Temporary

2006-05-11T18:50:00.000-07:00

Sunday, May 07, 2006

higher ground.

I awoke in a strange (yet familiar) location, with fresh tongue marks streaked across my cheek.

Oh yes, the folks have suddenly decided to abandon previously [and seemingly] secure personalities to adopt those that are more fun, more spontaneous. "Would you mind watching the dogs for us while we're gone?"

It's cute, to see my parents like this. They're going to be the old couple that sits around worrying to one another about their kids being hooligans and not conducting their lives in the virtuous manner that they did. But they'll still hold hands and take walks together, maybe play board games. I don't know, but I'm sure they'll be darling.

Sydney, if you lick me again, I'm going to give you a first-class flying lesson into the television.

I rolled over and realized too late that I was not in a bed, but on a couch. Although my parents own lovely carpet, so it wasn't a burden in the least. Nice to wake up laughing, really.

I fed said pups and left for work. The store was infiltrated by the Mother's Day Army, all questing for the perfect gift, all simultaneously annoyed with each other for the inconvenience of having to avoid the body-bumps and rushed apologies that I'm sure occurred many times over again. Four hours passed, and I had finished my "chores."

I spent the next large time block trekking the canyon (and river, brrr), taking photographs for a friend. It was a beautiful day, today. Warm, but definitely beautiful.

Despite distractions, I had a rough time shaking the undercurrent of thoughts about the future, about the next few months, about the past few days and those closely involved in them. About the ongoing world, what lies waiting. The dreams I've been having every night don't make sense, but they all have some sort of sinister nature about them. Maybe that's part of the reason that I've been resentful and angry and impatient, lately - I have been waking up slightly stressed most mornings. I apologize to those who have seen evidence of this, and I'm requesting that you don't ask me about it. If I felt like talking, I would talk.

My tolerance and trust for people is at an all-time low, and it's making me antisocial.

I'm sure things will improve. There's always a turn around waiting - until then, I'll just remember that I have something to look forward to.

9:05 PM - 1 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

Friday, May 05, 2006

75 mile per hour day.

We rolled the windows down to half-mast. You know, to honor those that sped this freeway before us.

And to kill the "malaise."

The friend beside me smiled horrifically, and I offered my abomination-grin right back. And we laughed because everything was gorgeous.

He reached over and turned the music up. And we scrunched our faces and eyes and mouths at the sun. Because this kind of bliss is a rare and beautiful thing.

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Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Jury duty.

Today was a day of endless jury duty. Endless jury duty that ended at four o'clock.

Impossible? I beg to differ - endlessness is a concept that never really leaves your mind in a way that's perfectly accurate. How does one define something without definition? So it was endless to me.

Anyway, as a result of my seemingly infinite boredom within the stifled waiting room, I wrote you all a few haikus about how my day was going:

traffic, slow. and. dumb.
jams from mass stupidity -
always about "Me."

Telephone Freedom.
the locked door is swung open,
secured by over-voice.

Jury duty day,
dead, hollow, tired people:
California cows.

and then I became more productive:

These temporary empty shells of people, kidnapped by early morning air. Air that makes one's eyes sag. Sag like gutted pigs. Here because they don't want to pay not to be. Money has the power to make men do what they otherwise would be unwilling to.

Juvenile attentions focused on a Television of Trivial Information. "Read a paper so you'll have topics at the ready for your date [rather than to stay informed]."

We're all a little bit wounded.

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Saturday, April 22, 2006

convenience.

i think i need.
maybe.
and nobody seems to have it figured out.
least of all, myself.

this is open to interpretation, really.

much love,
erin.

...welcome back?

2005-10-06T19:43:00.000-07:00

Well guess what - It's October 6th, the eggs in my fridge went bad yesterday and I haven't posted a new entry in (roughly) three months.

Welcome to the life.

So to sum up, I'm currently moved out into a house with Gabe (until January, at which point I will move into an apartment with Sara), Charlotte and Mandy ended up in their own apartment, Anna threw a major tantrum and drove herself back to Florida, and everything is chaotic but somewhat good. I got promoted at work, but my old boss (Elena) is still quarrelling with the new one (Lavern) over whether or not I'll stay part-time in Men's. So I work a lot.

Originally I assumed that when I moved out, the relationship with my parents would evolve into something less strained - It proved true with my dad (who now calls me on a regular basis to see how I'm doing and "when the next time [I'm] coming home" will be). However, things are worse with my mother. Every time I'm here, she condenses everything she's wanted to say to me in the past week into a series of a few hours (however long it takes me to finish laundry), and it just comes across as insistent nagging. I can't relax around her, or even away from her considering that she walks into the room every fifteen minutes to say something new about something I need to take care of or some event I need to attend or how I should change my life in some fashion. I'm really beginning to resent it, to be honest. She's still making attempts to control things from a distance, and although psychology deems that this stage isn't everlasting, the "light at the end of the tunnel" doesn't seem to be in view.

If you were to strip away all the surface frustrations and little annoyances, the truth is that I'm tired. I don't know what to do with my life, I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to school for anymore, and being directionless is draining. I'm sick of not being an adult.

Day Three.

2005-06-07T18:27:00.000-07:00

Today was day three as far as babysitting is concerned - Emma (four) and Brooke (two). I had little intention to write about the experience aside from the previous post, but thirty minutes before their mother arrived to drive them home, Emma produced a few things that I just couldn't pass up. The house was full of little water balloons (filled with air for practical purposes), and for lack of a better idea, I handed Emma a pen and requested she draw something. The following pictures are the results:

I suppose that not all happy people will draw rainbows and shooting stars.

Morning Eats Me.

2005-06-06T06:20:00.000-07:00

I feel as though someone took a board and biffed me across my face a few times in my sleep - who knows the deep-seeded reasons as to why history repeats itself? I don't really care (at least right now); all I have to say on the subject is that there are definitely some redundancies without which I could function more properly. Like poor sleeping habits due to the knowledge of needing to wake early the next morning.

Hence this post.

The entire experience has been one of déjà vu, honestly. Last week I babysat for a friend of my mother's because she fired her regular babysitter when she began demanding ten dollars an hour - there were only two (or three) negatives to the situation: I had to be there by seven, stay until three-thirty, and only get paid five dollars an hour (getting gypped on that last half an hour). I was asked to do it again today and tomorrow, and unfortunately money is money (regardless of how little). I accepted.

After a night of turning my sheets into scraps of fabric, my alarm went off at its scheduled time. I gave the snooze button a good pounding (twice that I can remember), but my brain was already up and running - with a head start like that, there's no way my body could catch up to calm it down. Plus for one reason or another, I was famished. Oozing out of bed, impatient but slow, I meandered into the kitchen and poured myself a ridiculously large bowl of Cheerios (for extra cheer, har har). That's when I saw the clock - 5:02. It made me smile, really; I can always count on myself to have no memory in the morning. Previously, I had set my clock forty-five (or so) minutes ahead to give me a generous time cushion in which to make my snooze button feel loved, and it seems to work well for a few weeks until habit necessitates resetting.

I grabbed the cereal and a sweatshirt, because my tolerance for cold weather is absolutely pathetic, and headed outside to watch the sun come up. There are always benefits to getting up that early - the mountains were relatively visible, and it truly was a beautiful morning.

So now I'm full and happy despite the puffy nature of my face, and somewhat ready to face a two and four year old for eight and a half hours. Except that I need to find some clothes to wear.

Dance.

2005-05-31T23:27:00.000-07:00

Alright, so I’m sitting in my driveway right now with my laptop precariously balanced on my left knee. If I decide to rest it on both legs it’ll block the fan, and the whole thing will gather too much heat and shut down on me. I'm not sure how much time I have before the battery runs out because this is your typical forty-two pound land mass of an ancient computer, but hopefully I'll make it through this post before that happens. I suppose I could have just transported paper and pen, but I wanted to have some music to play in the background and my portable CD player has apparently absented itself from existence. I’m trying to redefine this CD to remind me of good times – Laura gave me the idea. Previously, I had the habit of discarding objects when the memories connected to them turn sour, but she gave me a different perspective, hence the new coping method. So now this CD will remind me of sitting in my driveway at an infinite 10:30 pm (the clock hasn't changed in the past fifteen minutes), typing rapidly to take advantage of whatever time I have before the whole thing shuts down. The neighbors just drove up, and they’re probably wondering what I’m doing.

It smells like cow crap out here.

Tonight I took a long walk and ended up over by the new models that really only consist of framework and an occasional wall. I decided to explore a bit and found myself inside of one of the two story houses – I’ve always been fascinated by them and have always wanted to live in one, but haven’t had the chance yet. I walked out onto the balcony and sat down, looked up, and saw the security box that (no doubt) contained a camera through which security was watching me.

Whoops.

I wasn’t too concerned, but I got up and started walking home anyway. About halfway there I turned around and saw a cop cruising around slowly, shining his spotlight in all the doorways.

Double whoops.

Ah well, I’m not really afraid of the cop image anymore. Obviously they have the authority to punish you for wrongdoings, but I’ve never been in a situation that was jail-worthy. Heck, I tutored a girl whose father was a cop. He was a pretty cool guy, although he’s probably a bad driver like the other 90% of officers on the road.

Charlotte, Mandy, Grant, and I are going apartment shopping tomorrow, and I’m so excited that I doubt I’ll sleep much tonight. It’s like Christmas in the middle of summer, except that we’re buying our own present and spending ungodly amounts of money to do so.

YAY!

The stars are nice tonight. I have no idea where the moon is, which is the logical explanation for the clarity of the night sky.

Elementally.

2005-05-31T01:34:00.000-07:00

Well, my immediate family was out of town all weekend visiting extended family, and I couldn't go because I had to work. Pop quiz, what did Erin do with the few hours that she was home?

Nearly nothing.

Read a little, swam a little, became an insomniac. Although I did get to spend some time with friends - yesterday night was "girl's night." Shelly came over and we did face masks and ate chocolate and watched Phantom of the Opera and talked about guys; every once in a while it's a pleasant thing to be reminded that I am, indeed, a female. I'd never had a face mask before, so it took me twenty laborious minutes of awkward picking and rubbing to remove it. Shell found it amusing, at least. Anyway, it was a blast.

Today was interesting at work. Everyone gets 'sick' on three day weekends, especially those during decent weather - the consequence of which was only having two people to close tonight. Just to give you a fairly accurate idea of how ridiculous this is, let me explain something: The Men's department is comprised of Shorts, Athletics, Jeans, Dockers, Big&Tall, Underwear, Socks, South Pole, Dress shirts, Suits, Ties, Novelty, Modern, and miscellaneous smaller sections like hats, wallets, pajamas, swimwear - it's enormous. On a holiday, it typically takes five people an hour and a half to two hours after close to finish recovery. Sequina and me, that's it. One of us was always at (or near) the register until nine, while the other desperately tried (and failed) to keep up with the messes that the Memorial Day Rush was making. As you've probably guessed, we were there for quite a while.

Sequina: So where do you live, girl?
Erin: [distracted] JC Penney's...
{Sequina cracks up}
Erin: [snapping out of a transe] wait, why are you laughing again? What did you ask?
Sequina: [still laughing] Girl, I asked you where you LIVED.
Erin: oh, I thought you asked me where I worked. I was kind of wondering why you'd ask me that... Although at this point, living here wouldn't be much different than working here.

It seems that I'm going to bleed to death out of my knee. Holy cow.

Anyway, one of the last customers to check out gently laid massive amounts of merchendise on the table and proceeded to mutter nervously about her "boys needing two of everything." I listened and participated in polite conversation, and the phone rang. Saquina jogged over to pick it up - "Young Mens DepAHHHH!!! For Gawd's sake Matt, Don't yell in mah ear!"

I might have jumped five feet sideways had the counter not abruptly halted my momentum.

Matt is one of the security guards, by the way. Kinda crazy, shoots rubberbands at people when they aren't looking, calls me lips because... I'm not sure, actually. He says I talk too much, but that's really not true, I'm one of the least talkative people in the store. Moving on - Sequina handed me the phone and said it was urgent.

"Hello?"
"Hey Lips, I need you to do me a favor. That woman that you're helping right now is someone that we've been suspecting of writing counterfeit checks - Get her ID and make sure all her information is completely valid, Okay? Bye."

So I did. I checked the license she had and sure enough, the signatures (although both reading Leslie Renn) didn't match up at all. So as nonchalantly as I could, I told her I needed to verify something and went to walk over to security's window. Of course she stopped me. "You can't take my wallet with you." "alright ma'am, but I'm going to have to take your ID." "No, you can't take my ID because... well it's my... it's my cousin's ID." "You signed her name on the check?" "Look, I'm going to go get her." She snatches the wallet from my hand and picks up her phone to call the man she's with, although she's using it as a radio. She's nearly running the other direction while carrying on her conversation: "Hey, we have to get Leslie." "What?" "Leslie, we have to get Leslie." "What are you talking about?" "Man, just call me on the regular phone." Over her shoulder, she yells back at me, "Leave that stuff there [motions sloppily towards her mountain of clothes], I'll be back." And she disappears amongst the racks and tables. They chased her out of the store and got her license plate number, but she drove off before they could do anything else. Hopefully they'll catch her. Anyway, that was my night. It's bedtime.

Glitch.

2005-05-29T01:49:00.000-07:00

An interesting side-note: in a little over 12 hours, I'll be (once more) dressed in something infinitely more presentable than pajamas, and folding clothes in the department. Although time does seem to pass at a slower rate with a mall music soundtrack playing redundantly in the background.

Another interesting side-note: They actually sell those soundtracks.

I do want to share a bizarre phenomenon that has developed recently. Well, technically I've always experienced it, but not at this particular degree of frequency. It’s quite a bit easier to define in conversation, but I’ll do my utmost to make sense of it. I realize how absurd and (let’s face it) stupid this is going to sound, but just humor the description for a moment and I’ll try to avoid the nonsensical as much as possible. Sensations (most often those associated with touch and sound) produce images in my imagination - The reason that I find this so strange is that I don’t consciously control any of it, it just sort of…happens.

Some images are things simply associated with the sensation. A few days previous to this, I was listening to the Beatles’ “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” album. Out of nowhere, an animation of a dancing man with an afro appeared in the back of my mind. I must have been sitting there with my eyes closed watching him for about five minutes – even just the randomness of the thought was pretty amusing, let alone the man himself.

Other images are actual representations of the sensation itself. This is where it gets tricky to explain, because this branches off into a few different sects. The majority of the time that the image is initiated by touch, the picture produced is simply that of the object that I’ve physically connected with. For example, when I turn the lights off on my way to bed and feel my way down the hall, every time my hand brushes against something, I can see it. The texture, contour, even the color appears, although I’m sure memory plays a large role in the accuracy of the picture. I should specify that when I say “I can see it,” I don’t mean that I visually comprehend it; it’s just an image in my brain. It’s as if there are small spotlights on my skin that turn on and record the area I’ve contacted, thus translating touch into sight, and then sending the new picture to my mind. That picture is usually there only briefly, although I can hold it if I make a conscious effort to do so.

The other sects are quite a bit more abstract. There are rare occurrences when this happens with touch, but when the representation is that of sound/smell/taste, the visual is most commonly composed of random shapes and hues. It’s logical though, considering that these senses don’t have a natural visual component in reality. If I smell a rose and my mind is influenced to conjure an image of that aroma, it doesn’t have much choice but to be creative.

Experience tends to produce the most images. At least, I’ll call it experience out of simplicity – If you consider it, experience is simply a compiling of senses producing specific reactions in your brain that interpret what’s happening at one instance in time. So what I really mean when I say “experience” is “multiple senses combined to define an occurrence.” I think it might be a coping mechanism designed to simplify sensory overload, but I’m not sure.

I was talking to a friend of mine when there was a slight gap of silence in the conversation. A picture of a large white expanse encased in a square promptly appeared in my mind - I'm not sure what it meant, but it seemed to fit.

Redundancy typically characterizes itself as a series of objects (each a facsimile of the previous in size, shape, and color) falling a short distance in time with the repetition, and aligning themselves into a queue.

Anyway, swimming, running, exhaustion, just about everything seems to be turning into a visual now. Hopefully all that made sense. I'm going to bed now.

Perfect Color.

2005-05-27T23:13:00.000-07:00

The music is absolutely blaring, so if I scan from thought to thought, it's because I'm slightly distracted. It seems almost oxymoronic to turn classical music up to forty-something on the cd player, although if you've ever done it you realize that it's much more satisfying to listen to when it fills the room. It's quite eerie.

We don't know who it is, but in the past week and a half a man has defecated in our fitting rooms three times. Or rather, it starts in the fitting room, but eventually gets tracked onto the floor. We don't know how he keeps getting away with it, or why he does it in the first place, but it's revolting. We might have been able to blame it on the distance of the bathrooms from the "scene of the crime," but it's unlikely - there isn’t more than twenty or thirty feet between them. Next, we considered that it might be a child.

Believe you me, this is no child. And if it is, I have nothing but utter sympathy for the parents who had to change those diapers.

However, those theories seem voided by the fact that this was an uncommon event until recently. Perhaps there's a grudge or something with the store - whatever it may be, I hope it ends quickly.

So the music. It's the soundtrack from Bourne Supremacy, which is a compellation of modern classical pieces, along with the last track which doesn't seem to fit into a genre (that I can think of). It really is beautiful - people who have exerted themselves to this level of comprehension of a musical instrument deserve so much reverence. The patience involved in it must be nigh unbreakable.

I've noticed lately that my reality and dreams have blurred together. I'm not sure if it's because reality is more blasé now that school has ended, or if it's because the dreams themselves mimic the vividness of real life to a more believable degree. I've held multiple 'dream conversations' that I've perceived to be real, and yet discover later that they've never taken place. In any case, if I got paid for the hours that I spend dreaming about folding clothes, I'd have at least twice the amount of money that I have now.

I can't express to you just how obnoxious I find it that I dream about work.

Work. Back to the topic of occupation, because that seems to consume the vast majority of my life. Tony quit, all of a sudden. It's a shame, I really enjoyed Tony - he was energetic and perhaps even a little crazy. He used the term "John Hancock" when he needed a signature, and actually knew why that expression exists.

[For those of you who don't, John Hancock was a revolutionary politician in the 1700's - President of the Continental Congress and the first the sign the Declaration of Independence. The reason they call a signature a "John Hancock" and not a "Benjamin Franklin" is because, while everyone else who signed the document signed in small print (it's speculation, but many say it was because they feared the repercussions of the signing), Ol' Hanny wrote his name in extremely large lettering.]

I never saw much evidence of it, but apparently Tony had a volatile temper, and he was having problems with the head manager. He was asked to gracefully resign, and he did so. And now all of a sudden, tomorrow is Adelia's last day; since she's transferring, I'd be more than slightly surprised if Isaiah didn't follow her relatively quickly. Even Terry's beginning to make comments about quitting to go back to bartending. Elena did four interviews today alone. I just got here - I still don't know half of the things I'm supposed to know, thus these new people are going to be stuck with an incompetent co-worker. This is going to blow up in someone's face, no doubt. And if I get stuck working another five-hour shift of recovery with "analyze me, I'm a moron" (a.k.a., Jacob), the janitors will have more to worry about than just crap-filled dressing rooms.

No officer, I have no idea where he's disappeared to. I'm sorry, what's that? Oh, yes. I'll definitely keep an eye out.

One of the customers at the register tonight was completely drunk. The man had no sense of personal space, and he absolutely reeked of booze. He was leaning over the counter and blowing hot breath in my face - buh. It didn't take too long to ring him up and get him out the door, I just hope he wasn't driving.

The majority of that work stuff was negative, but really I don't hate my job. It's not mentally stimulating, but it's easy and it pays. The people are still great - hopefully the new hires will fit in well.

Just Watching.

2005-05-24T20:49:00.000-07:00

He lifted his face to glance right as if it were nothing. Perhaps it was nothing to him, but with the left half highlighted by the dank street lights shining through the car window, and with the other merged with shadow, there was a moment of inexplicable clarity - There is no other on this planet with a face and understanding like his.

Three Days.

2005-05-22T22:36:00.000-07:00

The next three days are empty of plans. I don't even have work, which is a pleasant change. This weekend Kim and Chris drove all the way here to hang out, and I hardly got to see them because of the time-monster that is this job. But now, there isn't much to do. The plan is to get through the books that Grant loaned me - I haven't had much time to read lately, and I figure I can get through most of the rest in three days of 'nothing-to-do'. I have to finish up Jim Morrison's autobiography (yes, I realize it's been a while, time has been slightly elusive), read Alice in Wonderland (the adult version), Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and Dante's Inferno (that one's going to be last, I think). I'd like to find someone who owns Atlas Shrugged and Naked Lunch so I can read those - Actually, I think Charlotte owns the latter. Hopefully she'll let me borrow it. Isaiah said that the DaVinci Code was brilliant, so sometime I'd like to get to that one as well. 1984 too.... That list is pretty long, who knows when I'll get to them all.

Three days of nothingness. Honestly, I probably won't get through half of what I want to get through, cause I'd also like to see friends. It just depends on when they're free, I suppose.

Blah blah blah, i'm already bored with this. Time to do something more interesting.

Welcome, Summertime.

2005-05-19T14:54:00.000-07:00

It gets warmer every day now. The heat hasn't become unbearable quite yet, but I find myself in the pool at least once a day (if not more). My skin is getting darker, the tan lines more prominent. Hooray for tan lines.

Hopefully this summer will be a busy one, either with work or summer school. I'd like to stay just busy enough to have time for friends and not idleness, because during boredom I start missing people too much. Not that some people don't deserve to be missed, but missing people is frustrating and non-productive. Anyway, it's a lot to ask and I'm sure I don't deserve for it to happen that way, but just for the sake of throwing the comment into the void, "it'd be nice if it did."

In any case, I'm growing annoyed with single life. No, I'm not going to go looking for someone to date, nor will I lower standards just for the sake of having someone there. It was just another "void comment."

Oh greatly unfillable void, I am tired of being single.

It's pickiness. There are other reasons why I don't currently have a boyfriend, but the simplest one to explain is that I haven't found someone that I feel that way about. Not to say that the men I've met aren't wonderful, but I don't fit that way with them. Sometimes it's religious differences - actually, most of the time it's religious differences. Other times it's just personality. In any case, I'd like to make a good decision, hence the reason behind being this choosy. It's funny though, a lot of my friends are getting married already. In fact, a friend from Jr. High is pregnant! It's absolutely insane to think, we were all just kids not too long ago. In my mind, we're still kids.

I'll probably be one of those who doesn't get married very fast, if I do get married. After having some of the friends I did in high school, dating matt, and being in my western civ class, there are so many places that I want to go - as I hear it, it's more difficult to plan travel when attached. There's always been a sort of shy curiosity about traveling in my mind, but an intense fear of doing something as extreme as traveling in a country full of people who don't speak the same language or share cultural tendencies tends to overpower it. I'm not afraid anymore, though. Language barriers are language barriers, cultural differences are cultural differences - they can be worked around.

If I had to have a reason for traveling, it would be for the art. I would give so much just to see the Mona Lisa, the Sistine Chapel, the David. Original works by El Greco, Van Gough, Escher. It would be breathtaking to stand in front of something that was created in a generation of people that nobody currently living has ever seen. Pieces that twist the mind into different interpretations, gallerieslibrarieschurches. What an huge experience.

Sometime this summer (hopefully) I'll get to go somewhere new. Charlotte and I were thinking Germany, but the politics are currently a little messy. We may end up in Canada because she's never been, but I was thinking that if we could gather the money, we could go to Europe. I have to get a passport though - walking around with a birth certificate and social security card gets annoying (and dangerous). Anyway, time for bed. G'night.

Drawings.

2005-05-17T22:15:00.000-07:00

So my art class is finished, and the prof gave me a B. I was pretty annoyed, but I got all of my pictures back. Here are some of the ones we did this year that I'm proud of.

I don't particularly like the way this turned out (mostly because I procrastinated and had to finish it in forty-five minutes), but it's an interesting concept. The reason that its appearance is so skewed is because it was drawn from three different angles.

Earliest Bedtime all Week.

2005-05-14T23:31:00.000-07:00

On a depressing note, two of my good friends broke up with their significant others (one of over a year, the other of over 2 years) within a week of one another, so there has been a lot of disappointmentheartbreakcryingstressfrustrationangersadness for them both that I wish I could remove. Things will be okay though, it's all in The Plan.

The rest is good news. I'm glad I've been busy the past two days. Yesterday I did registration for classes (which took much longer than anticipated), started on a take-home final that's due tuesday, went swimming for the first time this year, read 200 pages in my book, did some laundry, went to work, and hung out with Charlotte and Grant for the first time in a while. I didn't get to bed until a bit after two, but it was worth the productive feeling that I fell asleep with.

Today, I spent four hours getting sunburned on the lake and loving every minute of it. It was a last minute phone call, but I wasn't scheduled to work until three, so I went. It was a beautiful day, and despite the chop early on, the wind stopped blowing and the boats lessened to where it was decently smooth water. John is going under the knife on Monday, so he'll be laid off of boating for a while, so today we celebrated - It was just him, Parker and me, which was nice because there wasn't much wait between us to get in the water again. I wakeboarded and skurfed, Parker spent the majority of the time on the kneeboard, and John drove. I have some pictures, but I'm not going to upload them until Monday. I was pretty sore at work, and some jerk customer had a relatively large creature stuck up his butt about something and decided to take it out on me, but all in all the day was awesome. I didn't get stuck at the register, which was nice.

Anyway, it's late. I'm going to bed.

Love and Chocolate.

2005-05-14T02:07:00.000-07:00

Love and Chocolate are essentially the same thing: they produce the same chemical reactions in the brain and both promote unwarrented amounts of acne.

I'll actually write something tomorrow.

for your viewing pleasure

2005-05-11T00:28:00.001-07:00

These are some random photographs that I've taken in the past few days.

Sebbie.

Ty. As I was posting this, the caption changed from "Ty" to "Thanks!" Needless to say, I'm still a little weirded out. (Later I was told that T.y. is an abbreviation for 'thank you,' so the computer just corrected me. Oh my goodness I'm an idiot. ahem. Proceed.)

Justin.

I'm really proud of this drawing. I don't have it anymore, so I can't take a photograph that's in better focus, but anyway. It took a long time, and even if his jaw is slightly lopsided, I'm thrilled.

But to be honest, this is REALLY what we do in art class. The one on the right suffered more from sloppiness disease than the one on the left, on account of writers cramp. It isn't an excuse for maiming the poor bird, but hand turkeys do, indeed, take much effort to draw.

Some Crazy Conversational Pieces.

2005-05-09T17:13:00.000-07:00

Jeff: hi lesbian friend!
me: hey.... straight friend!
me: what's goin down?
Jeff: psh, yeah, you only wish
Jeff: notta lotta
me: i wish what?
me: that you were straight?
Jeff: i was straight
me: hahahaha
Jeff: yeah, see, you got it
me: woo! we can be gay together!
Jeff: sweeeet
Jeff: can we go on marches and stuff?
me: i'm sorry, i'm a feminist witch, I can't associate with men in public
Jeff: dang, there goes my shopping partner
me: maybe I should just become a nun or something, and then we can hang out.
me: you could be a monk.
me: it'll be a scandal
Jeff: sorry, i have an intense inner fear of nuns
me: why?
Jeff: although a scandal would be quite scandolous
Jeff: somethin' about weird black and white hood things

me: jeff?
me: I have a confession to make.
Jeff: uh-oh
me: i'm not... gay.
Jeff: gasp!
me: [breaks into violent sobs]
me: I... I TRIED to tell you
me: but I just couldn't
Jeff: well, i think i can forgive you
Jeff: cuz it turns out....
Jeff: ...i....don't....
Jeff: like boys
me: [sniff] really?
me: you LIAR!
me: you LIED to me!
me: oh wait
me: i lied to you
Jeff: yeah, i know, i'm a bad people
me: okay, i guess we're even then
Jeff: yeah, that worked out nicel
Jeff: y
Jeff: man, i hate when "enter" happens before i want it to

me: I understand completely
Jeff: 100% completely?!
me: yup
Jeff: holey moleys
me: yeah, i know. craziness
Jeff: i've completely lost my mind just thinking about it!
me: wait, didn't you lose your mind that one time in guatamala?
me: or did you find it again?
Jeff: no, i bought a new one though
Jeff: but it's gone too, now
me: hey, where do you get one of those? i've been missing mine for ages
Jeff: just gotta ask the right homeless people and they'll set ya up
me: dude, there's one guy that stands on Mt Vernon every day
me: i see him when I go to school
me: maybe he'd know
me: although he's always angry
me: cause nobody will pick him up
Jeff: maybe he's angry cuz he has all sorts of minds but nobody's buying them
me: he needs to be a better entrepreneur then
me: his sign just says "hey, we're on the road, if you'd help it'd be a blessing. God bless."
Jeff: yeah, but if he was, he probably wouldn't be homeless
me: good point
Jeff: ah, see, the sign has the code in it
Jeff: hey, we're on the road, if you'd help it'd be a blessing. God bless
me: hey, we're on the road, if you'd help it'd be a blessing. God bless
me: wait, yo bless bless?
me: dude
me: i should have guessed
me: code for "brains for sale," I am an IDIOT
Jeff: yeah, you found the code for "i'm selling lab rats"
Jeff: it's okay, i used to get those mixed up all the time
me: thanks, i feel better

me: oh my goodness
Jeff: que?
me: this one time, i was using Grant's bathroom.
me: (during christmas, i gave him a pink hairbrush as a gift)
Jeff: haha, nice
me: and as I walked in, I saw it on the counter
me: and I was laughing about it
me: and I went to turn around to the toilet and nearly ran into the wall
Jeff: hahahaha, niiice
me: then all of a sudden I hear this voice
me: and I can't understand what she's saying, but she's definately in the bathroom with me
me: and i'm wigging out
Jeff: creepy
me: but then I recognize the voice
me: and realized that I had called my voicemail on my phone by accident
Jeff: hahaha
me: still incredibly shaken up, and I almost forgot to wash my hands and buckle my belt cause I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible
me: I nearly died
Jeff: niiiice
me: it was the most horrifying bathroom experience i've ever had

Dressed to the Nines.

2005-05-02T19:36:00.000-07:00

Aside from the surprise party that nobody could keep a secret, we decided to dress up and go bowling.

Forgive our insanity.

There isn't much to say, really - the pictures pretty much tell you about the evening. Bowling. Laughing. Making fun of Erin. Ya know, the typical stuff.

This is perhaps the most entertaining wrapping job I have ever seen. It's hard to see, but there were numerous flaps of wrapping paper randomly taped onto the package to cover up holes. Happy birthday, from Grant. Only a man could have pulled off something so genius.

Starting from the right going left, Kyle, Charlotte, Grant, and I.

This dress is killer.

Grant in a suit.

Charlotte and me.

Charlotte and Grant being crazy, as usual.

intense. way intense.

This is how I feel about having my picture taken.

They were goats in their past lives.

This shot took at least 4 times to get right.

Here's one of the failed attempts... that turned out to be a success. heh.

I wish I could have backed up a bit to get this shot, he was dipping her. Actually, I did have a decent shot of it, but Grant decided to headbang in the middle of the click.

They're mean, what can I say?

all three of us.

The essence of the evening - suit pants and bowling shoes.

Charlotte's 20th.

2005-05-02T19:35:00.000-07:00

Originally the plan was not to tell Charlotte that she was having a party, but apparently people can't keep secrets. She had planned to celebrate her own way that Friday night (which was her actual birthday), but when someone told her she couldn't do it that night, she pretty much had it figured out. So Friday night, we went to Amy's.

The party was fantastic. Sarah didn't drool all over me, which was a definite improvement from the last time we hung out. There were other developments that took that particular favorite's place, but at least they didn't require a shirt change. She and Corey came directly from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, so they were covered in stage make-up that made them look as if they had black eyes; needless to say, Amy was horrified until someone had mercy on her and explained that it was just a bit of eye shadow.

Mandy provided a series of entertaining stunts. She was dancing around the living room with Charlotte, singing all the while, and lamenting that she didn't have a rose to clench between her teeth. So I went outside, pulled a weed, handed to her, and she took it and proceeded to tango down the stretch. Of course Grant had to make a comment about animals urinating on the greenery, thus Mandy gasped and had a spitting fit on the rug. And then she stopped. And looked up. "I'm spitting on her carpet, aren't I? Oh my gawd, I'm spitting on her carpet." No one mentioned it to Amy.

And then there was the cake. The kitchen and living room are separated by a bar island, and I was perched next to Charlotte as she was cutting pieces for people. Stupid, yes, but I wasn't thinking clearly. In a moment of spontaneity, she took a glob of icing and planted it on my cheek. I made a primitive design and grinned at her like an idiot, but she wasn't looking -- she had decided to talk to someone mid scoop, so I took my opportunity. It was too tempting to refuse, I suppose, and she ended up backwards on the couch with cake on her face, in her hair, on her clothing. And 30 seconds later, I was tucked into the fetal position on the kitchen floor, vengeance paid in full. Cake has never tasted so good.

The bathroom downstairs was 'out of order', so we had to climb the stairs to the one in the upper-bedroom. Do you know those saloon doors in old western films? The ones that swing back and forth, don't touch the ceiling or floors, and have wooden slats instead of panels? yeah, those were the doors to the bathroom. They don't latch, so you have to 'do your business' and pray that nobody else needs to pee, because by the time you say "I'm in here," it's already too late.

Other than that, the most notable thing was that nobody held still for very long.

Pictures of Gilly.

2005-04-29T18:48:00.000-07:00

Thursday, to put it bluntly, was hell. The horses were antsy because of the wind, and if you've been around horses you know that they pick up on and adopt eachother's adrenaline rushes. Gill was high as a kite. It started raining madly as soon as we began to load him, which was refreshing for thirty seconds and a nuisance for the remainder of the time we were out there.

The illusion was that this was going to be easy; he walked down the driveway confidently and stepped halfway in without hesitation, but then things started going wrong. He grabbed a mouthful of hay, raised his head in an effort to separate it from the rest of the flake, and slammed this top of his head into the ceiling. A little surprised, he stumbled out backwards before we could shoo the rest of him forward and shut the door. From there, our success lessened and lessened - every time he'd get halfway, he'd raise his head again and stagger back out.

yeah, the roof's still there, genius.

It was cold, wet, and the only help I had were people who apparently had temporarily discarded their brains. I had to give them detailed instructions on how to keep him aimed straight despite the fact that they'd both had quite a bit of experience around horses. It's a relatively simple task, all you have to do is stand at his side and wave your arms or cluck if he starts side-stepping towards you. Basically, the point is to let him know you're standing there and don't care to be run over. But one would move out of the way unless I directly asked them to wave their arms, or the other would just kinda stand there with a dumb look on her face. I understand that a 1400 pound animal coming at you is scarier than crap, and I understand you moving if you haven't spent much time around them. But you come to the realization that the vast majority of horses really don't WANT to step on you, and if they're reminded that you're standing there, they'll take all measures to avoid doing so. Gilly is no exception, he abhors getting in trouble. If all else fails, you position yourself at their shoulder and you just get a bit of a bump. I dunno, maybe I asked too much, but they seemed to be okay when I told them what to do. I think I was just being frustrated. There were little kids around, so I couldn't use words like 'stupid.' Instead, I resorted to calling him names that kids wouldn't understand. Oaf. Ogre. Bovine. Glue. Consiquently, we lost the battle - 3 hours later, taller trailer and everything, it was too dark to continue. And today? Today he walked right in. Go figure, huh? Here are some pictures:

He looks pretty tired in this shot, but I think the reality is that I caught him mid-blink.

I'm not sure what he was looking at, maybe he was just scoping out a better selection of grass.

Ignore the crappy clip job.

I couldn't decide which I liked better - it was meant to be a bit of an artistic shot, so I like the black and white, but the natural colors are so rich that I felt like posting them both.

headshot #1

headshot #2

headshot #3

I swear he was posing - look at that gorgous neck.

another one of those "I couldn't decide" moments.

a little strange to be taking photographs of feet, but his windswept fetlocks were so captivating. ;o)

The ham in the upper-right hand corner of the photograph is Hercules - his favorite hobby is breaking the rainpipe over his head when he gets bored.

The Train.

2005-04-28T01:13:00.000-07:00

It's another late night, but this one is better than the last. I anticipated this being a bad day, but it turned out to be alright. I almost neglected to go to my Western Civ class, but after a brief internal battle and a vicious cycle of snooze-button mashing, the thought that I needed to stop messing around clicked and I stumbled out of bed ten minutes before leaving.

Early mornings are difficult.

I read through calc and left a little early when it became apparent that all we were going to do was indulge questions about the homework rather than learn a new lesson, then went home and fussed over whether it would be a better idea to stay home or go out and say a formal goodbye to Gilly. I liked the idea of just turning him out, grooming him, having a good ride, hosing him, putting him away, and leaving the thought of tomorrow open to play by ear rather than doing a formal goodbye (which is what I did a few days before). If you don't apply an end, things tend to feel endless for longer. I decided I wasn't going to go out, and stayed home to cry a little - but the new owners didn't come today. Nobody mentioned it to me until I outright asked, but they had called earlier and asked to move it to tomorrow (today). I think I'll go out this time, at least to give him a carrot and cookie and get horse snot on my shirt one last time. That was always really special.

I hung out with Charlotte and Grant tonight for the first time since last weekend. We went to get ice cream, and although I had planned on holding on to the money, I spent four dollars on a shake. We had an intellectual discussion at Grant's afterwards, and then I headed home - and got lucky on the way. I wasn't going to take the path that I did, but it turned out to be perfect -- as I was listening to the click click click of my right blinker at a stop sign, I saw the train. It started out as half an intention to race, really, but as I gained enough momentum to beat it to my next left turn across the tracks, I saw the railroad crossing bars lower and the blinking red light flicker on. There was a momentary pause as I was sitting in the driver's seat watching the first car, the second and the third car pass me. And all of a sudden, without acknowledging my actions or their reasons I shifted into park, opened my door, clambered out and stood as close to the train as I had the guts to as it ROARED its way past. Trains really do roar. And just like it might have happened if it were written in the script of a movie, it started raining. And I just stopped thinking about things, somehow. The screaming in my ears, the rain on my skull, the hair flying around madly with the wind and air rush from its movement between the cars, the smell of mud, the raw pull between the train and me... was majestically huge. And the experience has lingered.

Brain Function.

2005-04-26T23:52:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow goes on until 12:00 am of the last day of existence.

Lately I've been reading Poe's poetry and Jim Morrison's autobiography (No One Here Gets Out Alive), and it brings to mind the questions that (i'm assuming) many have considered when consulted with intelligence on the level of genius. I read a little bit about Newton, but not a whole lot is written about his psyche aside from his reclusiveness and distaste for conflict (with the exception of the end of his life), which only connects him in a very small way, though I suspect he would fit into this question. I scribbled a bit of this while I was sitting in calculus, a class in which I have ceased to pay attention because apparently there isn't much cause to. I hardly attended class these past two weeks because I wanted to see how well I could do by myself, and the prof doesn't monitor attendence - I took the test last thursday and got a 91. It's funny, I don't even know the prof's name. But I am going to all of my classes this week because I took a moment to write it down, and somehow the menial satisfaction of checking it off is enough to motivate me for the time being. I don't know what the benefit of going to the calc class is now though, aside from the opportunity to sit in the back of the class with Ty and Kaleb, making cracks about the inevitable stupid questions that the class idiot asks several times per period. "now, that two there, where did that come from?" "so-and-so [large sigh large pause], if you look at this part of the problem, I just transfered this 1/2 to the front and multiplied it by four." "oh, I understand now."

Two more days to go.

I forgot, the question. So the question is, does intelligence naturally induce depression? Both Poe and Morrison suffered from it in intense ways (in addition to many other geniuses), although they didn't express it similarly. Poe was... well, poetic. Feathery, proper, etc. Morrison was dark and brash, given to explosively (self) destructive tendencies. Whether this was caused by social standards, background, culture, personality, habit, or a simple difference in preference of expression, it's all one enormous guessing game, lacking a satisfactory answer. It's a combination of things, obviously. But that intelligence, does it just allow the person to acknowledge that there is an acute emptiness to life? There are efforts to change that emptiness, be it Poe's writings or Morrison's drugs/music or Newton's reclusive habits. We can say that it's a lack of God and the knowledge of purpose. What if the depression is the cause of an over-production of some type of depression-enhancing change in the mind that occurs in higher brain function? What if the "chemical imbalances" (i'm only talking about those people who truly have them, not the people who take pills as a result of a fad diagnosis) have something to do with intelligence? It would be cool to talk to someone who knows about this kind of thing.

I guess I'm getting tired now.

Saying "No" to the World.

2005-04-26T01:26:00.000-07:00

It's well past late so this will be a short post considering that I desperately need some sleep. But to sum up, Gilly's leaving in two days and I haven't had the heart to go out and see him, I need to be out of the house by fall (I don't know when specifically in the fall, but I harbor no doubt that that subject will be brought up), I still haven't got a job and I feel that I'm doing everything I can possibly do, I have virtually no motivation aside from some desperate scribblings that I've taken down to let myself know what I need to get done in a week, and I feel like I walked over a ledge and slammed into the ground after a twenty foot fall. Just long enough to hurt like crap, but not long enough to die from.

a touch of morrison.

2005-04-24T19:42:00.000-07:00

When the Do It Now representative finally arrived with his tape recorder to produce the sixty-second spot, Jim found himself a seat and graciously offered the rep the one on the other side of his corner desk. He appeared eager to please.

"Okay, now, what we want you to say," the rep nervously started, "is 'This is Jim Morrison from the Doors,' and then just, umm, in your own words, tell them speed kills."

Jim thought for a moment and then conceded.

"Okay, is this thing on? Testing, testing .... you better play it back, make sure it's working. We don't want to go through all this trouble and then discover, only too late, you missed your only chance."

The tape was rewound, played, checked out, and rewound again back to the start. "Ready, Jim?" "Ready." "Okay, now, go."

Jim thought for a moment and then began. "Hi, you little assholes out there listening to the radio instead of doing your homework, this is Jim Morrison of the Doors--"

The Do It Now representative stopped the recorder.

Jim shot a wink at Denny. "What are you doing?" he asked the rep. "I hadn't finished!"

"Please, Jim, we can get this whole thing done in just a minute if you'll be straightforward. Remember, this is a public service spot."

Jim listened attentively and nodded. "I think I understand. Can I try it again?"

The recorder was switched back on to record: "Hey, how you guys out there doin'? This is your old buddy Jim Morrison, I sing with a group called the Doors, you mighta heard of 'em. We done a few songs, but I never, never did a song on speed. Drunk, hell yeahhhh ..."

The exasperated representative asked Jim, "Please, you must understand what we need. Frank Zappa had fun. You can have fun, too, but you must be serious."

Jim seemed to understand. "Okay, got it. Turn the sucker on. We'll get it this time. I promise."

"Hello, this is Jim Morrison of the Doors, I just want to tell you that shooting speed ain't cool, so snort it." The recorder was turned off and the representative sat motionless. The room was silent.

"Something the matter? Was that all right?"

The rep only shook his head. Jim stood up and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, man, I'm sorry, come on, turn that back in. I'm real sorry, I'll give it to you straight this time. Honest."

The rep looked at Jim. "You promise?" Jim was solemn. "I promise."

The tape was set and rolling.

"Hello, this is Jim Morrison. Don't shoot speed. Christ, you guys, smoke pot."

The rep looked up. "I think we're getting closer, Jim, if you could just change those last few words."

"I know exactly what you mean," Jim assured him. "One more time, roll it."

This time Jim gave his formal introduction, warned that shooting speed "isn't that smart, shooting speed kills geese, if you shoot a goose fulla speed, that goose is gonna swim in circles forever."

The Do It Now man had lost all patience and was nearly in tears. Jim was begging him, "Come on, man, I'm sorry, I was just having fun you know, we'll get it right this time, I promise."

"I don't know, Jim"--the rep was shaking his head--"I can't spend all day here."

"One last time," Jim insisted.

"Okay, but if you don't get it right this time, that's it."

"I'm sorry. This will be a take--you know what a take is?"

Jim held the hand microphone carefully before his mouth. He paused and then began. "Hello, this is Jim Morrison from the Doors and I just got one thing to say." Jim smiled at the rep, who smiled back hopefully. "Don't shoot speed. Speed kills. Please don't shoot speed, try downers, yeah, downers, barbs, tranks, reds, they're much less expensive and--"

The tape machine was still running but the rep had hit the end of his rope. He got up, pulled on his jacket, and grabbing the recorder, stalked out of the office. The room erupted in laughter. Jim had given his speech in a way so that it was impossible to edit.

"Wassa matter with him?" Jim asked "I heard Alice Cooper say if he caught anybody shooting speed, he'd come over to their house and hang their puppies. I didn't say anything like that."

The Do It Now Foundation never got their Jim Morrison antidrug spot.

-No One Here Gets Out Alive, pg. 336-338

Beach Black and Whites

2005-04-22T18:51:00.000-07:00

These are some of the black and white photographs we took during the camping trip; I believe we took three rolls all together, so there were far too many to post. The following are just the favorites:

Charlotte and Jason laughing about her teaching him how to play some football.

Grant and I laughin' it up about... something. Maybe about the utter jealousy I have over how beautifully his hair flows in the wind.

Jason, this is a great shot.

I realize these two are incredibly similar, but I was having difficulty choosing between them. I prefer Charlotte in the top and Grant in the bottom. Just so you know, she isn't making the gesture that she looks like she's making.

hahaha... oh.

Sure, there might be a body in the tarp, but you'll never know that.

the epitome of shyness.
***
The picture that was supposed to occupy this spot has been removed due to questionable material.

Feet only look good in sand with shells between the toes.

Insinuations? me? Absolutely.

This picture cracks me up, mostly because I don't know who the crap this guy is. The only reason I have a picture of him is because I mentioned that I thought he was cute, so Charlotte lunged at the camera.

This is the insane drunk guy who tackled Charlotte, got his butt kicked, then tackled me and got his butt kicked again. Charlotte did all of the booting -- when I hit the sand, my first instinct was to grab my knife; However, by the time I reached around to grab it, realized it was still on the beach towel, and allowed a grunt of annoyance to seep out from the corner of my mouth, he was on his back groaning and clutching a set of newly bruised ribs. It was glorious.

Artistic shots:

Charlotte's photograph of Grant's ring.

various knick-knacks in a store window.

so many parallel lines...

Only a beach town would have something that still looks cool despite its blatent cheesiness.

I think that's about it. I might go through the stack and post a few more at a later date, but for now I believe this is good.

More Pictures, April 21

2005-04-22T18:27:00.001-07:00

I didn't make it out to see Gilly today, but tomorrow I'll have some photographs for you. In the meantime, these are some that I took last night while Grant, Charlotte and I were hanging out.

I don't even know what to say about this shot - other than the level on which I dig it is about as intense as his look. Don't ask about the shopping cart, what you don't know can't hurt you.

Well, the intention of the black and white was to make it look like he was chugging some sort of alchohol, but the effect wasn't exactly what I was going for. Whatever, I still find it amusing. As a sidenote, the rest of the evening both Charlotte and I were trying to create that low-pitched note that plays when you blow across the mouth of glass bottles.

Documentation of Charlotte in a skirt - Ladies and gents, this doesn't happen very often. And neither does "charlotte in pink," so... double trouble.

Charlotte and her boyfriend Kyle, watching Ocean's 12. It made me smile, ya know. Hopeless romantic stuff.

Posture.

2005-04-20T22:37:00.000-07:00

"grown-up" is such a derogatory phrase.

I had a lot that I wanted to write about today, but most of it is incredibly negative. I will say that I pretty much said goodbye to Gilly (my horse) this afternoon. He hasn't gone yet, but within a week he will no longer belong to us. I'm still waiting until I can have a good cry about it; I don't really feel like trying to explain how it got to this point, but he'll go to a good home. I suppose that's all that matters. I'm hoping to be able to take some pictures of him on friday so I can post them here -- until then, have a good one.

Heavy Set.

2005-04-19T18:47:00.000-07:00

"The answer to life, the universe, and everything is... 42."

Two days ago, I stepped on a bee in the park. Or rather, I would have stepped on him had he not waged war on my left foot before I set my weight down. I'm not sure what he was trying to prevent by taking that particular course of action - his death would have been much less painful had he just let me squish him. Suicidal/Sadistic behavior did nothing to improve either of our lives. As a result, he's dead and the instep of my foot is purple and swollen and hard. It doesn't hurt, it's just slightly unnerving to walk around and wonder for a thought about whether or not there's a stone in my shoe, and then realize that no, it's actually part of me.

It's funny, after that whole mess with Justin and taking a long step back from him for a bit, he waited for me outside my class today. It was a little strange, but we talked and I walked to his car with him, and he finally said, "Erin, I should tell you something, but I'm not sure how you'll take it." And immediately I started preparing for anything. But he finally got the girl! They're dating now, and I congratulated him more times than I kept track of and he smiled a lot and I finally began to breathe around him. He seemed very happy, so thank goodness that relief and contentment have finally found him on the relationship front. He asked if there were "any boys waiting on the horizon for me", and I was happy to shake my head no. "I don't need any other man in my life besides Grant," and we both laughed. I told him about Pismo and about how fun it was despite the ridiculous amount of disasters that had taken place, and he told me about how he and Jackie had finally begun dating, and we parted well. It was wonderful to know that he had found closure after 7 years of distant adoration.

The job hunt continues - not much to write about that aside from mounting frustration, with which I will not waste your time.

The past few days I've been watching my surroundings more. I noticed that I had been reading all the signs around the city that I've driven past without realizing it. It's like reading a page of a book and then not remembering what it was you had just ingested, except that it's more; you don't remember picking the book up, or even the intention to read it. There's a sign on campus that says "this parking lot will be permanently closed as of 8-15-04" that I've read every day that I've been there, but never paid conscious attention to. There's a perfect picture of it in my mind, but I honestly don't remember ever acknowledging its existence. There's just an overload of sensory experiences, so I suppose we shut most of them out to remain sane. But it's disappointing to think of everything that we miss - perhaps that's why we get so disillusioned in the places we live. Human nature denotes that we notice the negatives and take advantage of the positives. Unless the place in which you reside is perfect, after a while the only thing to notice is that it's "ugly" or "boring" or "dirty" or "covered in litter" or "brown" or "loud" or "unsafe". Until a few days ago, I didn't realize just how many trees have been planted, or how many fields of crops are actually green, or how many expanses of grass have been laid out simply for the purpose of pleasing the eye.

I get too many drunken/insane phone calls. I got one the other day from a person trying to explain what a "soul condom" is. It was pretty hilarious, I laughed for a while after the "goodbyeclick." Technically, I'm still laughing. I'd try to explain it to you, but I doubt I'd get it right... It has to do with souls being in test tubes, and somehow this person and another person ended up in the same one... I'm not entirely sure, but there was a drawing.

I was wondering, is love an addiction? Or rather, hold on a second, that's not what I meant. I mean, does love promote addiction to the loved? No wait, I already know the answer to that question. I suppose I do want to know if love itself is an addiction. [insert original question here]? Maybe that's it, maybe love is just a strong addiction to the character/personality/tendencies of another. I don't know, but I would like to know what you think. It seems to work that way, doesn't it? Short amounts of time away create cravings, long amounts of time make it weaker, less prominent, constant togetherness promotes contentment or disgust. It seems a little demeaning to refer to it as that because there's such a negative connotation in the word "addiction," but if you think about it, we're addicted to food, water, shelter, air... anyway. Just a thought.

"Honey, lately your low self esteem has just been good common sense."

Random Elevator Thought.

2005-04-18T23:45:00.000-07:00

Last login, 4-18-05. Last login, 4-12-05. I don't know when the words "log in" merged into one, but for some reason they have. Like the words "what's up?" or "don't know" or "got to".

I don't want to be tied down
I gotta gotta get away

Who really knows why this bothers me? The craziest part is that it doesn't really, it's just an observation with a hint of annoyance at the lack of understanding for our laziness. Which carries back to me, presenting myself in such a lethargic fashion that it's disgusting.

Just today he sat down to the flask in his fist
ain't been sober since maybe October of last year.

Apparently, knowing the definition of the word "monetary" is a good thing. I didn't think it was that difficult to figure out, actually - money, monetary, having to do with money. Although it wasn't really figuring it out, it was just a common usage. "thank you for indulging me." "you've spent more money tonight than I have." "I didn't mean monetarily." It was a nice comment, anyway.

The pump don't work cause the vandals took the handles

How do you win "rock, paper, scissors" by default? you catch the other person cheating, that's how.

Stick shifts and safety belts
bucket seats have all got to go

Today was a day of many emotional ups and downs. I felt like crying a few times, and I laughed my butt off other times. Sounds a bit like a movie review, doesn't it? I wanted to spend more time in the park, in a way... But there was this little girl who wanted to swing until my arms fell off and talk until my ears fell off and sing until my sanity fell off and I guess it was just best to leave. I love the park, really. I guess I don't really care how lame it sounds, it's open and comfortable and green and outside. Today was beautiful weather, and the stress just melted away.

Everylittlething
is go'ne be alright

It didn't feel like a monday. It's still hard to believe I went to school and attended my classes and sat in the cafe joking about being nerds. That's it, I have to keep company with nerds because without intelligent conversations about nothing important, I go mad. Like, how Monique is just like a calculus limit, as h goes to "beautiful", the limit goes to angry. None of it really makes more sense than we invest in it, but it provides a source of extreme entertainment because even if the subject itself isn't funny, the fact that we even brought up something so geekish is. We've always got a fallback, and that's the absolute beauty of it.

She's a whimsical, tragical beauty
uptight and a little bit snooty.

I think i'll go to sleep now, I haven't gotten enough of it lately. Oh yeah, first I wanted to write about the bird that finds it necessary to clear his balmy throat every morning at roughly 2, and sing, chirp, lalala, you know, for hours. And I can't help but think to myself, for goodness sakes, get a girl, guy, whatever, and SHUT UP!

Let the good times roll.

Clinky.

2005-04-17T21:08:00.000-07:00

Technically, I should be writing a paper. Or a report, whatever you wouldlike to call it. But I'm procrastinating.

I keep forgetting to write it here, but I had a conversation with someone about it today, so I wanted to make sure to offer it to you before I go on another "forgetting spree". The most romantic language is romanian... I have no idea where I got indonesian. They both en in i a n, maybe that's it. Who knows how memory works, right? Actually, that's wrong, some people know about memory, I just am not one of them.

I dunno where I'm going with this. My brain doesn't exist anymore, I desperately need to get out of the house.

Beach Pictures.

2005-04-15T17:45:00.002-07:00

These are some of the pictures Charlotte and I took on the beach camping trip -- Most of them look better if you enlarge them:

This pelican was absolutely insane. Yes, we were actually THAT close to him. I could have reached out and touched him - at about two feet, he decided that he was uncomfortable and flew to a more suitable perch.

Charlotte took this one, and I really like it. The clouds, the water, the blue color of the sand reflecting the sky, the lone black figure of Grant. It's very picturesque to me.

I dig this picture too.

Glamour shot!

I'm very proud of this picture - I'm in the process of getting it into better focus, but it's a rare occasion where one can get a good picture of Grant.

Aww, even their hair is in harmony.

Believe me, you'd feel quite a bit smaller if you were actually standing there. In the meantime, it's a beautiful beach.

Tsk. Scandalous things carved into the pier...

This was the pathway we took from camp to the beach - yeah, that's right. Within walking distance. I love California.

During another trip (this one by the lake), I walked into a public restroom and noticed a sign above the sink that read, "DO NOT USE FISH IN SINK". After years of hopeless confusion, this sign finally caused the lightbulb to turn on -- the picture was taken as documentation of my revelation, and in gratitude for those who know how to write signs that make sense.

And that's it! Or rather, there were more pictures, but these were my favorites. Soon I'll be getting the Oregon and Arcata pictures, too (Laura, I'll mail them to you). Can't wait!

The Pups.

2005-04-15T12:08:00.000-07:00

This is Sydney. She's way cool.

a friend of mine shot this picture - and got the timing spot-on. That's Sydney again... and just to offer you some comfort, no, I did not let her make out with my face. That's just nasty.

This one is Eyore. She's pretty cool too. :o)

Jeez.

2005-04-14T23:05:00.000-07:00

time is nothing -
it merely rearranges our memory.

I'm looking for cause to be inspired, however immature that is. Since I stopped riding almost entirely, I've found that a source of release is more difficult to find. Allow me to stop you before you say, "well, you should probably ride more then," because it isn't worth dealing with Julie's cynicism. What I need is a goal, outside of your typical 'get a job,' 'do your schoolwork,' etc. I've been sketching a lot, but that gets wearing after a while.

I lied to a guy about having a boyfriend yesterday, and I feel really stupid about it. Guilty. He asked if I wanted to go get doughnuts and I said that I had other things that I needed to get done (which was true), and he asked if I had a boyfriend, and I said yes. Not that this justifies lying, but I don't want to deal with the consequences of leaving that door even the slightest bit open. It's frustrating though, that having platonic relationships with the opposite sex is so difficult when you're single. The problem is that I got used to being able to have those friendships easily, and now it's almost like being meat. "hey guys, I've got a live one down here!" So I lied. It wasn't very convincing, I don't have the talent when it comes to doing it - most of the time I get caught. I can't lie well as it is, and even if I can fudge it past that point, I end up doing something careless that reveals the truth. Or I feel so guilty about it that I end up blurting out a confession, but either way, the comfort with it isn't very developed. I don't think that's a bad thing, necessarily... I dunno, if I see him again I'll probably tell him. If I get the nerve, it's going to be really embarrassing, but this is worse - I hardly even know the guy. I am an idiot. How hard is it to say "I don't want a boyfriend"?

Moments of Unintentional Honesty.

2005-04-13T12:14:00.000-07:00

This is a bit of a rant about the difficulty in finding the truth behind people's intentions. In my opinion, it would be much more interesting as a conversation, but it would also be quite dangerous because certain parts of my theory aren't particularly concerned with being politically correct. For the sake of being polite, we'll just temporarily discard elements of those parts - the argument still seems relatively complete without them, so they aren't truly necessary for the point I'm attempting to make.

Most everyone has had moments of unintentional honesty... I wish I could ask if that makes sense, but just to cover the basics, I'll explain myself. It's a broad idea -- It could range from the accidental and (occasionally) embarrassingly noticeable "blurt out" to something you say without considering the logical conclusions that your comment inevitably implies... At least until it's too late to retract your statement.

I've found that a blurt out is a result from either a major emotional connection to the statement, or the polar opposite, a complete detachment of concern for the statement (or perhaps the subject it's directed at). Obviously this rule isn't perfect, but it seems to have a general truth to it. The comment made without consideration for its insinuations is usually a result of carelessness, or even just a genuine ignorance to the fact that it displays quite a bit more true meaning than it was originally intended to. When I write "true meaning" as opposed to only "meaning," I am excluding the girlish tendency to take a comment and add encrypted messages to it that, in reality, were never there (I guess part of that politically correct thing is going to have to be ignored after all). If you're a female and that comment offended you, you're either a miracle exception to the rule or you're lying to yourself. At least have the courage to be honest: you've allowed yourself to draw premature conclusions about the meanings attached to something some friend or some guy or some relative said. A note: by girlish tendency I'm not implying that guys haven't done it, I'm simply stating that we're justifiably infamous for it.

Before you read on, I do want to acknowledge that there is such thing as an appropriate level of tact -- however, it is my personal opinion that this level is ridiculously overstated because the average person is too soft and too cowardly (some would called it 'sensitive') to deal with truth without allowing their precious feelings to be hurt.

At any rate, all of that crap that I just wrote about what it means to have these moments of unintentional honesty is irrelevant. What I find annoying is that these "blunders" come with a negative connotation attached. Furthermore, it vexes me that the reason they're considered in a negative light is that we're afraid of the honesty that they tend to portray. No, we're more than afraid - we're terrified. We're terrified of rejection or of a possible resulting anger or our own guilt. Less often, we're afraid of hurting that person's feelings. But most shocking is that we're afraid that perhaps we'll be forced to accept the countenance of the absolute truth about ourselves. Guilty as charged, clearly. But consider this literally for a moment; according to our actions, we believe that we can live a better life if only we lie to ourselves about what occurs to us, and about the nature in which it occurs. Carrying it a step further, according to our actions, we believe that if only we lie to our friends, our family, our significant others about the occurrence and the nature of such, we can improve their lives as well. It's rarely about that though, the vast majority of the time it's just a justification -- we don't open our mouths simply because we fear the repercussions for ourselves.

This is all just an exasperated attempt to say "for goodness sakes, the world would be so much easier to understand if we had the courage to speak our thoughts the way that they develop, rather than creating a guessing game to spare our own feelings (as well as others)." Sometimes I get tired of enabling and being enabled in a weak world.

A Little bit of the Night.

2005-04-12T23:03:00.001-07:00

Here are some quick snapshots of tonight. (A note: I am not brave enough to karaeoke, so no questions about where I was. Answer: behind the camera. The end.)

Charlotte being typical, while Amy gets caught eating hair.

Charlotte with the mic.

The trademark move that made him famous: "The Girly Grant"

Charlotte and Amy Beltin' it out.

Chrissy trying to grin with a mouthful of pizza.

Sometimes you have to Grin like a Moron.

2005-04-12T17:23:00.002-07:00

Last night Charlotte bailed last minute (shakes fist violently), thus Grant and I were left without our typical source of entertainment. Until I met Gwen ( "Murphy"). She's quite possibly the highest strung, most brain dead dog I've ever encountered in the entirety of my existence. These pictures were shot in the dark cause Grant was watching a movie with the lights off, so if they're low quality, you have my appologies.

I fell off the couch when I saw this. Honestly, is it natural for a dog to have a tongue that long? And is she aiming for the sofa or her foot?

This one just wasn't complete without the black and white touch. Everyone, meet Grant. After several attempts of trying to get a decent picture of him, I snapped this one to wave around in an effort to convince him to be normal for a moment. And to my chargrin (and hidden amusement), he smirked and said, "You know I look good."

Gwen's IQ summed up in a picture.

Anyway, the evening was relatively short because I needed to get back due to the pressing matter of sleep, but now we both have a new project: the two of us spent a half an hour trying to play a song by Bach on the piano simply by sounding it out. Two heads are better than one only some of the time, apparently. Anyway, gotta go.

hahahahaha... oh. maybe that was a little excessive.

Snerk.

2005-04-11T17:47:00.000-07:00

I've been going kinda nuts with the camera today because I figured out how to post pictures on the web. Tonight I'm off to hang out with Grant and Charlotte, so I'll probably take it with me to flash a few pictures around. In the meantime, I was also going through files with the purpose of deleting age-old useless crap when I stumbled across something that made me spit my drink all over the keyboard. It wasn't as funny after having to clean up the mess, but hey. Perhaps it'll offer you a bit of entertainment.

And then he drank with smooth and practiced gulp
His eyes sank low, tears thickened like orange pulp
A sonnet is a massive pain to write
Thus eloquence eludes this dark black night
That’s just four petty lines I’ve written there
And then these kids stroked lonely dogs with care
As you have probably concluded now
I would use any small-ish breed of cow.
Amazing, isn’t this mess of black type
Though this Bounty is used, it still can wipe
Now there’s just four lines left to write for me
That makes me grin wide like a lazy bee
Now it’s my turn to say goodbye to work
Shakespeare, you kid labor advocate jerk.

Yeah, I don't understand it either, so don't bother asking. Except the last line, that sort of makes sense. Actually, it was originally written differently - I don't remember exactly how because when I saved it, I didn't have it written in that way. But I remember it had a word in it that I didn't realize was as bad as it was. So anyway, after a one-line attempt at a serious sonnet, life became FAR too boring. And I gave up because I'm lazy. You can't rhyme gulp with anything but pulp anyway... and if you can, leave me to my ignorance until further notice.

(a picture of the replacement wallet)

It's not nice to Miss.

2005-04-10T11:46:00.000-07:00

You know, I miss a lot of people when I'm home alone. The house has been empty for three days now, and since tutoring was canceled this week I'm out of gas money - thus I've been here a lot of the time, making an attempt at conservation until next Thursday. Money sucks. M O N E Y S U C K S. Sounds like a band name. But really, the motivation to get out of the house has waned a bit since it's quiet here, aside from the times that the dogs are screaming about something. Then there are always walks.

Anyway, I was thinking a lot about Laura because we haven't talked since the Oregon trip - I'm sure I drove her nuts with my uptight responses to getting lost a million times in Portland. What a funny friendship we have, all because of some random bus ride where we sat next to each other. It's nice to know that long-distance friendships are worth it sometimes; we haven't lived in the same city for nearly five years now, and I doubt very much that we'll drift apart by the end of our lives. She's like my little sister and best friend rolled into one, and I'm glad she's happy where she is now. Whatever you do, stay there for the summer! ;o)

I miss Kim and Chris too, I got used to seeing them relatively often over the winter and holidays (ironically, they're long distance as well), and it's been a while. As soon as I get hired I'll have to make a trip up to see you guys... You know, I suppose I saw you over Easter, but it feels like it's been a lot longer than two weeks.

Even Grant and Charlotte, although it's only been a few days since I last saw them. But their company is addicting because of the laughter and utter stupidity that we allow one another to succumb to... and then make fun of each other about later.

Then there's always Matt, but I'm pretty accustomed to missing him. That's a different type of miss, anyway; any sort of attachment I have to him is derived almost solely from memory at this point. Conversations have been fewer than they've ever been (with the exception of the times that we genuinely did not like one another), and I can't narrow myself down to one emotion or thought connected with that fact except to announce that I'm not a victim in this situation.

I miss a lot of my high school friends in little ways - heck, I miss Evan for his, shall we say, charming and intelligent conversation. It's funny how I can relate most people that I meet now back to members of that group, at least in small ways. I didn't realize that there was such a various array of personalities; I'm sorry if I took advantage of that.

Anyway, you know what else I miss? food. I think I'm going to remedy that.

Shine on you Crazy Diamond.

2005-04-08T10:31:00.000-07:00

I felt the urge to write, and why not? Actually, the "why not" is the relatively simple part - I don't have any idea what will finish off this mundane white box. Although I do have a starting point: Self portraits.

My goodness, in art we're doing them and it's incredibly frustrating. There was, however, some comic relief in that I was using the rear-view mirror from my car (which hasn't actually been attached to my windshield in over a year) while Trusten (the girl who sits next to me) used the actual mirror that I brought. The funniest part about the mirror is that every time I get glue to put it back on, the little metal piece that is necessary to adhere the whole thing onto the glass disappears. It's currently missing, and yup, you guessed it, the glue is sitting in a compartment in my dashboard. One day I'll outsmart it... holy cow that's sad.

So self portraits - Shakir told us that drawing ourselves is difficult because we're emotionally attached to the image - originally I passed this off as some sort of new-age mumbo jumbo (which is strange because he doesn't subscribe to those beliefs), but then I actually thought about what that meant, and I believe him to be right. Who wants to acknowledge every flaw in our face? Not only that, but who wants to recreate them to display to the world? Our face is safer being a face, rather than ending up on some 18" by 24" drawing pad. Strange thought, considering that more people will see the actual thing than the sketch.

A side note: Conte Crayons are wonderful -- until you mess up. Charcoal is also wonderful, and comes with the benefit of being able to erase -- however, dark values are impossible to attain.

There apparently was some sort of student fair that students could submit their work to so that people would be able to admire what they've done. I admit, I knew about it before the deadline but didn't care to put anything on display - But I was flattered when the prof. scolded me for not entering (however embarrassing that was). It was nice to be picked out.

This is a tribute to Grant and Charlotte: you two are awesome. After losing the wallet (which I had made out of red duct tape a while ago), they showed up at my door, walked in, and handed me one that they had just made. It's black with a red stripe across the center, "in remembrance of the old one." :o) Crazy people.

I forgot to mention on the camping trip that I gave Charlotte a bloody nose. Obviously I didn't mean to; she had nearly fallen asleep when I climbed into the tent and saw that she was laying on the buttoned side of her pillow. I asked her to hold her head up for a second while I flipped it over -- however, mid-flip she got tired and attempted to put her head back down... her face and my hand met with deadly force. Er, bloody force? It was pretty bad, but secretly kinda funny. Then there was the thing with Grant. I woke up sometime in the middle of the night and rolled over - Grant was already awake, but as I went to talk to him he growled at me, "Stay out of my dreams." Slightly taken aback, I didn't say anything... and all of a sudden he started cracking up. It took a minute, but he finally explained what had happened: he dreamt that he and Charlotte and I were walking around town at night, and he gave me a compliment. Instead of being grateful, I snarled at him "You know what, Grant, knock off that 'nice' thing. It's getting really annoying." And he woke up PISSED. Anyway, since then I can't live it down - they tease me more about that than the nose thing! And to be honest, I'm kinda glad. Heh.

What an insane world.

Playing Catch-Up

2005-04-01T22:04:00.000-08:00

Yeah, initially I was going to write a while ago, but I just didn't get around to it. My birthday turned out to be a blast - we went bowling, ate a bunch of pizza, played poker and Guestures. If you've never played, it's one of the only board games I would recommend - I discovered my extreme LACK of talent at this game, but it's still way fun.

Zooming forward - I took a road trip over spring break to Portland, Oregon with my very good friend, Laura. It was awesome despite the huge amount of driving we had to do. And it was BEAUTIFUL - they get a lot of rain there, which means a million different shades of greens, reds, pinks, purples, you name it, they've got it. Although Portland is a relatively large city, it's easy to get around because of the public transit and bus systems. When we drove we got lost a dozen times because of all of the one-way streets and "no U-turns", and ended up pissing off a bus driver. The city has lanes dedicated only to the buses, but unfortunately they're rarely marked well. We ended up in a turn lane, only to discover a small white sign that read the following: "Bus turn lane only." These bus drivers are like New York's cab drivers on steroids - One of them pulled up behind us and sat on his horn for long enough for us to start squirming. It's funny now, though. Dang guy had his gut spilling over his steering wheel... Quite a sight. There was also this crazy hippy at the gas station... I went in to pay, and when I came out this guy was talking to Laura. He turned to me and started jabbering quickly: "Hey, I was just telling your friend about the Rainbow Gathering. You need to... uh... uhm... you need to, uh, you need to get on the computer. Go to Welcomebladiblahblah.com... W... Wel.. W E... W E L... Well, listen, I’m not very good with computers. you'll figure it out. Ask your pothead friends about it, they'll know." And I was telling him that we weren't from around there (he must have been on something, he had the jitters) and that we needed to get on the road. So Laura and I left with a "See you later." He said, "Well, I.. I don't think so, but you know. That would be pretty cool." We also stopped in Northern California's Arcata, which was absolutely gorgeous. Tons of redwood trees, huge forests, it was amazing.

Anyway, It was a blast of a trip. There's a lot more to it, but I'm pretty tired. If you want to hear more, my screen name on AIM is IMingyourself.

This weekend I get to go camping with Charlotte and Grant! WOO!

Birthday Pizzazz

2005-03-04T13:39:00.000-08:00

My birthday actually seemed to start the day before my birthday (which was, in fact, yesterday), so that's where I'll begin telling. I drove to pick up Charlotte at the school, carted her back to my house for about an hour (so I could shower and eat some beef jerky, now apparently referred to simply as "cow") and she preceded to kick my younger brother's butt at video games, which is really saying something because he's a pro.

Hey, I was impressed.

Then we headed to her house, where we waited for Grant to show and, in the meantime, hung with Chrissy (Charlotte's room mate). She's hilarious, by the way. Anyway, Chrissy's boyfriend Tad made a beer run (b double e double r u n, beer run!) - Chrissy got pretty buzzed, but nobody else drank enough to get to that point. I don't drink, so aside from a taste of each, that was it for the alcohol. By the way, Smirnoff is like drinking jolly ranchers. In my opinion, New Castle is gross, but then I'm not a beer advocate.

Then we all crammed onto Charlotte's bed and watched Family Guy (the Death episodes), and laughed until our faces were red. She has a few seasons on DVD, so we got to pick our episodes. And then we decided to make pasta, which was a disaster - we used Prego and hamburger meat (cut into huge chunks) as sauce, and although it wasn't the same as the stuff I've been spoiled on (Italian heritage), it hit the spot. Charlotte took care of the pasta itself, I took care of the meat and sauce, and Grant... well, Grant supervised. "You missed a spot" was a particularly common comment. HA! I drove to the store with Grant at 10:00 at night to get bread. Consequently, we talked about music and he agreed to play the drums for me sometime. Sometime being today, which was WAY cool. We got back and put Bob Marly on to play in the background, so we were dancing around the kitchen like imbeciles. Then Justin called my phone, Charlotte picked up, and the next thing I knew he was there. So all of us were together for the first time in months, and we decided to watch "Who framed Roger Rabbit." At 11:30, Grant had to leave (which was a bummer), so there were just three/four of us on the bed (depending on the antics of Chrissy). She called her friend in Washington, and we talked to him on the phone - He's a linguist, so he speaks 8 different languages. And my fellow females, let me set the record straight: French is not the most romantic language. As soon as I remember the name of the one that is, I'll let you know. It might be Indonesian, but I'm not sure. Anyway, I fell asleep afterwards in the middle of the movie, and my phone rang at midnight. I picked up and I hear "Happy birthday," - Grant won. Charlotte and Justin were right there and Grant still won. muahaha. Needless to say, the next night I got a call right before midnight from Charlotte, Chrissy, and Tad saying that they'd be the last ones to tell me on time. Oh yeah! Charlotte made me the most beautiful scarf I've ever owned - it's crocheted blue and silver, and so long that I've already closed my car door on it twice. I love it. Anyway, I said goodbye to everyone, talked to Justin about our "situation" (that's another story, you're going to have to ask me directly for that one), and drove home at 1:30.

My actual birthday was pretty ordinary as days go, with a few highlights: In the middle of the Cafeteria, my friends sang happy birthday to me rather loudly and obnoxiously. It was so embarrassing and awesome at the same time. And they gave me a "napkin card", which consisted of your generic cafeteria napkin with black writing on it. The outside said "OPEN THIS!" and the inside said "THIS IS A CARD!" with everyone’s names on it. I'll probably have the dang thing until the end of my life. And I got a call from Laura, who sang me "Birthday," by the Beatles (including the instrumental part), and it made my day. Since she isn't going to be in Santa Cruz over spring break, I think we're taking a road trip up to Portland Oregon (which is going to be INCREDIBLE), as long as we convince her brother that I couldn't care less what state his apartment is in. My mom made tacos, so we ate and watched "Ray," the movie that my little brother got me, and honestly it was the happiest I'd been in a while. Matt called and said happy birthday, which left me with mixed feelings, but it really was nice of him to do.

Anyway, next write will probably be Sunday or Monday, depending on when everything finishes up. I'm sure it'll be entertaining. :oD

What a Day.

2005-02-25T18:29:00.000-08:00

Man. I've been up since roughly four this morning, so it's been a LONG day. Well, scratch that. I woke up at that time, but I haven't been awake all day. It started with a headache and stress about a test that I had at 8:10 in the morning.

It should be illegal to administer tests that early, don't you think? No, you're probably a wonderful morning thinker. pssh. If you happen to agree, we should start a revolution or something. Throw a public, controlled, official hissy fit. I think they're called protests.

I don't have a problem with protests, by the way. As long as they're not stupid or violent.

Lalala, okay, where was I? Oh. The test. Eh, we'll see how it went - I don't really like to comment about how I did because I'm very often wrong. And you know what they say about assuming... whahaha. Cough. Consiquently, the test was a lot longer than I expected it to be. After that I called Justin to get directions to the place where we were going to have breakfast. And I got lost. A lot. It's really just this small cafe that's impossible to see until you're right on top of it, and it got to the point where Justin had to go outside, stand on the corner, and wave like a madman for me to see it. But breakfast was worth it, man. Wow it was spectacular. Which is good because afterwards we went to Houchin Blood Bank to give blood, and I've never done that before. And I was TERRIFIED.

The sick thing is that I didn't go for nobel purposes, I went because I felt guilty about not doing it because it was a nobel thing to do. I was chatting with Justin on the phone, and I think I just asked him what he was afraid of, and he said "Needles." Before I could say, "hey, me too!" he went on: "But I still go and give blood." DANGIT! I don't even have a valid excuse anymore. You see, I'm pretty normal - needles bother me, sure. But he's so afraid of them it might as well be a phobia. I know, I know, phobia is just "fear" in latin, but in english it has that "irrational" tag attached to it. So then he lays it on thick, "You really should come with me next time. I mean, no pressure, but you should do it."

The funny thing about the comment "no pressure" is the inevitable amount of pressure in it.

So I caved. And I went. And he turned red and talked a mile a minute and finished in 6 because he was so nervous. It took me ten minutes - you see, they give you this squishy ball (mine was patriotic, not that it matters) to squeeze every ten to fifteen seconds to improve blood flow. The problem is that when you squeeze it too hard, you can feel the needle in your arm. And that was just WAY too much to handle, so I barely squeezed. People would walk by and go, "is it your first time, honey?" and I would shake like crazy and say "Y-ye-ye-yes..." and they would say something along the lines of "you're doing wonderful." The people there are so nice, and I think they were really worried that I would pass out. They all asked me if I felt lightheaded. I think they should have been more concerned about Justin, he was the color of his hair. But they knew him from before, I guess. Anyway, turns out the masses are right - It's really no big deal.

I have to go because my grandmother is here (we call her Noni, it's an italian thing) and the dishes aren't done. She's famous in our family for a few reasons: She always asks if she can make you something to eat, she watches TV until 11 nearly every night, and if there are dirty dishes in the sink she'll do them if you're not fast enough. So I'm off. POOF!

My First Ticket.

2005-02-21T22:14:00.000-08:00

A quick write because a) Western Civ is a pain in the butt and I'm tired of "reading and defining" at the moment, and b) because I find this slightly amusing. Once I get past the general annoyance of it all.

This weekend I received my first ticket. And it wasn't even an exciting ticket for speeding or rolling my car dangerously in front of traffic, not that I would do EITHER of those... Well, I would probably speed if it weren't for the fact that my car is hardly capable of doing so on the freeway without convulsing wildly. And rolling? I'm not really the adrenaline junky type - maybe it's that dying with my brains shot through glass onto a contrasty black asphalt surface doesn't appeal to me that much. Who knows, right?

So parking was difficult because the neighbors across the street have more cars coming out of their butts than they know what to do with, and thus the dilema presents itself: Only two parking spots in front of their house. Solution? Well, forget parking around the corner which is 20 feet away, let's park in front of everyone else's houses. For lack of a better idea, I parked in front of the next-door neighbor's home (who only has a little Corolla), making sure to leave her plenty of room for her own car. My car was there for roughly 40 hours before "someone" calls the cops saying that I've been parked there for 72, and thus the cop comes, plants a warning sticker on my windsheild (the remains of which are still there and not giving up without a fight) and a ticket for parking more than 18" from the curb. The ticket was deserved, but man. Was that necessary? The next time I go there though, I'll be prepared. Somehow. Alright, back to history.

Strawberry Fields Forever.

2005-02-11T17:57:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was an interesting day, to say the least. I didn't write it all out then because - well, mostly because I got lazy and didn't feel like it, but just for kicks and giggles we'll say "I was way too busy to sit at the computer and indulge my writing impulses at that particular moment."

" 'I WAS DEAD AT THE TIME!'
and he's going, 'I haven't even accused you of anything yet.'
'well, erm, uhm, yes, what? ..... I was dead at the time!'

Eddie Izzard. Strange man, but hilarious comedy. Is it politically correct to call him a man? Or a 'him' for that matter? So yesterday, that's what I was writing about, yes? I've forgotten already where I wanted to start. Wait, it wasn't even yesterday, yesterday was Thursday. So Wednesday. Man, I am EVERYWHERE today. Starting over.

Wednesday started out too early, to be honest. The first thing you learn about sleeping with animals in your room is that they wake up at the same time that the first person crawls out of bed. No lie, even if your house were a mile long they would STILL do it, perhaps even just to irritate you. And there's no shame in waking you up at that moment as well - stomachs are much more important than tact. So I rolled out of bed (absolutely NOT a morning person), fought off the impulse to skip my retarded first class of the day, got ready in the fifteen minutes my snooze button left me with, and headed out.

Can I just say something about the person who invented the snooze button? I adore you for your invention, but honestly, what the crap were you thinking? Do you know how many lives you've delayed? Sheesh man, woman, whatever you are. Have some compassion.

In the class though, I met a new person. I think his name is Craig, but I can't be sure. Is that how you spell that? Am I missing an e? Anyway, he might have been on something. I asked him what he had next and he said "Health, with Kuvey." It might have been Kuvey, but anyway, I told him that it was an unfortunate name and that it made the man sound like a bear. It was pretty shocking when he started laughing so hard that I thought he might run out of air and keel over - what an entertaining person. He honestly was bent over slapping his knees, this crazy kid. Maybe the prof really IS a bear. After all, 'Craig' agreed with me when he was done laughing.

[Note: I later discovered from the top of a piece of notebook paper that his name isn't Craig, it's Jerred.]

Then it was on to the dreaded Western Civ class - in which I will never volunteer again. The prof asked if anyone had a $10.00 bill, and of course I had tutored the night before so I opened my fat mouth and offered it to him. After asking him if I would get it back, of course.

I should have been more specific.

He preceded to make a speech about how nothing had value until value itself was assigned to that particular object. He talked for roughly three minutes, and then flashed a menacing grin at me and paused. "So because I say this piece of paper has no worth, it's value decreases to nothing." I swear, I saw him do it before he actually did it, but I couldn't stop him in time - a quick ripping noise and my ten bucks really WAS worth nothing. Or rather, it was worth $8.25, minus the $1.75 I would have to spend on gas to get to somewhere that would replace it for me. And I just smiled at him, because we both knew that if this wasn't some sort of illusion magic trick, he was a dead man. He finished his speech, he asked me if I wanted a whole one or the original, to which I responded with a "that's obvious" smile, and he walked over and tried to hand me the halves. I asked him if he wouldn't mind giving me a whole one, and he asked me if I was chickening out, and I nodded to humor him. He dug in his pockets and gave me a ten with the remark that 9 out of 10 people would have just taken the halves. Way cool.

Calc got cancled. After that I rode and hung out with Daniel for a little bit because the darn horse ran into a fence and really messed himself up. The good news is that he's going to be okay - he knocked a few bone chips off of his greater tuberosity, left an 11 inch gash running from the bottom left part of his chest to right below his shoulder joint, put two puncture wounds on his front and back left legs (right above the knee and hock), and friction burned his throat. But the good news is that he's going to be fine. He's not too hot on this whole "stall rest" stuff, though. I gotta go. Adios.

Rock 'em Sock 'em.

2005-02-08T17:02:00.000-08:00

Today was pretty ordinary, as far as a Tuesday goes. I got up at 8, not because I wanted too, but rather because the cat insisted that I either feed her with food, or feed her with my face. Needless to say, I'm rather attached to my face. On a few different levels. So I zombied my way out of bed, opened the door, watched the black blur zooom past, and then did absolutely NOTHING for 3 hours. Of course I had planned to make a trip to Michael's to get a drawing pad and other miscellaneous items for my class, but that didn't happen. I don't really enjoy driving, I guess. It's convenient, which should definitely not go unappreciated, but hey. It's dangerous and people are angry idiots.

Sounds like a band name, actually.

So I went to Calc for a grand total of 20 minutes, and had a resulting huge amount of time to kill between it and my next class. Not that I wasn't entertained by the juggling talents of Sean and Monique, of course. :o)

And then there was one.

I've decided that there will exist a love/hate relationship with this art class. It's way cool to get the basic training that I passed up a few years back, and the prof really knows what he's talking about. Plus he's from Ethiopia, so he has this fantastic thick accent that's amazing to listen to. But THREE HOURS of sketching? madness. insanity. mad insanity with a touch of boredom. But contrary to the way it felt, the class did eventually end so now I am home, killing a few hours before I head off to tutor. Joy. :o)

Kids, don't try this at home.

2005-02-02T18:42:00.000-08:00

I've never had so many classes get cancled in two weeks, I tell ya. Goodness. Today my Western Civ class got cancled (again), which left me with a little over two hours to kill. Luckily I bumped into Grant, so we went to breakfast at this little "mom & pop" type of place, where I was presented with scrambled eggs with two slices of american cheese (you know, the kind that comes in a box) on top. This, my friends, apparently constitutes a cheese and egg omlette. Sigh. 6 something down the drain. Evan and Paul came with us, or perhaps I went with them, although I doubt it matters. I'd never met Paul. Actually, technically I'd never met Evan either, but we each knew who the other was. Strange how that happens sometimes. Anyway, while sitting in the back seat and staring at the back of Grant's and Evan's head, I felt compelled to ask why Evan didn't wear his hair down like Grant. Oh, just to clarify, both of them have long hair - Evan's is almost as long as mine, in fact. So they both started cracking up, and when they got a hold of themselves, Grant very nearly giggled, "Matt happened."

Needless to say, I was instantly afraid.

It took them forever to gain enough control to tell me the story, but here goes: apparently Evan DID wear his hair down. Around the third year, his friend Matt (whom I'd never heard of before) asked him, "doesn't your hair tickle the sides of your face when it's down?" And for the first time, Evan thought about it. I suppose for the last time as well, because after that he couldn't stop himself from noticing how irritating the hair against his face was. Honestly, it can't be that easy to mess with people.

Can it? muahahahahahaha.

Anyway, then we cruised around the park for a while until my next class. The hills were green, so it was an incredibly beautiful afternoon. Plus I didn't have to drive, so that was a definate plus. These people are completely fantastic.

I'm diggin this song.

2005-01-28T21:44:00.000-08:00

Anna Nalick, Breathe

2am and she calls me cause I'm still awake.
"Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?
I don't love him, and winter just wasn't my season."
Yeah, we walk through the door so accusing their eyes,
like they have any right at all to criticize.
Hypocrites, you're all here for the very same reason.

'Cause you can't jump the tracks,
we're like cars on a cable
and life's like an hourglass
glued to the table
no one can find the rewind button, girl
so cradle your head in your hands
and breathe, just breathe
whoa breathe, just breathe.

May he turned 21 on the base of Fort Bliss
just today he sat down to the flask in his fist
Ain't been sober since maybe October of last year.
Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while
but my god it's so beautiful when the boy smiles
wanna hold him, but maybe i'll just sing about it.

'Cause you can't jump the tracks,
we're like cars on a cable
and life's like an hourglass
glued to the table
no one can find the rewind button, boys
so cradle your head in your hands
and breathe, just breathe
whoa breathe, just breathe

"There's a light at the end of this tunnel," you shout
cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
These mistakes that you've made
you'll just make them again
if you'll only try turning around

2am and I'm still awake writing this song
if I get it all out on paper it's no longer
inside of me, threatening the life it belongs to
and I feel like i'm naked in front of the crowd
cause these words are my diary screamin' out loud
and I know that you'll use them however you want to.

but you can't jump the tracks
we're like cars on a cable
and life's like an hourglass
glued to the table
no one can find the rewind button, now
sing it if you understand
yeaah breathe, just breathe.
ohho breathe, just breathe.

Rant to Parents.

2005-01-21T10:45:00.000-08:00

So I'm going to buckle down and be serious, because this is getting absurd. Rediculous. Whatever you want to call it, it's preying viciously on my patience (which, by the way, is very nearly dead), so allow me to at least save someone from this suspicion load of crap. Note to parents/future parents: If you repeatedly search your kid's room, read his/her letters or conversations, go to his/her friends asking questions -- look, if you just generally go through the whole 007 deal, the communication specifially concerning serious happenings and/or emotions in his/her life will stop. The trust level will drop to nothing, and you'll be in the dark. Granted, you were in the dark in the first place, but believe me when I say that it's much MUCH harder to escape from it at this point. Solution to the problem? TALK TO THEM FIRST. For goodness sakes, you're trying to raise responsible adults, give them an effing chance to prove that! There is no way to characterize in diction just how much agrivation, resentment, and ultimately a building of secrets that you can prevent by, dare I say, being an adult about it yourself.

one second, we have to celebrate, my friend just got an interview for a job. WOO!

okay, back to being a bitter wench. Yes. Yes there are cases in which snooping is justified, as much as I hate admitting it. If the kid is in trouble and you can do something about it, you can't be too careful - BUT! For goodness sakes, go talk to them first! If they're depressed, suicidal, etc., chances are they're desperately hoping that someone will catch on and care enough to ask.
But with that in mind, remember this -- you are not their friend, you are their parent, and will probably be treated thus. We are NOT going to tell you every time someone offers us a cigarrette, joint or drink, we are not going to tell you every time we had to struggle to say no, and you know what? No matter how much you may hate to hear it, you are probably better off not knowing. Ignorance is bliss and trust is vital. There is a point at which you need to back off and start letting them make decisions. There is a point at which you need to trust that everything you've been teaching them over the rough and smooth paths of their lives will stick - they can't prove it if you don't let them. Oh, and on a side note, if they mess up and you blab to the world, they're going to be royally pissed off and you'll have even more problems to deal with.

end rant.

Excuse.

2005-01-11T22:50:00.000-08:00

sick Swallow sick Yellow
world stops drag in drag
the crimson Flow s your eyes away
cast down on baby feet.
will you find the future fountain past?
left-side Clock tock
tick.
tock.
Non-Cerebral Craves Reason
season changes but you couldn't
can't
shouldn't
Won't
Wouldn't.

some spite your growing callouses --
some spite your growing callouses.

Beating around the Bush.

2005-01-04T11:37:00.000-08:00

I was sitting around remembering that I had a blog. It seems a little strange that I would forget about it considering I used to write in it nearly every day, and that wasn't too long ago. But I forgot anyway. I would say that life has been busy, but to be honest, that statement is entirely backwards. It's been less busy than ever. Really guys, if I sat around the house anymore, I'd begin to get fat. No that's not right. How do you begin to get fat? Don't you just, you know, get fat? Where is the beginning? Anyway. Never understood that saying. I'd get fat.

This morning I have to go deal with the college because for some undisclosed reason they closed my account. If they drop me from my classes I'm going to destroy someone - Do you realize that winter break is going to last for nearly another month? Two months of thinning myelin sheaths and resulting slower synapses between certain neurons that haven't been active in too long. I need to get back into school. The funny thing is that, as far as relaxation is concerned, I'm really enjoying not having classes and homework to worry about. But in their place, I worry about becoming stupid again. It's just not worth it, hmm? :o)

I was thinking also about the way that, despite love's consistency, generations have altered the expression of it. My generation writes little notes and gives mixed CDs (goodness knows there are a million of love songs to choose from). Emails, you know? The generation before would write letters, stories, songs. I suppose our generation writes songs too - I doubt love expressed through melody is going to disappear any time soon. People are getting worse at writing it, though - or perhaps there are just less. Too many people are bitter about it now. Or they make it too complicated. The love songs from the 20's (in general) are so.... warm. I suppose. Maybe it's just me finding another genre that I like, but you can't tell me that there isn't a difference. Or rather you could, if you felt so inclined, but I wouldn't believe you. And you shouldn't believe yourself either. Plus you can slow dance to them most of the time, so that's a big plus. :o)

I should tell you all about Maddie. Maddie has been my favorite dog for about 10 years, although I rarely get a chance to see her - She lives about 200 miles from me. But she's just one of those dogs that you instantly bond with, you know? Recently I went back and saw her, but when I walked in the door and saw her, my heart broke. She was happy to see me, whining and squeeling and carrying on so much that it was hard to get her to hold still long enough to pet her ears, but she was 20, 25 pounds underweight. Not only that, but her right hind was useless to her. It bounced around when she did, the muscel deterioration completely obvious in comparision to her opposite good leg. Marie told me that she had blown out her knee chasing squirrels (darn twelve year old dog acts like she's two!) and they had done surgery, but when there was no improvement they took her back to the vet. They found two different sources of cancer in her hip, both of which were malignant and spreading at incredibly fast rates - there was nothing to do. So I sat around and loved on her for as long as I could, and then said goodbye. They put her down yesterday, and dispite the fact that we know she won't suffer anymore, it just sucks. Critics would say that there are as many dogs on the planet as there are humans (I don't know that that's true though, so don't quote me), but there just aren't replacements for Maddies. Some people will know what I mean.

I miss everyone, hopefully I'll see you all soon.

Phlebotomy Story.

2004-12-06T19:00:00.000-08:00

My brother is the best. He really is. And phlebotomy is the technique of drawing blood, for your understanding pleasure. I had no idea what it was, I had to look it up. So anyway, my brother decides to sign up for a phlebotomy class so that he can work in a hospital part time. Easy enough, so he talks with his friend Emily (or so we shall call her, for simplicity's sake) about times and stuff. She tells him to meet her the next day at 5 so they can go to the 6:00 class, so he shows up at her door at 5:00 am the next morning on her porch. He quickly discovers that she isn't there, so he just drives to the hospital to check things out. He speaks with the woman at the front desk and asks about the phlebotomy class, and she points him in the direction of a man in a white labcoat. The man hands him another coat and tells him to shadow him as he makes his rounds, so E. spends an hour and a half watching white-labcoat-man draw blood. Once finished, the man turns around and says, "okay, your turn. draw blood from these two patients." So he DOES. And he messes up a few times which I'm sure was frustrating as crap for the patients. The whole time, white-labcoat-man is supervising - it takes him nearly an hour to approach E. and ask how many times he'd done it, and he says "this is the first time." The man was completely taken aback, and asked if he'd taken the class to which the response was "no, that's what I'm here for." and the man FLIPPED. He said that the beginning class was at 6:00 that night, not that morning. How absolutly fantastic.

Psalms 88

2004-12-04T18:50:00.000-08:00

O Lord God of my salvation, I have cried day and night before thee:
Let my prayer come before thee: Incline thine ear unto my cry;
For my soul is full of troubles: and my life draweth nigh unto the grave.
I am counted with them that go down into the pit: I am as a man that hath no strength:
Free among the dead, like the slain that lie in the grave, whom thou rememberest no more: and they are cut off from thy hand.
Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in the darkness, in the deeps.
Thy wrath lieth hard upon me, and thou hast afflicted me with all thy waves. Selah.
Thou hast put away mine acquaintance far from me; thou hast made me an abomination unto them: I am shut up, and I cannot come forth.
Mine eye mourneth by reason of affliction: Lord, I have called daily upon thee, I have stretched out my hands unto thee.
Wilt thou shew wonders to the dead? shall the dead arise and praise thee? Selah.
Shall thy lovingkindness be declared in the grave? or thy faithfulness in destruction?
But unto thee have I cried, O Lord; and in the morning shall my prayer prevent thee.
Lord, why castest thou off my soul? why hidest thou thy face from me?
I am afflicted and ready to die from my youth up: while I suffer thy terrors I am distracted.
Thy fierce wrath goeth over me: thy terrors have cut me off.
They came round about me daily like water; they compassed me about together.
Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, and mine acquaintance into darkness.

Seventh Street

2004-11-25T22:40:00.000-08:00

I used to live on seventh street. It sounds pretty bland, doesn't it? Relatively usual, there has to be a seventh street in every average-type city or town. But I used to live on one. It had uniform trees all the way down it (it was only about 2 or 3 blocks long) that would all turn red and orange and yellow in the fall. It was the most colorful tunnel to walk down, let me tell you. The gutters were so old and worn so deeply that when it rained, they would fill up into small rivers. This is why I like the rain as much as I do, I think. The memories of it when I was small - I used to go outside in my duck-yellow boots with the black soles, grasping an umbrella that was unavoidably too large to carry, and my friends and I would "puddle stomp." This of course made the umbrella useless, except as a tool to somewhat defy gravity while jumping off of my dad's old pickup truck. But it's what I remember about being that small.

I think I'm sad now. Not about this, I was just thinking about it and I wanted to write it out. I'm going to go looking for a hug or something.

Fool in the darkroom, everyone run!

2004-11-19T21:34:00.000-08:00

I haven't been intentionally neglecting you, honest. I've just been busy. So okay, want a story? Well, get comfortable my friend, 'cause this is one is hard to top as far as absolute idiocy is concerned. So I was coming into the photography class on a particularly bright day. I could see decently well under the lights, so obviously I wasn't really thinking about the consequences of sudden changes in brightness when I meandered into the dark room. And all of a sudden I was BLIND. I could have closed my eyes and I wouldn't have been any worse off. So I'm walking around the dark room with my arms and hands straight out in front of me, waving madly. "Guys, are the brown lights on? I can't see worth crap. Charlot? Where are you?" Just then Grant pipes up.

Intermission. Before I tell you what he said, know this: Grant thinks that I'm a moron. An amusing moron, but a moron none-the-less, and for this very reason I get teased by him a lot. And he looks like a Neanderthal, with long LONG dark brown curly hair. And no, I'm not saying that because I'm bitter with him so don't even think it. Not that that matters, but I figure that if you can picture him it might add to the hilarity. Oh! Who was that comedian on "Last Comic Standing"? Crap, I only saw a bit of one episode... I don't remember. Anyway, if anyone knows who I'm talking about, that's who he looks like, only thinner. Intermission over.

"She's over there, in the corner."
"Grant, is that you?"
"No, it's Paige."
"Shut up. Charlot? I can't see you, could you say something for me?"
"She's in the corner, Erin."
I begin to walk forward again with my arms flying around wildly. "Charlot, for goodness sakes, will you say something? please?"

Okay, just to prove that I'm not entirely stupid, I did stop for a second and consider that I was being set up. I mean, it IS Grant. He does this junk all the time. But then I was caught off guard, so that thought was quickly abandonned:
"Haha, she's flipping you off."
I stop long enough to gracefully throw my hands to my hips.

haha, gracefully my butt.

"OH MY GOODNESS, I can't believe you'd do that! You jerk!"
A second later, I'm walking forward again. And my hands smack against the wall, thus I turn around. And pause for a good five seconds. "She isn't here, is she?" And all of a sudden EVERYONE is cracking up. You know that moment when you finally let out the laughter you've been trying to conceal, and it comes so quickly that you nearly spit? Yeah, that was everyone at that moment. And to make matters worse, Charlot walks in the room - "Hey, what's funny?"
I laughed it off, but secretly I felt like crying...

Actually, it's not true, but for the record I was blush red. At least the darkness was good for something, eh? I'm pretty sure i'm screwed with this one though. I don't know where the expression "living it down" came from or why it means what it means, but I don't think i'm going to be doing any of it any time soon.

Softener.

2004-11-07T09:16:00.000-08:00

The house was empty of nearly EVERYTHING two weeks ago. Food, shampoo, toothpaste... well, we were just running low on shampoo and toothpaste, and the only food we had were apples (about 10 of them) and half a loaf of wheat bread. We were getting seriously low, so of course we got a bunch of new stuff. As I went to do my laundry, I noticed this new softener in the cupboard. "Lavender." hmm, okay, I'll try it. You guys, I swear, this stuff is amazing. Walking around campus and town and the house, I catch myself smelling my clothes. It sounds kinda creepy, but honestly I can't help it! I washed my sheets with it too, and listen to this insanity: I'm sleeping better. A softener that's therapeutic? Honey, you can't beat that! And I've notice a lot more people hugging me. For no apparent reason, they just walk up and do their version of a hug, and I think yeah, you're smelling my clothes aren't you? I actually started laughing once, and ended up having to explain myself to everyone there. One of my friends asked me if I was high, so I figured you might be wondering the same thing - no. No I am not. At least I'm pretty sure this stuff doesn't get you high. Anyway, after he smelled my sweatshirt he was won over, so another victory for me. woo!

By Chuck Baldwin

2004-11-04T07:27:00.000-08:00

As a percentage of the population, there are more professing Christians in America than in any nation on earth, and for a good reason: by in large, Christians established this country. It is also undeniable that several "Great Awakenings" surged through our country in which tens of thousands of people were converted to Jesus Christ. Hence, Christian people are permanently ensconced in this nation.

One of the fundamental principles of the Christian faith is our utter dependence and allegiance to Christ, the belief that we can do nothing without Him. Genuine Christianity promotes self-humiliation and reliance upon the overruling providence of God.

This spirit of faith and humility has seen us through the best and worst of times. True Christians are neither pompous in victory nor broken in defeat. We recognize that God is our hope and we rest in His sovereign will. We are also determined to follow His direction, and to resist those who try to supplant His authority. Anything less is pseudo-spirituality.

How is it, then, that in the face of a national crisis, it seems that the overwhelming majority of professing Christians today display not humility but overt arrogance? Instead of crying out for national repentance, we seem intoxicated with our own power and prosperity. Instead of recommitting ourselves to following God's laws, we seem determined to follow the Pied Pipers of self- glorification.

Christians in America seem almost fanatical about removing the speck from the eye of other nations while ignoring the beam in our own eye. Our petitions to God take the form of demands. We act as if God is our servant instead of the other way around. How long will God tolerate this insolence?

That God has blessed our country with superior wealth and power is no assurance that it will always be this way. We must never presume on God's patience or protection. What took two hundred years to build could be destroyed in two hundred days! With God, it is a small thing to build up or to pluck down. We are protected at His pleasure, not ours.

The national sins that plagued America before September 11, 2001, yet plague America today. There is no change in the overall direction of the country.

In fact, the pace of the race toward "big governmentism" (once known as socialism, fascism or communism) has quickened significantly. We are in more danger of losing our freedoms and liberties now than we were before those terrorist attacks. Furthermore, the principal threats are not from forces without, but from forces within, and Christians seem either oblivious or actually supportive of them.

Contrary to popular opinion, our leaders are taking us further away from constitutional government. The risks associated with many of our country's actions are huge. Despite the propaganda, America is vulnerable! We are vulnerable to the judgment of a righteous, omnipotent God!

Instead of beating our chests in pride and arrogance and exalting our own power and glory, we should be humbling ourselves before God and seeking His will. Our greatest threat is not al-Qaida, Iraq or Saddam Hussein. Our greatest threat is the judgment of God, and we have no army capable of victory against Him!

Blueberry Pancake.

2004-11-02T15:07:00.000-08:00

Yeah, that's me. The blueberry pancake. Before you deem me insane, let me explain: I was out riding this colt that I've been working with for about 6 and a half months. He's pretty hilarious - I suppose you could say that he's the equivalent of the four-year-old little boy that you have to watch every second or else he'll end up running into the street. He's got ADD, or something similar. Not really, I don't think that's possible in horses, he's just really young. A baby brain, if you want to use "horse terminology." ;o)

Anyway, it was dark. What this means for the horse (whose vision largely relies on movement) is that there are many more things to look at, like horse-eating shadows. And those can snatch their legs off when they aren't looking, so they can be pretty scary and dangerous.

No, I’m not serious. Jeez.

Anyway, he decided to "bolt," which is exactly what it sounds like. We were moving forward, and he saw something was scary and took off at mach 10. As I went to stop him, he pretty much ignored me, so I took my left hand and pulled his face towards the fence, trying to get him to start moving sideways so that he'd be forced to slow down. Well, he slowed down and went sideways, which was the good part. The bad part was that it had rained a ton recently, and the dirt towards the bottom of the ring was pretty slippery. Long story short, his hooves hit and slid out from under him, so he went down - right on top of me. That in itself wouldn't have been so bad because horses get up really fast when they fall; the problem was that as he went to stand, he slammed his left front foot into the left side of my back, right at the top of my hip-bone. It felt like a pro baseball player taking his bat and just beating the tar out of me.

But I had to laugh at the look on the colt's face (his name is Daniel, but I call him Elvis behind everyone's back. He's pretty classy - likes to chew on his tongue and play with his lips. A real genius.). He was terrified! He gave a little whinny, and just looked around as if he had no idea as to what he should be doing.

Anyway, I was the only one in the arena at the time and the gate was open, so I had to get up and hold him, so I was bent over my knees, muttering obscenities and laughing at the same time. Daniel just stood there and drooled. Again, a real classy guy. Anyway. Blueberry pancake. I'm a little bruised. :o)

Sad Day

2004-10-30T21:59:00.000-07:00

I was actually kinda sad today. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, so that probably contributes, but lately I've been thinking about the past five years. Not to say that it was horrible - I have an abundance of affectionate memories. Even when it was a bad experience in the process, I don't necessarily feel regret every time I think of it. After all, there's always something to learn. It's kind of neat, this rekindling of old relationships that had gone sour (which is, at a certain point, the antithesis to what I would normally do). But although I had my reservations about this, it's turning out to be a good thing. And it doesn't have to be a particularly deep relationship again, it just has to be something that allows you to look back and feel that a problem was solved, and it's one less person that you feel like you have to avoid. I'm starting to understand just how much maturing there is to do in this particular part of life. It's so frustrating to think about the fact that I lost the two best friends that I had while living here - the two people that I got closest to. It seems like such a waste. And when history repeats itself like that, a person has to look to the source of the problem; it's just tough to make the consideration that it may be me. No, I take that back. The consideration wasn't a difficult one to make - I figure it's an automatic thing, even if it only occurs in the back of a one's mind. What I mean is that it's a tough consideration to live with. Just like there are reasons that you get close to someone, there are reasons why people respond to you the way that they do. Love, annoyance, avoidance, etc. It's just a question of why - the problem is that the only person who knows for sure is the one responding. You know, I guess this is why I always ask questions when things go wrong. There's a certain level of satisfaction in knowing that you can change whatever you didn't do right the first time - it makes you that much stronger of a friend, ya know?
So yeah, I got sad today thinking about all of this. One of the most fantastic people I've ever had the privilege of knowing said to me once that we all miss the people we lose, but we meet new people and move on, but I guess that didn't really make anything better. If anything it was worse, because I don't want anyone to get replaced. I don't understand why, i've always felt like that. That's why I keep everything - if I don't, I lose memories. Replace them with old ones. I once thought that I'd just put all my shoe-boxes away and pull them out when I got really old, but I can't do that. I look at this stuff all the time because i'm afraid i'll forget what it all means. And it's fun, you know? To remember that one day in class where you had your "paper and pen" conversation behind the teacher's back about what was going to happen at lunch or after school. I love it. But anyway, I don't really feel all that sad anymore. And it's late. And I should go to bed. :o) g'night.

The Ultimate Kerry Ad

2004-10-27T15:18:00.000-07:00

For a short entry, i'll give you a site. If you can't have a sense of humor about the people you're voting for, honey, you gotta get a new perspective. This is just a tad biased. ;o) http://johnkerryads.websiteanimal.com/

The Drunk Dream

2004-10-26T15:29:00.000-07:00

I had a dream about getting drunk. Only I've never been drunk before, so I was watching this for the first time ever. Now, if you've ever heard of a happy drunk, it was me. I laughed at ANYTHING - and I couldn't walk. Well, wait, technically I was mobile, but it wasn't really walking. I looked like a penguin with vestibular system complications. Only I have no idea if penguins function the way that humans do. Penguins have ears, right? Forget that, so anyway. I was in college, but it might as well have been high school because all the people there were friends from my senior year. And we just went out and took shots - and for some reason we all wore blue. I don't know why, really, except that color plays a huge roll in my dreams. But anyway, we headed back to a night class, and the lady gave us a surprise test. And I couldn't stop laughing! I was falling all over everyone's desks cracking up, being incredibly obnoxious. I probably had bad breath too, but my dreams don't usually get that specific. But anyway, I woke up laughing so hard that I nearly choked. It was a good thing that everyone had already left by the time that happened - i would have woken them all up. So all this reminded me of the comedy sketch that Bill Cosby did in his HILARIOUS stand-up routine, "Bill Cosby, Himself." I'm not going to try to sum all of that up because that would just be wrong. It's genius, let me just tell you that. Go rent it - if you can't stand long comedy routines, then don't waste your money. But he's incredibly funny. Wow.

Monty Python does it again.

2004-10-20T11:48:00.000-07:00

Oh my goodness this is hilarious.

Immanuel Kant was a real pissant

Who was very rarely stable.



Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar

Who could think you under the table.



David Hume could out-consume

Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel,



And Wittgenstein was a beery swine

Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel.



There's nothing Nietzche couldn't teach ya

'Bout the raising of the wrist.



Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed.



John Stuart Mill, of his own free will,

On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.



Plato, they say, could stick it away--

Half a crate of whisky every day.



Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle.

Hobbes was fond of his dram,



And René Descartes was a drunken fart.

'I drink, therefore I am.'



Yes, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed,

A lovely little thinker,



But a bugger when he's pissed.



Monty Python's "The Philosopher's Drinking Song"



If you want the mp3 file, leave me a note with your email address. :o)

Perfection.

2004-10-18T11:12:00.000-07:00

It's supposed to be a busy day. Two big tests, a couple of insane horses, phone calls I've been putting off. But I have to tell you, today is the greatest weather possible. It's rainy, overcast, cold, grey, beautiful. And I was driving home from my Philosophy test with the window rolled down, the air vaulting off of my sweatshirt into my face, my hair a mess, freezing cold but in such a state of bliss that everything was perfect. Every song that played reminded me of someone in such an affectionate way, even if it was sad. And I can't help but think about God and the past when I feel like that, I really can't. This is how people take you, ya know? This is love. And you know, sometimes the world is breathtaking.

copy/paste.

2004-10-17T19:27:00.000-07:00

These are some amazing pieces of black and white photography:

- http://www.black-and-white-to-color.com/stuff/escube1.jpg
- http://dp-now.com/archives/A%20great%20black%20and%20white%20photo.jpg
- http://cakonos.image.pbase.com/image/25210002/original.jpg
- http://gladstone.uoregon.edu/~gfisher/Pictures%20of%20Josh%20and%20Grace/Black%20and%20White/train%20tracks.jpg

mmm.

The Car Theory.

2004-10-12T18:36:00.000-07:00

I have a theory that connects driving habits and character. You may think i'm nuts, but hear me out: I figure that a jerk will drive like a jerk, and a curteous person will drive curteously. I guess I want to test it out because if you think about it, when one has driven enough it becomes second nature. We don't think about the habits we pick up driving, ya know? And we don't think about them when we're carting others around. So theoretically, people who tail-gate, run reds and stop signs, flip the bird at anyone, cut people off, etc. would tend to possess annoying character flaws, no? Impatience, short temper, selfishness and wrecklessness... Obnoxious. And those who let others in front of them during heavy traffic periods, don't crawl up other people's tail-pipes (even when they're going under the speed limit), let others go before them at a stop sign when they arrive at the same time, etc. would have positive personality traits.

maybe I am nuts. heh. But tell me, have you ever noticed a connection? seriously, let me know, i'm really curious.

Man I'm cool.

2004-10-06T17:10:00.000-07:00

So okay, I destroyed my hamstring today. And of course it was incredibly stupid, so I have to share it with you. :o) This morning, about five minutes before I had to take off for class I went to print out my philosophy paper. Normal routine, ya know. I hit the print key and did my typical bounce around dance, "hurry hurry hurry," and all that jazz when I realized that something was wrong. Actually, it wasn't as slow a thought process as it sounds. I actually just thought, "now, why the crap aren't there words on that page?" I checked the ink levels like a complete computer-novice, all fine, grumbled and hit print again. Time was running out, and still I got white sheets. I tried a series of other experiments, and it was 5 minutes, 10 minutes past the time I needed to zoom off, and I was really frustrated. Finally I decided to give up, so I turned around to throw my pack of gum at the floor in disgust - the problem was that I turned around WAY too fast. Yeah, that's right. I screwed up my hamstring by turning around.

At this rate I'll never be a model.

And it's dumb because you'd think I would at least pull something in my arm - after all, that was the main appendage that was involved in the action. But anyway, my hamstring and I are not speaking currently because it whines too much and is at the polar opposite of my body from the place that I would have expected an injury.
You know, laughing at people is mean. I think my self esteme just dropped two pegs.

Yeah, that's right, what now?

The coke commercial.

2004-10-02T15:53:00.000-07:00

Okay, I thought my only entry on this Blog was going to be the VERY funny "physics and hell" joke, but I find that there is yet another (less intentional) situation that needs attention called to it. This situation, of course, is the radio commercial for coca cola.

Maybe you've heard it, but if not let me give you a quick run-down. It begins with a knock on a door.
Mother: Bradly?
Boy 1: [opens door] Oh hey Mrs. Patterson, it's Justin.
Mother: Hey Justin. Where's Bradly?
Justin: He's at soccer practice, you know, 'Go Tigers!'. I thought I'd hang here until he gets back, cool?
Mother: Yeah.
Justin: mind if I grab some coke?
Mother: you go right ahead, you know where it is.

And this goes on for a while, with more and more kids (but never the son) walking in and asking for some coke. This is where you start to wonder what's going on - what I mean it's not that you don't think it's about coca cola, but really. How could the writers not have noticed this?

Ahem. Then the commercial then cuts into that familiar deep voice:

"A house full of coke is a house full of friends, So keep the place stocked - you'll never know when you need it."

And now you lose it. Truly and officially, there is now one more "Do not" to add to the list of things you should avoid while driving. Drinking, eating, talking on the phone, and listening to coke commercials with possible drug undertones.

I'd like to meet the writer.

Physics and Hell

2004-09-25T15:50:00.000-07:00

Physics + Hell

A retiring Physics professor was setting his last exam, for a graduate course in statistical thermodynamics. Being a bit bored with it all, and with a well kept and wry sense of humor, he set a
single question on the sheet: Is Hell endothermic or exothermic? Support your answer with a proof.

He had little idea what to expect, or how to grade the results, but decided to reward any student who was able to come up with a reasonable and consistent reply to his query.

One A was awarded. Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law or some variant. The top student however wrote the following:

First, we postulate that if souls exist, then they must have some mass. If they do, then a mole of souls can also have a mass. So, at what rate are souls moving into hell and at what rate are souls leaving? I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to hell, it will not leave.

Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for souls entering hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their
religion, you will go to hell. Since there are more than one of these religions and people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all people and all souls go to hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in hell to increase exponentially.

Now, we look at the rate of change in volume in hell. Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in hell to stay the same, the ratio of the mass of souls and volume needs to stay constant.

There are two possible conditions. One, if hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter hell, then the temperature and pressure in hell will increase exponentially until all hell breaks loose.

Conversely, if hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until hell freezes over.

We can resolve this question with the 1990 postulation of Theresa LeClair, the girl who lived across the hall from me in first year residence. Since I have still not been successful in obtaining
sexual relations with her, condition two above (Hell freezing over) has not been met, and thus it can be concluded that condition one true, and hell is exothermic.