What a weekend!

Vegas, superbowl party, not doing my homework... it was a good weekend :) Here are some pictures to prove it!

Let me know if you want to see more... I'm in the process of uploading them

Latest Update

Publications writing about publications. You know the drill:
Attorney offers deal in magazine controversy

I kind of feel like that dog looks. Not too busy, but quite antsy.

I'm so excited about going to Vegas next weekend to celebrate Shao. We're gonna have so much fun! I'm also excited about no class Tuesday night so I can go to Taco Tuesday =D. It's the little things like Taco Tuesday.

PS- if any of you are thinking of driving drunk just call me and I'll come kick your ass for even thinking about it. People are so irresponsible! Seriously one of the dumbest things you could do and it could ruin your whole life. Just try not to be dumb, okay guys? Thanks.

I see that Half What is still going strong, even in my absence. Good job.

I regret to inform you... actually, I don't really regret it at all... that I have no scandalous stories to tell you.

I have a date tonight. I wonder whether Spaniards go on dates at night like Americans, or during lunchtime, since that's the biggest meal of the day. I wonder if they go on dates at all. I wonder when they eat in restaurants, because there aren't really that many restaurants that i've seen, just a hell of a lot of bars with tapas.

What's your favorite Cezanne?

My car is sad. It's missing a tire. It blames LA potholes and mean drivers.

So we're driving along Wilshire to go see Brian Regan at the Wiltern and Joe's driving my car because everyone else seemed to abhore the idea of driving except for him but we were running late and he couldn't go get his car so he ended up driving mine. There's like a series of potholes ahead and our driver tries to avoid them by changing lanes, but the mean guy won't let us change. So we hit the potholes, I see my hubcap flying off into the sidewalk, ask "Is that my hubcap?" turn down the window to find out and hear a hissing noise from the front tire. Already running late, we drive on the flattening tire to the Wiltern and just make it.

On the upside, Brian Regan was hilarious.

@*#%&

I have been, of late, looking for a word which will eradicate curse words from my daily vocabulary. A few days ago, I was thrilled to find that "Bugger!" had entirely replaced shitdamnassholepissfuckcuntcocksuckermotherfucker* as the response to unpleasant, surprising, frustrating, or otherwise aggravating events. However, last night, Lucy and Ellen were kind enough to inform me that "bugger," rather than signifying say, an insect, is actually verb which means to sodomize (You see, Lucy, there is a more genteel way of defining it than "Butt fuck," although I guess butt fuck carries the same lewd implications). Anyhow, I can't say "bugger" in good conscience any more. Lucy has suggested "pants," with a British accent, but I've yet to warm up to the idea. Let me know if you have any suggestions for a clean expletive. Doggone and any sort of long Italian phrase that means something to the effect of "Tarnation on the cruel, blasphemous winds of Fate which carry me to my doom!" are out of the question.

(*Don't you go picking on me for modifying George Carlin; I saw the man live! I have license! I got his blessing and it came in the form of him splashing me with the echinacea honey herb tea he was drinking to soothe an itch in his throat the night of the performance. Part of this is true.)

BEGIN THE COUNTDOWN

I went to L.A. this weekend to visit friends. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure Jen is dying in bed still. Poor girl. Too sick to go see gay cowboys with me! Haha... Anyway, I had fun this weekend before the beginning of school, but it was way too cold so we tried not to go out too much. It was a good time had inside though. Drinking, nintendo, tv, and some very good food.

Other than that, nothing exciting to report. School starts tomorrow, but I don't have class until Thursday.

Get better Jen!!! Heal quickly LeeAnn!!! and We miss you Lindsey!!!

My name is LeeAnn. I'm an addict.

Yes, folks, I have a habit. Addiction? Obssession? My own stupidity? Probably all of the above. Really, I abuse myself, the disc and the ground just help me along.


Maybe if schoolwork would leave me sweating, bruised, and bleeding, I'd like it better. Can you imagine? Ultimate French: every time the disc is caught, one must answer a question in French before the next throw. If the other team gets the disc to the endzone, one must do ten pushups while conjugating whatever verb the other team decides. If one conjugates incorrectly, it's another verb and ten more pushups. Dude. Sweet.

Raindrops on roses...

A good thing in my life right now. The prospects of a ribbon are good and in the near future!



Keep an eye out for my linguistics books, Heart of Darkness, and French flashcards. A good summary. Oh, also notice the sulking printer behind it.

Apocalyptic , but Hopeful

The past week has been one of fretting, disturbed sleep, physical exhaustion, and emotional frustration. Oh, and not to mention the unseasonably warm, sunny, and dry days we have had (50+ degrees?). Something was wrong with the universe this past week, but it looks like it is on a smooth, slightly outside in path to normalcy and comfort.

Miss Lindsey is leaving us for Spain tomorrow. :( I think we should try to keep HalfWhat updated so that she still knows what is going on in our lives and in the freaking U.S. In return we want lots of news about all the cool and exciting things you're doing in Spain, missy!

Hello, friends! I will be posting mostly here while I am in Spain. :-) But don't worry. I still love the Half What girls and if I have any scandalous stories, i'll post 'em here. Or nowhere.

Have you been making out okay?

Yes, it's true. I'm back at school, and I'm feeling it in all those ways that are pathetic to the calloused ear.

Today, I put on those heels and a new dress, a matching scarf and a cute jacket, a fleece hat and long underwear in an attempt to infuse the body that wore them with some spirit of sparkling novelty or tight-knit composure. Funny though, how easy it is to drop the hat on the floor, roll one's ankle in the cute heels, find the dress stuck by static to an unwary buttocks, and get stares for the trifecta of colors necessary to defend the legs above the boots from the cold (the socks, the long underwear, the leggings).

Fashion faux pas and haters aside, the end of the week will find me temporarily relieved (of the burden of a final essay which as of yet has yet to find its place in Thesisland). For now, I'll have to find some solace in Al Green's voice and try not to remember how his lover threw hot grits on his back while he was in the shower before she shot herself dead.

Happy New Year! (a little late)

LeeAnn's back at school and Jen is soon to follow. Winter break went fast...

It's that time again...

It's really hard to enter a new year and not become really reflective upon the old one. Or maybe it's just my nostalgia acting up after watching one too many "I Love the 90s" episodes. I feel like a lot of things are coming around full circle, which is kind of strange in a cool way. That being said, I don't know if everything's just going to continue to connect or just burst apart. People coming, people returning, people leaving, everything just seems incredibly unpredictable, and I'm excited and scared to see how everything (and everyone) turns out.
My New Year's resolution last year was to become more self-confident and to not let people step all over me. It was a biggie, I know, and I'm not even sure if I acheived it. I definately feel a lot better about myself now than I did this time last year, but I can't tell if it's because I've personally become stronger or if I just ran away from my problems. I'll give myself the benefit of the doubt and say it was the former.
This year, as I was clinking martini glasses with two wonderful girls who I've known for way too long, I believe all three of us had trouble thinking of resolutions to make. I never really put that much stock in resolutions, even though I probably should since I like the idea of starting with a clean slate, so I said I wanted a drama-free year. It just takes too much out of me, and a tear-stained face is totally not a flattering look on me. It's a huge thing to hope for in the next year, but I've never been one to have low expectations.
So with ALL that said, here's to a new year *clink*

Massachusetts, here I come!

It seems appropriate to have something to say on the first day of the year, some grand word of commencement, something to sum up, size up, tie up, gag, and mysteriously make disappear all the things that have happened in the year past.

Well. All I can really think of is this: I'm terrifed, mortified, surely ready to be horrified--by all that's to come. Which isn't to say I'm inclined to stay where and when I am, just that I feel as though from here on out everything is going to be --or, ought to be-- rather epic.

I guess that's the best I can hope for, anyway.

By the way. I am formulating a new blog that will be my home while i'm in Spain. This way I can post as many pictures and invite as many family members as I would like to see it. I won't leave half what for good, of course, I just won't post as often. Address TBA.

Everyone's talking about getting kicked off. Really, I should be ashamed of myself. Ample time to do nothing but post and I have been doing nothing of the sort. Nothing really at all, for that matter. Here I am, halfway between Christmas and New Year's and still thinking Spain is further than less than two weeks away... the furthest i'm thinking is tomorrow. Maybe Saturday, because I would like to know what I will be doing for New Year's. But it's sneaking up... And I'm going to have to think about packing and how i'm going to speak Spanish and how i'm going to meet new people and pass my classes and... I sound like i'm dreading it. I'm not.

Home!

Wow, we must be getting older, people go back to school sooner and sooner, and some don't even leave in the first place. Anyway the point is, I have a week or so left in San Diego, and everyone's leaving me already! I guess this gives me more time to study (why am I such a nerd??) but *sigh* I don't really want to.

Another sign I'm getting older? I'm able to have better conversations with my parents that are more personal and less political. But there's still that damn language barrier... but that'll get broken down one day hopefully.

Last sign (but I noticed this a couple years ago), I have to watch out who I'm checking out. Some people just look so much older than they really are!

Three Inches of Wonder

It's amazing what a hot pair of heels will do for one's self-esteem. For some reason, being three inches taller makes my world just a little more beautiful.

Alack, Alas

I am home!

Chronic-what?-cles

I'm sorry I have to post this link from SNL on Saturday. It was hilarious. Please watch this :)

http://youtube.com/watch.php?v=zLElfJ9YCh0

It'll be worth your two minutes!

Hey, it's New Kid's Little Sister!

I'm sure you all ran out to your doorsteps or grocery stores to grab the paper yesterday when you heard that your neighborhood virtuoso had his mug in it.


Yay, Ray!

Okay, so before I get kicked off, here goes.

Past week's been pretty cool, I finished my finals on Monday (3 in one day! It sucked!), and my roommates were pretty much done also. So it's really cool, because even if I dont' find anything to do with other people, pretty much there's always something going on at our place, even if it is just a bunch of people hanging out watching trashy tv. Speaking of trashy tv, three out of the four of us have become addicted to project runway. Those people are such spazzes, it's great, and it's only the 2nd episode. Just picture them later on in the season. I can't wait.

I haven't been doing much in the way of partying though... oh wait that's a lie, I had some hypnotique last night. That stuff is so weird. Like you can smell and feel the alcohol but you can't taste it.

Alright, update's over. I'll be seeing 2 of the three of you on saturday!

Which reminds me... HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULI!!!!!

As has already been proven, I don't do well when I have nothing to do. And I have nothing to do. And at day four of being home with nothing to do, i'm not doing well.

Update v. 2.0

Snow

23°F
Feels Like
13°F

An Update

Clear
17°F
Feels Like
2°F

I'm pretty sure I'm gonna get kicked off soon if I don't post. My life is school right now and it's entirely too jam packed with end of the year projects and finals coming up to even think about other stuff right now. Please don't hate me for not posting and please come to my bday party on the 17th. Let me know if you can come and I'll fill you in on details later.

PS- Linz, of course it's okay!

Out of Desire, not Consolation

Yesterday, it snowed. Not just flurries, not just like the fake plastic icing in a can that you could spray on boughs in San Diego--no, this is snow! Three to six beautiful, bright white inches of snow!

And what did I do in it? I played ultimate.

No rants about ultimate here, they are inconsequential at best. Suffice it to say that frisbee in Warwick was colder than a turd in a freezer (not that I keep turds in freezers) and that this winter will be a time to make myself an ultimate machine!

Today, with the residue of illness still festering in my nostrils and muscles, I went to class and was revitalized, reenthused, reinfused by some sort of faith in discussion and learning. In my expos class, we had a discussion about the obligations of literature, and art, in there is any, and my preceptor, to my great surprise, deigned to mention that this is what our essays, or essays in general about art, should ultimately seek to answer. He set the dangling carrot down on the table briefly, and chewed on it himself.

Still, the ideas seem fleeting and self-indulgent, but I'm thinking there might be something to the objective existence of them. We'll see!

Wrought isn't a word. Rather, it's a word that doesn't mean what I think it means. It means wrought-iron fence. It also means "work." I need it to mean "filled." In my head, filled doesn't quite have the same connotations as wrought. But to everyone else, I look like an idiot.

Milton Essay Extraordinaire

"The fall was necessary to facilitate the growth and advance of the human population — it’s the reason all six billion-plus people of the world are not crammed into the Garden of Eden, having sex and pruning the trees."

My professor argues that our world essentially is Milton's Garden of Eden. I think he's going to laugh when he reads that line, because i'm saying that essentially all we do is have sex and prune the trees.

I was sitting at my desk this afternoon, enjoying the quiet of my apartment and the gentle arrival of the fog, when I heard a crash. There are door slams and bottles breaking, but there's only one sound that emanates when one car crashes into another. Outside my house there was a city bus stopped, and a little red car barely visible that had pulled out of a driveway prematurely. Then there were people, and two police cars, and two firetrucks.

I didn't look. I hope that since I saw no ambulance, and heard no screaming or crying, that the driver of the little red car wasn't hurt by the bus that crashed into his/her driver's side door.

I'm pretty sure it takes a lot of bilingual talent to listen to music in english while writing an essay and reading in spanish.

Hot & Bothered

They keep the rooms so warm here, no matter how chilly or swarmy it is outside. I've been in my room all day, almost (but not quite) moist with sweat, filled with ballooning dreams and misgivings, feeling my limbs like tenuously connected lumps of junk metal, sore steel and 6-tons of brass in each buttock, each arm, a stone of terrifying pain in my calf and slivers of worry in my shins; disgust at the courage that isn't there and the spiraling optimism; and I'm sitting here watching the clock tick by minutes that I'm not at practice.

I forgot how much fun it is to analyze poems. I'm serious. Tonight I decided to tackle "A Dialogue Between the Soul and Body," a poem I specifically remember being afraid of senior year when I was assigned to read it. It's keeping me interested, and my brain is hurting from the challenge. I remember why i'm an English major. For some reason, I like to do this stuff. And though I may detest the boring lectures and empty readings teachers like to barate us with, and question my major, I really do like it.

"So that either is not what you mean or plain wrong."

After cleaning my room (organizing all books by height and type), napping for 3 or 5 minutes at a time, eating dinner (and punishing myself with a chickwich), playing a really successful game of Expert Minesweeper for 588 seconds before failing with only 10 mines left to find, skipping frisbee practice for expos's sake, I have no thesis. I have no observations. I have nothing original to write about the Fall River Axe Murders. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip.

Olfactory Hues

After almost three months in Cambridge, I have decided that college is unequivocally, unfortunately, and inexplicably smelly.

Whether it is the pungent, not-quite-urine-not-quite-vomit- not-quite-menstrual smell emanating from a mysterious (and unlocatable) corner of the bathroom or the thick dead animal smell of the practice room or the striking body odor of afrazzled, hungover grad student T.F. as he sweeps by, arms up, trying to demonstrate a concept in French, everywhere there are unpleasant smells that I either cannot locate the root of or that I cannot do anything about.

And these smells, they are only unpleasant to the degree of annoyance, because it seems that everyone has something more important to do than eradicate them.

This reminds me of the time at home that I unknowingly had a cup of soymilk sitting on my desk that periodically belched foul, fermented gas.

These are the things I articulate when I have an essay to write.

Home.

At my home for another 14 days. Two weeks to finish up my classes, take finals, write papers, say goodbye to my job, my friends, Santa Barbara. I feel like summer is approaching... but Europe is. This is so weird.

I'm sorry for not posting very often, but I really haven't had too much to say. Like there's a lot on my mind, like I've been spending a lot of time just lying around thinking because for some reason I dont' want to do anything else, but nothing that really deserves to be written about really. Plus, there's always a lot on my mind, my neck is sore my head so damn heavy... HAHAHAHAHA!
ANYways, I'm trying to figure out what I want to do over the next summer. I really want to travel somewhere, but not in a study abroad or school/company/intership travel program manner because that's just way too expensive and I still need to time to fill out med school apps and take the MCATs again if I need to. I need something more flexible. Anyone wanna go somewhere with me? I'm not all too picky as to where, just anywhere but here. Speaking of the Ataris, they have samples of new songs posted on their myspace page... and I've decided that I agree that it is weird that bands have myspace pages.

Ever reach that stage of tiredness where you want to go to sleep, but you're so lazy that you don't want to get ready for bed?

Told ya I didn't have too much to say.

I was going to write a conclusion to my last thought, but I was distracted by the pomegranate. I wanted to buy one the other day, but I decided I couldn't possibly eat it A) by myself, and B) without my ex-roommie who's studying in France for the year. Last year we ate one while writing papers on our respective computers, the juicy seeds stored in a coffee pot that sat between us.

Yesterday

I ate a pomegranate.

I was in full packing mode this afternoon, chair blocking the doorway, piles filling the small aisle between my desk and bed, on the phone, music booming. At that opportune moment, my roommate returned home, engaged in loud conversation with her boyfriend, and expected to enter our room with her laundry basket. I closed my eyes and turned away, reluctant to break the seal to my solitude, disrupt the method to my madness.

There's a conclusion to that thought, I swear.

So... this is kind of late but, HAPPY 21st B-DAY AVALON AND STEVE!!!!!!!!! I hope this week(end) has been awesome for you guys so far. Well I dont hope... I know, because I just spent it with you guys.

Bullocks!

Jane Monheit at the Berklee Performance Center on December 9... $26!

Absolutely ridiculous.

Running in Boston

Made me remember this.

And so it begins... (v. 5.0)

It seems that every time I celebrate a return to running, I end up wrapped in my towel, face still a deep sanguine (I was looking for a word that evoked the image of dark pink fleshy meat) color, hair dripping from a shower that couldn't get cold enough--blogging. What an awful sentence that was. I'm sure some literary titan or Expos preceptor could analyze the hell out of a stupid, simply poorly constructed sentence like that. Something about the anticipation of the action being intensified by the passive nature of the description and the parenthetical comment revealing the narrator's ... oh to flaming hell with literary analysis. For serious. For love of all things serious.

So today I ran in Cambridge around the Charles. I felt strong. The cold air held me like sashimi in a bed of ice, and it wasn't until I stopped moving that I felt my face flush that familiar color which would make everyone ask if I was okay. The entire run was basically flat. I was wearing long sleeves. I'll keep you updated.

Foliage

I took myself on a day trip to LA today.

6 hours of on and off driving, some traffic, some unprotected left-hand turns.
3 hours of waiting, 5 mins of talking to the (hot) consulate man.
1 hour of shopping at Amoeba, yielding no purchases.

On the bright side, I will have a visa in 45 days.

Oh please, EVERYONE's heard of THEM...

Everytime I keep thinking that I'm not as into music as a used to be due to my growing resentment towards the attitudes people take on music (fine, no one's heard of your new favorite post-modern ethereal 20-piece musical discovery... it doesn't make it good, it just makes you a douche), I find myself listening to 10 new cds all in one sitting. I have to listen to music when I wake up in the morning, when I study, when I go to sleep. As music scenes merge, divide, and fight, I just have to keep on listening...

What did you huck this weekend?

I went to Rhode Island this weekend for Brown's Huck a Hunk o' Burnin' Pumpkin Halloween Ultimate Frisbee Tournament. A mouthful, no?

I'm starting to feel that familiar concern again, that familiar obsession-- I once posted, way back in the heyday of our TPHS shared blogs, about a cross country race that involved buckets of rain, shoes of mud, and tons of steaming, pure adrenalin. I wrote about loving sport for that feeling of 125% exertion, vomit at the end of the race, running so that there are no regrets. I felt that today, when we lost a game to Columbia, whom we beat decisively just two weeks ago at Yale, whom we should have beaten today, and who fumbled stumbled bumbled their way to serving us our asses and egos today. I never was good at cross country, and I'm a long ways from being an ultimate player, but there was that frustration today, the depression that came from regret of dropping a good put, or not running down a huck, or not getting on defense fast enough and watching the other team score. It was depressing as hell to lose, but on second thought, knowing that I felt it at all was refreshing. Sport is instant pleasure: play hard, feel good. Hot damn diggity, dear Halfwhat readers, in this post I profess my love for ultimate frisbee and the swift, skilled people who play it. How terribly silly.

VIVA LE SPORT!

Juli says the best cure for hangovers are waffles, Sgt. Pepper's, closed blinds, and sleep.

I am inclined to agree.

A Simple Request

I would like somebody with a sweet digital SLR camera to take a sweet picture of me doing something sweet, like chasing a disc (and clearly getting to it), laying out or "saying NO!" or laying out.

That is all.

Just so you guys know...

I am working WAY hard to get all my work done before you I see you guys (Juli and Linds) on Thursday. All for you two! Be grateful.

Oh, I'm so excited!

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!

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)

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)

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.

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

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.

Maybe bittersweet is the term i'm looking for.

Bittersweet.

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?

The U-T Story
The U-T Editorial by Logan Jenkins
The Editorial by Marsha Sutton

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.

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.

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!

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.

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'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.

Now that i'm uber involved at the newspaper, all my friends and their friends and their friends call me to get publicity for their events, clubs, projects, etc. Do I look like free advertising?

I was late on LeeAnn's bday, I can be late on Jen's too. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEN! So there.

Juli, you don't appear to belong in Half What -- the rest of us have October birthdays.

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'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! :-)

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.

She's 20!

Happy Birthday to the most amazingly awesomely sexy cool girl I know! ;)

Linz- I hope you have a terrific birthday and get tons of awesome presents and everything you ever wanted. Love youuuuu!

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?

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?

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#!

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.

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.

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.

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.

Week 2 and i'm already skipping classes. This needs to stop.

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:

Who's going to Spain?

I'm going to Spain. Now it's time to freak out.

What an amazing New Year's gift. (It's Rosh Hashanah)

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.

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.

Lately it just seems like the world is coming to an end. With the hurricanes, crazy thunderstorms, and fires in California I just don't know what to think. And seriously, what is with this HOT weather. Anyway, I hope LA isn't too smokey although it seems like the fires are a ways north of you guys. And I hope the first week of school is going well for all!

Thundercats!

It is raining too hard for me to want to go to my section.

Tonight, I am going to find out my work schedule at the Eda Kuhn Loeb Music Library, and if I am up to it, find out what I have to do to get on the radio. Wazow, bam, boom!

This is the birthday card I turned in as the first assignment of my Advocate design comp.

The past two days has been uncommonly hot in Santa Barbara...hotter than it was all summer. Perhaps the weather is a metaphor for my life, or perhaps it's punnishing the powers that be for starting classes now, rather than a month from now.

I'll be the first to admit i'm still on summer mode. I haven't been home one night this week and I haven't gone to sleep before 2. I have, however, been to all my classes, and I have written two articles. Think I can hold out?

The answer is no. I'm starting at the top and eliminating everything that takes time away from my studies, my journalism, and my beauty sleep. I'll start with work.

Champs

Padres = NL West Division Champions! They beat the Giants 9-1 tonight. Guess who got tickets to game 4 of the division playoffs before they're up for sale to the public? Damn right!

Playing Catch-up

I went onto out website and saw that there were like 5 new posts. So I thought that I should probably write something too because, you know, I don't want to be left out or anything. So I am living in my new apartment, which according to some of my friends is in the boonies, but I'm just across the street from Eric and Avalon, and they're so much cooler anyways. In case you're wondering, they're doing well and watching LOST dvds all the time. My apartment is crazy huge with a crazy huge balcony, and my new roommates are the nicest and most chill people ever. Our neighbors play music really loudly, like to the point where I can make out the words to the songs that they play. But that's cool because it doesn't really bother me, and it means that we get to be just as loud... party anyone? Basically for the past three days I've been running around trying to get back in touch with everyone I neglected to call over the summer to try and make up for the lack of communication. That's basically about it, but classes start over the next couple of days, so I'll be able to write about my awful (maybe great?) professors soon enough.

NL West

I just wanted you all to know that our San Diego Padres could win the NL West Pennant tonight if they beat the dirty SF Giants! For all of you who don't follow baseball, this is a very good thing and will send us into the playoffs. The Padres just have to win the game tonight or tomorrow or if they don't then they have to beat the Dodgers 2 games out of 3. They have an excellent chance! Playoff baseball here we come! Unfortunately this means the end of baseball season is quickly approaching and I will have to spend my nights some way other than watching baseball. Lord knows football doesn't even compare.

I'm going to the game tomorrow night so I'm secretly hoping the Pads lose tonight so I can see them clench! Of course, I wouldn't really be sad if they won. Anyway, I'll keep you guys updated on our team! Now back to real life and school.

Apparently Monday and Wednesday afternoons breed rambling, balding, slightly drunk professors who teach ephemeral, flighty, slightly uncommon subjects.

Professor Rhetoric stumbled into the room, dazedly saying, "It was summer like five minutes ago. Now i'm a teacher." He proceeded to tell us he doesn't know what rhetoric is. And finally he commended the Fourth Biggest Party School status UCSB has earned, promising we'd celebrate by getting drunk the last week of class...

Professor John Milton requires a final 6-12 page paper of "lucid prose" and assigned "too much reading to read" for the first week of class. He doesn't tolerate interpretive welfare and when asked a question about what the weekly commentaries he assigned entail, he said, "I don't know."

Off to class?

Jelly Bellies are fun!

So last night I got one hour of sleep and took a 6 hour nap today.
I'm thinking about not allowing annonymous comments anymore. I'd hate to cut off people who don't have blogger, but it's annoying to get annonymous comments! (even if most of us know who you are)

Today is David and Annie's 21st birthday. So happy birthday to you two!!! They're sooooo old. 21 is so exciting.

I really don't have anything to say. I told someone I'd call them tonight and then I didn't. I'm sorry for that. Today has been a little nuts. I still have some homework to do. My life is out of control lately.

What?

I just e-mailed Howard Zinn.