Monday, October 31, 2005
Facebook whore
I'm turning into a facebook whore! Lindsey, Jen, and a couple Megans probably noticed all the crazy pictures I've put up. And if not, look at the pictures of you guys tagged by others. I'm sure you'll all hate me :)
So much more fun than accounting homework!
So much more fun than accounting homework!
Sunday, October 30, 2005
A friend thought she was cool the other day when she told me she didn't have time to read the newspaper that I spend so much time producing. I was thinking, but didn't say, that one can't not have time for current events, because the world still happens even when you're absorbed in yourself.
Nevertheless, she didn't have time to read about the Halloween parking situation in this crazy town, and when she got to her car this morning, she had two tickets.
Well she's lucky she didn't get towed. But it proves my point: those who don't have time for current events get screwed by them.
(vote)
Nevertheless, she didn't have time to read about the Halloween parking situation in this crazy town, and when she got to her car this morning, she had two tickets.
Well she's lucky she didn't get towed. But it proves my point: those who don't have time for current events get screwed by them.
(vote)
Yesterday was a holiday. And though I didn't deserve the free time, I gave myself a whole day of it. I had a big leisurely breakfast with friends, I did nothing, I lazed around in my pjs, I napped. Then, of course, I went out -- got dressed in my saloon girl finery, put on tons of makeup, curled my hair. The night was good I suppose, full of fragmented fun with many different friends and aquaintances in different places, walking around long after my feet started hurting from my high-heels and fishnets. I fell asleep on a friend's bed while the whole group of them were still talking and laughing in the next room.
Today is Sunday. And I have to get some work done. No more Halloween or holiday for me.
I did return home this morning to a heavy birthday bag that had appeared on my chair. (Thank you, darling)
Today is Sunday. And I have to get some work done. No more Halloween or holiday for me.
I did return home this morning to a heavy birthday bag that had appeared on my chair. (Thank you, darling)
You've got the music in you. So what?
Yesterday, I saw my first snow. I didn't get to tell anybody that.
Big wet chunks feathery ice floating-- rain parading in furs. From the fourth floor of a building the air is filled, you feel as though there should not be space for you if you go outside, or that it ought to bear you up if you were to jump into it.
Everything was gently capped white.
Today you wouldn't know it: it's 65 degrees and sunny, all the white gone. Only puddles (which could have been anything but snow) and my memory--and I've found that that memory doesn't mean much. I walked along the Charles this morning, slow, dragging my feet (probably hoping for someone to come save me), and watched the nightmare perfect New England scene and tried to feel enchantment again, and I couldn't conjure anything up. [They say, or I've heard, that it is technically true that one cannot recall the sensation of pain, one may remember feeling hurt, but not be able to actually feel the feeling again. (This is why women continue having babies.)]
So I just listened to the New Radicals and I just want to believe them. But love is saying difficult things. That's what I always tell myself when my feet are weak, when I find bruises on my hands and head and legs and arms and remember later how they got there: this is hard, and it is worth it. It must be. Saying exactly what one means is a difficult thing; an academic pursuit of a supreme and infallible ability to discern, elucidate, articulate, communicate-- To be accurate. To be right. To be truthful. To be wise. To act just. Will just thinking harder allow me to understand and resolve? I don't know how things can happen-- brain function, music and literature, language acquisition. I get the feeling that thinking harder won't do the trick. I don't know if this has to do with law (Is this right?) if thing A happens then B must be true. If B is true, C is invalid. Can it be? Sleep. Drink. Eat. Procrastinate.
Big wet chunks feathery ice floating-- rain parading in furs. From the fourth floor of a building the air is filled, you feel as though there should not be space for you if you go outside, or that it ought to bear you up if you were to jump into it.
Everything was gently capped white.
Today you wouldn't know it: it's 65 degrees and sunny, all the white gone. Only puddles (which could have been anything but snow) and my memory--and I've found that that memory doesn't mean much. I walked along the Charles this morning, slow, dragging my feet (probably hoping for someone to come save me), and watched the nightmare perfect New England scene and tried to feel enchantment again, and I couldn't conjure anything up. [They say, or I've heard, that it is technically true that one cannot recall the sensation of pain, one may remember feeling hurt, but not be able to actually feel the feeling again. (This is why women continue having babies.)]
So I just listened to the New Radicals and I just want to believe them. But love is saying difficult things. That's what I always tell myself when my feet are weak, when I find bruises on my hands and head and legs and arms and remember later how they got there: this is hard, and it is worth it. It must be. Saying exactly what one means is a difficult thing; an academic pursuit of a supreme and infallible ability to discern, elucidate, articulate, communicate-- To be accurate. To be right. To be truthful. To be wise. To act just. Will just thinking harder allow me to understand and resolve? I don't know how things can happen-- brain function, music and literature, language acquisition. I get the feeling that thinking harder won't do the trick. I don't know if this has to do with law (Is this right?) if thing A happens then B must be true. If B is true, C is invalid. Can it be? Sleep. Drink. Eat. Procrastinate.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Drunk Dialing
Don't you hate it when one of your friends calls you totally drunk and keeps slurring about all this stuff that's gone on so far tonight? Hahahaha- I love it :)
You're the best Lindsey! Can't wait to see you in like 5 days! LeeAnn, you should come to LA too... the rest of Half What will be there =D
You're the best Lindsey! Can't wait to see you in like 5 days! LeeAnn, you should come to LA too... the rest of Half What will be there =D
Friday, October 28, 2005
I love my room arrangements!
The combination of my inclination to rise early, my roommate's inclination to have her boyfriend over or to be over at her boyfriend's, and the necessary placement of my desk outside my room due to its size just resulted in a delightful scenario.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Turn Turn Turn
I wish I was better at changing. Rather, dealing with change.
My parents have always said, even as a baby, I have a tough time with change -- diaper changes, baths, changes in location -- and today it still rings true. I've almost gotten used to the ever-changing college world I live in, the constant class changes, the frequent moves, but I constantly struggle with the changing dynamics among things that are close to me -- my friends, my boyfriends, my occupations. Maybe no one's really good at these difficult decisions, but I wish I was more positive about the opportunity for change. I usually end up appreciating them after they're over. It's easy to see what doors opened a few weeks or months down the road, but in the midst, all I see is a closed door.
Reguardless, what happens, happens, right? What's done is done?
My parents have always said, even as a baby, I have a tough time with change -- diaper changes, baths, changes in location -- and today it still rings true. I've almost gotten used to the ever-changing college world I live in, the constant class changes, the frequent moves, but I constantly struggle with the changing dynamics among things that are close to me -- my friends, my boyfriends, my occupations. Maybe no one's really good at these difficult decisions, but I wish I was more positive about the opportunity for change. I usually end up appreciating them after they're over. It's easy to see what doors opened a few weeks or months down the road, but in the midst, all I see is a closed door.
Reguardless, what happens, happens, right? What's done is done?
Everything will Change (Ooh)
I have a newfound appreciation for this song (The Postal Service - Brand New Colony) and its nintendo intro. Mostly for the nintendo intro.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Oh, I've been keeping up with the news. I am the news.
I wanted study diligently for a midterm I have on Friday when I returned home from work this evening, but instead I found myself absorbed in research for an article i'm doing tomorrow on National Take Affirmative Action Day. It will be my third article of the week. I love editing, I love writing, and reporting... but each day the newspaper sucks away my focus, my ability to form coherant sentences, and my ability to read. I have two overdue response papers to write, a 2-3 page essay, and a Spanish test to study for. This could be a problem.
I wanted study diligently for a midterm I have on Friday when I returned home from work this evening, but instead I found myself absorbed in research for an article i'm doing tomorrow on National Take Affirmative Action Day. It will be my third article of the week. I love editing, I love writing, and reporting... but each day the newspaper sucks away my focus, my ability to form coherant sentences, and my ability to read. I have two overdue response papers to write, a 2-3 page essay, and a Spanish test to study for. This could be a problem.
Just Call Me Captain Backfire
I'm listening to John Mayer's Stupid Mouth and thinking of high school.
I hope you all have been keeping up with the news!
I hope you all have been keeping up with the news!
Cambridge
Last week, Cambridge flirted with us: she was beautiful: precocious trees blushing and burning and frisky in brisk air, the sky blue and stuck with pearled clouds, clotted paint, and the wind perpetually moving, blowing, so that you can never smell the smoke when you walk by another bundled pedestrian with a jeweled, glowing cigarette in his hand. It was one of those quaint New England nightmare perfect scenes (and thanks to my short fiction class, I have learned that with Lizzie Bordon and Chappaquiddick and John Cheever to its name, New England is full of nightmares).
I recently read a piece of short fiction that described a man this way: "He looked like a veteran of middle-age and wore the trappings of his compromised taste in fashion like battle scars: short-cuffed pants and creepy Italian leather sandals." I liked the phrase immensely: "his compromised taste in fashion." A compromise forced upon him by middle age; his clothes the trappings of age, can you imagine?
Now, Cambridge is dark and gusty, blustering with fury because Wilma upset her, and now the precocious trees have lost their pretty leaves, which are extinguished, flattened, plastered wet to the ground. The last thing I read was Joyce Carol Oates's Black Water, a novella loosely based on Ted Kennedy's adventure in Chappaquiddick. I use "adventure" in that stupid ironic sense, since he killed a young woman. Oates writes like a record whose grooves are all wrong and keep leading you back to the same point, or more accurately perhaps, a terrifying funhouse with all of her banal and overused themes reflecting back and repeating and never relenting and only because of their oppressive repetition are they made terrifying.
I have a headache (I think I thought it up, because I was fine 20 minutes ago), and it's not piercing, thank goodness, just a hard, tumic sensation. It's been growing for a while; I hope it's not a caffeine dependence. I feel like the end of the beginning is coming soon, and I have no conclusions about college life--all I know is that it's cold, windy, I've got a paper to write and things to read, and I haven't smiled in a long time.
I recently read a piece of short fiction that described a man this way: "He looked like a veteran of middle-age and wore the trappings of his compromised taste in fashion like battle scars: short-cuffed pants and creepy Italian leather sandals." I liked the phrase immensely: "his compromised taste in fashion." A compromise forced upon him by middle age; his clothes the trappings of age, can you imagine?
Now, Cambridge is dark and gusty, blustering with fury because Wilma upset her, and now the precocious trees have lost their pretty leaves, which are extinguished, flattened, plastered wet to the ground. The last thing I read was Joyce Carol Oates's Black Water, a novella loosely based on Ted Kennedy's adventure in Chappaquiddick. I use "adventure" in that stupid ironic sense, since he killed a young woman. Oates writes like a record whose grooves are all wrong and keep leading you back to the same point, or more accurately perhaps, a terrifying funhouse with all of her banal and overused themes reflecting back and repeating and never relenting and only because of their oppressive repetition are they made terrifying.
I have a headache (I think I thought it up, because I was fine 20 minutes ago), and it's not piercing, thank goodness, just a hard, tumic sensation. It's been growing for a while; I hope it's not a caffeine dependence. I feel like the end of the beginning is coming soon, and I have no conclusions about college life--all I know is that it's cold, windy, I've got a paper to write and things to read, and I haven't smiled in a long time.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
The rain and gloom have begun. Like an itch that won't go away, it is not so much actively annoying, as it is subtly, disruptively annoying.
I like the rain. I liked taking a nap this afternoon to get out of the cold. I liked curling up on my couch with a blanket and some reading. I liked listening to my upstairs neighbors have rainy-day sex on a squeaky bed. I like that it reminds me of the depressing winter and spring...
Oh wait. I mean, I like that I get all wet and cold when riding my bike.
Wishing for sun...
I like the rain. I liked taking a nap this afternoon to get out of the cold. I liked curling up on my couch with a blanket and some reading. I liked listening to my upstairs neighbors have rainy-day sex on a squeaky bed. I like that it reminds me of the depressing winter and spring...
Oh wait. I mean, I like that I get all wet and cold when riding my bike.
Wishing for sun...
Sunday, October 23, 2005
I'm back on the board!
I realized that I didn't have a post on this page anymore, and that's just not right. I don't wanna get kicked off... again...
Okay, so life's cool. My apt has to meet with our landlord about that party we had on friday for my b-day (which wasn't even very loud or crazy, because that's not how I roll), but hopefully we'll just get yelled at and nothing more. What lame neigherbors I have...
After that, on Saturday I went home to go out to dinner with my parents and celebrate with them. The most notable thing to come out of that is that I drove to San Diego and back all by myself for the first time! And it wasn't even that bad! Kudos to me.
I don't like people asking me about my love life, especially if it's just to tell me that they've found someone... so I'll just say it. No, a love life does not exist for me. Yes, I am still single, and I have no plans on changing that, I have trouble enough holding onto my friends.
Okay, so life's cool. My apt has to meet with our landlord about that party we had on friday for my b-day (which wasn't even very loud or crazy, because that's not how I roll), but hopefully we'll just get yelled at and nothing more. What lame neigherbors I have...
After that, on Saturday I went home to go out to dinner with my parents and celebrate with them. The most notable thing to come out of that is that I drove to San Diego and back all by myself for the first time! And it wasn't even that bad! Kudos to me.
I don't like people asking me about my love life, especially if it's just to tell me that they've found someone... so I'll just say it. No, a love life does not exist for me. Yes, I am still single, and I have no plans on changing that, I have trouble enough holding onto my friends.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
And now she's 20!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY MISS JEN FENG!
I hope you have an amazing party on Friday. I shall see you when I come to LA November 3 (I hope)!
I hope you have an amazing party on Friday. I shall see you when I come to LA November 3 (I hope)!
I'm that editor I hated freshman and sophomore year. The one who changes my story to the point that it's barely recognizeable. The one that calls me five times to check facts, and jokes with the other editors while i'm sitting there waiting and when I leave. I'm the editor that runs out to get Freebirds for dinner and can't remember my name.
The point is, that i'm an editor. And the little reporter whose story I read today told me I was a lot nicer than any of the editors she's worked with before. I'm ready for more.
PS HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEEANN (a bit late...) Let's all wish her a big Boston birthday! :-)
The point is, that i'm an editor. And the little reporter whose story I read today told me I was a lot nicer than any of the editors she's worked with before. I'm ready for more.
PS HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEEANN (a bit late...) Let's all wish her a big Boston birthday! :-)
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Boston, Rejoice!
The Boston skies have broken! The steel shell of rain and wind yields to the glorious winds, which blow so as to make our Goldfish plant Hagrid fall off the sill! And the Sun! It shines on Boston today!
At 11:00 AM, Boston, MA was experiencing fair weather at 58°F, wind was west at 23 mph, gusts up to 43 mph.
At 11:00 AM, Boston, MA was experiencing fair weather at 58°F, wind was west at 23 mph, gusts up to 43 mph.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
She's 20!
Linz- I hope you have a terrific birthday and get tons of awesome presents and everything you ever wanted. Love youuuuu!
Friday, October 14, 2005
I'm eating a really good apple. I mean really good. It's organic and it was really dirty when I bought it, but now it's clean and sweet and juicy and amazing. I'm never buying my apples from the supermarket again.
Tomorrow feels a little better, because in today's paper there was a little birthday box for me featuring a bad picture and a funny message. It's the little things, like birthday fill, amazing apples, a check for $2.98 in the mail and...evil sailing teachers?
Tomorrow feels a little better, because in today's paper there was a little birthday box for me featuring a bad picture and a funny message. It's the little things, like birthday fill, amazing apples, a check for $2.98 in the mail and...evil sailing teachers?
For the first year ever i'm not looking foward to my birthday. Not because i'm turning 20, old, and that's a bit scary, but because i'm expecting too much. As a 20-year-old, I feel like I should have a semi-perfect, well-put-together life and be sure about my friends, the guy i'm dating, my career path, my living situation, my classes, and the place I decide to spend the special day, but i'm just not. I'm fighting the urge to forget about everything and run home to my mommy and daddy this weekend and spend a reliable birthday in the bosom of my family. Instead, i'm going on a retreat. I'll be in nature which is perfect, but there's also nowhere to run and nowhere to hide should I find myself unsatisfied. A Saturday birthday has the potential to be amazing...it also has the potential to be much less. Happy 20th?
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Alice Munro, you whore!
I didn't realize how long it had been since I posted... until I had a paper to write.
In the past few days, I have dug myself into an academic euphoria; I've steeped myself in Cartesian linguistic theory while discovering the string quartets of Heitor Villa Lobos, sifted through the chalk diagrams and explanations of neuronal activity, and, rolled in cigarette smoke (not my own) while discussing short fiction. I have become overexcited about all of the things I do not know; I cannot wait to read Hauser's The Evolution of Communication, or Anderson's Doctor Dolittle's Delusion, or more papers about the neurophysiology of language acquisition... and yet, I think about writing the essay due tomorrow about Alice Munro's "A Wilderness Station" and I don't know what to do.
I am terrified of writing this essay. I have written close reading essays at least four times in my life that I can remember, and some of those incidences were under timed conditions. I am terrified and psyched out and do not know how to begin. I would rather read now than write, rather drill French grammar, or tag and shelve library books, I would rather do anything than exercise the creative aspect of my language ability.
BLaaslkdhENVXNKCJHfda!
I just went on facebook to confirm a friend, checked all of my emails (at least once), checked the social analysis 34 discussion board, and typed in all of the tracks of the CD I am burning.
NBLADfjskhACI#!
In the past few days, I have dug myself into an academic euphoria; I've steeped myself in Cartesian linguistic theory while discovering the string quartets of Heitor Villa Lobos, sifted through the chalk diagrams and explanations of neuronal activity, and, rolled in cigarette smoke (not my own) while discussing short fiction. I have become overexcited about all of the things I do not know; I cannot wait to read Hauser's The Evolution of Communication, or Anderson's Doctor Dolittle's Delusion, or more papers about the neurophysiology of language acquisition... and yet, I think about writing the essay due tomorrow about Alice Munro's "A Wilderness Station" and I don't know what to do.
I am terrified of writing this essay. I have written close reading essays at least four times in my life that I can remember, and some of those incidences were under timed conditions. I am terrified and psyched out and do not know how to begin. I would rather read now than write, rather drill French grammar, or tag and shelve library books, I would rather do anything than exercise the creative aspect of my language ability.
BLaaslkdhENVXNKCJHfda!
I just went on facebook to confirm a friend, checked all of my emails (at least once), checked the social analysis 34 discussion board, and typed in all of the tracks of the CD I am burning.
NBLADfjskhACI#!
Monday, October 10, 2005
My fish is dying.
All my roommates are asleep.
I have about 1,000 things to do today/this week.
My room needs a good cleaning.
I'm thinking about dropping a class.
It's Monday morning. When the world is dead when you don't know how you're going to make it through the week when you're turning 20 on Saturday...oh, it's Monday.
All my roommates are asleep.
I have about 1,000 things to do today/this week.
My room needs a good cleaning.
I'm thinking about dropping a class.
It's Monday morning. When the world is dead when you don't know how you're going to make it through the week when you're turning 20 on Saturday...oh, it's Monday.
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Studying abroad is not for the unmotivated. I have about 50 pages of materials to read, 20 pages of forms to fill out, and about 25 various pieces of information to gather before I apply for my visa. In person. In LA. On a weekday before noon (a Thursday?). Can I come visit anyone while i'm there?
Exactly 90 days from today I will be on a plane bound for Sevilla.
In slightly more current news, I bought a halloween costume today. It's red and lacy and...it looks as if i'm going to be like all the other sluts in I.V. this year. On the one hand, Juli will be happy because i'm being a girl this year. On the other hand, I think I need to get over to the craft store and buy some black lace in an effort to cover myself up a bit. Ha. Black lace. Cover.
Exactly 90 days from today I will be on a plane bound for Sevilla.
In slightly more current news, I bought a halloween costume today. It's red and lacy and...it looks as if i'm going to be like all the other sluts in I.V. this year. On the one hand, Juli will be happy because i'm being a girl this year. On the other hand, I think I need to get over to the craft store and buy some black lace in an effort to cover myself up a bit. Ha. Black lace. Cover.
Friday, October 07, 2005
lump of coal
Like a child on Christmas, every morning for the past week I have run outside to collect my newspaper from the door mat. And every morning, save two, it hasn't been there.
Either someone is deliberately depriving me of my daily current events, or I am being continually overlooked. I've called twice, and I just laugh as they credit my account for the papers I haven't recieved. The overall quality of the paper is not worth my aggrevation, so I will laugh each morning til they finally bring it. And I will sit alone with my bowl of cereal wishing I had something gray and black to read.
Either someone is deliberately depriving me of my daily current events, or I am being continually overlooked. I've called twice, and I just laugh as they credit my account for the papers I haven't recieved. The overall quality of the paper is not worth my aggrevation, so I will laugh each morning til they finally bring it. And I will sit alone with my bowl of cereal wishing I had something gray and black to read.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Earl Grey's Essay-writing Prowess
Last night, I had 20 oz. of Tsa something Chai tea at approximately 8:30 p.m. and was infused with the tense alertness that is caffeination until 1 a.m., when I allowed the buzz to fade into sleep. Now, I realize that the little cup of Earl Grey tea I spilled and then drank at breakfast is seeping through my muscles, but, zut alors, I am also infused with the nervousness that writingtwoessaysbeforenoononefortheadvocatecompandoneformyfirstexpositorywritingessay-ation. I have to focus. I have to fucosc. I ahve ot haifous.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Tuesday, October 04, 2005
Meet my roommates
Meet my roomates (from left to right): Robbie and Alex (who share the other bedroom), and Yumi (who I share a room with). I haven't spent that much time with Yumi and Robbie casue they are really invovled with this Asian theatre group on campus, but Alex is around a lot and we watch lots of TV together.
It's really strange living in an apartment now. School seems to distant from me now. It's like I have my life here, and classes are just a small interruption in the day. This is not a good thing, because school seems so far away that school work is like this odd dream instead of an obligation.
I leave you all on this note:
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Angel
Cell phones bring across thousands of miles: a confrontation; a problem to face; a bigger person to be.
I am listening to Jeff Buckley instead.
I am listening to Jeff Buckley instead.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Presenting Oscar
Product of the Ceramic Department's semester event: CLAY ALL NIGHT! Doors open from 8 pm to 1 am. Unfortunately, Oscar wasn't fired, so in reality he will crumble soon; on Halfwhat, he will live forever.
There have been many moments in the past few months where i've stopped, taken a step back, and wondered, "Is this really happening?" Most of the time it is really happening, and most of the time I determine that it was bound to happen that way. Like a few months ago when I was tipsy-stumbling-home-late and recieved two calls from two people who don't call often. Or when I found myself sipping-a-beer-talking-late with a longtime crush. Of course these things happen.
And then there was this morning, when I was groggy-easing-into-a-street-parking-space and suddenly heard myself scream as a car from nowhere slammed into me. My front bumper has seen better days and I can't for the life of me find those hazy, misplaced memories. Of course...these things happen.
And they cost my whole summer income to fix.
But as they say, at least i'm okay.
And then there was this morning, when I was groggy-easing-into-a-street-parking-space and suddenly heard myself scream as a car from nowhere slammed into me. My front bumper has seen better days and I can't for the life of me find those hazy, misplaced memories. Of course...these things happen.
And they cost my whole summer income to fix.
But as they say, at least i'm okay.
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