Release

Dead Scientist Eulogy

2009-11-17T10:23:00.000-08:00

I found this article today.

http://www.thetruthseeker.co.uk/print.asp?ID=2725

It's not so much of an article as a list. A list of Scientists who died mysteriously between 2001 and early 2005. It offers no theories or accusations with these coincidences, just the facts; who they were, how they died, and what they were working on. A LOT of these guys were Biochemists, or working in some way with human disease and biowepons. These guys were at the forefront of their feilds. They had studied for years to know the intricate details of their chosen feild, memorize jargon and formulas and facts that most of us couldn't being to understand. They each saw the world in their own unique light, explored their own solution to the major world problem they were curious about.

I wonder what they found? I wonder how many hours and binders full of research died with them? I wonder what will happen to their notes. Maybe they'll get filed. Maybe no one can read them, or they were all written in code. I wonder how many of them woke up that morning with a 'Eureka!!' in his head that could turn the world upside down? I wonder how many of them were sick at the time, how many scared.

I feel sorry for the bodies that didn't make the most graceful exit from this world. I feel sorry for the families that didn't get the whole loved one's body back. I shudder for the 300+ scientists (In less then 2 years!!) that disapeared in Iraqi.

Knowledge is power. These men and women were working with very specialized knowledge that a small fraction of the world could understand like they could. It seems like very specialized people wanted to keep the power to themselves.

I think this list is a small piece of a very big puzzle. Its a bright bit of yellow in Van Goh's "Starry Night"; the color makes it a star, but it doesn't show you the whole picture. I believe there are people that have so much power over other people's lives that they have transcended government, boundaries and laws. And I believe that in order to keep the lifestyle they enjoy and the power they weild, they have to keep other people in place, which is, of course, below them. Coincidental deaths of many scientists is just another way to keep people sick and ignorant. The best part for these mysterious power-weilders? Its so far fetched it sounds like a conspiracy theory. But when you just look at the list of scientists...

Brick

2009-10-27T09:06:00.000-07:00

“You've gone this far. Can't back out now.”

She took a deep breath, swung, and connected the brick to the back of the other girl's head. The crack of a fresh coconut cut the silence. Then a startled “oh!”, an innocent, surprised oh, the sound of someone walking in on their parents kissing, and Ophelia hit the ground. Angela was on her immediately.

With all her strength and frustration and anger, Angela raised the brick over the fallen girl's head, and brought it back down. Again and again the brick connected with Ophelia's head. Again and again a slippery thwok rang out, the brick in Angela's right hand getting redder and redder with the warm wetness of the inside of Ophelia's skull.

Ophelia's back spazzed out. Her arms shot straight out in front of her, superman style style. As her blood splayed the sidewalk, her legs comically kicked and jiggled, a dying clown. As Angela's blows scraped Ophelia's face against the sidewalk, breaking her teeth and tearing her cheek open, Ophelia lost control of her bowels.

Again and again Angela brought the brick down, till her fingers were cramped, her knuckles were torn and raw, and a deep concave had formed in Ophelia's skull. Ten times, twenty times... Angela couldn't count. All she could do was repeat the same forceful motion, red eyed and breathing through her teeth.

Soon, Ophelia stopped moving. Angela slowed, and stopped. Her dark olive sweater was covered in blood. Flecks of bone and tissue specked her glasses. She pulled a long blonde, bloody hair out of her mouth. Throwing the chipped and bloody brick to the side, Angela stood up to assess her work.

“Oh. Look at that” was the first thing that popped into Angela's head. “This is probably the first time I've ever seen Ophelia with a hair out of place”, was the second.

More than just a hair was out of place. Ophelia's long blonde locks weren't even blonde any more. A whole chunk was missing, ripped away to expose the shy skull underneath. A dark stain collected around her crotch, leaking out the sides of her tiny miniskirt. It matched the maroon puddle growing under her head, and the sick stink of shit and copper weaving its way through the air.

The adrenaline built up in Angela's head behind her eyes started to melt its way down her body and out the soles of her shoes. In its place came creeping the realization of what she had just done. She was going to get in sooo much trouble. The fact that no cars had come down this usually busy street... that no neighbors were walking dogs or on the streets... there were no curious faces peering out windows... Angela had been very lucky so far. But luck runs out. Her shoulders shuddered in remorse for what she'd done. Not because she killed someone she had known since before either of them had mastered the art of shoe tying; she didn't regret that at all. But she mourned the consequences that were to come.

After a few minutes of quick panic, Angela gathered her resolve. No. She was not going to spend the rest of her life in jail. She was going to get away with this. Angela grabbed Ophelia's right arm and dragged her lifeless body to the patch of shady trees between the neighborhood houses. Ophelias body flopped. Blood trailed behind her. Her arm twisted out of its socket. Ducking behind some underbrush, Angela spotted a grill leaning against the nearest house. Right away she realizes what she has to do.

Angela undressed the dead girl. Ophelia's cardigan was covered in blood, and her dress was stained with piss and shit. Angela put them on anyway. Her own clothes got even more blood spackled on them when she put them on Ophelia. Angela pulled Opelia's purse out of the way, and emptied the bottle of lighter fluid from the grill on the body. Striking a match, she gave a quick nod to her former friend, and tossed the flame her way. The body blazed instantaneously. Taking one last look at the life of her former self, Angela tossed her wallet on the body. Olivia's car keys in hand, Angela slipped away.

Six hours later.

Twelve hours later.

Two days later.

After five days of waiting for the sirens, her pulse racing with every knock on Olivia's door, Angela began to relax. News of the death of Angela Horn spread around the neighborhood. Never had Angela been so well liked. Never before had she been as pretty, as smart, as fondly remembered as when she had been beaten and set on fire by a crazy local homeless person. “A shining star”, her boss called her to the Channel 4 news camera. “My best friend in the WHOLE WORLD!” her roommate called her. She had a lot of new best friends. No one really noticed Olivia Soothson hadn't been showing up to work or answering her phone calls.

After writing the proper goodbye and fuck you notes to Olivia's work, family and boyfriend, Angela got in the car and headed south. She stopped at a charming, quaint boarder town and secured a job at the local university. While teaching there, she met an up and coming local politician, married him, and became a spoiled trophy wife. Their three beautiful children went on to become important pillars in the community and every year the family would go on a cruise an~~~

A loud honk snapped Angela back to reality. She had followed Ophelia into the middle of the street, right in front of a blue pick up. She smiled sheepishly and stepped back on the curb. From across the street, Ophelia turned around, frowned, and kept walking, her little hips sashaying importantly away. The brick weighed heavy in Angela's hand. She stepped across the street.

“Well”, she said to herself, her fingers tightening around the brick. “You've gone this far. Can't back out now.”

Ten Songs

2009-10-15T01:18:00.000-07:00

Someone asked me recently to list ten songs that meant something to me. Songs that inspired me, songs that were associated with special memories or people.

Here's my list, as it was. Thinking about it now days later, its still true

1. Dangling Conversation - Simon and Garfunkel
This was my mum's music, and in high school I stole the cassette (parsley sage, rosemary and thyme) and played it to death because it reminded me of her blasting it all over the house when we were kids. This is my fav of the album.

2. Piano Man - Billy Joel
Same reason. And a great song

3. Orange Colored Sky - Nat King Cole (and me!)
I sang this with my jazz band when I was a senior in high school. It was awesome.

4. Ring Out Wild Bells - Alfred Lord Tennyson (lyrics)
I sang this with the region choir Jr year of HS. It was prob the most difficult song I've ever sung with a choir, but the night we preformed it, on stage with a few hundred people, a grand piano, and a giant auditorium, the swell of sound around and in me made me want to cry. It was beautiful and magical. I know that sounds kinda lame, but its true.

5. Float On - Modest Mouse
They're one of my fav bands, and when I saw them live was when I realized how much this song meant to me. Its a song about smilin through the hard times. Yeah.

6. The News From Your Bed - Bishop Allen
This band means a lot to me because my Sr year of HS I won a writing contest and got a script I wrote turned into a short film. This band let me use one of their songs as our main song. This song was not it, but it's the most listened to song on my itunes. Its about being alone on you birthday, but its totally upbeat. You'll have to hear it.

7. No Rain - Blind Melon
Blind Melon is an extremely underrated band. They've got an awesome discography, but this, their one hit, was my favorite song for a long time. It just makes me happy, ya know?

8. Sweet Caroline -Neil Diamond
Duh

9. It Doesn't Matter Anymore – Eva Cassidy
This is a cover of a Buddy Holly song by a dead girl with one of the most beautiful voices in the world. Helped me though some bad heartbreak. And its so, so pretty.

10. Playground Love – Air
Seeeeexxxy sexy song.

Honorable mentions:
shove it: Santigold
anything by the beatles (I can't pick just one album, let alone one song)
Sour Times: Portishead (the live version)
So Desperate: The Mountain Goats
I'm Always Chasing Rainbows: (only when sung by me)
Something off Paul Simon's Graceland

Ascard

2009-09-12T01:04:00.000-07:00

I'm scared to blog! I haven't done it in such a long time. Maybe because I'm afraid of having to think about what to say.

But I started thinking tonight. For the first time in a while.

I don't have any goals in my life right now. I'm just kinda coasting. And I think I'm finally at the point where that isn't enough. Where I need to stop focusing on young, dumb, momentary fun, and start making really awesome things happen in the futre.

Maybe this blog can help. Haven't been using it a lot lately, maybe it can be inspiration. Or just another tiny goal.

Ode To My Bike

My bike was stolen today.

RIP Sabrina.

The bike I learned to ride on.

Short, cheap, comfy - you were just like the man that bought me for you.

We had some good times.

You will be missed.

And hopefully, replaced soon.

2009-07-28T22:39:00.000-07:00

I rode my bike home from work today, like I do every day. Every day, in one way or another I have to go up the side of that hill I live on. I know I will grow to hate that hill. I'm going to curse it, and dread it and avoid it. I'll pant, and sweat, and get so sick of having to treck home- even though climbing six flights of stairs was worse- that I'm not going to be able to stand it.

And then, soon after that, I'm going to conquer it.

I'll bike up that hill like I was being carried. It'll be easy, and my legs will be strong and show it. And I'll be proud of the hill and how hard it made me work.

Some days, I'll hate the hill again.

But I'll also know that I conquered it. And that makes it easier.

The bike ride home at night is short. However, its a cool bike ride, and I've always wanted to write a poem about it.

The absurd stillness of the empty street.
The blinding headlights.
The trees stretching over the street like an awning.
Like Hands.
A thousand tragic accidents replay over and over in my head,
thrilling and scaring me.
I stay extra alert.

Fuck You

2009-07-16T00:34:00.000-07:00

Copied from a myspace bulletin.

Our most versatile word. By its stress and inflection it
can describe many emotions. It can be used as a noun (I
don't give a fuck), as an objective (it's fucked), as a
verb in it's transitive form (the game was fucked up by
the weather), and it's intransitive form (I'll be fucked),
in the present tense (I'm fucked), in the past tense (I
was fucked).

It can be an an adverb (Mary is fucking interested in
John). It can also be used as an adjective(Mary is fucking
beautiful) or an interjection (Fuck! I'm late for my date
with Mary).

It can even be used as a conjunction (Mary is easy, fuck
she's also stupid). As you can see, there are very few
words with the overall versatility of the word "fuck".

Many everyday expresions show it's true versatility ...

Denial -----------I didn't fucking do it
Perplexity -----------I know fuck all about it
Apathy------------ Who really gives a fuck, anyhow?
Greetings------------ How the fuck are you
Resignation-------- Oh fuck it
Derision ----------He fucks everything up
Suspicion ---------Who the fuck are you
Panic------------- Let's get the fuck out of here
Directions ----------Fuck off
Disbelief ---------How the fuck did you do that
Fraud ------------- I got fucked by the car dealer.
Trouble ---------- I guess I'm fucked now.
Aggression ----------FUCK YOU!
Disgust ---------------Fuck me.
Confusion ------------What the fuck.......?
Difficulty -------- I don't understand this fucking business!
Despair --------- Fucked again...
Pleasure-------- I fucking couldn't be happier.
Displeasure---------- What the fuck is going on here?
Lost -------------Where the fuck are we.
Disbelief----------- UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE!
Retaliation----------- Up your fucking ass!

The word has been used throughout history by many famous
people. Some of the more notable quotations are:

What the fuck was that
-- The Mayor of Hiroshima

Look at all the fucking Indians
-- General Custer

Where's all that fucking water come from
-- Noah

Any fucker can understand that
-- Einstien

It fucking looks like her
-- Picasso

Where the fuck are we
-- Christopher Columbus

I'm fucking blowing bubbles
-- Michael Jackson

How the fuck do you work that out
-- Pythagarus

You want what on the fucking ceiling
-- Michael Angelo

Fuck a duck
-- Walt Disney

Why? Because it's fucking there
-- Sir Edmond Hillary

I don't suppose it's fucking raining
-- Joan of Arc

I didn't want to fucking go anyway
-- Sebastian Coe

I haven't got a fucking clue
-- Miss Marples

Scattered showers my fucking arse
-- Noah

She wants how much fucking money?!?!?
-- Donald Trump

Look! Almost every fucking kernel popped!
-- Orville Reddenbacher

We'll fucking smoke those fuckers out of their fucking caves!
-- George W. Bush

The mind fairly boggles at the many creative uses of the word. How can anyone be offended when you say "Fuck"? Use it frequently in your daily speech; it will add to your prestige

Today say to someone "FUCK YOU"

Exerpt

2009-07-15T09:42:00.000-07:00

I've always been a pretty successful person, considering. I wasn't born into this world with a lot of money, family stability or connections, but for my age and demographic, in my hometown, I was always kinda a star.

I was choir president my Senior Year of High School, President of the theatre club for the second year in a row, went to state competitions for various things three times that year and shot a sex ed film that is shown in classrooms all over the world now. I also starred in three plays and acted in two more. This is just an overview of what I was doin with myself when I wasn't in class (which wasn't a lot- I skipped at least one class a day, usually) or working (my senior year I worked at Hooters), or smoking, or fucking. I'm not trying to brag. I'm just sayin that I've always excelled at what I did. And that's just senior year.

I think it's cuz I had goals.

Now... I feel like I don't do anything I can put down on paper as "acomplishments". Yeah, I honestly love my life, and much happier than I was in High school.... But I'm not DOING anything with myself. Sure, I stay busy and active, and yes, I'm going to school, but I'm not even working on a degree! I'm jut takin classes and working to support my lifestyle. I have no savings or long term plans that make me want to save. I'd rather spend that extra twenty bucks on a gram.

I can see very easily how someone can end up working in a restaurant when they're 40.

But I don't want that to be me! I'm concious of whats goin on, so now I just gotta do something about it. I just don't know what...

Thank God I'm still young. I got an excuse. But if I'm in the same place in five years, or even three, that I am today, I'm going to get very nurvous.

When I daydream about my future, I see myself successful. Changing the world and affecting lives. But that don't mean shit unless I do something between now and then besides sit around and wait for it to happen.

It sucks that all my short term goals deal with money. If I gotta spend so much time focusing on rent, or work, or how I'm going to pay for this or that, when do I get to focus on L I V I N! not to mention my future.

Thats why the poor stay poor. They don't have any time to daydream.

A Book Year in Review

2009-06-03T06:51:00.000-07:00

So on Facebook I keep a list of all the books I read. Today, as I was adding the latest to the list (The Darwin Awards- I didn't say every book was heady. Light reading is fun too) I realized it's been one year since I started keeping track. I figure now is the time to do a lil recap, a look back on my year in books.

I read 3o books this last year. The first was "What Makes A Man", a book I borrowed from an ex-coworker who left the job before I could return the book. I still have it. I read about two books a month. In December, a busy month where I camped, partied, visited my folks, turned 20 and got away from myself a little too much, I didn't read any. I made up for it in January where I read six books, and all before school started.

So here's a recap of my year, awards show style.

BEST: "Haunted", Chuck Philanuk's newest book. I devoured it in a weekend curled up in bed during a chilly November cold front. It was about a group of writers trapped in a house for a month together, all tourturing themselves to get the best story. A book for a writer, by a writer, and haunted me for a while. I love books that stay with you.
Runner-up:"Elephant's on Acid" was a book I read last July on the floor of my living room at my last apt. It was also a quick read (all the best books are) and was just a collection of reports of the strangest experiements. I'm such a nerd for odd scientific data.

MOST INSPIRING: "Rule By Secrecy" This was about the secret societies that really run the world and their hidden agendas. It got me all passionate about conspiracy theories and had me sproutin crazy alien talk (read the book to understand) for a few months.
Runner-up: "Nickel and Dimed" a fairly famous book by a woman who *gasp* joined the working class for a few months. It made me realize how much I didn't want to be waiting tables when I'm thirty.

MOST FORGETABLE: "Simply Irrisistable" must not have been, cuz I don't remember reading it at all. I hope it was good. Yeah, it was a year ago that I picked it up, but I guess that's why I should keep track of the books I read even more. I've probably read hundreds of books in my lifetime that I couldn't name.
Runner-up: "The Most of It" Don't have anything to say about this one either. I can't even tell you what the cover looked like.

BOOK I HAD ALWAYS WANTED TO READ BUT NEVER HAD GOTTEN AROUND TO: "Gone With the Wind" Hands down one of my favorite movies, so it's weird that I read the book. Having read it, I have to give the screenwriter a pat on the back for doing such a good job on the translation from book to screen. The only thing missing besides a few useless characters (Like Scarlett's other children) was the racism. The movie probably wouldn't have aged as well as it has. Props for keeping that off the screen.
Runner-up: "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" Not a bad book, but I wondered where all the hype was coming from.

2009-05-31T12:11:00.000-07:00

I feel a pull back to blogging.

I've been dreaming more, and three times in the last month someone said to me "You should write a blog". Well, surprise, surprise, I already have one! And it's full with unfinished blogs that aren't seen on this front page, posts that ramble, that had good points that are lost now (I started many at the end of long nights) and posts that are never going to be published. But I also have a lot to say. Good things, I think. And with my summer free time, its something I really want to get back into.

I will have to ease myself back into the blogging pool slowly, but eventually I'll submerge myself and get back to enjoying writing for writings sake

2009-05-30T23:19:00.000-07:00

Blogging for the first time in a while is like going back to the gym.

You remember the burn, the exhausted relief when its done, the inner tug-of-war before you start. You want it to be part of your daily routine again, as automatic as a flossing.

Its scary to do

Reggaefest Recap

2009-04-19T21:55:00.000-07:00

At the beginning of the fall semester this year, I made a promise to myself to see as much live music as possible. Unlike my promise to quit smoking weed, I actually kept this one. Last semester, I saw Eryka Badu, Nine Inch Nails, and (my fav of the semester) The Mountain Goats, among others. Not all in the same concert, of course. Although that would have been awesome.

But then I got to thinkin. What's the next step on that? I'm seeing all these amazing bands live. Decades from now I'm going to be telling my kids and grandkids about how I hung out with the lead singer of the Easy*Star All-Stars after the concert and trying to recreate that magical, after-an-Experience, walking-on-air, almost-spiritual feeling of seeing Modest Mouse rock it and rock it hard. But with my long-term memory (it's bad) and the years in between, the chance of me being able to do justice to these magic moments is dim. So I'm going to start keeping track of every live concert I go to, be it a $40 headliner at Stubbs or a guy and his guitar at a cafe.

Take this weekend for instance. :)

It was Reggaefest in my dear little city, and I had the pleasure of going yesterday. I only got to see two bands, but they were both Awesome in every sense of the word. Notice the capital A.

The first was Grimy Styles, a band I'd heard of, but before last night couldn't tell you one word about. Now I know they're an instrumental local reggae band who know how to kick off the dub sound right. Seriously, these guys just made me want to dance, despite my... uh... lethargic state of mind. I remember sitting on that white felt blanket, the sun turning the top of my head hot, unable to keep my eyes open but grooving anyway. I remember that, despite my toes pinching in my cute red cowboy boots and the fact that just minutes before I had been aching to sit down, I kept asking my people if they wanted to get up and dance with me.

This is the stuff I want to remember. The little moments, the ones that disappear first. I'll always remember* that yes, I went to Reggaefest 2009, and yes, I saw Grimy Styles before I knew who they were, but the details and the moments of complete and pure happiness, the jokes told and real live connections with the music will get lost. That's why I'm doing this, to keep those.

Another aside: I really love that experience of not knowing anything about an artist, seeing them live, and falling in love with their music. I feel like it's the most pure way to enjoy music. You don't have any prior thoughts from other people, no Rolling Stone shout-outs, or half-heard singles floating out of your radio to influence your opinion of what you're listening to. Your affection (or lack of it; I've been exposed to bands I didn't like this way as well) is purely organic, grown out of what is happening right there in front of you. It's the realist form of musical love, something I care a lot about.

Point is, I feel like the relationship story I will have with Grimy Styles will begin like this. Too bad I can't find any of their music downloadable online. Maybe I will actually have to (gasp!) buy their album. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. :)

I also got to see The Skatalites after them. (like that smooth translation?) I am ashamed to admit I didn't know anything about these reggae legends either. I know now that they've been around FOREVER, and rocked it like band that deserved decade-old** success. They were amazing. (I'm sorry my reviews will be unprofessionally vague. Awesome, amazing, and rockin are all synonyms and they all apply) I got the coveted front-and-center spot to dance in due to waiting around almost an hour between sets***, and the trumpet player pointed at me after a song. (!!) Twice, according to my roomie. I remember seeing him walk out of a porti potty before the show dressed in jeans and a Marley shirt. I remember having a thought about how intelligent he looked (and it wasn't just the glasses) and wondering if he was in a band that played that day. Then I thought they must have better bathrooms for the performers, that it would be pretty shitty (no pun intended) if they didn't, and wondering how I could get access to those bathrooms, and if waiting after the show to talk to the band would be the way to go. Funny, if I had, I bet I could have hung out with em a little bit, or at least get a cool conversation. Trumpet man obviously dug me.

*God willing, unless Alzheimer's Disease or some freak Memento-style memory loss takes my past before I'm gone.

**I like how hypen-filled this blog is. See? Did it again!

***I should note, out of respect, that most of the waiting was done by my amazing roommate. I took a porti potty break. I should also note this was only the second concert I'd seen with my beloved roomie, after Saul Williams last October. Hopefully, they'll be many more.

Story

2009-04-02T13:51:00.000-07:00

The sweat starts in pearls bubbling up on her forehead. It runs down the canyons formed by her furrowed bows until it drips like snot off the end of her nose. The rhythmic puff of air blown out through her teeth sends each drop flying into the air in front of her face. She doesn't notice.

She doesn't notice the sweat river down her face, or the pools forming under her arms, or the lakes rising in the cups of her bra. She doesn't notice the sun in her eyes and how the squint it's glare gives her makes her look both confused and angry. She doesn't notice the street her body carries her down like a balloon, or the houses she passes and all the secrets trapped inside each one. She doesn't see the double-take from the good looking blond she passes, and would have stepped right in front of the moving van if it's loud horn hadn't snapped her out of her jogging trance.

But only for a second. And then, again, she looses herself in the rhythm of her feet. Her heart and mind live in her knees, air born for a second that lasts a lifetime... weightless and free... and then, as her feet connect with the concrete, compact like a spring. The purple and orange soundwaves echoing from her feet is the music she runs to; her ipod exists in her head. Her shoulders swing like a pendulum, her arms move as if they were controlled by someone else.

"Steady, Jessica...''

Her target, the reason for her run, slowly pulls her out of her jogging trance. Focus comes back, and her peripheral vision clears. As she watches what is currently just a dark green dot, she slows a bit. As details clear and the green dot forms the shape of a park bench, Jessica takes one deep breath, as if to gather her entire being, all her strength and every thought into one ball into her chest. With a woosh, she frees it all and breaks out into a sprint.

2009-03-03T19:16:00.000-08:00

blog blog blog

Habit Breaking

2009-03-01T12:32:00.000-08:00

I googled "Breaking A Habit," today. Who knew Lincoln Park had a song of that name?

Attitude is everything. I liked the habit breaking tips that had hippie-dippy answers like, "You must visualize your successes," and "If you believe it, you can be it." Attitude is everything.

Staying busy is a good way to get something off your mind as well. It's easy to get distracted by something shiny, and sometimes that's a good thing.

Have you noticed that when you have a wound of some sort, the area around it is very warm? It's all that extra attention and energy your body thrown around the sore. I cut my finger yesterday on my washing machine, and my knuckle is the warmest part of my body.

Free Thought

2009-02-27T22:12:00.000-08:00

I put on the song You're So Vain by Carly Simon and tried some random thought generating.

This is such a damn good song.

I wonder who this was written about?

I wish I had a song written about me.

Roxanna was written about Roxanna Arquette.

The entire Jagged Little Pill album was about that dude from Full House.

Ew.

That's such a good album- I can't believe it was about that white pasty guy.

You're So Vain reminds me certain people. It's a good break up song.

So is You Oughtta Know.

Damn, it's easy to get pissed off listening to this crap.

I'm overitoveritoveritoverit. Deep Inhale....

Annnnd.... breathe.

You told me you'd hold me until you died!!

I can't say any of this. I'll seem like a crazy person.

I don't need to give him the satisfaction of knowing I'm thinking about him anyway.

He knows.

But he misses me right now too.

I need to get laid.

Or dance. This is a really catchy song.

Or sing. This is a fun karaoke song.

New Status Update: Caroline cries.

Facebook

2009-02-26T12:47:00.000-08:00

Facebook is taking up too much of my time lately. It's the first thing I check when I wake up in the morning, before I leave my house, and when I get home. Before dinner, after walking my dog, during a commercial break. I check it anytime I get on the computer and always first. Currently, Facebook is open in another tab of my browser right now.

I'm not proud of this. In fact, I'm pretty fuckin annoyed at myself. Yes, I keep in touch with certian people on facebook that I wouldn't get to otherwise. I also get to see their photos from their weekend, read what their friends from 6th grade write on their wall, and pay attention to what their are doing rightthisveryminute.

Nope, not proud of this at all.

I think I need a facation. A VAcation from FAcebook. [Damn I'm clever.] The thing making me hesitate more than anything is thinking about all those people that I only talk to on line... but I'll be back eventually, and I'll let em know first.

I think this will be good for me.

I am, also, a little dizzy from all these cleaning product fumes I've inhaled over the last couple hours, but that's why I'm taking a break from that.

Mz Independent

2009-02-24T12:19:00.000-08:00

The other day, I heard something that made me think.

A friend was having a bad day. We all have our bad days, and the weight of hers read heavy on her face. But her reaction to it was really interesting. "I've been feeling like I need to have better boundaries lately," she said, her big eyes tired and a little wet. "And I think, that when you are trying to work on boundaries, the universe sends you situations to challenge your boundaries."

I agreed.

I also think that applies to any character trait. If you start thinking you need to work on your patience, you'll be stuck in traffic a lot more. If you want to improve your self discipline, you'll become bombarded by distractions. If you think you need more fidelity in your life, that hot chick at work will hit on you.

Our conversation got me thinking about the challenges in my life and what inner self improvements they could have stemmed from. Sales on cute clothes happen when I know I need to hang on to my money, and fun, exciting events are planned around days that I tell myself I need to focus. Then I started thinking about what I might need to work on right now. I'm big on self improvement, at least thinking about it. I decided the virtue needing most improvement in my life right now was independence. Since I was capable of forming my own thoughts, I've itched to do it on my own. And for the most part, I have. I was making my own decisons long before my peers were paying their own cellphone bills. The last few months, however, have found me backsliding a bit. Monday afternoon had me wondering, "how will the universe challenge me into regaining my independence?" Monday evening had my answer.

Turns out, the powers that be had been working on my ability to stand alone for a few months now. By driving me into the arms of someone who demanded my commitment but remained totally unreliable, by ripping my financial safety net out from under my free-falling body, the universe was showing me something that I had forgot. It's nice to rely on other people, but in the end, the only one you can hold accountable for your situation/happiness/safety is yourself.

I don't know what the next few months have in store for me, but I hope I can take the lessons of the last few months and learn from them. May I never put too much stake into another person again.

I posted this, then had to come back to clarify. I really like being in a relationship. I enjoy the stability that comes out of a partnership, and I like supporting another person as well. But there are ways to do that without loosing sight of yourself. And that's something the last six months can teach me.

15 Greats

2009-02-22T12:43:00.000-08:00

Think of 15 albums, CDs, LPs (if you're over 40) that had such a profound effect on you they changed your life. Dug into your soul. Music that brought you to life when you heard it. Royally affected you, kicked you in the wazoo, literally socked you in the gut, is what I mean. Then when you finish, tag 15 others, including me. Make sure you copy and paste this part so they know the drill. Get the idea now? Good. Tag, you're it!

I love music, so this is going to be fun for me :) I think a great album is one you can listen through in it's entirety and be moved, even just physically, by every song. I don't think I could make an argument that any of these are the best album EVER, (maybe some of them belong in the top ten tho) but all of these albums affected me personally.

1. Abbey Road- The Beatles
Arguably the best Beatle album. It made me cry the first time I heard it all the way though.

2. Street Gospels- Bedouin Soundclash
Great pop-y Canadian reggae. The description sounds like trash, but not so. Every song is a great one.

3. Graceland- Paul Simon
An album of my childhood. :) Paul Simon created a whole new sound that has yet to be copied. And he did it flawlessly.

4. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme- Simon and Garfunkel
Another album of my childhood. I used to listen to this on tape until I wore it out. Beautifully poetic lyrics.

5. Tallahassee- The Mountain Goats
A heart wrenching story-in-album-form about an unhappy couple. More outstandingly beautiful lyrics.

6. Good News For People Who Love Bad News- Modest Mouse
Maybe certain Modest Mouse fans would argue that this isn't their best album, but I don't care. For me, this works as a cohesive thought, a story about dealing with death. This album goes through every stage of grief with some damn good beats to back it up.

7. OK Computer- Radiohead
This album introduced me to Radiohead and stayed in my CD player for months on replay. What can I say about the greatness of this album that hasn't already been said?

8. Dark Side of the Moon- Pink Floyd.
Repeat what I said about OK Computer, but replace Radiohead with Pink Floyd.

9. The Virgin Suicides- Air
Seeeexy sexy music from one of my favorite french bands.

10. Living In Clip- Ani DiFranco
Girl power done right. When I listen to this album, I remember why I wanna be Ani.

11. Beck- Mellow Gold
Beck is awesome.

12. Bishop Allen- The Broken String
Light, fun pop music with a sweet sensibility. Every song is catchy, and every lyric a gem.

13. Danger Mouse- The Gray Album
A mix of the White Album (which is ANOTHER amazing album by the Beatles) and the Black Album by Jay-Z, which is a great album in and of itself. I'm already a huge fan of remixes and covers, so this album is perfect for me.

14. The Last Five Years- Jason Robert Brown
TECHNICALLY this is a musical, but as an album is how I first heard it. For a little theatre geek, I didn't listen to a lot of musical albums in high school, but due to great music, wonderful lyrics and a heartbreaking story, this one was constantly in my CD player.

15. Preemptive Strike - DJ Shadow
This album introduced me to my favorite DJ, and is still my favorite of his.

16. De Stijl - The White Stripes
The White Stripes (along with the Beatles and the Mountain Goats) round out my top three favorite bands. This album doesn't get a lot of attention, but in my opinion it's heads and tails above the rest of their amazing work

17. The White Album - The Beatles
This album is just the fab four havin fun and bein creative. Maybe not all of the songs are radio-friendly, but they're all great.r

18. Rubber Soul - The Beatles
The first Beatles album I heard all the way through (besides that 1 album they released a decade or so ago) Maybe I'm over representing the Beatles on this list, but only because their music has meant so much to me.

19. Radiodread/Dub Side Of The Moon - Easy Star All Stars
Maybe it's cheating to put two albums under one number, but both of these cover albums affected me in the same way- they took albums that already meant a lot to me and made them new. After hearing the reggae version of both these albums, I had a new respect and listening love for the original. Plus, I'm a huge fan of cover songs.

20. 2nd To None- Elvis Presley
This in not an actual album, but rather a compilation CD of his early work. This is how I learned to love Elvis, though.

21. You've Come A Long Way, Baby -Fatboy Slim
I don't listen to any other Fatboy Slim album, but I love this one. It's perfect 90's techno. Every song is great.

22. Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots -The Flaming Lips
How I loved the Flaming Lips. Plus, as you might notice, I really like albums that tell a story, which this does.

23. Roseland NYC [LIVE} - Portishead
I love Portishead, but this is the album I reach for most. Hearing Beth Gibbons WAIL on the live version of Sour Times still sends shivers down my spine. Its kinda funny that I like this album so much- I usually hate live albums

24. Birth of Cool - Miles Davis
When I was in high school, this album, along with the Billie Holiday album later on this list, made me love Jazz. Miles knows how to play a horn (understatement of the year)

25. Cold, Cold Heart - Hank Williams
This is another compilation album, but it's a great one. Hank is in my top ten fav artists, and this album introduced me to him.

26. Lady Sings The Blues - Billie Holiday
Yet another compilation album from a great artist dead decades before I was born. This album made me love jazz and blues.

27. Riot On An Empty Street - Kings Of Convenience
Someone gave me a burned copy of this CD when I was in high school. I listened to it aaallll the time until my mom stole it and scratched it up. I never knew the name of the album until I googled the lyrics (still bouncing around in my head) recently. It still sounds great after all these years.

28. Lhasa De Sela - The Living Road
My aunt sent this to my mom as a christmas present one year. She listened to it and decided she didn't like it so I snatched it up. Lhasa sings beautiful haunting old-worldy music in french, english, and spanish.

29. The Cool- Lupe Fiasco
The second studio album from one of my favorite hip-hop artists. This album (like a lot of them on this list) tells a great story with sharp lyrics.

30. Volume One - She and Him
I'm listening to this now. :) This is just a sweet poppy album with a 60s feel that covers a few songs, including the beatles. Whats not to love?

I know it said 15, but I couldn't stop there. I actually had to edit to fit only 30. I also left out some of my favorite artists (Prince, Daft Punk) because they didn't have straight-up albums that affected me and some great Albums (Pet Sounds, Doolittle) because while I can appreciate their greatness, didn't change MY life.

Maybe I got too into this, but I'm really looking forward to readin what ya'll think are the best albums. Thoughts?

Monday Monday

2009-02-16T08:41:00.000-08:00

I find myself a little restlessly disappointed in life lately. I feel flighty yet weighed down by heavy thoughts.

I wish school gave me more time to create.

I wish work gave me more stability for the time spent.

I wish I had the self control to use my time wisely.

I wish my phone wasn't a useless piece of plastic.

My my, I am negative this morning. I think there's something about Mondays that put me in a sour mood.

BUT! I have a story I want to write, something that came to me in a dream. Society as we know it has collapsed. There is no law, only looters. A strong willed, forward thinking single mom has managed to get her head about her faster than most, and, after gathering her brood, sent them out to find supplies for the new life ahead of them. They make a nice temporary shelter in the top floor of a school? prison? Psych hospital? and help anyone who passes through. However, others have heard of what this family has and want to take it... That was my dream, and I think what happens next will make a great story. Also, baby pandas and a yellow bike were in there too. I gotta find a way to work them in.

A couple of nights ago I had a dream that I was a Beatle, and we were all practicing our music (and choreography?) on a lawn. There's no story there, because that's all there was, but it's nice to be a part of your favorite band. It gave me a warm fuzzy feeling, and I woke up smiling.

Prospective

2009-02-15T07:40:00.000-08:00

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Belated Goodbye

2009-02-03T08:16:00.000-08:00

When I got *ahem* fired from the Clay Pit, I wrote this to my fellow employees. This was months ago, and the sentimentality has kinda wore off, but I always regretted not savin it. So here it is, exactly how it was on When To Waiter. Except I took my cell number off.

I'm not on the schedule next week.

Wow.

Tonight (section 1, 4?) is my last shift. To those of you I'll see- let's rock it! For those of you I won't, I'll miss you.

It's hard to say how much the Clay Pit has meant to me without sounding like a huge corn ball, but Ashley told me once to never miss a chance to give a compliment, so I'll take her advice and say:

I have been touched, moved, inspired, and impressed by so many of you. I'm younger than most clay pitters, and I've really learned a lot from all of you. If it wasn't for the 30+ hours a week I spend sautéing in curry with the rest of you, I would be solely surrounded by young dumb college students, who can't see beyond their world of fake IDs, hook-ups, and chemistry homework. Although anyone would group me into the same category, it's a little shallow. Soul Crushing.

So for me, going to work every day and being surrounded by people that were not *much* older than me, but just enough to be passed that... to whom Austin was not the center of the universe and who (like me!) were not relying on Daddy for their rent money... who were (for the most part) over childish behavior like not showing up for work and complaining about things that can't be changed... who understood hard work and how to make money, and, more importantly, how to make it count... who thought I was stupid (at first) but didn't hold it against me when they found out I wasn't.... well, it's really kept me going. Motivated me, and made me think of the kind of person I want to be now that I've flown from the nest and finally joined the flock of adults headed off into the sunset of life. (nice imagery, huh?)

Thank you for your time, your support, your laughter, and your gossip. Thank you for every time you ran my food, picked up my shift, or gave me the dust pan before anyone else. Thank you for sweeping my section or finishing my sidework when I forgot to or did a crappy job, and thank you for giving me a hard time when I did, because it's a lesson I need to learn.

I'll be back for the mussels and to catch up on the gossip, but whether I never see you ever again, or I move in next door and have your babies, know that my time at the Clay Pit was a special one for me. When I write my memoirs years down the line, there will be a whole chapter devoted to the Bertram building and all the crazy characters crawling around inside.

To round off this short novel of a goodbye, I will pass along the sage wisdom I have learned over the last nine and a half months to those who have just started and those who will be taking my place: lassis only last 4 days but require more sugar than the recipe says, always move the trash can when vacuuming the parlor, people love it when you put rice in their to-go boxes, and whenever a glass breaks in the kitchen, somewhere Caroline gets her wings.

Love you, miss you, and dreading the day I can no longer log into when to waiter...
Caroline
Keep in touch!
Moo

Rough Draft

2009-01-30T08:57:00.000-08:00

Why I should go to Africa...

I am intelligent
I am well spoken
I already blog! Woot!
I'm very interested in people
I grew up somewhere poor?
I don't snore
I'm a good writer
umm...

Now I just gotta make these into a super inspiring, eye catchin, uber awesome essay/vlog.

All right.

25

2009-01-29T00:11:00.001-08:00

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

(To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.)

1. I was born on the coldest, shortest day of the year... go figure I love sunshine and daylight.

2. I dream a lot.

3. I had to suck my thumb to fall asleep until I was like, ELEVEN, and, if you believe my slumber party buddies, I still do in my sleep sometimes.

4. I LOVE Forest Gump, and once, when I was sick in the third grade, watched it four times in a row. Like, literally in a row.

5. I cry a lot, too. But hey! It's totally healthy!

6. I loooove music. Life happens in rhythm, meter and rhyme. Music is everywhere.

7. I always wish on eyelashes, stars, and backward necklaces. Always.

8. I read my horoscope daily and take what I read into serious consideration.

9. My feet sweat a lot. (Yum)

10. I orgasm easily and frequently. Maybe that's more than you needed to know, but if you could cum 20 times in an hour, you'd brag too.

11. The first time I heard Abbey Road all the way through I cried.

12. I also got teary singing, once, too. I was part of the Region Choir singing a piece called Ring Out, Wild Bells my junior year of high school. Music makes me emotional.

13. Speakin of high school, I was nominated my senior year as "wittiest," but I REALLY wanted to win "most talented"

14. When I was little, I thought Bob Saget on America's Funniest Home Videos and Bill Nye the Science Guy were one and the same, and probably related to my father (I was wrong)

15. I once had a pet chick that I won at a church carnival. It used to follow me around n molt all over my house, til a snake ate it.

16. Sometimes, when I'm bored/lonely, I replay moments from arrested development in my head and laugh and laugh and LAUGH... oh how I laugh...

17. I'm having a hard time stayin on task. 17 is good enough, right?

Interpretation and Explanation

2009-01-27T14:28:00.000-08:00

So I put "dreams about killing" into Google to see what came up.

My favs:

If the dreamer is killing an enemy, this implies the end of a difficult time in his life attained through his own efforts.
Dream workers find the most useful way to approach these dreams is to first see that the deaths and slayings are not meant to be taken literally, but rather symbolically. This becomes especially clear when we kill figures that don't even exist in waking life. The image of death taken symbolically can mean many things, one of which can be the death of an old attitude or personality trait or behavior pattern. In this way the whole sense of the dream is reversed, and death becomes a doorway to a new way of living.
To dream that you kill someone, indicates that heavy stress may cause you to lose your temper and self-control.
To dream that you have committed a murder, indicates that you are putting an end to an old habit and your former ways of thinking.

Maybe the fact that I killed a couple of school girls means the end of my old attitude toward school. I HATED school last semester, and this time I'm actually kinda lookin forward to it. So manybe it's a good thing I'm dreaming about breaking the arms of little pixies in plaid skirts and drowning girls in toilets.

Game

2009-01-27T08:01:00.000-08:00

The bathroom, like most high school bathrooms, smells like urine and mold. The sea green walls and florescent lighting make the entire environment feel sick and hopeless. Looking into the mirror, I feel sick and hopeless, too.

My round-collared button down shirt is wrinkled and stained. My plaid skirt twists and pulls around my waist. As I tug my sinking sock - the final atrocity of this cliche, ugly uniform - I wiggle my toes in my pinching Mary Janes. I can't wait to get home and out of this suffocating costume and every bad, angry thing it represents.

I run my fingers through my matted, sweaty hair and choke back the stench of vomit and bleach radiating from the sink. I close my eyes and focus on the symphony of the sputtering air conditioner and rhythmic drip of a leaky sink. Toilets hum and cough. Pipes slosh.

Voices.

My spidey sense tingles to the tune of the low whispers. Female voices. Of course. This is a woman's bathroom, after all. But any female can mean only mean bad things for me right now, and with my heavy sighs and careless, stomping entrance, I know those muttered conspirings could only be about me.

They come from the other end of the large bathroom, twenty stalls or more deep. The whisperers themselves stand next to the outside door, my path to freedom. I can't go through the door that led me into this stinking sanctuary - that door leads back to the inside of the school, and knee deep into more trouble than the two conspirators can bring. No, I have to go through that outside exit, the one that will take me across the lacrosse field, over the chain link fence, and out of this hell hole. But to get through that door, I have to get through these girls. Whoever they are.

Light, light steps carry me to the wall of the nearest stall, so they would be coming around the corner toward me, and I would have the element of surprise. Whether I want to or not, I know what I have to do, and I am prepared to do it.

The whisperers bite a final conclusion. Minds have been made up and plans have been formed. Tight, military style tip toes carry one girl out my escape route (MY escape route. The glowing exit sign has become my guiding light, and the fresh air on the other side the final stage of this dirty video game) The other girl pauses, as if to gather resolve. Then, on quick mouse feet, she heads toward me.

I am ready.

As she nears the last stall, I tense, and as soon as I see a flash of gray wool sock, I swing my arm around the corner with a strength I didn't know I had. My elbow locks and the heel of my hand tears upward, connecting with her nose and knocking her backward. I feel the softness of her skin, the moistness of her mouth, and I feel the cartilage of her nose give way under my palm. He head flies back and her eyes pop open. I recognize her crunchy, red died hair and her smeared blue eye shadow. I recognize her small, mousy frame and whiny, smug voice, the one that whimpers now. I had seen her smile as she held the plastic bag over Diana's head, and watched her as she tightened the cord from the window blind around Melanie's neck. She knew, as I did, that I knew too much. And I must have been the only one left now, if she was finally coming after me.

"Sarah."

I say her name, but I don't know why. I don't want to reason with her, befriend her, or even taunt her. Sarah is not a girl who one could really trust, especially not in a game like this. Besides, I had just broken her nose. She knew it was on. I said her name to label her, to feel the bitterness of all that she was in my mouth. It is resolve to help me get through this, this that I have to do.

She steps back, both hands clutching her face. Blood pours out from between her fingers. All I see of her face is her wide, blue ringed eyes and her hands forming a mask, fingers like teeth soaking in sinister blood.

She had dropped a chain! A heavy, metal chain. It must have been what she was going to use on me. While she is still reeling, blood dripping on her oxford shoes and high pitched curses coming from out between her fingers, I grab the chain. It's a little ghetto for me, a middle class white girl whose never had to use a weapon before, especially not one as crude and cruel as this one.

Foreign to me or not, I've seen movies. I know what in need to do. I swing the chain like a rope, whipping her across her cheek. Blood trickles out her ear.

"Why are you doing this?" I plead to her, and flash the chain again. Sarah is now on her knees. She crawls inside the nearest stall.

"I never wanted to be a part of this! Can't you see what you've done?" I come up behind her and grab her bloody head of hair with one fist. She struggles and screams, finally dropping her hand from her face. Blood drips onto the toilet seat.

"I'm not a violent person," I reason with her, and push her head into the toilet. "I tried to stay away from this as long as I could." She flails and waves her arms. With one foot I step on her hand, then press my other knee into her back. "You just never should have come after me." Leaning a little bit, I reach and flush the toilet. Sarah kicks and bucks. Her shoulders twitch and she tries to shove her head backward. Bubbly screams come from inside the bowl. And then...

it's over.

I feel no pity for her, just remorse that it had to come to this end, and disgust at the blood and toilet water staining my already messy uniform. I really need a bath now.

But I can't rest yet. If Sarah was sent after me, than that must mean Rebecca was the one doing the sending. And Rebecca is much more dangerous than mousy little Sarah.

The game was Rebecca's idea after all. She always did like violence and power. And she was smart, too, which is why she probably sent Sarah after me. She must have known I wouldn't be taken down easily. It's better for her to let us duke it out and then deal with the survivor herself. Only one girl can win in the end.

I move toward the exit I heard her leave through. The exit holding my sweet, sweet freedom from this place. I have to be prepared, I have to be ready to-

The door swings open, and I'm face to face with the tiny Rebecca Peterson. Her trademark bandanna - purple today - forms a homemade headband. Her short hair and delicate features combine to form the innocent, pixie-like facade she hides behind so well. Bitch.

"Oh, hey, Ca-" before Rebecca can get out her fake, time-buying greeting, I grab her wrist and swing it around her body, pinning her arm behind her back. Our face-to-face meeting caught us both by surprise, and the chain... the chain... where is my chain?! Shit! I see it in my minds eye lying next to Sarah's lifeless body. All I have on Rebecca is strength, and I plan on using it.

With my left hand, I push her left wrist up higher and higher into her back. I've done this before, I can do it again. How far do I have to twist again?

"Sarah's dead." I push her into the nearest stall, buying my own time before her arm finally gives away. "Now hold still, so I don't have to break your arm." I lock the door behind us, and press her face up against the door, smearing her makeup into the faded graffiti of who loves who.

"Fine, fine, I'll cooperate." Rebecca winces, but I see her eyes dart and sparkle as she plans. Her right hand tightens around something.

Now just a little more... when will this give way? I push a little harder, Rebecca's hand almost to her hair, and then I finally hear the snap of torn bone and muscle. Her shoulder sags, and her elbow flops. She screams.

"I thought you said you wouldn't break my arm!" Her right hand flails around, trying to grab me.

"I meant I wouldn't break this arm." I grab her right wrist and let her left arm flop. It's useless now. I squeeze her wrist to make her palm open. Inside is a plastic HEB bag. "Is this what you were planning on using on me?" I let the bag flop and drive her own right elbow deep into her spine. No mercy now. I have to immobilize her other arm.

The second time around, breaking her arm will be much easier. I push her elbow higher and higher, twisting her around like a contortionist. Behind my strength is a fury of what she's done, as well as the confidence from what I've just done. And the hope of the finish line, the last burst of energy that this will all be over soon... Snap.

And there it goes. She's worthless now, a floppy, armless freak, and entirely at my disposal. I leave her leaning on her cheek against the door as she cries. She can't open it to run away. Pathetic. I pick up the plastic bag off the floor, and fold it in half.

"What did you think was going to happen, Rebecca?" I fold the bag in half again. "Did you really think you would win, that you could be the last one standing?" I fold the bag in half again. "I never wanted to be a part of this. I didn't jump on your sadistic little bandwagon like everyone else, and I didn't go after anyone either." I fold the bag in half again. Now it's only an inch wide, and a foot and a half long. "But you had to send your little minion after me. You had to include me- even though I was totally content on the sidelines watching!- and I won't go down without a fight." I hold the bag up in front of her face with one hand and grab her dead wrists behind her back with the other. I turn her toward me. "Is this what you were planning on using against me? A fucking plastic bag?? I saw you turn this useless thing into a weapon before. Don't think I don't know how this works."

I rope the bag around her neck like a wide plastic ribbon. Holding both ends in one hand, I tighten it as hard as I can. I use the other hand to steady her half dead body. Rebecca is turning blue. Her head flops back and forth like 'no no no' but I steady her, and tighten the bag even more. She weakens, trembles, and her head flops down a little bit. She's almost gone. Just a few more minutes to make sure she's dead, and then I can leave, go home, and...

The bathroom door opens. Shit! I'm going to have to wait until this person - oh, no, a conversation - these people leave. I count voices. One, two, three, four, five, six. At least six girls have come in. Damn that stereotype that girls can't go to the bathroom alone. I'm just going to have to wait til they leave. I hear them talk. Stupid shit. Boys, and teachers, and TV drama. Blah blah blah. Rebecca trembles and slurs in my arms, and I know she's already far enough gone.

Just a few more minutes of waiting... just let me hear them pee and wash their hands and redo their lip gloss...

"Hey, look at this."

Just another line in the mindless dialogue between the stupid barbie dolls, but my spidey sense tingles again. "Check out what's written on this wall." I peer out between the crack in the stall and see a girl (a junior, obviously, since all the girls in my grade are dead now) with long brown hair and a perfect white headband reading something off the wall of the stall across from me. Those stalls are shorter, and only come up to her nose, so I can see her eyes narrow as she reads. The other girls gather around her.

"Notice to all girls in the St. Jude Catholic School for Girls, class of 2009. The game has started. The rules are as follows: 1. Never pair up to take someone down. Every mark must be made one on one or it doesn't count! 2. No firearms or knives. Let's get creative, ladies! 3. Every death is one point. The person with the highest number of points is the winner, and therefore, the most popular. Let's see if you can take my crown... Signed, Rebecca K. Peterson, Freshman Lady '06, Sophomore Duchess '07, Junior Princess '08, and reigning Prom Queen, 2009."

My stomach sinks. The dumb bitch in my arms posted the rules on the bathroom wall. Did she think she would never get caught?

"What's that all about?"

"This is crazy."

The younger girls continue their conversation. I'm getting restless. This may mean they won't be out of here for a while.

"Ya know, I haven't really seen any senior girls around in a while..."

"Do you think it's real?"

"Hey, something moved in that stall."

The eyes of the six girls turn toward the stall where I stand. Uh oh. What am I going to do? First, I gotta put this body down and prepare myself. I prop the lifeless Rebecca on the toilet seat. Her head flops forward, and, in some sick form of a death roll, her mouth opens and with a retch, she pukes chunky, dark red blood all over the floor. I step back so it doesn't get on my shoes.

Muttering outside my stall. After today, I know low female voices are never a good sign. Through the crack of the stall door, I see the lead girl, a tall giant of an almost-woman with amber colored hair, move toward me. I swing the door open and step outside.

"Hey, what's up?" I put on my best friendly smile. It doesn't seem to be working.

"What are you doing?" The behemoth gets in my face. Damn it, I won't be able to take all of them. My eyes stretch toward the closed outside exit. Just a few steps and I'll be there...

"Just doing what you do in a bathroom." No wonder everyone is glaring at me. I'm a mess. Blood and sweat mark my clothes, and I know I smell like toilet water. Still gotta smile... "What are you guys doing? Don't you have class?" Please leave. Please, please leave. I hold on to the handle of the door behind my back.

"Lunch." The Amazon states matter-of-factly. "What's inside there?" She tries to push past me.

"Oh, I wouldn't go in there if I were you! I have a pretty upset stomach." I smile a don't-you-hate-it-when-that-happens! smile. Hopefully, they'll emphasize and move on.

"Yeah, we heard." The lead girl smirks. She must mean the splatter of Rebecca's puke echoing across the floor. Some of the girls laugh. Bitches. But I'll let them think I had the worst case of diarrhea in the world if that means they don't find the body... "But you didn't flush." She pushes me aside again, and this time my hands separate from the handle.

"I can do it! Really, it's my mess!" I plead with her, but she's swinging the door open. Oh no oh no oh no Her face contorts as she sees whats inside... there's no where to run I'm doooomed...

And then I wake up.

Open Letter

2009-01-20T07:46:00.001-08:00

This was thrown on me out of the blue.

Something in my psyche knew it was coming- I was dreadful and nervous about you coming back, and I didn't know why; I planned break up talks I couldn't think of needing to use- but you really threw me for a loop saying what you did last night. I feel like the plush Persian rug of our pretty little relationship was just pulled out from underneath me.

What happened in these last two weeks that made you so sure it's not going to work? I know what happened- you fell in some pussy (AND expect me to be OK with that) and went on a life changing trip made to shake your shit up. The cheating is almost expected (still doesn't make it right) but how could you go from being my best friend and a wonderful boyfriend and so in love with me to sure we are totally over?

I know you to your deepest core. I see you for who you are (good, and slimy cheating bad) and love you for it. I know you better than you know yourself, and I know our relationship. I can see and have always been able to see the roles we've given each other, good or bad, and I have been OK with them. We have a codependent relationship because we've built it, built it with full knowledge of what we were doing. I hesitated at first- not wanting to borrow money, always come to you with problems, or stop sleeping without you- but you were so encouraging me in my neediness, you wanted so much to take care of me, that I wallowed in you like a happy little pig covered in the mud of your emotions.

I'm not here to place blame, mostly because I think it will turn you off and stop you from being receptive to what I have to say, but I was totally aware of where we stood with each other. And I thought you were too. I guess you were- the only difference is that I was OK with it, and I guess you weren't.

The positive spin I'm seeing on all this (and hoping you'll, too) is that our problem is not communication, or respect (although cheating isn't very respectful) or love or any relationship killers like that- the problem we have is the roles we've set ourselves up in. Roles can change. We can make our relationship different and be successful at it because we at the core have the beautiful, well oiled motor that keeps all good relationships running- respect, communication, love, and (well, I used to think) a desire to make it work. We still can, and I know you maybe don't want to, but it would really taint the memory of our relationship if you don't at least try.

I'm not trying to say we should get married, I just know once it's over it's over and I'm not sure you realize that. There will be no back treading with this relationship, no 4 AM 'what was I thinking?!' revelations. I refuse to try and fix myself to then have you come back into my life two days, or two weeks, or six months later and turn me into a puddle of myself because you had a change of heart. I cannot stress this enough, so I'll say it again- when it's over, its over. That's why I think we should give it one last shot. It might be a way for us to realize we're not good for each other, but it would be easier for me to ease out of this slowly that to get sent flying through the air just to land on my ass.

This is what I propose we do- two dates a week for the next month. No sleeping over, no dating anyone else (!!), no future plans. Just the two of us hangin out, cookin dinner, going for a hike, getting to know each other on a level we skipped as we went from casually dating to practically married. Let's take a step back and use our romantic relationship like most people do- someone to talk to and have sex with, a warm body whose company you enjoy. Nothing else.

This slow down approach could be really good for us, not just in regards to our relationship, but on a personal, rest-of-your-life-kinda-lesson. You will finally have to be in a relationship where you're not playing daddy, (cuz let's be real, that's what you do) and I will gain the confidence and self sufficiency that comes with standing next to you, but on my own two feet.

And if it doesn't work? If we can't stick to those rules, if we end up bickering the whole month, or we find out we really just don't like each other that much after all... well, it would be easier to have eased out of this s-l-o-w-l-y than this sudden jarring rip that you gave my heart last night. I will be able to prepare myself for a youless life, I won't have any 'what if...?' midnight conversations with myself, and I'll be able to hold on to the respect and trust I've built for you these last four months. I don't want to hate you, and I don't want to become jaded and distrustful of relationships after this. Our relationship meant too much to me to be left with the bitter taste in my mouth of biting down too hard on my tongue.

So do it for me. One last thing for your needy, twenty year old girlfriend. At the very least, try and earn back your karma points you lost when you cheated on someone who thinks the sun shines out of your ass...

If you're reading this, it probably means we already talked. This is just a rough draft of what I want to say to you tonight. (although hopefully with less talk of your infidelity. It hurts, but it's not the big issue here) Maybe you're reading this to get a better understanding of what the fuck I was talking about as you gather my shit from your house, or maybe it'll be a way to install confidence in us making it work. Either way, I'll always have a special place in my heart for you. A Jew shaped scar that I feel with every drop of blood pumpin through...

Don't make the same mistakes again, and I promise I won't.

Caroline

Fifty Great Things, Part Deux

2009-01-15T08:20:00.000-08:00

16. Rza.
17. Rhythm.
18. Smiling at a stranger (or have one smile at you)
19. Compliments.
20. Sweat.
21. Dessert.
22. 'I love you.'
23. Learning something new.
24. Accomplishment.
25. Respect.
26. Listening.
27. Change.
28. Making something wonderful.
29. Screaming at the top of your lungs sometimes.
30. A good night's sleep.

Twenty

2009-01-14T16:49:00.001-08:00

They say your early twenties can be the most exciting years of your life. You're the strongest, most attractive and have the most stamina and sexual heat than any other time in your life. Your whole future stretches before you like the ocean. You don't know what's out there for you, but it's big and it's gonna be great!

Your early twenties can be hell, too. You have so little background and experience, no knowledge of how to take care of yourself, your home, your bills, your dog. Crises are met with higher stages of alert and more freaking out because this is the first time that you have to solve them without an umbrella of protection coming from your parents, your school, or the 'hey, don't blame me, I'm just a kid!' excuse. You're a full blown adult with no credentials to back it up.

This is where I'm supposed to find out what I'm really made of, to show my strength. So why do I feel so helpless?

It's the End of the World as We Know It...

2009-01-10T12:44:00.000-08:00

So I've been thinkin lately about my skillz. I have pretty high opinion of myself, so I think, by and large, my tricks and talents are not only extensive, but awesome.

But the thought that worries me now is... Right now my expertise and technique are gettin me through life. However..... What if society fell? What if alien's attacked, or even just the economy collapsed? Would I be able to survive? How will my good memorization skills, my humor, and my random file of facts help me get food, find shelter, or not get killed?

I don't mean that super dramatically. Right now what I can do helps me get a job that helps me get food and shelter and what I do know keeps me from getting killed. (Like not to cross the street when a bus is comin.) But what about the day when restaurants are but a memory? When the food you eat comes from you own hands in a much more direct manner than the present day? Will I be able to keep on kickin?

It's kinda like the old "Could I survive a zombie attack?" question that everyone must ponder at some time in their life, but much more realistic. I think I'm more likely to see a fourth world war in my life time than my mother eating the remains of her neighbors. For which I am very glad.

Justification

2009-01-07T18:14:00.000-08:00

Sometimes it's OK to close your hand to a friend. Or shut a door in their face. Say no. This is something I have decided to stand firm on, and no one can change my opinion. Cutting someone out of your life because their not doing enough for you is reasonable. It doesn't mean your selfish to finally say Enough! It just means your tired, jaded, and poor. Or under the influence of a Jew.

Tennis golf

2009-01-07T00:35:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I think people are like tennis balls when their lives begin. Tennis balls that get shot out of those tennis ball shooter things and go wildly spinning through the air. Some of them knock all over the place, some of them go off in the completely wroong direction, some soar through the air with a grace that makes one believe in miracles. But they all get pulled at by gravity, and they all eventually slow down, and they all eventually stop. Some get stuck in a rut.

That's what made me think of this tennis ball analogy, thinkin of someone near and dear who has rolled into a neat, comfortable little rut with no way to get out. And the more I think about it, the more I think of other people I know that are the same way.

Sometimes, I just wanna take em and shake em and tell them to do something else with their time- anything would be better than comfortable misery.

But instead I just blog like this.

On an unrelated note, I took my dog down to the tennis courts today to pick up a free ball n then throw it around. It was fun.

2009

2009-01-05T17:09:00.000-08:00

My birthday and Christmas both passed in this last month without a mention from me, so I don't want to let New Years pass without notice.

I always really liked end of the year commentary and 'best/worst/most interesting of the year' lists from everyone to CNN to the Chronicle. Seems like anyone who can put a sentence together feels like that entitles them to the right to judge and categorize the happenings of the last twelve months and use their opinions to define a year and cast them in stone as historical fact.

The pop culture junkie in me always lapped it up willingly. I still think it's interesting to hear about what some random blogger thinks were the worst movies to see while drunk were of 2008.

The problem with these end of the year reflections is, in a year, hell, by February, none of their witty observations or intense judgments will matter. No one will give a shit if your blogging uncle thought Batman sucked or that People magazine thought George Carlin will be more missed than Betty Page. It's on to the next thing, and the compiling of new 'worst dressed' or 'biggest block buster of the summer' lists for the next December issue.

Normally, I wouldn't really care. If we all still gave a shit about who sold the top ten best records of 1996, life would be really boring. Music would prob sound a lot different, too.

For me, though, 2oo8 will go down as an important year for me. As I reflect back on the last 12 months, it's a struggle for to sum up what they meant to me and my personal growth. For me, 2oo8 will not just be the year Heath Ledger died, we got our first black president, or even the year I dropped out of school. 2oo8 has been such a big one in personal growth for me in every aspect. 2oo8 was HARD, filled with ups and downs, and more downs. I had too many 'events' this year that changed me or will become a story, not just to tell while sittin around one day with a beer in my hand, but major crossroads in my life.

For example, in 2oo8, I went from being a smoker to stronger than a cigarette. 2oo8 was also the year I met the man, who, even if he leaves my life soon, will forever go down as my first love and real relationship. It was the year I grew up and wanted to settle down, even though I failed at it a few times. 2oo8 was the year I learned how to ride a bike, got fired for the first time, and took a stab at supporting myself. 2oo8 was the year of mushrooms, roommates, and zennin out, or at least trying to. And let me not fail to mention the Clay Pit.

2oo8 was the year life threw a bunch of crap at me just to see what would stick. Sometimes I made it out clean, sometimes I didn't. But I learned a lot, and am pretty determined not to make (some) of the same mistakes again. I have to admit a lot of the shit that I stepped in could have been avoided, but it's all part of the process of livin, right? I just hope I can get though the next year more independent than the last one, and more of a support to the people around me.

That brings me to my new year's resolution- to be more self sufficient. Can't wait to read this in December and reflect...

Campin out

2008-12-16T15:57:00.000-08:00

It's December. Usually, in this part of the world, that means the sun frequents the sky less, the earth gets colder, and the wind blows ice.

This year has been no exception.

This did not stop me from going camping this weekend, however. And it was coooooooooooold. So cold. It was the kind of cold that creeps inside your sweater and buries itself in your bones. It was so cold we shivered like mice and laughed and laughed and laughed as if each howl fanned hot coals in our stomachs to keep us warm.

I slept drowning in a sea of blankets up to my forehead, but every once in a while, I woke up with a sharp gasp for fresh air. The moon was beautiful. It was full and silver and shone like a broach on a navy blue velvet dress of sky. It was like a naked bulb high on the ceiling of a tall tall room. It was a spotlight in an empty theatre where my fellow players were asleep on stage with me. I was the only person alive in a frozen, sleeping world... at least it felt like that.

The moon's pearl glow woke me up, or maybe it was the icy air nipping at my toes, but I had a few minutes of open eyed reflection that night. The most amazing thing happened. I was staring at the sky through the open roof of the tent, the moon following me like a policeman's search light, and the naked branches of the trees above me stretching across my view like saladfingers. But it was the stars I was watching. The stars, which are great to stare at in the middle of dark nights out in places away from city lights, started dancing. Not in the traditional sense, but in the minute or so that I lay there staring, I must have seen fifteen shooting starts zoom past my head.

They were not the first shooting stars I've ever seen, but I certainly had never seen so many. Alone in my frozen dark world I tried to nudge my sleeping neighbors- my man on my right, and my roommate on my left- into waking so they could experience it as well, but as I struggled to open my mouth, nothing came out. Even the act of rolling over and shaking my boyfriend was too much for me, and before I got all the way on my side, I passed out until the morning.

When the sun woke us up the next day, I told my hunny about the shooting stars. "Oh, yeah. I saw them, too," he said, like a shower of flying fireballs raining across the sky is an everyday occurrence for him. For me, though, the fact that he saw them excited me even more than the stars had the night before, because as I was explaining what I saw to him, something dawned on me- I never could have seen the shooting stars. I wasn't wearing glasses in my sleep.

The sky was dark and the the gaseous balls in the sky were bright, but with my poor eyesight and the fact that the nearest one was aprox. 673 trillion miles away, I realized I was probably dreaming.

Which brings me back to my wonderful man's visions- he saw what I saw. So what happened here? Did I feed off his psyche to see with my closed eyes? Was I given sight for two minutes by some greater force than I? Were we both dreaming the same thing? Or is just a case of coincidence, that I dreamt the same thing he saw at the same time?

I may never know.

I Saw A Book The Other Day That Was Titled

2008-12-10T21:26:00.000-08:00

The fifty greatest things in the whole world-

But I decided to think of my own list.

Parts one through 15.

sittin arouund sum fire.
crying sometimes when you need to.
orgasms.
snuggling.
truth.
naps.
laughter.
babies, puppies, sprouts and all other young things that are just so innocent and fresh.
weed.
sunshine.
holding hands.
music.
a good meal.
good lyrics, a beautiful poem or an inspiring piece of prose... basically an instance when language is used to it's fullest potential.
Fall, when the leaves die.

Old post... finally updated.

2008-11-30T18:11:00.000-08:00

I'm drunk.

Rent's due, and I'm drunk.

Not bad drunk, where the room won't stop swimming in circles, or where my stomach needs to meet the outside world, but a comfortable cozy drunk where the room merely sways and everyone's lovely. :)

I started this but never finished. I don't remember this day, but I think I enjoyed myself. 1/6/09

Unfinished

2008-11-23T18:51:00.000-08:00

The city at midnight is hardly different than the city at noon. There are people on every corner. Every fourth business lining the streets- the 24 hour bodegas, the strip joints, the bars, clubs and late night coffee shops- stay staffed well into the night, their bright lights and dingy open signs mingling with the street lamps, traffic lights, and the wandering headlights from passing cars to light up the dirty streets to almost-daylight levels. The weak shadows creep across alleyways and under cars, always just one light away from disappearing. The sky is the sick navy-orange of pre-dawn, even though sunrise is hours away. Of the billions of stars stretching their glow across the great expanse of the universe like hungry fingers... none of their light reaches these gray streets.

While school teachers in Kansas sleep... while little boys in Michigan dream, and lovers in Texas spoon.... As the insomniac in Georgia closes his eyes and the drunk in Ohio passes out on his couch... The city lives. Like the squirming pulse of an anthill, the city moves as one entity of many parts, always alive and kickin. It's heartbeat is heard in the rumble of the subway, in the slap of wet sneakers on concrete. Its in the squeak of tires in traffic, and the incoherent conversations of people passing each other like a radio set between stations. The city breathes. Its breaths are deep and full and rich at times when its most busy, sunny Fridays in June and after a good day in sports. Its breath is scared and shallow sometimes, too- during thunderstorms and news bulletins about child kidnappers.

This night, an extra touch of waiting in the air makes the exhalations of the city come irregularly and hesitantly. The city doesn't know what it waits for, but it feels the rats scurry in abnormal patterns like drunk figure skaters, and feels the rumble like an upset stomach in it's pipes.

Then it happens.

A manhole on the corner of the great crossroad of the city- the heart you could say- rumbles and shakes. Reminiscent of a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles rerun, the manhole rises to reveal the lifter underneath. But instead of a smiling surfer reptile, from the depths of the sewage system, a giant yellow cone emerges. The cone splits down the middle, revealing it to be a gasping, hungry beak.

Fo Real

2008-10-31T10:39:00.000-07:00

What is truth?

I googled truth and got an antismoking campaign.

http://www.thetruth.com/

I searched for truth on photobucket and found that I didn't know, couldn't handle and wasn't good enough for the truth.

I asked Wikipedia for the truth and the web site quoted the dictionary.

So I asked dictionary.com and it told me truth was the true or actual state of the matter.

But I say... according to who?

Whose deciding what the actual state of the matter really is? The people? God? Ronald McDonald?

I think I'm becoming a bit of a sceptic.

Rumor

2008-10-31T10:00:00.000-07:00

Little black babies serving frat boys cheese.

Imagine.

*Sigh*

What is the world coming to?

Personal

2008-10-27T09:34:00.001-07:00

Man, it's been a while.

Not on purpose, of course. I think about little things that would look good on a computer screen a lot- my new obsession with conspiracy theories, (which, actually, aren't really conspiracies at ALL! We're just livin in the Matrix. For real) all the funky dreams I've been having lately (this morning, I woke up with an intense urge to go to the gym. When I got there, I realized I had a dream last night where my former boss told me to loose ten pounds. I felt a small death somewhere inside me) or deep thoughts like, 'what's the deal with reality TV', 'how do friendships change over time?', or 'man, I think about my boyfriend too much', but I seem to loose all those little ideas in quiet monologues spilled out on my man's chest, hidden under a sheet.

You really don't need a blog spot when you have your own human well to pour all your random thoughts into.

It's great, meeting someone you connect with so fully and fearlessly. My hun and I have been together less than two months, but it seems like we know each other to the marrow and back. We're compatible, fascinating (to each other, but that's what counts), supportive and cuddly. He's changed me, for better and forever, and I've seen differences in him that make me smile. We're good for each other.

But...

Two months. We've been dating for two months.

I love him, I KNOW I do, and I know he would die for me. But I can't help but wonder if this is all just a honeymoon phase. If another sixty days will find us squabbling and bitter, and two months after that find me lying next to someone else.

I don't want that to happen. I feel, however, that conventional wisdom says that a fire this bright burns out fast, and we're given a short running time by the laws of the universe. There are a lot of them, and they're pretty fail-proof: what goes up, must come down, the shortest distance between two points in a straight line, everybody dies, and a relationship this new based on bein crazy about each other (no matter how good) is bound to disappoint.

Well, either that, or we'll be married by the end of the year, a thought that doesn't comfort me any more than the future demise of this beautiful little world we've created for each other.

I remember reading once about a couple that got married after seventeen days together. Seventeen. Less than three weeks. I think about them sometimes, not in relation to my little situation or maliciously, but just as one of those thoughts that randomly pass through you head through out the course of a day, like a theme song of a TV show from you Nickelodeon years, or the memory of your first grade teacher. I wonder what there lives are like now. If they're still together, if they have kids, what it was like meeting each other's parents or seeing each other through a major life crisis. I hope they're together, or at least happy. Everyone deserves that.

Words of Advice

2008-10-15T20:48:00.000-07:00

Think for yourself. Challenge authority. Listen to your body. Try anything that sounds like a good idea at the time, but be smart about it. Some things are only worth trying once, if at all. Fake it til you make it, especially confidence. You're only as awesome as you think you are. Respect and honesty are the most important parts of ANY relationship (parent/child, boy/girlfriend, customer/HEB checker) and the sooner you start to cultivate that, the happier your relationships will be. Don't be ashamed of ANY of your thoughts, and take responsibility for ALL your actions. Your parents are right. And don't get high before class. (in college)

I got asked to bestow advice on high school students. This is what I came up with.

School check

2008-10-08T11:22:00.000-07:00

Brigham Young University

Rankings and Recognition for Brigham Young University

From U.S.News & World Report:

#79 - BYU's rank among best national universities

#16 - Least Debt

#26 - Great Schools Great Price

#38 - Best Undergraduate Business Program (Marriott School of Management)

#3 - Best Undergraduate Accounting Program (Marriott School)

#19 - International business program specialty (Marriott School)

From The Princeton Review:

#1 - Stone-Cold Sober Schools

#1 - Students Pray on a Regular Basis

#1 - Future Rotarians and Daughters of the American Revolution

#3 - Best College Library

#4 - Students Most Nostalgic for Ronald Reagan

From U.S.News & World Report: Graduate School Rankings

Business: #41 Overall – BYU’s Marriott School of Management

Law: #44 Overall – J. Reuben Clark Law School

Nursing: #72 Overall – BYU’s Nursing program

Social Work: #87 Overall - Graduate social work program

Engineering: #92 Overall - College of Engineering

General rankings:

#10 - In number of graduates who go on to earn PhDs (NORC at the University of Chicago)

#1 - Producer of dental school-bound students (AADSAS)

#6 - Producer of law school-bound students (LSAC)

Top 10 - Producer of medical school-bound students (AAMC)

#9 - Number of short-term study abroad programs (Institute of International Education)

#16 - Number of students in study abroad (Institute of International Education)

#1 - Yield: Accepted students who go on to enroll (U.S. News)

From The Wall Street Journal:

#1 - Master of Business Administration program among regional schools.

#2 - Business school ethics emphasis

#4 - Accounting emphasis

You see what's bold, italic and green? That's enough to make me stop lookin at this school. I already know we won't get along. NEXT!

Arkansas Baptist College

Next on my list is Arkansas Baptist College. I went to the web page and immediately left after reading the motto: "It's a GOoD thing!" See ya.

Why are all the cheap schools so uber religious? I don't have anything against religious people, or even religious schools, but I'm not down to be converted every time I go to class. I wouldn't have any problem with going to a religious school, but universities that fly their flag so high and proud are after a certain demographic. And I am not it.

Philander Smith College

Looks like a mostly-black school. Got nothing wrong with that- I've def got some chocolate love. According to their website, they are "a private, residential, co-educational, four-year undergraduate liberal arts college affiliated with the United Methodist church and a founding member of the United Negro College Fund (UNCF). Philander is classified as a baccalaureate (liberal arts) college by the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. Updated in 2007, the College's emerging mission is to “graduate academically accomplished students who are grounded as advocates for social justice, determined to intentionally change the world for the better.”

No red flags yet for me, but I'd need to find out how their sociology program is before I rule em out.

So far I only like one school on my list, but I'd rather rule out all but one than have too many to choose from. Anyone that's ever ordered with me at a restaurant knows that I don't do well making decisions. More later.

Back in Blue

2008-10-08T10:57:00.001-07:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah, so I haven't blogged lately. Actually, in almost a month. Not only that, but I haven't been keepin up with my blogs that I read either, which has me kinda sad. I don't have any excuse to that except... oops.

A lot has happened in the last month which has kept me kinda busy and my mind pretty occupied including: I fell in love, lost my job, got another job, got cast in a play, quit said play, and learned to ride a bike. I also read three books and saw three movies, including Debbie Does Dallas, which... made me think. At best. Also, I bought three pairs of shoes.

I wonder what all those threes mean...

I've also put some thought into what I want to do with myself and my educational career. My lack of anything to say in that regard has, more than anything, kept me shying away from my blog. Writing about anything else would just make me feel guilty, so I'd start a blog, stare at it restlessly for an hour or so while I checked my facebook and then close the window and forget about it. Seriously- I have like 5 half written blogs from the last month that will never be more than drafts at best. Deeee-lete.

Anyway, the list below this is a composite of a few schools I wanna check out, one a day or something like that. I checked a few boxes on college board dot com and they gave me this list of schools that might fit what I'm lookin for. They actually gave me twenty-one pages of schools. I just narrowed them down to schools outside of Texas but somewhere in the west with out-of-state tuition less than 15,000. It's still a butt load of schools. But somewhere, out there, is a school that's right for me... right? All I gotta do is find it....

Also:

Number 3

The number 3 is symbolic of "completeness," or "divine perfection".^[10]^[11]^[12] Examples include, the Holy Trinity (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) being God and Christ was dead for 3 days before being resurrected.

#	Suares	Iamblichus	Schimmel	Schneider	Brown	Popular	Fourth Way	Consensus	Christian
1	Life/Death	Unity Identity	Primordial Being	Wholly One	Form	Initiating	Unity	Unity Creation	Unity Oneness
2	Container	Formless Form	Polarity Division	Two to Tango	Content	Cooperation	Duality	Duality	Dividing
3	Movement	Actuality Extension	Synthesis	Three-part Harmony	Agreement	Expression	Relationship	Power	Divine Perfection
4	Resistance	Solidity	Material Order	Mother Substance	Distinction	Foundation	Material Existence	Solidity	World Creation
5	Life	Life Mediacy	Life/Love	Regeneration	Identity	Expansion	Growth	Sensuality	Grace

AND C (the first letter of my name, like, duh) is the third letter of the alphabet! I wonder what that has to do with DDD?

Schools

2008-10-08T10:30:00.000-07:00

Brigham Young University Provo, UT Out-of-state tuition & fees: $4080
Arkansas Baptist College Little Rock, AR Out-of-state tuition & fees: $5700
Philander Smith College Little Rock, AR Out-of-state tuition & fees: $8740
University of Arkansas at Pine Bluff Pine Bluff, AR Out-of-state tuition & fees: $9236
Rogers State University Claremore, OK Out-of-state tuition & fees: $9734
Cameron University Lawton, OK Out-of-state tuition & fees: $9975

Dixie State College of Utah St. George, UT Out-of-state tuition & fees: $10063
National University La Jolla, CA Out-of-state tuition & fees: $10224
Bacone College Muskogee, OK Out-of-state tuition & fees: $10418
University of Central Oklahoma Edmond, OK Out-of-state tuition & fees: $10652
University of Wyoming Laramie, WY Out-of-state tuition & fees: $11031
Weber State University Ogden, UT Out-of-state tuition & fees: $11157
University of Hawaii: West Oahu Pearl City, HI Out-of-state tuition & fees: $11578
University of Central Arkansas Conway, AR Out-of-state tuition & fees: $11605
University of Alaska Southeast Juneau, AK Out-of-state tuition & fees: $11839

Metropolitan State College of Denver Denver, CO Out-of-state tuition & fees: $11949
Humphreys College Stockton, CA Out-of-state tuition & fees: $12240
Western New Mexico University Silver City, NM Out-of-state tuition & fees: $12718
University of the Southwest Hobbs, NM Out-of-state tuition & fees: $12750
Mid-America Christian University Oklahoma City, OK Out-of-state tuition & fees: $12800
Harding University Searcy, AR Out-of-state tuition & fees: $13130
Boise State University Boise, ID Out-of-state tuition & fees: $13208

New Mexico State University Las Cruces, NM Out-of-state tuition & fees: $14740 Colorado State University: Pueblo Pueblo, CO Out-of-state tuition & fees: $14788
California State University: Bakersfield Bakersfield, CA Out-of-state tuition & fees: $14241
University of Alaska Fairbanks Fairbanks, AK Out-of-state tuition & fees: $14248
Arkansas State University State University, AR Out-of-state tuition & fees: $14290
University of Arkansas at Little Rock Little Rock, AR Out-of-state tuition & fees: $14304
Sonoma State University Rohnert Park, CA Out-of-state tuition & fees: $14442

...

2008-09-17T12:15:00.000-07:00

So...

I quit school. And now... what?

That thought has been freaking me out for the last week. It's why I haven't blogged. I told myself I would write something about my future plans and goals now that I have that taken education of the way to free up my time. But... I haven't had anything to say.

I know dropping out was the right thing for me and I'm going to have a goal to move toward and be successful at that, if only because there is no way I would ever not be successful at life, but this middle period, this limbo called young adulthood, college years, early twenties... this is the place I'm stuck and it's a little scary.

I feel like it* is right there in front of me in the dark, so my fingertips slash the air just in front of it... I feel like I'm walking out of my house missing something, but I can't remember what... like I'm staring at two slightly different pictures in the back of a coloring book, knowing something's missing.... but what?

I don't know.

I need to clear my head and go sit somewhere and conquer this thing, this monster dark cloud crowding the back of my mind.

A one month plan...

A six month plan...

A year plan...

Fuck the five year plan, because I hope I'm doing something in five years that I can't even imagine today.

But I do need to make the other plans, because I'm not sleeping. I get insomnia when I have too much on my brain. And I do.

I need to take some time... somewhere... and think about this for a while.

More later.

*It being something I need to work towards. Whatever it is I'm going to do with my life. What I'm going to do tomorrow. My goals. My future.

Edjamacation

2008-09-09T00:38:00.001-07:00

So.

I'm thinking about dropping out of school this semester.

Ouch.

It's kind of scary seeing that in font. The more I think about it, however, the more I think it's the best idea for me.

I paid for my classes myself. No financial aid, no money from mommy. I'm totally willing to cut my losses right now and just get however much of that back as I can.

I had lots of homework to do tonight, and even though I locked myself in my room at eight, and stared at the pile of work in front of me until two, I still only got four math problems done.

That's it.

I'm not ready for this. I'm not emotionally or spiritually ready for school right now. Physically, it's making me sick. I get up and go to class with a resounding NONONONONONONOOoooo... ringing between my ears. I have no wish to be there at all, no matter how interesting my classes are, no matter how much I try to change my attitude.

I'm a huge believer of changing situations that make you unhappy. Don't like your job, relationship or living situation? Do something about it. If something about your life sucks, it's not worth living through. Whether it's an attitude adjustment, adding something stimulating to your life, or straight up loosing the negative, there's always a way to change your situation. I believe that more than anything. Put it on a fucking bumper sticker, a t-shirt, or embroider it on to a mother fucking pillow- that's my code for life.

And although I've tried to talk myself into thinking proactively, telling myself it's a learning experience to do something I hate so much, that I can drop out next semester, that I'm already here, I might as well finish, that my teachers are interesting and my classes are stimulating (they are!) trying to change my attitude just aint cuttin it for me anymore. I am sooo unhappy with school (I even hate thinking the word. Talk about bad tastes in your mouth. Uck) that I feel like there's a weight on my chest when I think about it. Which is most of the time. I can't breathe, my mouth puckers up at the corners like wet paper and this heaviness settles into the bottom of my lungs as I hyperventilate.

Why am I making the main focus of my life something that makes me so unhappy?

It doesn't make any sense!

My reasons for staying in school this semester were pretty flimsy. I'm at a community college, that, while a very good school with wonderful teachers, was never supposed to and will not be the peak of my educational career. I'm not taking any classes right now I really need, if only because I'm not sure what I wanna be when I grow up anyway. The main reasons I'm in school right now are to stay on my mother's insurance, which is a dumb idea anyway, since I haven't used it since I left her house, (my mouth is full of cavities, and I've been wearing glasses with two year old prescriptions for a month and a half because I don't have any contacts left.) and on the advice of well meaning friends and people in my life.

To those cardboard houses of arguments I reply (respectively) insurance is not a reason to change your life, especially not insurance you're (I'm?) not using, and, although I appreciate the advice and caring of those that tell me to finish school before I start livin life, they are not me. They might know the conventional thing to do, but I have to listen to my heart above all else, and my heart is dying sitting in a classroom for three hours every day. It's not much, but it's also not what I need to be doing right now. I can't do it. Besides, since when have I ever been conventional? I've never followed the beaten path. There's no reason to start now.

It's all nice and justified here on the computer at three AM (when I'm stressed, I don't sleep. And I looove to sleep. A Lot) but I still really worry about two things-

what my mommy's gonna say,

and

that I'm gonna become a lazy pothead.

I'll answer those directly, but now I think the sleeping pill has kicked in.

I'll finish this in the mornin.

*Morning*

I just called my mom! I told her straight up how I feel, and although she was so angry she couldn't talk to me, I told my mother what I was going to do and didn't back down. There's a victory in there somewhere.

As for me becoming a lazy pothead, I'm actually going to stick to my no-smoking-for-the-rest-of-the-semester rule. Just because I'm not in a formal educational situation (man, I'm acting like I've already dropped all my classes!) doesn't mean I can't expand my mind. I'm going to stick with my acting class, read more (!) and maybe even take a few informal classes. I'm thinkin tae kuan do or yoga. Things to keep my mind and body healthy.

But now I need to go to school. If I'm sticking with acting class, it starts in an hour, and then I actually gotta drop my classes.

Man, what a weight has been lifted! I feel so light.

I can do this!

Right?

On Blogging And Alcohol

2008-09-07T21:59:00.000-07:00

I really should be doin homework :)

Or a million other things besides this. I really don't want to think about it.

But I'm really lovin bloggin. I'm feelin energized and inspired by my own thoughts read and reread over again as I roll em around my brain. My thoughts fly out the tips of my fingers and all over the computer screen so much more quickly than when I write them. And since I'm really just writing to myself, everything I have to say is interesting. I can talk about myself and whatever useless point might tickle my fancy at the time. Like vegetables versus fruit, the stigma of being naked, and how much I hate school. I have all kinds of blogs just waiting to come out of me. Maybe I'll try some open letters.

Here's one now-

I'm really surprised how quickly it took me to get over you. I'm not discounting my feelings, because I know that I really did care about you, but it's kinda surprising that - just like that - one day I was able to wake up and not think about you with my heart fluttering around like a handful of petals in the wind. Oh, also, you're never going to get out. And that thought doesn't hurt me any more.

Hmm... That didn't feel as good as I thought it would... but who cares? This is my fucking blog- I can put whatever I want! F-R-E-E-E-E ing.

Like how I feel about drinking. I don't like to drink. Getting drunk is high on my least favorite activities list. I don't like how the world doesn't sit still, and how incredibly shitty I feel the next day. Like I'm sick, like I have the period cramps from hell, like my small intestine is carving it's name (Juniper) on the inside of the flesh that stretches across my belly.

Why do I do it, though? What could possibly inspire me to want to drink so much I have to get up close and personal with my toilet?

I think it's because I want to feel like shit.

Everyone has their self destructive behaviors, and I've noticed that every time I've gotten druuuunnk, it was because I wasn't feeling too good in the rest of my life. I always know what's going to happen when I have more than four drinks, and I never like it.

If I had a nickel for every time I've said "This is why I don't drink"....

I would have a lot of nickels.

It kinda sucks that what I always choose to do when I'm spiritually not feeling well makes me physically ill as well, but maybe it's a good thing. I don't drink very often, besides a beer here and there. If I liked drinking more, I would probably be gettin drunk every weekend, and then nursing a hang over every Monday.

Ugh. I'm just imagining waking up sick every morning. I pity alcoholics. And I really want a cigarette.

Self Preservation

2008-09-07T09:07:00.000-07:00

I feel like a drama queen a lot lately. Not on purpose, I don't need the added attention or for my life to be difficult. But when you feel something so intensely your heart is melting in your chest, your blood is skipping in your veins and your breath comes out in pulses, people see that, and that tends to draw a little attention to yourself.

It sucks to care so much about someone. Anyone. Parents die, children grow up and hate you, friendships fade and lovers aren't perfect. People are bound to disappoint and hearts were made to be broken.

But right now, the thought roaming around in my skull is how terrified I would be if someone very near and dear- the top eight (or ten, twelve or fifty-two) of my life, you could say- were to get hurt in some way. Even just the stupid little stuff I want to feel for them. Their stubbed toe is my stubbed toe, the hangovers, embarrassment, parking tickets, and shitty days at work I take on like my own.

Am I being too sensitive? Do I have the right to feel so responsible? It's selfish in a way, to think that you have to take care of those you love like that. It's a mockery of self importance to title yourself superman, savior of the world.

But the thought that the last few days events has brought back to the front and center of my brain is one that I used to fear for a lot in high school. It would hit me in the middle of a hug, or while I watched him play with his friends or tell a joke and then just laugh and laugh and laugh.

If anything were to happen to my baby brother, I would loose my mind. Literally and fully. I couldn't live.

I don't want to care so much about people. I don't! If I keep myself so open and vulnerable, I'm bound to get hurt. I can't spend my life coddling and trying to protect everyone. I feel like I'm stretched out like a sheet pulled tight at the corners into a makeshift tent, the kind kids make in livingrooms to hid themselves and all their stuffed animals under. I'm trying to cover everyone I know, from my roommates to the lady who sells flowers outside the scientology building and everyone in between. But the sheet can't cover everyone. It pulls and tears and frays at the edges and I just get tired. So I don't call back... mock strangers... let friendships fade.

I am just too sensitive.

But I think the world needs people like me, to balance out the cynics. They have their place too, the selfish, self-preserving people who hold their hearts close to the chests and kiss with their eyes open.

Sometimes I wish I had the ability to be like that, even for a few days. A week of not giving a shit who gets hurt, because, hey, people get hurt, right? It's all part of the circle of life. But even when I pretend to be like that, walk by the bums smelling like sweat on the street, roll my eyes at something cute, bitch at my mom, I feel like a faker. I can't get the joy from that sort of stuff that other people can.

I'm not talking about me at my worst though. Sitting here with my blood swimming with alcohol I didn't need to drink, I'm remembering all the times in just the last twenty-four hours I wasn't very nice. I know I'm being a little hypocritical saying that I care so much, because it's not even possible to be that way 24/7. But know that it's def something I strive for, even in the worst of times, to be as good - whatever that means - as I can. Spread the good karma. Shine a little sunshine.

At the end of every paragraph while writing this, I've taken a breath and thought, "that's enough." but it hasn't been. I think it's enough now. I've really been enjoyin blogging. It feels good to purge myself of all the murky, oily junk smelling up my soul. And this blog, of all of them, has been a good one for me. I needed this.

L O V E

2008-09-05T23:11:00.000-07:00

How do you really judge love? Is it even possible? Are you ever really sure how much someone cares about you... or should you always snuggle with one eye open, second guess, and not ever jump in eyes closed and feet first? And on that note, are you ever sure how you feel about someone, or are your feelings about someone else just reflections of how you feel about yourself?

And on that note, how do you know if anything's real? The grass the sky, the feelings you feel beatin inside your own chest?

Woah, that's takin it a little too far. I need to back up now...

I feel like a drama queen a lot lately. Not on purpose, I don't need the added attention or for my life to be difficult. But when you feel something so intensely your heart is melting in your chest, your blood is skipping in your veins and your breath comes out in pulses, people see that, and that tends to draw a little attention to yourself.

If anything were to happen to my baby brother, I would loose my mind. Literally and fully. I couldn't live.

A Lil Bit Bout Me

2008-09-05T07:42:00.001-07:00

1) Ever had sex in a public place?
Not today... but then again, it's not even noon

2) Do you hate more than 3 people?
You, yo momma and Al Greene

3) How many houses have you lived in?
I don't believe in roofs- currently I'm campin out in a tent outside a baptist church.

9) Do you own a Britney Spears CD?
I own a lock of her hair

10) Have you ever thrown up in public?
Just once... and it wasn't so much "in public" as on camera... There was also another girl and a cup involved, but I don't need to go into the details.

11) Name something that is always on your mind?
Sex

12) Favorite genre of music?
Bulgarian folk-pop

13) What is your zodiac sign?
Sagittarius- the luckiest of the signs

14) What time were you born?
I don't know! I have blocked out any and all memories involving my mother's vagina.

15) Do you like someone?
Well, since you asked, I've been harboring a bit of a crush on Sarah Palin...

16) Have you made a prank phone call?
The Jerky Boys learned all they know from me

17) What is the most embarrassing CD you own?
My personal karaoke recordings of Bruce ''the Boss" Springsteen's greatest hits.

18) Are you sarcastic?..
no

19) What are your favorite color(s)?:
Purple

20) How many watches do you own?
I don't need a watch. I tell time through the chip implanted in my head

21) Summer or winter?
Fall

22) Is anyone in love with you?
Duh

23) Favorite color to wear?
Paisley

24) Pepsi or Sprite?
Shouldn't you be asking Pepsi or Coke?

26) Where is your second home?
A villa in St Barts

27) Have you ever slapped someone?
Joan Collins would be proud of my slapping skills

29) How many lamps are in your bedroom?
Two, one that's not plugged in and the other who's bulb went out last week

30) How many video games do you own?
?

31) What was your first pet?
A rock

32) Where do you want to live when you're older?
Take meta mars!

33) Do looks matter?
Only if you're hot

34) Do you use chapstick?
yes, but only on my thighs

36) Abercrombie or American Eagle?
I can't spell either

37) Are you too forgiving?
Three strikes, you're out. Four, and you're looking at loosin a finger

38) How many children do you want?
enough to keep my house clean

39) Do you own something from Hot Topic?
maybe... I shoplifted a pair of shoes from there once

40) Favorite breakfast meal?

A big ole bowl of oatmeal, followed by a big ole bowl of weed

Oh, MJ, how I miss you...

41) Do you own a gun?
Just these two! Got your tickets to the gun show yet??

42) Ever thought you were dead?
Yeah, as I floated above my unconscious body

43) When was the last time you cried?
Yesterday, but I was getting dental surgery with no anesthesia

44) What did you do 5 nights ago?
I sniff to much glue to remember that far back

45) Olive Garden?
That's not a real question

46) Have you ever called your teacher mommy?
Only in bed...

47) Have you ever been in a castle?
I live in one

48) Nicknames?
Sexi boi

49) Do you know anyone named Gertrude or Bertha?
That's what I call my left pinky toe and my right elbow! Respectivly

50) Ever been to Kentucky?
Twice last june for some drug runnin

51) Do you own something from Banana Republic?
I own a young Banana picker from the dominican republic...

52) Are you thinking about somebody right now?
mm.... Karl Rove...

53) Ever called somebody Boo?
of course

54) Do you own a diamond ring?
One for each finger and two per toe

55) Do you want to witness a tornado?
I want to swim in the middle of one... I've written to the make a wish foundation three times about it already

56) Are you happy with your life right now?
For the most part...

SCHOOL SUCKS

57) Do you like your hair?

I like my eyelashes...

58) Does anyone have a crush on you?
probably

60) What were you doing on May 8th of 1994?
playing doctor with my curious neighbor

61) Do you own a Backstreet Boys CD?
All six

62) McDonalds or Wendys?
Subway?

64) Are you closer to your mother or father?
Mother

65) Favorite physical feature of the preferred sex?
Knees

66) Are you afraid of the dark?
I love that show!

67) Have you ever eaten paste?
I'll try anything twice

70) Ever broke a bone?
my pinky toe slipping on a plastic wal mart bag

71) Are you religious?
religion is a human institution

uh I think we skipped number 72?

I think so too... I wonder how offensive it was?!?

73) Pringles or Lays?:
Anything's better than plain lays... except pizza pringles

74) Have you ever broken someones heart?
I've not just broken it, I've ripped hearts out chests and stomped on them. Literally. Just something I picked up in karate class

uhm once again we're missing a number.

76) Full House or The Brady Bunch?:
Brady Bunch. Uncle Jessie can suck a nut

77) Do you like your high school guidance counseler?
more than life itself

78) Has anyone ever called you a tease?
always

79) Do you have a birth mark?
nope

80) Do you own a car?
yeah, but it's like an inch and a half long and says hot wheels on the side

81) Can you cook?
cereal.... toast....

82) 3 things that annoy you?
misquotes, the smell of wet tires, ottomans (ottomen?)

83) Do you text message often?
always

84) Money or love?
drugs

85) Do you have any scars?
on my face

86) What do you want more than anything right now?
cock

87) Do you enjoy scary movies?
not as much as porn... but scary porn is the best

where the fuck is question 88?!

gone, daddy, gone

89) Big Red or Juicy Fruit?
sounds like a pair of two dollar whores

91) Have you seen all the Rocky movies?
none of them

92) Do you own a box of crayons?
I wish I did....

93) Are you in a complicated relationship?
every relationship is complicated. Especially the one between me and the mail man...

94)

que?

95) Who was the last person that made you mad?
Charlie Koffman

96) Who was the last person that made you cry?
James Earl Jones

97) Who was the last person that made you laugh?
Ry Ry. Hit that bitch, homeboy!

98) Who was the last person that texted you?
Micky Rorke

99) Who was the last person you called?
Krystal Lite

100) Who was the last person to call you?
The Austin Police Dept... but I didn't answer.

Cancer

2008-09-03T12:25:00.001-07:00

I finally scheduled my CAT scan. It's on Tuesday and I'm scared.

On Dreamin

2008-09-03T07:24:00.000-07:00

I had a dream last night where I had sex with not one but two different friends of mine.

Not at the same time, of course.

Sex dreams always throw me off. I never know how to take em. Do they mean I want to have sex with them? That I'm just a horny perv? Do they have something to do with my mother? What is it?

Maybe all of the above.

I do believe that dreams can tell you something about yourself, even if it is just something trivial, like when you dream about Bugs Bunny the day after watching Space Jam. Maybe it means you need to quit your job, move to California and become a cartoonist, or maybe it just means you watched Space Jam the day before.

Take the last dream I had. It was about Sunshine, my beautiful lil bong. She's so cute. Just lookin at her makes me smile. Maybe it's her curvy femmy body, or her bright yellow color. Maybe it's the little rim of white on the lip where her insides peek out like a petticoat. Or maybe it's the sentimentality of my first bong. I don't know, I just really like her.

ANYWAY, about three days after I quit smokin weed (because yes, motherfuckers, I don't smoke weed anymore. Woo...) I had a dream about her and three other bongs that looked just like her, but two of them were blue and they were all actually... balloons. Water balloons that kept bursting. In the dream, one of them was my roommates, (which is probably why the dream balloons were blue- he has a little blue bong) and I had to keep his and my lil sunshine safe, and I was really paranoid about it. The other two bongs were just there, and, as I said, they kept poppin when I tried to smoke out of them or move them, because, like, duh, you can't smoke weed out of a water balloon.

I think that dream meant that I was scared of my bong breaking in these next few months that I'm not smoking but living with potheads. On Saturday, I came home from work to find a party goin on in my house, and sunshine getting passed around in my roommate's room. I didn't go in and take it away because I knew that wouldn't be cool to make my roommate or whoever said it was OK to use sunshine look like an ass in front of these party goers, and I was already in a bitchy mood- I didn't want to kill the party, but my blood ran cold. Strangers! With their lips around my baby! I've heard so many scary stories from people who had their pieces broken or stolen at parties. Hell, my first favorite piece, a little rainbow pipe called Princess Fiona, was stolen from a party that I wasn't even at. I still miss her sometimes...

But I should probably get ready for school now.

Probably Too Much Info For A Public Blog

2008-09-02T14:37:00.000-07:00

I think I want to have sex with my theatre teacher.

No, I know I do.

He's not particularly good-looking, nice, or interested in me, but there's something.... something about him. He's got this passion and self confidence and inhibition rolling around in his crazy eyes (because he's got the crazy eyes) that I find very sexy, and I can't help but think- or know?- that he'll be a good lover.

I bet he has a big penis too...

*Disclaimer*

I actually don't think I will ever do the dirty with this guy, but I think the idea of it will keep me docile in his class.

Yesterday he yelled at me more than once while I was working on my monologue in front of the class. He had me do some insane (although helpful, I must say) exercises, and the one thing that was keep me from flicking him off and yelling back and generally causing a big ole mess of trouble for myself was the thought in my head of "I bet he's a really good kisser. I wonder what his beard would feel like on my cheek?"

Sleeping with him- fuck, flirting with him- would actually be a very bad idea. He's my teacher, my superior, someone above me, the dude that decides if I pass or fail. No matter how many dirty little fantasies one might have about taboo relationships like that (student/teacher, boss/secretary, guard/prisoner) parings like that just don't work. the balance of power is off.

So it's never going to happen, but I know my dirty lil thoughts will keep me behavin in class.

Oh, what a semester this will be....

Movie Review

2008-09-02T07:33:00.000-07:00

I saw Natural Born Killers the other night for the first time in a while. It's one of my favorite movies (seriously, every scene, every character, every camera angle is so crazy it's so GOOD!) and I've seen it a million trillion times, but it's still stuck with me. It's like Schindler's List or Napoleon Dynamite- for whatever reason, the experience of watching this movie tugs at my brain for days afterwards like a sore on the inside of my cheek. I come back to them to poke and prod at them with my mind, always aware of the movie, even if I'm not thinkin of it directly.

Man, that's one of my favorite things about Natural Born Killers- how it always floats around my head like a ghost after watching it.

Anyway, the reason I'm sayin this is because I have come to the conclusion that it's not just a trippy Oliver Stone film, or an action movie. Natural Born Killers is a beautiful love story at it's core. Here are two people with no one else in the world but each other, who would do anything for each other. Maybe I'm a sappy romantic, or was just feeling lonely at the time, but I thought the way they touched each other, looked at each other and kissed each other (hot) was so sweetly tender, and yet strangely savage. Like the best love makin.

Also, I got to wonderin if they (the actors, Juliette Lewis and Woody Harrison, not Mickey and Mallory Knox) had gotten busy while filming.

It couldn't have hurt their character development.

Time

2008-09-01T08:44:00.000-07:00

So school's started for a week, and I'm already behind in umm... everything. Just to indulge my sad sack self pity, I shall list everything I need to get taken care of but haven't.

- unpackin. Still haven't done it

- read 60 pages of Stanislofsky's book for theatre

-also for theatre, find and memorize a monologue to audition with on Wed

- clean my room

- set up an ACC account for my classes and contact two of my teachers.

- pick up the bookshelf I bought from blue velvet. I might never get it...

-pay my rent

- write an article for the Scenarios USA magazine! I can't believe I've put this off for so long....

- Hang out with Jarymar today from 1 to whenever I work. Which means none of this stuff is gonna get done. *Gulp*

-Free day of yoga?

- Work SIX shifts this week, and another one tonight. So technically seven in eight days. On top of school four days a week. Niiice.

I don't like reading this stuff. I know how behind I am in my life through this little buzzing voice in the back of my head, but it's scary to see it all out there in ink. Or zeros and ones which this technically is. The deadline for this stuff is either overdue or today. And yet, instead of hunkerin down and actually taken care of what I need to, I'll go get brunch and watch movies, or party like it's 1999.

I get so jealous when I see my friends who don't work or don't go to school, who have the transportation that getting around doesn't take twice as long as it should, who can take off when they want to, who have half the responsibilities I do.

I'm nineteen! I have no major bills or debt, I don't have any children or parents depending on me to bring home the bacon- these should be the days of my life. The days where I can stay in my pjs all day, go on road trips just cuz I want to, stay up til 7 AM and sleep til 4 PM. But I can't. I really shouldn't be indulging myself in the lite leisure time I have been so far. I don't have the time, or use the time that I do have well enough to justify hangin out n havin a beer after work, or sleeping in til noon.

And that pisses me off.

It's not fuckin FAIR that I have to be mature and responsible and take care of myself. All I get from it is a sense of smug self satisfaction when dealin with friends who's parents pay for everything, but it's really not worth getting to pay my own bills.

I know it'll pay off in the long run, but I'm so afraid that I'm going to wake up one day, be old fat and ugly, with so many more responsibilities than I have now, and have never been to Europe, lived in New York, or taken mushrooms on a roller coster. I don't want to wait til my kids are grown, my morgage is paid and I'm retired to live life- I wanna do it NOW!!

But right right now, I have to get the fuck off the computer and get some of that school stuff taken care of. Blah.

Have I mentioned before that this blog is much more negative than I feel? Cuz it is.

Melodrama

2008-08-24T11:06:00.000-07:00

What does one say when everything has been said?

My only reply to the situation would be to nit pick little things you said in order to get you to respond. But that will just drag it all out a little more. I'll be falling back into the cliched role I've been playing.

God, why is life so damn cliche??

I saw all of this coming. I saw the beginning, end, and all the corny little whispered nothings in the middle. I saw me writing this fucking blog like I read the god damn script. I feel like I'm in a fuckin film more than I ever have in my life, and what started out as a comedy is turning into a melodrama.

You know a little rain helps you better appreciate the sunshine.

One day I'm gonna look back on this as an important episode of my life. A learning experience.

Blah blah blah.

I have to keep telling myself the cliched shit.

Last Dance With Mary Jane

2008-08-22T22:22:00.000-07:00

Here I am, starting what feels like my first real blog in a while. The last couple weeks have been a blur of moving, money issues and heart break, all clouded up by a fog of marijuana smoke.

BUT!

I'm quitting the mary jane Monday after one last big ole bowl. I really really really really don't want to, but I feel like if I don't follow through on this, I won't be able to look myself in the face. In the mirror.

So in order to make up for the three months of sobriety (at least from the wacky weed) that are to come, I've been tokin it up a lot. A lot.

I haven't thought clearly in months, but on purpose. Besides when I was out of town, it has been months since I went more than a day without being high all day long. I know it's summer, and that's what you're supposed to do, but I also know I spent waaaaay too much money on dope these last few months and that I was way less productive than I said I would be.

I'm kinda scared though. I'm not gonna lie. I've been thinking about me quitting every day for the last few weeks, what with the impending doom headed in my direction.

I don't know if I'm going to be able to do it. Most of my pot head friends have been tryin to talk me into makin exceptions- only on weekends, or just quit for a week. But as temptin as that sounds, I know that would be cheatin.

If I can get through these next three months - and seriously, what's three months in the span of a lifetime? Nuttin, that's what - I can use them productively and be proud of myself.

Unless I become a lush, which is always a possibility.

Untitled 1

2008-08-21T06:35:00.000-07:00

I'm so angry this morning. I'm so angry and I don't know why.

Well, I do know why.

But why does someone I care so much about have to be hellbent on having an unhappy life? Why do I care about self destructive people? Are there any people out there who are not self destructive?

Probably not. I have a bomb strapped to my chest in this situation too.

Anniversary

2008-08-20T06:28:00.000-07:00

One year in Austin...

Oh what a year.

I'll talk about it later- gotta go to work. But this year has been a memorable one for me. Fur sure

Molasses

2008-08-14T07:35:00.000-07:00

I'm moving in a couple days!

Yay!

I'm sooo not packed.

I hope it works out.

Pray to your gods for me!

Some other thoughts...

Emotions are fleeting. Actions are what will really matter when I look back on this in a year. What I do will follow me into the future, not how I feel. I have to ignore my feelings right now, and try not to get them to influence me into doing something I will later regret. Mostly, though, I'm just trying to get myself to talk myself into doing something stupid. All I need to do is justify it to myself for just long enough to sabotage me... right?

Thank God I have moving to distract me.

Stand

2008-08-07T21:25:00.000-07:00

So I'm lying on my living room floor in my underwear, eatin a baked potato and avoiding all the things I'm really supposed to be doing. Man, I'm a little disappointed in myself. I had all these goals and self improvements lined up for this summer.

Every time I set up goals for myself, I always overdo it. I pretend I'm Superman and think that I can do everything, and discount things like changed plans, sick days, and unexpected visits from my mother.

I feel like I flaked off this sumer. Thank God I've at least stuck with my whole quitin smokin deal.

Well, at least I learned a lot about myself this summer. Also this IS one of the last times in my life that I'm going to be able to wake up at noon and stay in my pjs all day on a regular basis, something I enjoy more than I'd like to admit.

Damn, I never meant for this thing to get so depressing! I thought I was pretty happy- I mean, I am- but I guess everyone needs an outlet for the darker parts of their thoughts. At least it's better then carrying them around with you like a bad smell. My blah posts are to keep me cheery everywhere else.

I am oh so filled with delusional thoughts today.

I've been feeling a lot lately that by my habit of lookin on the bright side has turned into me lying to myself. I think I need to take a step back and look at some things realistically. First, though, I gotta figure out what that really means.

Here's another thing I've been toyin round in my brain: lies by omission. Both to myself and others. I think I'm avoiding somethings because I don't wanna stir shit up.

Sometimes shit needs to get stirred though.

Ouch

2008-08-04T08:11:00.000-07:00

What do you do for someone whose hurtin, but doesn't want to help themselves? Who does NOT want to help themselves at ALL?

It makes me angry. Maybe it shouldn't, but it does. Frustrated, helpless, disgusted and pissed off.

Watching a friend, someone you care about, or at least used to, self-destruct like a lemur jumpin off a cliff, like a super computer in an 80s sci fi movie, like an idiot bangin his head against a wall again and again and again.... It's a hard thing to see.

Does it make me a bad friend for not wanting to be around that? Is 'all I can do,' more than I've already done?

I want to wash my hands of this situation. Nothing I say or do is makin any difference, and if one is completely hell bent on fucking up one's life... I can't stand being around all that negative energy. I don't like the way I feel when I'm around it. I feel like I can't breathe, and that I have this big, dark lump sitting on my chest. Uck. Ew. Get me out of here!

Yeah, I can't put up with watching friends (or a friend) fuck themselves up over and over and over again. But how can I save the world if I can't even influence

-just a little bit-

one

person

in it?

holy shit

2008-08-03T14:50:00.000-07:00

I just watched this film called "Endgame" by the slightly crazy Alex Jones.

We're all fucked.

Ack!

2008-08-03T08:35:00.000-07:00

Here in Austin, we have this lil bookstore called brave new books. It's a tiny room in a basement filled with books whose subject matter could be most correctly collected as, "conspiracy theories."

I'm pretty liberal, but one can't help be a little wary of extremist groups, be it mormons, vegans, or hard-core Dallas Cowboy fans

I've only been there once and didn't buy anything, but I did have a very enlightened conversation with the stores owner. He quoted me a bunch of scary facts that I don't want to know, but should, and told me why he opened the store ('because there was a need to get this information out there... and there wasn't anything like this in Austin.' This I found very admirable.) He told me Ron Paul was the way to go, and that if Obama made Clinton his running mate, he'd be dead with in a year. He also gave me a collection of burned documentaries on all kinds of scary facts I don't want to know, but should. I shook his hand after our 30 minute conversation and walked out of that store confident in my ability to become a champion for truth, ready to sponge up all the 'real' scoop and dispense my knowledge on the masses.

A month later, and I've never seen even one of those films. I've quoted that 'Obama Assassination' theory a few times at social gatherings to look intelligent, but haven't done anything to increase even MY knowledge, let alone any masses. I kinda just did what I did before- figured yeah, there are a few things that are a lil screwed up about our government, but I don't feel like doing anything about it. But then, just right now, I read this:

U.S. agents can seize travelers' laptops: report

Fri Aug 1, 7:31 AM ET

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - U.S. federal agents have been given new powers to seize travelers' laptops and other electronic devices at the border and hold them for unspecified periods the Washington Post reported on Friday.

Under recently disclosed Department of Homeland Security policies, such seizures may be carried out without suspicion of wrongdoing, the newspaper said, quoting policies issued on July 16 by two DHS agencies.

Agents are empowered to share the contents of seized computers with other agencies and private entities for data decryption and other reasons, the newspaper said.

DHS officials said the policies applied to anyone entering the country, including U.S. citizens, and were needed to prevent terrorism.

The measures have long been in place but were only disclosed in July, under pressure from civil liberties and business travel groups acting on reports that increasing numbers of international travelers had had their laptops, cellphones and other digital devices removed and examined.

The policies cover hard drives, flash drives, cell phones, iPods, pagers, beepers, and video and audio tapes -- as well as books, pamphlets and other written materials, the report said.

The policies require federal agents to take measures to protect business information and attorney-client privileged material. They stipulate that any copies of the data must be destroyed when a review is completed and no probable cause exists to keep the information.

AHHHH!!!

So how is that like the 4th Amendment? (Yes, I had to wiki it.)

Is it better to live in a country where you KNOW you're just a pawn with few real rights, or live in a country where you ARE a pawn with few real rights... and don't even know it.

Oy.

I think I better watch one of those documentaries. I don't think I really want to know what they know.

I think all this talk is just a way for me to avoid cleaning my room.

Word.

Uh oh

2008-08-03T00:04:00.000-07:00

What matters more?

What you feel, or...

Fun Bits

2008-08-01T00:13:00.001-07:00

So I saw Knocked Up recently for the first time.

I really liked it. I thought it was scarily true to life for the most part. (I did have some issues with Katherine Heigl's decision making skills... but that will have to wait for later. It's 2 AM and I work tomorrow. This needs to be short. OK, I'm done now) The characters and situations were funny and oh-so-real. I laughed out loud many times, and will def watch it again.

But one scene has stuck in my mind over all the rest the last couple days. It seemed too real, hit a little too close to home for comfort. The scene I'm talking about is the first sex scene, when they're coming home drunk from the bar. The two leads rip off each others clothes, wrestle around in bed a little bit, have an awkward moment with a condom (but seriously, there is no cool way to handle that situation anyway) and then have passionless, self absorbed sex. There's no foreplay, no real affection for each other... they don't even look like they're enjoying it that much. They're just two drunk-ass people who want to get their jollies off. They'll fuck anyone.

I'm not saying either character is slutty; they're both fucking just to fuck.

When I saw that scene I got a little *shudder*

It wasn't just Seth Rogan shirtless- I'd had sex like that before, and I never want to again. I have no problem with casual sex or one night stands. I just hope hope HOPE I never am that desperate for some lovin' that I fuck someone I don't really like or don't have a connection with just so I can get my fun bits tickled.

That movie changed my life.

May I never fuck just to fuck again.

My Horoscope for today is...

2008-07-30T06:59:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, Jul 30th, 2008 -- On a day when so much seems to be going well, something is gnawing at you from the inside, preventing you from being happy. An unresolved emotional issue may be lingering, but you don't have any idea about how to address this and make it right. Instead of changing anything about your current circumstances, the real work now is within. You don't need to depend on anyone else to make you feel better. Just shift your perspective.

Ya know how sometimes the universe sends you just what you need to hear?

Simplified

2008-07-29T22:48:00.000-07:00

When you find out your opinion is wrong, it turns the whole world on it's head.

Besties

2008-07-28T06:21:00.000-07:00

I really hate it when a website requiring a profile asks for your favorite music.

Don't get me wrong, I love music. I love love LOVE music. But I feel that every time you announce to the world what bands, genres, and musicians you align yourself with, it's almost like marking yourself, or joining a gang. I feel there's too much emphasis placed on the importance of one's musical tastes. Maybe it's me; maybe I'm paranoid.

That being said, I DO love talking about music. I love being exposed to new music, seeing live musicians, enveloping myself in music facts. And since I also love to hear myself talk (online?) I'm going to list my favorite albums. Not my favorite artists, because, honestly, there are a lot of musicians out there with bucket loads of my respect, but rather the albums that I find just perfect. I was having a conversation with a friend about this the other day about great albums, that you can't skip through one song. That's how I like to listen to music- by the album. Or with my itunes on shuffle, like it is now. Whichever.

Anyway, my most fav albums are (in no particular order):

The Beatles - Abbey Road

How can I not start with this epic album? The first time I heard it all the way through, I cried. From the AWESOME end of the first side, a huge wall of sound at the end of I Want You (She's So Heavy) to the drum solo on the end of The End, this is an album that rocks you to your core, Beatles fan or not.

Bedouin Soundclash - Street Gospels

I saw these guys open for Hot Hot Heat last October. I had never heard of them before, but they made a bigger impression on me than the band I paid to see. The album is a fantastic reggae album that I had on replay for months.

Modest Mouse - Good News For People Who Love Bad News

Real Modest Mouse fans *scoff* at anyone that lists this as their favorite Modest Mouse album. I can't help it- I still think it's one of the best albums EVER. It's more than a playlist of awesome music. It tells such a complete and powerful story about dealing with the death of a friend. Or, that's how I read it.

Paul Simon - Graceland

Ground breaking album by one of the greatest musicians of the 20th century, and the first Album I could sing all the way through. What else can I say?

Simon & Garfunkle - Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

Since we're talking about Paul Simon anyway, I can't help but list another one of my favorite albums. This entire album sounds like a book of poetry set to music. My fav- The Dangling Conversation. A sample:

Its a still life water color,
Of a now late afternoon,
As the sun shines through the curtained lace
And shadows wash the room.
And we sit and drink our coffee
Couched in our indifference,
Like shells upon the shore
You can hear the ocean roar
In the dangling conversation
And the superficial sighs,
Are the borders of our lives.

Pure Poetry. *sigh*

Anyway, I better go start my day. I KNOW I have more to add to this list, but it should happen another time.

Fuck Yeah!

2008-07-28T06:05:00.000-07:00

I love myspace questionnaire bulletins. They're fun. Here's my latest one:

35 little secrets:
Be honest no matter what!

[Caroline says: I'm always honest]

-[ ZERO] Who was your last text from ?
Whiskey Bob, the slow-talkin, hot-jivin hobo

-[ ONE] Where was your default pic taken
The White House

-[ TWO ] What' s your middle name?
Danger, baby

-[ THREE] your relationship status?
uncomplicated

-[ FOUR] Have you ever lost a close friend?
Every time I go to the mall

-[ FIVE] What is your current mood?
naked

-[ SIX] Whats ONE of your best friends names?
Waxahatche

-[SEVEN ] What' s your favorite color(S)?
purple

-[EIGHT] If you could go back in time and change something, would you?
the signing of the declaration of independance

-[NINE] Have a crazy side?
haha

-[[TEN] Ever had a near death experience
yeah a few... well, I've been near people as they died... well, as I killed them...

-[ELEVEN] Something you do a lot?
shoot up

-[TWELVE] Angry at anyone?
the religious left

-[THIRTEEN] What's stopping you from going to the person you like?
person I like?

-[FOURTEEN] When is the last time you cried?
I'm crying now

-[FIFTEEN] Who would you do anything for ?
you, baby

-[SEVENTEEN] How old are you??
barely legal ;)

-[EIGHTEEN] What does your last text message say?
I want to *** your **** **** **** and then *** **** all *** night **** ****

-[TWENTY] Who was your last missed call from?
the FBI, but I'm not returning their calls

-[TWENTY-ONE] Do you still watch kiddy shows
Barney is my hero

-[TWENTY-TWO] Have you kissed someone with the following letters K, or V?
What, you think I know the names of everyone I make out with?

-[TWENTY- THREE ] Do you speak any other languages?
Klingon

-[TWENTY- FOUR] What would you say if she showed up at your door?
fuck off

-[TWENTY- FIVE] Describe your life in one word?
undulation

-[TWENTY- SIX] Have you ever kissed in the rain?
nope

-[TWENTY- SEVEN ] What are you thinking about right now?
underwear

-[TWENTY- EIGHT ] What should you be doing right now?
finding the antidote

-[TWENTY- NINE] What is your favorite memory?
yum.... :)

-[THIRTY] What are you listening to?
I've Got A Crush On You - Ella Fitzgerald

-[THIRTY- ONE] Who was the last person you told I love you to?
Andy Dick, written in my blood all over his house

-[THIRTY- TWO] Who was the last person who yelled at you?
Andy Dick, duh

-[THIRTY- FIVE] Who was the last person(s) to make you smile?
I never smile

Monkeys

2008-07-27T08:38:00.001-07:00

SO I had a dream the other night.

I love dreams. I dream a lot, and I try to remember them as often as I can. You know how sometimes you don't remember your dream or even that you dreamed until you see something in your everyday life that brings back a flash of it? Happens to me all the time

I had a dream the other night that I didn't remember until I saw one of my family's puppies (my mother's soon-to-be-husband's dog had babies about six weeks ago) flip her brother over on his back and lick his... weenie. All of a sudden the dream-image of two monkeys having sex like humans popped into my head. They girlie monkey was doing something similar as the puppies in front of me (in their defense, I'm sure there was nothing sexual to little Oprah licking Mac- she probably just liked the salty taste. Ew) and then moved into a "backward cowboy" position.

That's all I remembered.

*shudder*

The human mind is a dark pit of some weird ass shit.

First

2008-07-26T11:45:00.000-07:00

So I've decided to start a blog.

In this I am a little behind most of America; Wikipedia lists in a not-recently-updated article that there will be 200 million blogs in 2007... I'm going to guess there are a few more now, in the middle of '08.

So why am I bothering to become one of millions screaming my opinion out into the vast reaches of the internet, a tiny voice in a desert? I started a blog once before, around the same time I started my myspace. I actually really liked writing it. For a child of the 21st century like myself, it's much easier to type than write, and you are less likely to loose your journal when it doesn't exist in your hand, but as a bunch of zeros and ones.

Although that just might be me.

I stopped writing in it when I started getting readers; my blogs were getting kind of personal (in a bad way) and the thought of my hundreds of casual acquaintances (cuz who DOESN'T have 90 million 'friends' on myspace?) and anyone else who might breeze by my page being able to tap into the darkest parts of my soul (dramatic!) freaked me out. It's still up, only because some of those entries were/are SO personal I can't bare to loose them, but I have all the juicy ones on private. I go back and read them sometimes, and shudder at what a little idiot I was. I'm a much different kind of idiot now.

Anyway, the reason I'm writing THIS blog, is because of where I am in my life. The last year, and the last six months especially, have been very transitional for me. I've been asking myself tough questions about who I am, and, more importantly, who I want to be. It's hard to express that out loud to people, even though with deep thoughts like that it's nice to hear your opinions rolling around on your tongue, to bounce them back and forth with another inquisitive mind. I've found myself caught in many 'heavy' conversations lately with people who really don't want to be there- my life journey is one I need to work on by myself!

And that's what this is for. Even if no one will ever read this, or I quit after 5 posts (and they all say "woke up this morning. went to work. went to sleep. ho hum") I know that this will be important to me. I think.

Cheers to a long and happy collection of soul-searching musings!

*guzzles champagne; passes out*