I began feeling ill.
"I'm not! I'm such an idiot. When I read I space out so bad that I usually have to read every page twice." She said, we were still laughing but had calmed down a little for fear we might vomit if we continued laughing this hard.

This beautiful, humble girl had thrown me for a total loop in under a half an hour. I went from not liking her very much at all, to feeling so in love I could barely believe I was still the same man. At that moment, I believed, and still believe to this day that I was just as in love as anyone could ever be, or has possibly been. I couldn't imagine anything stronger. I would've done anything for her, and wanted to. I wanted to make a beautiful life for her. I wanted to treat her like a princess forever. I didn't want to date her, and then see how it went, and eventually settle down as people do. I wanted to take her off right now and marry her. But this was insane wasn't it? This isn't how the real world works, it just... it isn't, and so I thought I'd compromise. Sort of like the way she had found a more adult way to suck her thumb, I had to find a less fantastical way of being with her. So instead of wisking her away and throwing away everything to be with her, and expecting the same in returned I just kissed her.

Not dead.

2006-08-21T12:49:00.000-07:00

I haven't updated this thing all summer! That probably has something to do with the fact that my internet at home is slow and frustrating, which is a good thing I think. It keeps me off of the computer and doing more "productive" things with myself. Back at school, I have high speed internet and a less embarassing social life to write about soo.. I'm starting this up again, or intending to anyway. Maybe I'll just sell my soul to myspace... Well, I have unpacking to do so I'll write again later. Bye.

Aging and other fun facts of life.

2006-05-15T14:33:00.000-07:00

Oh my god. I'm 20 years old. No fucking way. Sorry.. this may be hard for some of you to understand, but once in a while this thought hits me and I start freaking out. I hate this state of interdependence that I'm in. It's weird enough that what I consider "home" is no longer my permanent residence, but pretty soon, I'm not going to even go back home for summers. No more pretty white house on Cramer Road.. no more hilarious dad with great advice who never takes himself too seriously, mom that takes care of everything so effortlessly and makes my life so much more comfortable, fashionable and beautiful older sister that there is so much more to than anyone gives her credit for, shy but good hearted older brother that is branching out more and more every day... I mean, they're all still there but not in the same way. I miss when we all lived in the same house. We're all so scattered now.

I spoke to my brother the other day, and he said that he would like to move back to the east coast. He hates being so far from the family. I really wish that he does. I would hate to live too far away from my sister and brother. Location is such a shitty thing. I hate the effects geographics have on people's relationships. I love what I've gained by going away to school, but I hate what I lost, and I hate how I'm continually realizing what I'm really losing.

I guess I should just relax. Isn't this why people start their own families? But will it ever measure up? Will I ever measure up as an adult? Honestly, this sounds terrible but sometimes I wish I didn't have a good home life so I wouldn't be longing for it back.

I just want to be seven years old again. The five of us together. Virtually free of mistakes. Curious about life to no end. I was so much more creative too. Sure, it didn't have direction, but so what? I didn't even understand the concept "direction." Nots in my hair, that has yet to be ruined by home- bleaching in order to attain god knows what. Chocolate on my face, but it didn't matter. It was only "cute." People didn't judge me the same way. Now I am always being judged. I am always judging myself. I keep erasing lines, but I'm not going to anymore, because that's just more judgement. How can I be so hypocritical?

I am acting about half my age. Everything's come a couple of years late. I guess it's bad to complain. Everything's good. Everything's great.

Eight arms could be useful

2006-05-13T12:47:00.000-07:00

At the present moment it is quite possible that there is a poisonious, blood thirsty spider crawling around on my bed, just waiting to infect me with whatever sort of disease those things can carry. I had noticed the son of a bitch crawling on my ceiling while I was lying down, reading. Book in hand, I reached up to end it's precious two weeks on earth, but when I released the book from the chalky, espestus ridden ceiling a smooshed spider was not to be found. Then Meagan chimed in, "I think it fell."

"Was it alive when it fell?" I asked.

She didn't answer for a moment, then very unassuradely stated "I think so. It looked dead."

"Where did it fall?"

"Like, on your bed or underneath." Yikes... I looked around my bed a bit. Maybe I should have torn it apart to conduct a more thorough search, but I guess I don't value my life that much. Well, whatever. I guess if I start growing extra arms, or my night vision begins improving I'll start to worry. Although, those may not be the warning signs of an infectious spider bite, unless of course those cheesy B horror movies are based on real life medical accounts.

Right now, I'm quite ready to go home. I'm sick of the parties, sick of the boring town, sick of socializing with way too many people that I know don't give a shit about me (FYI- not a personal attack on anyone in particular). I'm looking forward to being home with my family, my record player, home cooked meals, and my mindless 9-5 job at a drugstore. Not saying I'm not going to be bored out of my skull and itching to return by the end of the summer... but for right now it seems preferable.

Another party tonight I guess...

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ- It's 5:00 in the morning!!

2006-05-10T17:42:00.000-07:00

That's right- the fire alarm went off at 5:00 in the morning on Monday night, well, OK I guess it was Tuesday morning. That sucked. It was pretty cold out, and it took me a while to go back to sleep. I stayed up till probably around 6:30. What I want to know is what moron started a fire at 5 in the morning? Probably some drunken microwave incident. Not saying I haven't had a few of those in the past...

Tuesday was actually a pretty great day. No, I didn't get to go camping, nor did I most likely preform semi- decently on my first final, but O'Mara's dinner was pretty spectacular. His wife is one hell of a cook. She made this great chicken, noodles, green beans, on top of all sorts of orderbs and desert.. mmm... lemon squares. It was so nice to get a home cooked meal to hold me over until I get home. One more week of this cafeteria food is wayyy too much.

The pub was beyond fun last night. The bands were killer, and I've never seen it so crowded. Pretty much everyone I know was there. I sort of did something that could've gotten me arrested... but Lucas started it! Can't blame me for being a follower. I'm a product of society I guess. We just took our pants off and started dancing like that in the middle of the pub. Yea, it got a reaction. Mainly complementary, but there was also a lot of "What are you doing?" and "You should really put your pants back on.." I'm a little embarassed I guess. Wait, no I'm not. Sorry, I briefly forgot that I have no shame.

That night was pretty insane. Fueled by hard liquor and bad influences. I didn't hook up with anyone, even though I don't think I was ever blatantly hit on by so many guys in one night. The strange thing is I was well aware that most of them had girlfriends. I also had to pick one of my friends up.. not like with a car, like literally. He was lying down in the middle of the road.

This morning I smoked way too much and was pretty much a walking zombie the whole entire day.

Oh well, I suppose that's all the exciting news I have to report. I have a composition final tomorrow, maybe I should study...

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

All I want for summer is my fucking wisdom tooth!!

2006-05-08T23:30:00.000-07:00

God damn, this hurts like a mother fucker!!! I got 1,2,3 wisdom teeth. Up until now, I never cared. I figured "Ok, I'm just sort of a freak." No such luck, it turns out I am a normal human being and probably from the planet earth. My fourth wisdom tooth is arriving slowly but surely. My mouth hurts so bad. I stick my finger in the back of my mouth more than the average bulemic person to massage my aching gums.

Just come in already...

What else? Ah, I drank some Shmirnoff tonight with and banana liquor tonight with Allie and Tom. I really want to go camping with a bunch of crazy cats tomorrow, but I have a debate dinner to go to at Dr. O'Mara's at 6, and college camp closes at 7:30. I can't eat and run.. so I don't know if it will work out. I really want to try and make it though. The time is ideal. Classes are officially done tomorrow.

For the first time ever I don't feel it's come too soon. I feel as though this year has left no significant trail behind, and whatever minor details need to be sorted through, can most certianly wait until next year. I'm totally ready to take a break for the summer, and then return in the fall with an array of new hopes, motives, and of course.. an eye on the opposite sex. This summer will allow me some time to breathe, seeing as though I recently broke off a relationship. I don't usually meet very many new people at home, so I guess this is how it's going to be, three months, and no sex. Ouch.

Monday, bloody monday

2006-05-08T13:54:00.000-07:00

Woke up this morning to my monthly visitor. That's always a hell of a way to start your day. I had one of the roughest menstraul days of my life. All day I felt tired, too hot, and just generally out of it. Now, after sleeping on the couch with some old Luke Wilson movie on, I finally feel as though I can walk amongst the living.

Yesterday I beat Tom at pool, but only because he accidentally knocked two of my balls in. I swear that I have got to be one of the worst pool players in the world. For the life of me, I can't figure out why I am so bad at it. I used to play kind of a lot, but I stopped because no matter how often I played I never seemed to improve at all, which... is of course a little bit discouraging. Sucks though, I always had this secret dream of getting really good at pool so I could hustle people. Think about it. I'd be perfect for it. Who wouldn't want to play a high stakes pool game with a small white girl from the suburbs? It would be totally bad ass. I've played the scenario out in my mind several times. It goes a little something like this...

I'd be wearing something especially lame, like a Neil Diamond World Tour t- shirt (which I've been meaning to order off e- bay) and I'd walk up to some bad ass looking biker guy and be like "My mom just gave me 100 dollars, and I can't figure out what to do with it? You want to play me for it. I've played a few times..." then he'd snap his fingers and a slew of other biker guys would come out. He'd smile with a mouth full of yellow, rotting teeth, and the game would begin. He would say "Do you want to break up the balls, or should I?" "Oh no sir" I'd say "I'm far too frail and weak. You'd better do it." Then I'd start off a bit slow, at first... then on the thrid or fourth try I'd get about five balls in at once. "Jeepers. How did that happen?" Eventually. I'd win the game after a lot of showy moves where I'd bounce the ball over the other ones and climb up on the table and close my eyes like I saw on TV once. Maybe I'd even do a few behind my back.
Then the biker would have to give his money, and he may even cry in front of all the biker guys after the embarassment of losing to a 20 year old girl in a Neil Diamond shirt. Alas, it can't happen because I can't even make a ball in unless it's some sort of amazingly easy set up that the average 5 year old who can't even see over the pool table could get in.

I also watched The Breakfast Club in the Red Dragon theatre, which was very 1985. I find myself strangely attracted to Anthony Michael Hall...

Saturday

2006-05-07T14:23:00.000-07:00

The day after friday...

Big day yesterday! I didn't get out of my pajamas until around 8:30 pm. What the hell did I do all day? Oh yea, I was talking on aim all morning till about 12:30 when I went to eat with Tom and Allie. We came back and watched Saw 2, which was only slightly more retarded than Saw. We watched some South Park, they left, and I watched That 70's Show. It was a newer episode, which blows. That show has gone way down hill. I hate Donna with blonde hair. Even worse, I didn't see Eric's slutty sister once! Did she leave the show? Still, it remains as one of the most well- written sitcoms on TV. I liked when Eric asked Donna what kind of food he was, expecting her to say something kinky, and she was like "a twizzler." Also, I caught the last half hour or so of Sorority Boys on Comedy Central. That movie was funnier than I thought it would be. They were fighting with dildos like they were light sabers in one scene. To make a long story short, I wasted a whole day.

My night was better. I went to the pub with Ashley. The Gambler, Nun, and the Radio were playing. The pub is freakin weird on Saturdays. Mainly older people, and sorority kids that don't even like music. One old woman started dancing with Ashley and I to the GNR set, which was pretty awesome. She looked more like she was doing some sort of cardio vascular work out, but all the same, I hope I'm that cool when I'm her age. When I went to get a pitcher, another aging townie woman, who just happened to be standing right next to me at the bar, was raving and ranting about wanting to kill someone who I assumed to be her husband. She was actually quite descriptive in what she wanted to do to him. This was pleasant, she said she wanted to hammer a nail through his forehead. Then she was like, "If I had a gun, I'd shoot him right now." Needless to say I took my pitcher and ran as quickly as possible to the opposite side of the bar. Hell hath no fury like a woman's scoarn I guess.

After their set, Votke, Meltzer, Nick, Ash, and I smoked a lot in the parking lot, and then went back and got trashed until the bar closed. At which time a bunch of the people I was hanging out with went to the park to smoke more, but I was tired and cold so on to the last bus I went. When I got home I slept very well.

ps- this is what the alphabet would look like if q and r were taken out.

Summer is just around the corner, and so are my enemies..

2006-05-05T16:17:00.000-07:00

This is my new blog thingy. All are welcome except eskimos.

Newest new news: The tension is so thick in my hallway, you could cut it with a knife. Mmmm... a rusty dagger would be nice. The toolbags (Combonation of tools and douche bags) across the hall ratted us out because my friend ripped promotional ads down from the hallway, and wrote stupid crap on the dry erase board. The cops came and everything. It was very nerve racking. Now, they are sitting in their rooms oh so quietly. Little do they know what I have in mind. Mayhaps I'll shove naked pictures of Bea Arthur under their door. Wait, that might be too extreme. They didn't kill anyone or anything.

God damn, that shit is dumb anyway. Whatever happened to free speach! If I want to write Hail Lucifer 666 and draw pentagrams all over the dry erase board I damn well should be able to! All those losers do is sit in their room and play video games ALL THE TIME. They are always yelling and screaming derogatory terms. I hate them so much. They affirm my disgust in humanity every day. I can't wait to go home. Actually, that's not true. I just wish they would all get killed in some sort of freak accident or something. A fiery automobile crash would suffice.

In other news my sister's bachelorette party is going to be sheer and utter mayhem. I can't wait to shock her with the deviancy Kris, Colleen, and I have devised. Things are going to get pretty crazy. I want the stripper to be a cop or fireman or something. I hope his shlong is huge. Too big, in fact uncomfortably, shocking large would be ideal. I hope he "puts me under arrest" or has to "save my cat from the burning building" Wait, did that make sense? Oh wait, this is for her. Ok, well that's what the day spa is for. Covered...

In other other news finals are approaching faster than a twelve year old male ejaculates.
I am actually not worried at all. My classes were not very challenging this semester. Computer science worries me the most but I always went to lab, and got help with all the assignments so he likes me. That kind of accounts for everything in college. Good thing I'm so garsh darn likable.

I'll post again soon. Until next time go fuck yourselves.