I used to have a different blog, and so that my hard work and efforts there won't be forgotten, I'm going to paste all the old entries in.  And the crap layout. Yeah...hopefully that's fixed soon. 

Oct 29, 2003

Oct 31, 2003

Right now I have Bohemian Rhapsody in my head, and I'm sitting here contemplating when I probably should be having fun because it is Halloween, and everyone is supposed to have fun on Halloween.   But Halloween has never been my favorite holiday.  It only has to do with getting wasted, or egging peoples houses or making yourself look an ass in a costume of a sorceress.  It's kind of a baseless holiday.  What does it celebrate?  People making mischief?  The mass purchase of fun size candy bars?  I mean, I know Christmas is super commercialized, but at least at the core it's about love, and there's always been something about Christmas, to me, that's magical, even after the truth about Santa Claus.  Just a hint of some invisible sparkle.  For Halloween, it just seems like it's all for nothing. 

And nothing that interesting happened today, except for guys I have one speck of interest  in always turn out to be the stereotype of male jerkiness...you know, girl obsessed, conceited, flatulent, etc.  These are things that make me think I'll never find anyone I can appreciate as I once did.  I used to just be able to look at him and just love that, even if nothing else were ever to come of it.  Now guys make me repugnant and skeptical.  I feel like a militant monk destined to live a solitary life and fighting the doubts that come with aloneness.  I don't really feel bad about being alone, just irritated for the time.  Irritated because I always find meaning in other people, and now I can't even find meaning in anyone.  Not even myself.  I mean I started this journal so that I would get into the practice of writing everyday again, but all I can do is complain and pretend to be philosophical.  There's so much more that could be said, but I know it's there, I just feel like I haven't reached it.


You are Form 9, Vampire: The Undying. "And The Vampire was all that remained on
the blood drowned creation. She attempted to
regrow life from the dead. But as she was
about to give the breath of life, she was
consumed in the flame of The Phoenix and the
cycle began again." Some examples of the Vampire Form are Hades (Greek)
and Isis (Egyptian). The Vampire is associated with the concept of
death, the number 9, and the element of fire. Her sign is the eclipsed moon. As a member of Form 9, you are a very realistic
individual. You may be a little idealistic,
but you are very grounded and down to earth.
You realize that not everything lasts, but you
savor every minute of the good times. While
you may sometimes find yourself lonely, you
have strong ties with people that will never be
broken. Vampires are the best friends to have
because they are sensible.

Which Mythological Form Are You?
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How appropriate a result for Halloween. A vampire.

January 26, 2004

Current mood: Blank/confused
Current music: May the Living Be Dead In Our Wake - Flogging Molly

The bare motivation is stirred, but can only feel fuzzy, numb unknowns lodged amidst useless thought and the stuff of me.  Unknowns I had been ignoring, because they are incomprehensible, but also because they are scary.  Really scary.  That old void is coming back, growing a little, and my bland acceptance, in a vain attempt to forego it, fogs it over, as there is nothing I can do, and it only makes me feel weak.  But the emptiness, even if a small hole, one that can easily be covered out of sight, is a deep one.

Why can't I lay beside someone I love?  Why can't I laugh for no reason?  Why can't I be sustained by a rich mine of feeling for someone else?  I have this love in my heart, waiting to be claimed.  Waiting for that one would lay beside me and not be ashamed.  Of anything.  And he would be my soul's pilot.

The image seems so miscontrued, so convoluted--so much fantasy in my idyllic head, that it will never materialize, and it is stupid to think of and even write about.  No one here can understand because I barely can.  People fall into traps, appearances having misled them, thinking they want one thing but they don't want it at all.  It will never get me anywhere, because all I do is wait, when I'm always calling for action.

I'm just lost.  I don't identify with anyone because I don't even identify with myself.   As stupidly typically depressing as it sounds, I can't really imagine anyone who could love me.  Even the people who have known me a long time seem to be able to take or leave me. 

This is all so pathetic.  I shouldn't need anyone to complete me.  I don't.  I am complete.  They're all fucked anyway, misled by others and themselves.  I swear no allegiances and put on no pretensions.  I'm jolly roger.  I just wish somone understood.  It's pathetic to be lonely and needy, and I recognize that.  It's also stupid to go on about it.  But I guess it's just me.  No one to reassure me, because I don't tell anyone, and so, it just resurfaces some times, giving me just enough time to think about it, and then be upset by its inability to be understood or grasped.  God.  I don't have anyone.  And it's no one's fault but my own!  I keep everyone at a safe distance, that's why.  I just want someone to know me for what I really am.  It's my fault and that's why I'm upset.  No one could eer love this fool.  Pining for understanding and love, but distancing herself away.  Hypocrite.  Torn.  You have no conviction and therefore you are no better than the personality-less lackeys you despise.  Fuck it. 

I just wish I could see that love was true. Any example.  Any.

Please. Please.  I believe it's there.  But I haven't felt it, haven't felt it ever, just expectant all along.  God dammit.  I lost my train of thought.

Sleep.

January 26, 2003

And here's a hodgepodge of quiz results because I felt like it.


This is my favorite Dave song, and I always thought it was somewhat of my theme song.  Because he says he will wait forever. 

What Dave Matthews Band Song Are You (Results Contain Pictures)?


brought to you by Quizilla

which groupmember are you?

January 27, 2004

Current mood: Determined
Current music: "Death Valley Queen" - Flogging Molly

I'm feeling a lot better today.  Like...more confident and fixed in myself than I've felt in who knows....ever I guess.  Which is weird for me, because I have like this aura of indifference/confidence around me that   Mostly because I had a good talk w/ my roommate, but also because I realized just how much I really don't need anyone.  I'm my own entity and I don't need anyone to make me feel great.  Because you have to just settled in yourself and be frank with everyone else.  Yeah, it hurts when people ignore you or people don't appreciate you, but fuck them.  They are the ones being asses, so you shouldn't feel bad about it.  And it's probably because they don't even realize what they are even doing, with themselves or with anyone else.  I used to let people walk over me, and well, if someone does it now, I'll take it for a while but then I just won't stand for it anymore, and I'll let you come to me. And even with this attitude, I still can dream about a time when I'll be in a really great relationship or something, but I'm not going to cry if it doesn't happen tomorrow.  I can keep going having not felt strongly about anyone in over 2 years, and I can keep not feeling much toward anyone, until maybe someone comes along, and then I'll just realize that they'll bring back those feelings in me.  But the point is--I won't just feel that way toward anyone that comes along--and be desperate.  But another thing is I can't doubt myself and close myself off for fear that I suck, and they'll dislike me.  

I think I never felt this way before because I always thought if I did it would be unjustified to feel so confident because I sucked, and also because it seemed egotistical.  But no.  You just have to be you, not overtly assish or something with supreme confidence, but just enough so its you and not some you that's barely there, cowering beneath everyone else for fear of inferiority.

I know I'll always have the memories of how I felt, and that will keep me going.  I can't let doubt take from me what it once did.  Making me lash out, saying things I still deeply, deeply regret, for fear of rejection.  But I can't let a stoicness take over, and make me unfeeling, blank.  Because feeling is all that I have and all that I am, and will ever be.  I think it'll all come back.  It just takes time, after being numbed by scars.  Scars that were slow to heal but toughening all the time.






You are Luigi. It's not that you're jealous of
Mario, it's just that you've been by his side
since the beginning, and you deserve more
recognition. Hang in there...I always liked ya
better than Mario, myself! (plz rate)

What Nintendo Charater are You? (pics)
brought to you by Quizilla


You are an Ink Pen. Pens are interesting people.
They are complex and have an individual and
unique thought process. They look beyond the
ordinary, and people know you for you
creativity. You probably like to write, or
express your creativness in things such as
drama, poetry, writng lyrics, or just
pondering. Pens are complex, smart people, who
have good potential.

What random object are you? Many detailed outcomes - find out about your personality!
brought to you by Quizilla

January 28, 2004

And I'm bored.  So....here I am.  Blogging.  Yesm.  Today was pretty neutral, but my mind was pretty spritely.  I felt like I should be in one of those happy scenes at the beginning of a musical where everyone that passes each other is all cheery and says "Hello!  Oh, hello to you!  How are you today?  Maurice, the baggettes!"  (okay so I took that last part from that kind of scene in "Beauty in the Beast."  It's sad that I can remember that one line.)  But then later I almost fell asleep in the library so it's funny how things like that work out.  It's so boring today that even the internet is boring.  I can't really bring myself to do anything productive so maybe I'll just play Tropico Pirate's Cove or something.  Because I haven't been getting my recommeneded dose of swashbuckling lately. 

Whoa. I just found out that Johnny Depp is going to play Willy Wonka in the new Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory movie.  God.  He's way too sexy to be a crazy oompa-loompa slave driver...or to wear purple suits.

No one is reading this.  Oooh and I forgot to mention...look at my slightly crappy new header!  It's great. 

Well.....I have nothing to reveal today except I miss my dog.  And I hate small talk.  God I was thinking about that in linguistics today.  These people...all they would talk about is "Oooooh giggle did you have a nice snow day?"  and "Wow, that's SUPER."  It sounded like Big Gay Al. 

Well I'm done now. 

February 4, 2004

The only thing that bugs me about blogdrive is its poor selection of fonts. This one is getting tiresome.

February 5, 2004

FUCKING HELL. I had a whole entry almost done and right as I wanted it and then THIS FUCKING STUPID FUCKER BLOG had to decide to go backwords and delete it, because I pressed the FUCKING backspace button. FUCK THIS.  I don't have time for this bullshit.  I'll have to just rewrite my thoughts later.

I HATE REWRITING MY THOUGHTS.  I HATE REDOING THINGS I JUST DID THE WAY I REALLY WANTED THEM TO BE DONE, JUST BECAUSE THEY WERE ERASED BY A FINICKY BLOGGER OR SOME OTHER TECHNILOGICAL DEVICE!  RAAAAA!

February 6, 2004

So much for telling people things in confidence.  More later...I'm too shaken to write this now....really...

February 9, 2004

Okay, instead of doing the rest of my english paper I decided I’d make up for all those short entries I did a couple days ago.  First, I’ll explain the one where I go into a rage of profanity because I was nearly done and then it deleted my fucking post.  I HATE redoing things.  But anyway, this one isn’t going to be as good probably but oh well…

That day Kate made me realize some things.  I was telling her about the night before when a random IM popped up out of nowhere and presented me with a decidedly mysterious question:

“Bagel or no bagel?”

“Bagel, definitely.” I replied immediately.  But then I thought…wait, what if this is some sort of psychological test?  Like, for instance, “Is the glass half empty or half full?”  Thinking there must have been some deeper meaning behind this question that came out of the blue, I asked Steph, the person who asked me this, “Why?”  She said simply, “I wondered whether to eat a bagel.”

When I told Kate about this, she looked at me as if I was a freak—this from a person who seems relatively used to freakish type people (*coughArchimedescough*).  I realized then maybe I do think too much.  Over-analytical mind….if I could really express my mind as is (which I don’t have the talent to do so) it would be something like James Joyce’s chaotic Portrait of the Artist as a young man.  Speaking of James Joyce…that guy was cool.  He wore an eyepatch, and not only that, he was Irish.  Damn.  Double cool.  And he was an awesome writer.  Triple thick cool.

Using her skills of psychoanalysis, Kate also pinpointed a new realization about me—I always worry people will think I’m stupid.  I think it’s because I come off as slow or off-kilter sometimes, but really it is mind twisting it around with doubt until it seems retarded.  I’m just worried people think I’m totally stupid and can be taken for granted (as I have been taken advantage of many times).  I am pretty gullible and instantly trusting, but I don’t see why that should be a bad thing.  When people trick me and things for shits and giggles, then I get pretty pissed off.  I consider myself pretty trustiworthy, so I think sometimes I forget not everyone is exactly as trustworthy and naïve as I am.  But I’m preoccupied with people seeing me as smart as I really think I am—I mean, I don’t think I’m sort of genius but my intelligence is one the few traits I value about myself, and if you don’t even see that…then man, I’m left with hardly much else.  I just desperately want people to see me for the real me.  As trite as that sounds.

Anyway, as for the other entry, me being shaken at the time, and too shaken to aptly explain…well…it wasn’t really as I thought.  But it’s just a clashing of two personalities.  Even if I do joke and make light of certain things, deep down I take most everything pretty seriously.  Especially my friendships.  I don’t want these petty relationships that are based on nothing because those do nothing for me.  I want people I can rely on and trust.  People I can depend upon.  Friends that aren’t just there to crack up when your nose explodes (ahh those embarrassing moments) or car hijinx ensue, but someone who will also be there when you’re crying in the backseat of a car or your mind is thinking way too much about the universe.  Is that so wrong?  Tell me.  I don’t get how people I know so long can’t trust me, when I pour everything out to everyone.  I know it gets me in trouble sometimes, but at least you know what I am, what I think.  I never mislead you about those things if you’re my true friend.  And I’ll help you with whatever I can.

Anyway. Now for the last installment of this entry.  The Grammies.  Yes, a bit of a rough transition there.  From sincerity to shaking your ass like a Polaroid picture.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Outkast.  But album of the year? Ehhh.  I saw Dave on the grammies, and I have to say I wanted to hear more from him.  The other people he was singing with totally covered up his voice in the harmony—but I thought it was funny that two of my fave singers, Sting and Dave, were practically lip to lip while singing.  Although I loved Dave and Sting (not too hot for Vince Gil though), I don’t think they all harmonized very well—each of their voices is way too distinctive for harmonizing.  Ah well.  Did I mention that Outkast’s final performance was extremely bizarre?  All in all, not the best of grammies.  I remember last year (I think it was last year) when Coldplay played “Politik.” Now THAT was some Grammies.  All I have to say is, next year, Dave better win something.  Because he is way more of an artist than Beyonce. 

February 16, 2004

And because I felt like it, more quizzes.  This day has not been my day, and I'm too exhausted to do anything else.  Oh yeah.  Some of these kinda suck. But oh well. 

Orlando Bloom of the tagboard notoriety, this one's for you.

Serious Orlando

What Orlando Bloom are You?
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Mmm.  Dark, curly hair...that one trait I truly can't resist.  And yet he is  so thoughtful...so pensive.   Mm. Contemplation.

You are the silver moonlight. You have a deep soul.
Many people call you mysterious but they just
don't know you. You are often alone but shine
hope on every one else. People look up to you
and call to you for advice. You have been
betrayed but you have forgaven them. Your faith
in life has made you an inspiration to us all.
You are intelligent, quiet, beautiful, and
kind. You will become very sucessful. Your
dream career could maybe deal with the joy of
music. Keep up the spirit and let your mind
drift to the shining hope of the silver moon.

What shade of moonlight are you? (Boys or Girls)
brought to you by Quizilla

You Believe! that there is more out of the box than
what the music-money hungry brainwashers have
to offer! Thank you for your vote it has
helped me believe that their are still those of
you who know that the music industry sucks (not
all the way......but most of it) and you're
constantly hoping for better music to come
along.

MUSIC: Has MTV/Music Industry Brainwashed You Or Do You Know What REAL Music Is?


brought to you by Quizilla
Your wings are BROKEN and tattered. You are
an angelic spirit who has fallen from grace for
one reason or another - possibly, you made one
tragic mistake that cost you everything. Or
maybe you were blamed for a crime you didn't
commit. In any case, you are faithless and
joyless. You find no happiness, love, or
acceptance in your love or in yourself. Most
days are a burden and you wonder when the
hurting will end. Sweet, beautiful and
sorrowful, you paint a tragic and touching
picture. You are the one that few understand.
Those that do know you are likely to love you
deeply and wish that they could do something to
ease your pain. You are constantly living in
memories of better times and a better world.
You are hard on yourself and self-critical or
self-loathing. Feeling rejected and unloved,
you are sensitive, caring, deep, and despite
your tainted nature, your soul is
breathtakingly beautiful.

*~*~*Claim Your Wings - Pics and Long Answers*~*~*
brought to you by Quizilla

February 24, 2004

Current mood: Piqued (is that a word? I've forgotten.)
Current music: No woman no cry - Bob Marley

Curses!  How I tire of using the same font.  Man.  My tagboard was shamelessly raped.  In the words of Kate, it went apeshit.

Well today I managed to get infuriated again.  Or at the very least, repulsed.  Watching this documentary about a syphilis outbreak in the white, middle class town of Conyers, Georgia, hearkened back memories of the days of yore in my own white, middle class, southern town and high school, Leesville (or shall we say, Sleazeville? nyuk nyuk nyuk).

I didn't actually know before whether it was just my misconception about teenage culture (if you can even call it that) that kids were dumb and fake, but in seeing it documented and witnessing a first hand testimonial of a whore, it really solidified my theory for me--most teenagers really are dumb and fake.  These kids, according to Hoochie #1 (let's just call her Tiffany because if that's not a name for a whore then I don't know what is) were just hanging out.  There was nothing to do there, and the majority of the town consisted of strips of fast food restaurants, malls, and gas stations.  (Sound familiar?....Raleigh....cough)  Kids just hung out in parking lots, looking for something, anything to do.

"But people would look at us," Tiffany said, seeming rather pleased with herself for getting any sort of attention.  "They were always looking.  Thinking whatever about us."  Thinking they were some rebellious young hooligans, she meant.  But she says that as if...she didn't want them to think that.  Now you may be thinking, "Those asses!  Passing judgement on those kids!  They just wanna live and do whatever, be free, stick it to the man and school!  Don't label them as fake or dumbfuckers (a term I hardly hesitate to apply nowadays) just because of that!"  But you'll see why I'm one of those people looking on them in disgust or, with equally bored motives, yelling, "Whoa, I wish I was that cool!" from my car as I drive by.

Tiffany said, "Well, we wanted to give them something to look at.  We liked the stares.  We just wanted to be different.  Just cuz we're different they were looking.  So they guys started wearing real baggy clothes and the girls wore real dark lipstick and eyeliner.  We just wanted to be different."

Well, FUCKING CHRIST.  THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING!
Because people are staring at you, you must be different!  They're staring because you're such a rebellious young whippersnapper and different from them, those bastards!  You and your friends, abandoning all cares about what other people think, flouting the rules of society and adults, hanging out in parking lots dressed like the dark punktress and smoking, you're just being different, what's wrong with that?   
You're being "different" just like every other fucking teenager in middle class fucking America. 

Doing whatever you want just because you're the wisened age of 18 and can just like every other fucking teenager in middle fucking class America.

You really stuck it to the man! I admire your unique style, your way of grabbing the man by the balls and forcing him to pay attention to you by such forceful means as dying your hair black, wearing dark makeup and spike bracelets.  You really make him realize your undeniable freedoms to express your uniqueness and adult independence as a teenager, having realized for the first time who you really are (or in my case, realizing who everyone else ISN'T).

News flash: No one cares if you smoke.  If you do it to be cool then you deserve to get lung cancer.  Also if you have sex to be cool or because you're a 16, 12, 18 whatever age it is that you decide you are independent, then you deserve an epidemic of syphilis to plague your rotting sinkhole of a town!

Tiffany went on with her rousing tale of how teenagers achieve freedom from the corporate machine and adults' rules.  "There was a lot of sex in those days," Tiffany said, smoking through yellow teeth and recalling memories like the wisened sage of an 18 year old that she was, as if events seemed to have happened years and years ago.  "A lot of sex.  Around 16.."

We all know this is because having sex is what makes you an adult.  Actually, maybe, just maybe, you're an adult when you are NOT thinking like that.  Maybe...you might even be  an adult when you're smart enough to know that free and independent adults like yourselves don't just do everything because they can and then end up with syphilis (unless they're fucking dumbasses like you seem to be, TIFFANY).

Tiffany commented upon the syphilis outbreak with fond memories of ignorant bliss. "People just thought it was funny.  Like 'ooh, you've got syphilis, haha.'  It was like cooties or something.  It wasn't that big a deal."  A nurse having witnessed these manifestations of human intelligence in the act, reported the kids having "high fived each other and laughing."

Still think most teenagers aren't fake and dumb?

Tiffany reported one girl at a party that she went to...we'll call her Brittany, because it is remarkably similar to Tiffany in a whorish way.  "Brittany came to the party bragging that she was going to have sex with practically every guy there.  So first she went in the back with her boyfriend and had sex with him.  But then all the guys line up at the door...like every single guy in there...the line goes all the way from the back to the front...and afterward like I guess everyone thought she was cool, or the guys thought she was cool.  But when she came out she had blood on her and like cum in her hair."

I wish I was that cool.  Seriously.  Cum in my hair?  Damn fucking cool.

The interviewer asked to one girl who hung at those types of parties, where people did such bullshit, "Why didn't you just leave?"
The answer: "Cuz then I'd be alone."

Oh my god. That is the worst answer ever.  No, you wouldn't be alone.  There are at least a few teenagers who aren't totally absorbed in coolness and independence that could actually become friends with and not "friends" aka "drinking and/or smoking buddies or rebels" with.  And if you were alone, at least you were the one with some fucking brains. I'm sure you'd find some friends who weren't totally brainless and shallow and actually would be your friend and not just someone to be seen with.  One girl admitted to being friends with certain people to be seen with them.  See?  Thought you had me there, thinking that people didn't actually do that.  WELL THEY DO.  AND THEY'RE STUPID.

People do this stuff because "they are old enough to do what they want when they want." That's so bullshit.  People who are old enough to do what they want doesn't mean those poeople do it every second they can to show off or just because they can do it.  People who are actually independent, actually different, and actually not children anymore, DON'T do that.  Yes, adults do have sex, yes, drink yes, and maybe even smoke, yes...but they don't do it just to do it because they are old enough and can.  They can control themselves--that's what independent means--self-sustainment and control over your life, to care for yourself, but also to control yourself.  And adults don't do it all the time, going bat shit crazy because they have newfound freedom. They do it to sometimes and don't base entire relationships around it or because it is them being different.  And yeah, I'm aware some adults do indulge, but no REAL, INDEPENDENTLY THINKING adult would do those things.  If an adult does those things, they are a dumbfucker, probably having a midlife crisis or a general lack of security.  People who think they are mature are envisioning freedom, not just physically aged but still immature like one of those creepy old sex fiend adults, or alcoholic adults, right? Because actually, freedom doesnt mean doing that shit all the time, it doesn't mean just being older, freedom means choosing to do it sometimes, and not others, and using judgment too gained from being older, but not always.  Mostly gained from getting smarter.  Sex fiends, addicts and alcoholics aren't free, and neither are people that aren't physically addicted, but just totally absorbed in social expectations to do these things.  You're not free at all...or mature at all...or different at all from other kids...you're not anything.  You're just a regular old teenager.

Now I'm not saying you shouldn't hang out, that you should never drink or smoke (although cigarette smoking is pretty fucking stupid).  I'm not even saying you shouldn't have premarital sex.  If the drinking or smoking is with friends you actually are friends with, if you're doing it sometimes, but not all the time, and by sometimes I mean way less than often or for no reason at all, then yeah it's okay, it has become the focus or show of your life.  If you have sex because you really love the person, and because you've known them for a while, and you know that syphilis is not cooties, then yeah, go ahead, it will be great.  I mean, even I have hung out in parking lots.  Just not all the time.  And not to be a rebel.  Just be yourself kids.  That's all.  And if being yourself is trying to be cool and show off, constantly trying to fit in, then man. I guess you're screwed and I'm going to preemptively call you a dumbass.

Okay I'm done preaching for now, but yeah.   I may have these random outbursts sometimes.  But they are divinely inspired.  Okay yeah maybe not, but would you have believed me if I'd said they were?

February 25, 2004

You know what I really love?  How like 11 o' clock in the morning is considered the wee hours of the morning in college time.  Actually that was sarcasm, if you haven't picked that up.  Sometimes I miss sarcasm on the internet, because you can't hear the person's actual tone.

You know what else I love?  A bus that drives by you, not picking you up, when it's not even full.  Because of that I missed class.  I ran after it up the hill but that was not good.  NOT GOOD.  It was so cold it made my throat hurt...yeah...um.  I hate buses.  Forlornly I went back to my dorm and I told Andrew all about it and he said about the bus driver, "He probably eats babies."   That's probably true.

February 27, 2004

I am so mad right now that even if it was quiet I doubt that could sleep.  I'm that infuriated.  There is just something extremely rude about knowing someone else has to get up early in the morning and yet still think it's fine to invite some over at two in the morning.  And then have the audicity to be loud.  And then make up excuses saying they'll probably be a delay tomorrow anyhow.  And then have the even more extreme audacity to let your boyfriend snore uncontrollably in your bed.  I'm so angry I could seriously shoot somone in the head if I was one of those lucky Americans with a gun.  I keep considering hurling objects over there to see if they'd bounce off someone's head, but unfortunately I have a conscience.  Here's how I plan on exacting revenge--I plan on downloading Bon Jovi and playing it really loud early in the morning when I have to get up.  Then someone will also get an earful.  I hate college. And I hate, I hate, I hate people who keep me awake!!!!!!!!!

March 2, 2004

Here I am immersed in a litany of sounds--over yonder preacher Gary rants and raves while Bon Jovi's voice raises "You Give Love a Bad Name" to the heavens--two great voices, truly.  I find this ironic, actually.  Because just like the object of Jovi's fancy gave love such a bad name, Gary, too gives Christianity and God a bad name.  Gary just admitted he used to be a Hell's Angel, which I find disturbing.  But his voice drifts away with the wind, which blows cool and misty through my hair; it reminds me of the beach's windspray, sweeping up from the ocean.  But here the air is just tinged with moisture, and the clouds hang overhead in the sky.  The sky like the sea…both seem so empty but much more free and without clamoring voices. 

But there are distractions from the expansive blank stare of the sky and the retreating wind.  As some people would say, the "secular" things.  Things are too secular these days, wise sages would scold. Gary says drugs are bad--it may be one of the few points I agree with him on.  The big guy next to me has brought his puppy.  Yes!  It's such an awesome puppy.  But a pit bull at that.  Probably would be euthanized in many places.

"As soon as I come out here of course it starts to rain," the big guy says, as drops fall on my notebook in which I write.  I, too, decide to take refuge in somewhere--woe.  It is out of the range of Gary's shouts!  I cannot be enlightened! 

I got a seat at Top of Lenoir at a window so I can still see Gary flailing about, at least.  Looking at him thrashing with energy, I think about Kate and I's dire need to inquire about Gary's tendency for name-calling.  I remember last time Gary was here.  One listener, with a look of complete astonishment (and a gasp as if she didn't know Gary was actually crazy), pointed out, "It's not in the spirit of Christ to make fun of people!"  That was after Gary had told this one guy, who had taken off his shirt in defiance, that he looked like a naked bird, and who was he trying to attract anyway, all those homos?  Exactly, Gary.  Exactly.  I can't wait to see what this thundering spout of madness has in store for us today.  If only I wasn't so frightened of him, maybe Kate and I could work up the nerve to ask why he called Archimedes a whoremonger, bringing dishonor upon her house. 

Dammit, thanks to those people trying to get my attention with upbeat and hip music earlier, Bon Jovi is stuck in my head.  "Christ on a bicycle!" as Kate would say.

As if I should pretend to be a conneasiour (yeah I spelled that wrong) of good music.  Yesterday I went to the Clay Aiken concert, for crying out loud.  I guess I truly am the queen of hypocrites.  No, no, I went because Clay grew up in my neighborhood, and you have to give the kid some credit for that voice and his saintly ways.  Really.  I have some sort of sentimental interest in him.  This gangly, awkward, red-headed kid from my marijuana-saturated neighborhood somehow managed to become famous, and to touch peoples' lives.  Clay makes me believe, in a touching but very corny way (similar to the feeling you get watching a lifetime original movie), that anyone can become important or noteable, even a dorky kid from the backwater town of Raleigh, North Cackalacki.  (Even if Raleigh isn't literally some sort of fishing hole surrounded by shanties, it is a cultural sinkhole of sorts.)  Clay managed to climb his way out of that mudpond and rise above the white, middle class, trendy, blank mediocrity.  Maybe I can too.  Of course not in the same way as Clay.  Now if I was invisible....

Look at me rambling about Clay as if he were some sort of moral beacon!  I should know better, "do Gary's words mean nothing to you?" my mind asks itself incredulously.  There he is, ranting his heart out down there and you ignore him, you chide him, you scorn his warning against homosexuals!  Those, of course, being the greatest sinners of all, which takes up much of Gary's speaking time (that and whoremongers).  This brings me to my next topic, and what a hot topic it is..... *see next, above entry for the hottest topic this side of the Mississippi*

March 4, 2004

That gay marriage post I had planned...yeah. It didn't quite work out.

But know this.  I heart gay people.

Just bored.  So why not take quizzes? Eh?

You are Victoria of England. You are not afraid of
hard work but still have time for the arts.
You are very open with your emotions but if you
get hurt once you find it hard to get back up
again. You bring peace, ease and prosperity to
the world. As is said of Queen Victoria by
A.J. Balfour, 'She passed away, I believe,
without an enemy in the world, for those who
love not England love her'. Please rate my
quiz.
What famous female ruler are you? (written for the girls)
brought to you by Quizilla


You are from the Anglo-Saxon time period. It was a
very hard time for the people - sickness,
death, barely anyone being able to read. But
the people learned to have a stoic acceptance
to these things. Truly, this is the era where
the stuff of legends are made - the most famous
one being Beowulf. You have a strong sense of
right and wrong. You never give up. Life is
sometimes hard but you learn to look on the
bright side of things. You have a strong
beleif in things that explain; religon, magic
swords, omens, etc. Sometimes, though, you
have a tendecy to make things look bigger,
better, or worse than they are.
Which Era do you belong to?
brought to you by Quizilla


Two represents interaction, two-way communication
(as opposed to one-way) cooperation, and
balance. You are imaginative, creative, and
sweet natured. To save me from having to put
each of these in a sentence each, the following
describe you; peace, harmony, commitment,
loyalty and fairness. But there are two sides
to the coin. Twos also introduce the idea of
conflict, opposing forces, and the contrasting
sides of things; night and day, good and evil,
so on and so forth. You can be withdrawn,
moody, self-consious, and indecisive. Please
rate my quiz.
What does your name and arithmacy say about you? (some simple knowledge of adding is required on your part)
brought to you by Quizilla


Your a Unicorn! Unicorns are pure, innocent,
magestic creatures that have a spiraling white
horn growing out of their forehead, and a white
graceful, horses body. Unicorns represent the
sign of purity, innocence, freindship, healing,
rejeventation, and truth. Your horn is rare
prized, but you tend to be naive, lured by a
childs cry. Unicorns are reare, beautiful ans
shy mythical creatures, and you are lucky to be
one.
What Mythical Beast are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


Rain: You are the sound of rain. You have two
important sides. There is your strong, powerful
side and your calm, gentle side. Both are very
important. Rain also reflects a bit of darkness
in your personality. It isn't bad, just shows
that along with the good, you also can see bad,
which can come in handy. (please rate my quiz)
What Sound Are You?(now w/ pics)
brought to you by Quizilla

March 21, 2004

All right so I feel the need to just write in here, even if nobody sees it.  But in this case, that probably is a good thing.

I just feel really bad right now.  And the worst part is, it’s all just me.  It’s not shit happening around me that I can lament…“Why is this happening to me?”  It is me.  Inherently me.  It seems like for a couple days all I've wanted to do is just sit around or sleep.  I don’t want to do anything.  I know I’m unhealthy but I feel like there’s nothing I can do about it. Same thing with my problems.  I know there’s something wrong in the way I deal with things, but it’s like that’s just my reactions.  That’s just how I am.  I know that’s not an excuse, as if to say the way I naturally am justifies anything.  But I don’t know what to do.  I feel like no one cares about me anyhow.  It’s always me who ends up knocked down, expected to come crawling back, and admit fault.  But there is fault within me; I don’t know what it is.  I feel like people know it but they just smile and pretend it isn’t there.  That’s what people always do; when something uncomfortable or troubling wafts into conversation or thought they avert their attention to something else.  Like me, they think, “There’s nothing I can do about that.”  And they move on.  But I don’t.  I keep wondering about that troublesome thought.  People shouldn’t sideline things; they should meet them head on…especially the worst things in the world.  If they go ignored then they just stay the same.  I guess that is how my crap is.  I have to figure it out on my own.  No one else cares about them except me; I shouldn’t even expect them to, because I hardly grasp why I feel certain ways sometimes. 

I mean, I just think about what’s gone on for years now.  Nothing lasts.  People come and fade away quickly, on average sticking around for about a year.  I feel so cynical about it all.  I have the horrible knack of zeroing in on people’s faults.  Including my own.  And this view overrides all others, and then people fall away from my piercing vision and my harsh observations.  I never thought it could be me until now.  Well, actually, I thought it was just a parting of two ways—no one person totally at fault.  But I should have known.  Especially when I think about one person in particular.  I don’t want to say who, because it’s always brought me hell to talk about it on something like this.  But when I lost him as a friend it was a gut-wrenching blow.  Not even because it was him.  Because I knew…it was all my fault.  I completely ruined my own highest hopes.  It wasn’t even him.  It was me.  Because for a moment, even in a person who, for some part of my life, was not only someone I saw as good, but as the most wondrous good I had ever seen (and still have ever seen)…even in that person I managed to focus on their fault, and lash out at it.  I felt vulnerable to its power over me.  And doubted that that kind of goodness could even purely happen for me.  That doubt and that unflinching eye lost sight of the best thing it had ever laid sight upon.  I still don’t forgive myself for that.  And now, when others remind me about how my view is what ruins everything for me, that old cut stings even worse, because it’s stripping away even the solace that had covered it over from my mind’s eye. That solace that everyone always told me; that it wasn’t my fault at all.  It was.  And it still is.  My fault; the one fault my view was always blind to.

That fault is the one fault I can do nothing about.  I tried to fight against doubt ever since I let it ruin my hopes a couple years ago.  I even have one steady belief to believe in, and it’s not even a hope for myself, but for others.  But I think I get this way…cynical or bitter, I mean, when I feel like no one cares.  Not even just about my thoughts, but about me in general.  I always feel like I have to submit and go along with everyone else; that is why I get so indignant, maybe even accusing of others.  I always try to keep the peace.  But when something is bothering me for so long that finally it just comes out, then why is it if I suddenly caused a war?  Wasn’t I the one quietly letting it boil within, enduring my suspicions of whether it even mattered if I was there with someone or not? I just wanted to feel like what I felt mattered, even if no one understood what it was.  That it mattered if someone didn’t feel right, even if they didn’t tell you outright.  Even if it was uncomfortable to ask about.  Even if it was uncomfortable for the person to tell you.  I guess I expect people to keep asking me what is wrong, even if I say, “Nothing,” because they can tell it is a lie.  I guess that may be deluded, but if something troubles me, it usually is just hard to get out.  That, and, I think no one wants to know or hear about it. It seems as if it is suddenly bad if I just want to feel like I can talk to someone about it, and not pretend everything is giggles and shopping trips and ‘normal teenage stuff’ that should fully occupy my mind. 

But then I guess it just goes back to me being negative.  Well, what can I tell you?  I am negative.  But I cannot pretend to be happy when I am not.  I cannot pretend so that you will feel better, and then want to talk to me, instead of leave me alone.  There are things I can try.  I can try to not be so doubtful.  I can try not to be so critical.  But I cannot stop reactions that come without me thinking about it.  I cannot not be me.  That is what it all comes down to.  I cannot not be me.  Yet it is all me.  So it is not solvable at all.

And that’s why I just don’t want to do anything.

I am not really afraid if people read this; because it is just honesty.  But truly, I doubt anyone has.  Probably for the better, as it would probably just draw back to the same accusation.  That it’s just me doing it to myself.  But you answer me then.  What should I do?

March 31, 2004

I figure I should write something.  I feel crappy today.  My throat hurts and I feel totally unmotivated to do anything.  I feel hopeless with almost all the people I knew for a long time.  I want to just be a loner.  I know what everyone will say--'you're being negative.' So for that I just want to be alone.   Great.  A thunderstorm outside.  Just what I wanted.

I saw this survey on this other blog and decided to do it because it is something to fill out, and I like filling things out. 

Last kiss: in my dreams
Last good cry: I can't remember, as I don't have privacy anymore in which to do it.  Probably three weeks ago.
Last library book checked out: Pirates and Privateers of the Caribbean.
Last movie seen: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  Very interesting but it made me motion-sick.
Last book read: The Secular Revolution....Smithy is my idol.
Last cuss word uttered: I don't remember; I kind of say them nonchalantly.  Probably shit.
Last beverage drank: Milk
Last food consumed: Taco salad
Last crush: Don't give me this bullshit.  I haven't had a crush in forever.
Last phone call: from Kate, asking to go eat.
Last tv show watched: Punk'd with Ashton Kutcher.  I hate Ashton Kutcher.  He's so annoying.  On the other hand, I got to make fun of Nick Carter becoming ghetto fabulous.
Last time showered: Yesterday night...I probably should go that after this.
Last shoes worn: my new balance sneakers.
Last cd played: I have no idea; i haven't been listening to cds, just mp3s.
Last item bought: chicken nuggets from Chik-Fil-A, but if you don't count that...then...probably toilet paper.
Last annoyance: my throat feeling really dry and swollen.
Last disappointment: when I was thinking about how hopeless it is with people that I used to have such great times with
Last soda drank: none, because I detest soda.
Last thing written: notes in Linguistics class.  Then this.
Last key used: s
Last word spoken: Bye. 
Last sleep: last night from 2-10
Last im: Stephanie
Last weird encounter: when I was thinking about Carrie and Scott and then all the sudden Scott was next to me in his car.  And also more recently, when I was inside Carroll auditorium taking my Sociology exam, where there are no windows, how I had weird sensations of being wet on my arm, and then thinking, "I wonder if it is raining outside?", and then discovering when I was done that it had rained.
Last ice cream eaten: Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough 
Last time amused: at Kate thinking she would be the hated child again once Archimedes moved out, and at her Chase comment card, which rebuked the Chase staff for not playing the Mortal Kombat theme song.  It went something like this, "If I were Scorpion I would say 'Get over here! And play the Mortal Kombat theme song!' Heed my plea!"  This is our 3rd plea after all.
Last time in love: too long
Last time hugged: probably like a week ago, I hardly get much physical contact
Last time resentful: Today
Last lipstick used: I don't use lipstick, only lipgloss, so my vanilla kind probably.
Last bra worn: my boring tan one that is good for wearing under white shirts.
Last shirt worn: I'm wearing my UNC shirt now, but yesterday I wore my Bandit shirt.
Last time dancing: Whoa, probably when I did Dance Dance Revolution a loooong time ago.
Last poster looked at: Ashley's hot Legolas poster.

1 MINUTE AGO: I got back from eating at Chase.
1 HOUR AGO: I sat around looking at forums and watching Punk'd, listening to Andrew and Ashley discuss their 6-month-aversary
1 DAY AGO: I crammed and stressed over my Sociology exam and read Yeats's "The Lake Isle of Innisfree" in English class
1 WEEK AGO: I eagerly awaited Friday, where I could go to the North Mississippi Allstars concert at the Cat's Cradle.
1 YEAR AGO: Probably doing something with Carrie and Scott
I HURT: a lot of the time.  At least in the way that I feel like no one gives a shit.
I LOVE: writing and sincerity, Dave Matthews
I HATE: Bush, me feeling tired all the time now, thunderstorms, not being able to drive around, feeling alone, and schoolwork
I FEAR: that I'll die alone, and also, tornadoes.
I HOPE: things will work out, especially for a certain two people.
I FEEL: sick.  My throat hurts.
I HIDE: my inner feelings most of the time.
I DRIVE: around aimlessly when I get the chance.
I MISS: feeling like I had somebody.
I LEARNED: that I doubt too much, I'm negative, and there's nothing I can do about it.
I NEED: somebody, or maybe just something to focus on.
I THINK: way too much.

Current clothes: UNC shirt, billabong hoodie, black corduroys, and socks with puppies on them.
Current mood: sick and forlorn
Current music: nothing
Current taste: nothing, although i had some cookies
Current hair: half-pony tail, and in need of washing...which I'm about to go do.
Current annoyance: My throat still hurts
Current smell: nothing
Current thing I should be doing:  Reading for English and writing a reaction paper.  And showering. 
Current desktop picture:  John Kerry and John Lennon together.  Man John Lennon was great.
Current refreshment: water
Current worry: That I won't be able to sleep tonight

1. What do you most like about your body?: My eyes and my hair
2. And least?: my fat ass. Which I plan on getting rid of this summer.
3. How many fillings do you have?: none 
4. Do you think you're good looking?: Not really, I think I could be but let's just say if I got a grade for looks, it would be "Needs Improvement."
5. Do other people often tell you that you're good looking? Some people comment on my hair but mostly no. 
6. Do you look like any celebrities?: Hell no. 

April 1, 2004

Why is English so early?  And why is Achey-Breaky Heart stuck in my head?

This is pointless. Okay, so just so it isn't I'll leave a tidbit of wisdom--"Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned/ By those that are not entirely beautiful."

May 1, 2004

In honor of the total culmination of bullshit, I decided to write two poems.  Usually when I get upset, I have to write to get it out.  But this bullshit totally blew my mind.  Therefore these poems completely suck (and no that's not fishing for compliments) as I had nothing in my mind left from which to draw from.

November 13, 2004

All right.  So that last entry was kind of disturbing.  I had a lot on my plate then, okay?

I'm feeling much better now. :)

Anyway.  So today. Yeah, not much has happened yet.  I woke up.  Posted all my shitty old entries in my new blog, which has a crappy layout for now.  Last night was all right.  It rained.  I love when it rains, especially when it rains really hard.  Well, I guess I wouldn't be saying that if I hadn't had an umbrella.  But it was beautiful.  The rivulets running down the sparkling asphalt.  The sky just dazzling with drops.  Oh man. I'm poetic.

Then we went to Bandido's which was pretty awesome.  It tastes so good.  Taco-flavored kisses for my Beeeeennn! I am Jennifer Lopez!

Oh yeah, I should write about how the other day, I was convicted of internet piracy.  Yeah, it was a huge, rolling pile of bullshit.  On the one hand, I achieved my dream of becoming a pirate, but on the other...they disconnected my internet.  Which would have utterly, utterly sucked if I hadn't gotten it reconnected, because I have to submit my logic homework via internet through this software on my computer, and therefore, only MY computer with that software can do it, and I could not possibly do it on anyone else's computer.  But I got it taken care of. 

The letter threatened that I needed a lawyer but I told them, in my head, to go fuck themselves. Yesterday I set up a meeting with the postmaster at IT Response center.  I arrived there, blue hooded, and annoyed.   I really didn't care how mean he was to me because I thought this was bullshit.  Almost everyone I know downloads music, so why is it I that gets caught and threatened?  I don't even download that often; for example, my roomie last year downloaded movies, every episode of her favorite tv show, and hundreds of songs and I downloaded, in comparison, less than 25 songs.  I arrive to be confronted with a very deep-voiced man with cold blue eyes.  He asks, "Have you ever taken a lie detector test before?" Yeah, that's bullshit, I thought.  I said, "No." Then he started joking some more about shooting electricity through my chair.  See, not even the guy who apprehends me takes the charge seriously.  Basically, we went in there and they told me some Phish song I downloaded was infringing on copyright laws.  Man, I thought to myself. I got caught for Phish? I really look like the typical slacker college student now.  The funny thing is, I don't even really like Phish that much.  I just downloaded it to hear some of it.  And I got caught.  Thanks Phish.  I hate you now. 

Anyway, so I had to take Kazaa off my computer and I can never download again.  At least I didn't have to write an idiotic essay about why stealing from corporations is wrong.  I hate the man.

So my digital camera is really fun.  I'm going to show you some pictures.

Current status:

Procrastination at its finest.

To help you get a feel for my surroundings and such, as if you care, I'm going to post pictures.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v177/kelswhoelse/088bb86f.gif <---My dorm.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v177/kelswhoelse/oldwellback.gif <--Symbol of my college, the old well.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v177/kelswhoelse/nearcarroll.gif <---on campus.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v177/kelswhoelse/fountainresize.gif <---a decorative fountain.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v177/kelswhoelse/car.jpg <--the wheels.  Her name is Abby. Or the DMoBile.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v177/kelswhoelse/d3afcf10.gif <---Autumn leaf.

The doggy! He is old, so don't make fun of him. His name is Sanford and he is the best.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v177/kelswhoelse/sanfordsit.jpg <--another of the dog. I miss the dog.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v177/kelswhoelse/backyard.jpg <---from my backyard at home.

Now wasn't that fun? Funner than doing logic homework, anyway. :-D

I'm just going to do this entry now.  I just woke up from last night.  There were a couple of weird things.

First weird thing. I had a really weird dream.  I used to have 2 parakeets, and I dreamed that I was at home, and we still had them.  But we had to go on vacation, so we let my brother's friend take them to his house to babysit them.  He was a very happy little boy and I asked him several times to make sure he took good care of them, and he just smiled and nodded, lugging the big bird cage out of our door. I guess some time later, we came back from our trip, and my mom was sitting, with the cage on the table near her.  There was only one bird in the cage, my yellow one.  I said, "What happened?" She seemed hesitant....but then she finally told me. My brother's friend had killed one of the birds.  I was stunned. I thought that he had just forgotten to feed them...but I asked, "How?"  Well. She told me that he had brutally killed the bird.  He had grabbed it and torn its head off.

Don't laugh!  It's sick! I had those birds since I was like 10 years old! Needless to say, I flew into a rage. I demanded to know why he had done it, and how he was going to be punished.  My mom said she would "talk" to him.  But I was too angry for words.  Even half-asleep I could feel my rage building from my dream.  I was tossing and turning angrily in my sheets.  In my dream I was yelling at the top of my lung.  She had to do something, and "you can't just let him get away with this!"  My mom was rather meek but trying to play both sides, saying, "Well, he's not my kid, and I can't really do anything about it," but on the other hand, "He is just sadistic...I don't know why...yes, it was horrible..."   I totally flew off the handle.  I couldn't take someone cruelly hurting an animal that way, especially one I had for so long, and especially one locked in a cage so it couldn't escape.  And especially one we had entrusted to someone to take care of!

Finally, the kid showed up at our house  He acted pretty flippant about everything, but I was boiling, and if I had been a cartoon character, steam would have been coming out of my ears.  I don't think I've ever been this mad in real life.  My mom asked him why he did it, and he was just like, "They were boring," and shrugged it off.  My brother didn't seem to want to stick up for me against his friend, acting as if it wasn't that big of a deal.  I was getting more pissed every millisecond...just looking at the half empty cage, and the one bird, without its companion.  This was supposedly the kid's punishment, and nothing was happening except a quiet talk. No.  I don't play like that.  I stormed over to the kid and started screaming in his face.  "You little fucker!  I'm going to kick your fucking ass!  No one treats animals that way!  You stupid fucker, I don't care if you don't have a fucking attention span!"  Every word I spat in his face, and the kid just smirked back.  Ohhhhh no.  I was fucking infuriated by now.  My mom was trying to calm me down but there was no turning back.  I grabbed the kid by the neck and shoulders and started shaking him violently.  "You fucker!! Don't fucking laugh at this!  You smug little asshole!  You don't fucking kill things like that!  I could fucking kill you right now!  You hurt it and I'm gonna fucking hurt you!  You think you could get away with this, that I wasn't gonna touch you cuz I'm not your stupid mom telling you to go have a timeout!  You little fucker!  I'm only doing what you did to it!  I'm only doing what you did!  Not funny now huh?  Mother fucker!!"  I was screaming and yelling in his face and almost choking the stupid kid.  Keep in mind, this kid is only 13 years old, so I dwarfed him in size.  He finally started to get a scared look on his face and then my mom pulled me away.  I was heaving with rage, especially since I knew that no one else was doing anything about it.

Basically, I got so worked up by that image in my dream that I woke myself up.  I was shaking when I woke up.  Good thing it was only a dream.  I have never been that angry in real life.  But I know I could if that happened.

Anyway.  Yeah, so I basically beat up my brother's friend in my dream.  Smug little shit. 

Okay, so second weird thing.  Last night I got this random call from Carrie and I hadn't seen her in the longest time.  I was with Melissa, and we were going to hang out but then Carrie begged me to go out with her to see Scott at the movies.  At first I was wondering if I was just 'the backup plan' since she couldn't find anyone else.  But then I didn't care cuz I hadn't seen her such a long time.  So she picked us up and we went to Brier Creek to see Bridget Jones' Diary 2: The Edge of Reason.  When we got there, the theater was really crowded.  Of course she played her stupid games with Scott like she didn't know him even though he was like 5 feet away.  The usual.  There seemed to be this really annoying emo boy amongst the sweepers that was trying to listen into our conversation.  Stupid emo kids.  Scott was with this really nerdy guy with huge glasses.  It was kind of funny.  Anyway, of course Carrie goes to get a drink of water, and as soon as she does, Scott comes over to me and goes "What up" in my face.  I said "hello" rather amusedly.  These two are so fucking weird.  It would take too long to detail their entire chronicles, but they were once friends and now won't even really talk to each other.  This whole bullshit with them has been going on for like 4 years.  My mission:  to make them friends.  Scott is a really nice kid and I feel bad for him.  Anyway back to the story.  Of course Carrie left as soon as he was going to go near us.  But that's pretty much it with Scott.  I just wished we had been able to talk more.  I really want him to come hang out with us and get drunk someday.  He is a sweet kid and he and Carrie are destined.  Haha.

Anyways, so I'll just say that Bridget Jones 2 got really bad reviews, but I don't really know why.  It was pretty good. Actually, it was awesome. Not to give anything way, but...hell, I'm going to give something away.  Picture this.  Colin Firth and Hugh Grant.  Fighting.  Ripping each other's clothes off.  Hell yeah.  Okay, as soon as I saw Colin dashing after Hugh, I was like, Oh my god. There is only one way this can get better....

And then...there was a fountain.  With water. And it officially became one of the best movies I've ever seen.  I was dying.  "Throw him in in the fountain!" I urged.  Then Colin threw Hugh into the fountain so that they got ALL WET.  The water drenching their hot bodies.  Oooooh.  It was awesome.  They were wrestling, wet, in a fountain.  Hot.  I felt like a 15 year old boy watching Baywatch.  It was awesome. 

Anyway that was the best part of the movie.  Actually the whole thing was pretty funny. 

So afterward, I hung out with Carrie and Melissa for a long time.  We got hungry at around 1:30 AM so we decided to go down to Hector's, which is open really late.  We got to the bus stop and there was this weird guy with a Spanish or Italian accent, or something.  He was pretty hot, actually.  He had that nice dimpled chin that I have such a weak spot for, and nice dark hair.  He seemed nice with just casual banter.  But when we got on the bus he started being weird.  He was giving me these weird looks. And then I looked over and he was pretending to be jacking off. Now that was odd.  I wasn't used to that sort of thing.

  So then we got off and went to Hector's. There was a shitload of drunk people but what do you expect?  The best part was when we were in line, this one drunk guy started us all into a chorus of Bon Jovi's "Livin' On a Prayer".  It was great.  I can't believe Kate wasn't there to see it.  She would have loved it. 

After Hector's we got back on the bus to go back to the dorm, and what the hell,but that weird Spanish/Italian kid is still riding around on the bus.  "Ooooh yay!" he cried as we walked back onto the bus.  "I was waiting for you."  I sat down at the front of the bus, safely away from his weirdness. 

Then this other kid stumbled onto the bus after a while, and he was having trouble sitting down.  After a while he finally slumped into a seat.  He told me, "I can't sit down cuz I shit my pants."  I laughed.  "It happens to the best of us," I told him. "Yeah, it can happen to anyone," he said rather seriously.  Then he wanted to know if it had ever happened to me.  I said no.  "Oh well yeah I shit my pants all the time.  I shit my pants at least 5 times a week.  I can't help it.  My colon is like this," (he makes a  gesture with hands spread far apart) "and it like...it should be like THIS." (hands clasp into a fist) "I fucking shit in my pants.  I can't help it.  I go fucking doodoocaca in my pants.  Fucking doodoocaca. (add in about 10 more fucking doodoocaca's somewhere)  It just comes out, fucking doodoocaca shit.  I got doodoo in my fucking pants.  You know, you think I should like go take a shit in my roommate's hamper. Fucking doodoocaca gagadoodoo stains--"  "SHUT UP!" The busdriver interrupted. "Will you shut up or get off of this bus?"

 The kid leaned over to this guy sitting next to him and asked, "What did he call me?"  It was fucking hilarious.  I don't think I'm going to forget doodoocaca.  Poor guy.  He was confused.

Anyway I finally made it home at about 3.  That was really dumb of me considering how much work I have to do.  Speaking of which.  I should be doing that now and not writing about this doodoocaca.  Seeya. 

Current mood: Hungry.

Current music: Bon Jovi - Living On a Prayer

Why doesn't this have current moods/music like livejournal? Oh well.  I defied them.  I did my own! Anyway, today was pretty uneventful.  I woke up at around 9:30 just late enough to not go to my Russian History class.  But, because I'm really, really cool, I took notes all day on my history chapters that I was supposed to have read and didn't for the past however many weekends.  If you'd like to know, it was on the specific period between Peter the Great and Catherine the Great, including the reigns of Catherine I, Anna Ivanovna, Ivan VI, Elizabeth I, Peter III, Catherine II (the great), Paul I, up til Alexander I.  Isn't that interesting?  Yeah I thought you would think so.  I'm basically quizzing myself.  So what can I remember? I can remember that Pugachev and Radishchev were Catherine's 2 archnemeses.  Radishchev seemed like a pretty cool guy.  Inspired by the Enlightenment, and thus wanting to free all the serfs.  REVOLUTION!!

Okay, enough of that crap.  I'm sure that's what your begging for anyhow.  I thought of something though.  People are so anti-French these days.  It's really lame.  Because the ideas we founded our country upon, liberal humanitarianism, you know...John Locke and all that...came from the Enlightenment.  And where did that start?  France.  So there you have it.  Without France, we probably wouldn't have the Declaration of Independence or the Constitution.  So stop bashing France.  Stop replacing French Fries with Freedom Fries, and French Toast with Boston Tea Party Bread.   It's just lame. Stop dumping out your French wine; if you really don't want it, send it to me.  So what if they don't shower?  And yeah, some of you are probably recoiling in horror that I even mentioned the word 'liberal.'  Well it's true, and it didn't mean the dirty insult that it means today.  Go yellow dog democrats and yellow dog Frenchmen.  Yay for Voltaire and Montesquieu.

Anyhow.  I have Bon Jovi in my head.  It's not a pretty sight in there.  I probably should continue on my quest to further document the reigns of Tsar Paul I and Alexander I and that whole Decemberist bit, but oooh shit!  I have to go eat now!  Bye! 

EDIT:

Later...

Well, someone told me that this entry was a snore.  I figured it was because it was just about homework.  So I'm continuing. I didn't tell about last night.  I went to go see this concert.  The one lead singer of this crappy band looked like Napoleon Dynamite. 

Suddenly I don't really feel like writing anymore.  It was really cold yesterday.  There. Hah.

This was pretty abrupt.  But it just descended on me.  Always returning. That heaviness at my back, in the thick of it all, in the part of my mind recurring.  I'm just so tired. I'm tired of being alone.  What's worse is I anger myself, thinking about how trite this is.  How angsty.  It's absolutely nauseating.  But at the same time, I just keep feeling it.  Fuck.

Where does the time go?  It's been a really long time since I felt really strongly about anyone.  For a long time I just felt so...flat.  The world went by, lackluster, nothing sparkled under my grey blue eye.  It was all a big blurring blankness, arbitrary, pointless things meshing together in my sight.  Nothing stuck out.  Nothing had a shape.  A substance.  If it had a taste, it probably would be gruel.  Same old song.

Yeah, it's old. It's washed out.  I'm tired of hearing about it myself.  I hate feeling like I'm in the grasp of something, dangling tortuously and precariously, unable to do anything myself.  I know.  I can't twist this anymore.  That's why it just keeps making me more confused, more cynical.  No doubting.  You can't doubt.  Just trust. Just trust.

I'm just really tired of waiting. It seems like my whole life I've been waiting.  Yeah I'm such a sap.  But I feel pretty sapped.  I need to just let things go.  Let it go where it will.  But as soon as it starts going somewhere, I start making predictions about things, start frantically trying to KNOW where it's going.  I should just let it go.

It's hard when you want something so badly, not to try to find it in your sights.  When you just want that one spark to finally glimmer among the nondescript blobs.  I just want to feel safe and out of these woods.  Secure and in love. 

Results from my colorgenics test for today: www.colorgenics.com

Pretty much tells all, huh?

Enough is enough - you feel frustrated and rejected. You are fighting back and the going is tough. It would be just wonderful if you could be left in peace.

Rejection is what you fear the most and it is this fear that makes you unapproachable. You are looking for acknowledgement and above all looking for people who can appreciate you for who and what you are.

You are not an argumentative sort of person and 'rather than fight - you'd switch' (an old cigarette ad cliche). But when you try to assert yourself - as sometimes you may try to do - you meet with so much resistance and effrontery that manifests itself so obviously that you become hurt, indignant and resentful. So in order to have peace and quiet you tend to become inhibited. You keep it all to yourself but deep down, you 'feel' and 'hurt' a lot.

You pretend that you are a carefree individual and that nothing really bothers you - that you are so self-sufficient that whatever problems beset you they simply flow off you as water flows off a ducks back. You are experiencing considerable stress, trying to conceal yourself from the rest of the world. In actual fact - deep down, you are not at all happy. You feel lonely and you need someone with whom you can 'Let your hair down' and share your hopes, dreams and high standards. You are imposing unnecessary self restraint on yourself. You would like to demonstrate the unique quality of your character to all and sundry.

At this time you don't particularly like yourself. Everything that you have tried to do seems to have gone wrong. This makes you feel that there is no point in trying to start again. Apart from being stressed and tense, you are angry with yourself and have un-admitted self-contempt. Your refusal to admit that you and you alone is the basic cause of your problems leads to you adopting a headstrong and defiant attitude. If you take stock of yourself, smile a little and let go, everything will turn out OK. Have you not heard of the cliché 'smile and the world smiles with you - cry and you cry alone!'?

Current mood: Confused.  Headaches.

Current music: Get Your Hands Off of My Woman, Motherfucker - The Darkness

Well, I was a good girl and went to class today (well, History and English, not Logic.  Pah!), unlike Monday.  I dragged myself to the dining hall to eat breakfast, too.  Most important meal of the day you know.  Before I went, I left Kate a note hoping she'd be okay on her trip to see her grandfather.  I won't see her again for a while.  Probably not until after Thanksgiving break.  So for the next week I'm going to be alone.

Honestly, I don't think it could have come at a worse time.  But it's not her fault.  I'm just worried about how much time I'll have to think.  And what that does to me. 

I had horrible cramps but because I took Advil they're somewhat surpressed.  I wonder if that had anything to do with the oncoming of my darker mood.  Probably.  Stupid hormones.  Stupid reproductive cycle.  Gah and humbug.  I bet this is more than you're willing to know. Oh well. 

I really wished one of my friends would ask me how I was doing today.  Because honestly, I was ready to say, "Do you want me to give the standard answer or really tell you how I'm doing?   Because honestly, I haven't told anyone this but I believe it's time. Time to let out my inhibitions.... I'm lonely.  I'm sick of being single.  I'm sick of me not being able to put across the real me in a way people understand.  I'm sick of my head playing games with me and constantly trying to pin down what's happening around me when really you can't DO that.  But try telling my head that.  And I have cramps, and on top of that, I thought today was Friday, not Wednesday! ARGH!"  Yeah and add onto that, "I'm so lame that I'm having a pity party and seemingly fishing for sympathy!"

Yeah, and consequently, no one asked me how I was doing. 

I totally half-assed English today. But whatever.  I've been muttering a lot today, usually consisting of "motherfucker" under my breath. 

I just don't know what to do.  Honestly, I can't even say that I'm sad.  Frustrated maybe.  I'm trying to be easy going about all this.  On the exterior I probably appear that way.  You know.  Just letting shit go.  But yeah.

Oh god.  I really hope I can get my mits on some alcohol this weekend.   

Current Mood: Tired and gross.

Current Music: Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand (The goddamn song is stuck in my head)

Okay. No one ever told me you're not allowed to buy alcohol after 2 in the morning. What is that about? And also, what's the deal with an ABC store not being open at midnight on Saturday? What kind of backassward state are we living in??

Oh well. Maybe it's better I missed my chance to drown myself in the sweet ambrosia of smirnoff ice. I guess I was supposed to be doing...something or other today. What that is I have no idea. I'm feeling really odd right now and kind of raunchy. No, not like...sexual, just like...gross. I've had about 6 hours of sleep between the last two nights, and the only thing I've eaten today is Doritos.

Actually a lot has happened since I last wrote but uh. I'll tell you the stuff that requires thought later.  I got lost in Durham yesterday.  I also bought 6 shirts for around $3 each.  Some I got for 97 cents.  Ooh and I'm getting an awesome new blog layout soon. Jinu made it for me. And she's also officially awesome.

Man, I'm bored. And lonely. I'm all alone. I just got finished wasting about 3 hours watching Clue and that other movie with Woody Harrelson--the one that involves bowling and the Amish. And a prosthetic hand. I forgot what it's called but he is hook-handed in some parts. That's kind of awesome. But Clue is even more awesome. Communism was just a red herring.

I wish I could go do something with someone. I guess I could--GASP--work on stuff. This entry is pretty empty I know. But I'm feeling empty as a bag of Doritos. Nothing to do. Mind...dead. Must....stop typing.

Current Mood: Contemplative

Current Music: Shiver - Cold Play

Did you want me to change?
Well I'll change for good.
And I want you to know
That you’ll always get your way.

I think it's time for a change.  And that's why I'm thinking of this.  I usually hate change.  But nothing will change if I don't start it along.  Yeah, usually I'd say, don't change yourself.  But you're going to change anyway.  Nothing stays the same.

I miss someone. I feel hungry.  Not just for food, since coincidentally, I haven't eaten all day, but for something.  I hate this feeling. I told you, this is what happens when I'm left alone in a quiet room for days.  Despite some people's visits disturbing the silence, it's inevitable.  I think.

I want to change myself. Mold myself. I want to look how I feel I should look.  I'm tired of being hampered by my body.  I don't really know what I want.  I just want people not to see this awkward me and see the one I want to exude.  I mean, I have to face it.  People notice looks.  It's just how it is.  I mean, maybe not entirely just that, but it's a large factor.  And I don't blame people.  It's just instinct. 

Oh well, maybe this seems shallow, wanting to be thinner, but it's for my own good.  I'd always hated the idea of changing myself for other people but it's really not that entirely.  Otherwise I'll always be at odds with my own body.   I mean, I don't think I'm ugly.  And I don't even really want to be skinny, because that will never happen.  I'm just not built that way.  But I just want to be less...this.  It's really hard though, and I've tried this before, and I realized it's just hard for me to lose weight.  I just want to be normal.  But I'm mostly doing this for whoever it is out there that will someday love me. That person will always get their way.  I'd do anything for them.  Once again my true sap shines through.  I don't know who it is.  But I'm going to try and make myself more recognizable to them.  No one is going to embrace someone who doesn't try to change themself and just sits bemoaning their condition. Yeah, I have tried before.  I've even tried and succeeded before.  I guess I should think of this as some sort of spiritual fast.  Way to go me, setting myself on a spiritual fast a few days before Thanksgiving.  That smarts.

I've got to do this though.  I've got to do this.

PS - Do you see my new header courtesy of Jinu?  I heart it.  I just noticed Dave and I have like...the same expression.  Staring into the abyss. Eternal brooding.  I think he and I are kindred spirits. Hah.

Current Mood: Flabbergasted

Current Music: YMCA - The Village People

I totally overslept today.  My alarm clock didn't go off. It was supposed to go off at 7:00, and it didn't go off, so I slept until 10:00.  Wow.  I'm waiting for my hair to dry a bit after the hurried shower I took, so I have like 5 minutes to spare.  I don't know how much else I'll be able to do in here today.  I have logic homework and an english paper to do.  I have no idea why the YMCA song is in my head.  I had a really odd dream that my parents bought me a baby horse.  I was soooo happy.  Finally, my own horse. In my dream, I couldn't wait to tell Jinu about it. Haha.  He was a beautiful chestnut foal with a star, and he was part Quarter Horse, part Mustang.  He only cost $800 in the dream. Too bad it was just a dream.  I also got a puppy in the dream.  He was part poodle, part collie.  Kind of an odd mix.  He looked like a little bichon frise though. 

My arm hurts.  I feel weird.  Dammit, should I even try to make English class? Yes.  I skipped two days last week.  I can't do that again.  Plus I sort of did the reading! 

Well, tomorrow should be better.  But everytime I expect something to go well, it doesn't, therefore I will not expect anything.  Except that it will be nice to go home.  My best friend is coming from California.  I think I need that.

My pants really don't match my shirt. Dammit.

Yayyayayayayay! I'm so excited, my best friend is coming really soon!  I'm going to go see her at 5 o' clock in Raleigh.  I  know I said I wasn't going to write again but it's better than doing logic homework.  God I loathe that class. But anyway, right now I feel pretty damn good; I finally ate a normal meal after two days, I'm blasting Dave, and my best friend is coming, although I still haven't seen someone else I'd like to see, and I woke up late, and I have homework I should be doing, and my clothes are mismatched, that's completely okay.  Hoo boy. 

I can't believe that we would lie in our graves dreaming of things that might have been!  Would you like to be, I can't believe that you would not like to be, okay okay okay, okay okay okay....

Singing at the top of your lungs is such a great release...

OkCupid probed me. I, SeekUp, am: more introverted, more literary, more loving, less spontaneous, better mannered, less aggressive and less organized than most.

Current Mood: A mixture of dread, anticipation, and boredom.

Current Music: Bloody Sunday - U2

Well, my visiting family is gone and all that remains of the turkey are a few shreds of white meat.  And I feel like the rest of my vacation is going to be like a Sunday--you still have free time, but you're going back to work is hanging just over the horizon the entire time.  A whole few days of Sunday.  I hate Sundays.

For me, it's not even just going back to work.  It's facing up to something, to trying for something I've never really tried for, because I was too scared. I'm scared now.  Some.  But in another way, I'm just going.  Just going as it goes.

Yeah I suppose this is rather vague.  I also suppose that I keep getting distracted. And that my mom is really loud when she eats and quite annoying.

Gah. I'll do this later.  I have a LOT to say, trust me.

Current mood: Weary

Current music: Pride (In the Name of Love) - U2

Oh my God.  Since last night nothing has been going right.  I hardly got any work done on my music essays because I couldn't stop torturing myself with idiotic, self-depracating thoughts.  I mean, at the one hand, I recognized that everything I was twisting myself into was mostly ridiculous but on the other hand, I just felt pathetic and of course, that just incited self-deprecation for being so pathetic.  I wanted to slam my head into a wall. Repeatedly. Here I was, determined not to let things get to me.  But the moment I see one little thing my insides inadvertantly crumble, despite my best efforts.  I hadn't acted as I wanted to act.  I felt useless and paralyzed.  I felt like an idiot.  I was so ready to try and be forthright and confident, and get what I want.  To have a great attitude about it all.  And of course in that moment I buckle at the slightest glimpse of probably mis-interpreted jealousy.  Must I always compare myself to someone else?  Yet, must I, since I feel so separated?  Last night's song was definitely "Rhyme and Reason" by Dave.  My head wouldn't leave my head alone.  I don't think  it will til I'm dead and gone.  I'm both glad and disappointed that I didn't have any alcohol around.  I would have made my own Great Escape.

Last night I just wanted to sleep, and cemented my sense of failure by doing almost no work.  I woke up this morning to dismal grey skies.  It would have been so nice to stay in, curled among blankets, and not leave that cube of a room.  But I made myself get up and get dressed.  I even put on a good face for the world.  I left the dorm with my headphones on, starting to listen to U2's "Pride (In the Name of Love)", but of course, the moment I take a few steps outside, my CD player won't work.  It says it has no power, yet I just changed the batteries.  I think it's broken, which makes me really irritated since I just bought the goddamn thing like 2 weeks ago.  Great.

Then as I walk to class, the sky seems to darken above me.  The winds at first rustle, then blast my face.  The thought jumped to my mind of a line of Wordsworth's "The World is Too Much With Us," which I had memorized the day before--"the winds that will be howling at all hours..." They will be howling at all hours, I thought, inside or out, it seems.  And then they flared up in my face. Suddenly a gust of rain and wind begin to shatter the air.  I had forgotten my umbrella.  At this point, as I slog through the sudden assault of wind and sideways rain, droplets blearing my eyes and hanging off my brow, and sodding my nicely brushed hair, cold rain pelting against my body, I am ready to just cry.  But I don't.  I just go on.  I keep trudging on, the rain insistantly matting my hair to my head and the wind harsh against my face.  I get angry.  You can't do this to me.  You are not going to put me down that easily.  This fucking world can take a lot of things from me, it can slap me in the face with rain, it can deprive me of music, it can show me myriads of wonderfully gorgeous girls getting everything they desire, it can leave me alone in this room with me and my thoughts, but it can't take my pride.  

I guess this is what I need to know. I have pride.  When stripped down to the essentials it is what I have.  I should guard that pride against even what I perceive as the worst of what could possibly happen.  Even as I look around and it seems no one else was rained on but me, even as I am drenched and others walk in perfectly unscathed, I have to remember this.  Obstacles are necessary.  There must be something it is doing for me.  And now, oddly enough, the clouds are parting their blankets, and the sun has lit this stage.  Dry and calm.  I'm still shivering from my drenched clothes.  But I'm more determined.

I must keep up my pride.  If I am to get anything I want.  Pride in the name of love, definitely.   

Current Mood: So sleep-deprived that I'm almost hyper.

Current Music: Love is the Seventh Wave - Sting  (at least, I think that's what it's called)

Yeah, so yesterday's attitude really paid off in the end.  The sun cleared the clouds away and the sky was spotless.  I even had a fun time last night, despite my having to stay up til 6 in the morning finishing essays.  But my procrastination was not in vain.  I discovered important truths about myself through Kokology, or these questions that test your subliminal through archetypes and such.  Yeah, at times it was pretty odd and probably sometimes stupid, but I don't care, it was fun.  My friend made a parody of the questions called Cokeology.  Basically,  no matter how you answer, you're a whore.  Or, alternatively, a whorebag.  Whichever.  They say everything boils down to sex, does it not?  How Freudian.

So anyway, I'm feeling surprisingly good  in what would normally be such a schwag situation.  Okay, so I don't normally talk like that, but I just got back from my music class which I only went to hand in my paper and blast that despicable David Garcia in the class evaluations, and this total pothead did a talk on this Reggae guy he plays music with, and he described the situation in Sudan as "schwag."  A bit of an understatement, don't you think?  Are genocide and poor quality marijuana really equals in tragedy?  So yes, I feel pretty damn okay for less than one hour of sleep and an empty stomach.  It doesn't even bother me that I loathe David Garcia or that there's an obnoxiously loud leafblower outside my window, preventing me from crashing right now. 

Of course, I say this and then this afternoon will be shit and I'll have jinxed myself.  I just hope it isn't so.

Okay, 2 ten page essays down.  Poetry reading to go.  Then. Eternal slumber.  Sorry this entry was pretty shit.  I'm running on empty here.

Current Mood: Carefree
Current Music: Granny - Dave Matthews Band (yesterday afternoon's was Bad by U2)

I love to sing at the top of my lungs.  Sometimes I wish people heard it.  I love listening to music really goddamn loud.  I might even be dancing if I had someone to dance with.  I'm not really sure why I'm so happy.  I guess it's classes ending, cool friends, and this place where I can discuss free speech and religion with a stranger. It's just great, and I'm glad I go here, even if it took some getting used to.  I'm glad I have all these chances.

Do you get those times where you get snapshots of people engrained in your memory, and you know those images will be with you always?  I think yesterday was like that.  I got this image in my head, and I think it's what I will think of when I think of college forever.  Or at least, one of the images of college, anyway.

What's gotten into me?  I feel like working out, like running.  Maybe it's just that Friday feeling.  But no.  I'm feeling freer from my doubts. From whatever it is that always seems right on my shoulder.  It's a wonder what believing can do.  Maybe this is all part of that change I wanted. 

As I had in my head all yesterday,
 
    To let it go
And so to fade away
To let it go
And so fade away

I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake
Wide awake
I'm not sleeping
Oh, no, no, no....

You have to let it go. Let your mind go.  It tries to figure everything out, wrench everything out of place and pin things down, weigh you down.  But inside there's something unwavering.  I hope it's telling me the truth.  God, I hope it is.  Because I'd be the happiest person in the world.  And perhaps I am in this moment.  If only for the chance.

Oh hell yeah.

I really am a prude.  A virtuous prude--a nun.  I'm almost not even sent to hell!  That's great. I mean, I was expecting at least fifth level here. God and I are cool with each other.

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to the First Level of Hell - Limbo!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	High
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very High
Level 2 (Lustful)	Low
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Low
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Hell Test

Current Mood: Fatigued.

Current Music: You Never Know - Dave Matthews Band

Oh God. I'm almost home free.  But I have an essay due at five o'clock tonight that I have only written one page of, and another essay due tomorrow at 9, and an exam tomorrow at 9.  And then an exam the next day.  And then I'm done.  Glory Hallelujah.

I have some things to say, but I have only given myself fifteen minutes to blog, so they will go unsaid for now.  I just didn't want to do another quick update. That's cheating.

Even if I'm looking forward to freeing myself from the yoke of grunt work, I'm also somewhat sad about the end of the semester.  I  hope I see people before I leave. I really hope.

My mind is blank.  I haven't slept much lately.  And I've got this essay.  Grah.  Sleep.  Need. Sleep. Gruh.

I was feeling pretty doubtful yesterday, so I decided to look at the Bible. I don't usually consult the Bible, but rather just sort of...think meditatively, or write.  But seeing it there, it seemed natural.  I thought, I'm going to open to the whatever page and God will show me what I need to see.  Oh, please, just show me something that will let me know it will be okay...that will just let me know.

 I turned to Matthew 15:39.

"And he[Jesus] sent away the multitude, and took ship, and came into the coasts of Magdala.  The Pharisees also with the Sadducees came, and tempting desired him that he would show them a sign from heaven.  He answered and said unto them, When it is evening, ye say, It will be fair weather: for the sky is red. And in the morning, It will be foul weather to day: for the sky is red and lowering. O ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky; but can ye not discern the signs of the times? A wicked and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign; and there shall no sign be given unto it, but the sign of the prophet Jonas. And he left them, and departed. "

Wow.  I guess I had been demanding a sign just then.  I was lost. I did want God to show me something.  And...then.  I was put down for demanding signs.  I see.  It's right though. Like I have said in earlier entries, like I say now, you can't get try to pin down the future, you can't let your mind try to know what's going to happen, you just have to let that go.  Let it go as it goes. 

It's just that the days happen so slow, and you look forward to seeing the faces that will make you feel better again.  It's so frail, this precariousness between future and past, that barely lasts for an instant...so hard to stand on.  That's why we tend to lean on the past, or desperately try to assure ourselves of where we're going in the future. 

We shouldn't, but it's so hard walking that thin line.  Not knowing if the next step you take will be a stumble.  You never know.

Spinning on the wind
The leaf fell from the limb
But everyday should be a good day to die
Oh, all fall down
It won't be too long now
Every fire dies

I find it hard to explain how I got here
I think I can, I think I can
And then again, I will falter
Dream, little darling, dream.

It's how I feel right now, anyway.

Just taking it as it comes.  One essay to do...and then in a few days, it won't matter at all...hopefully in a few days, seeing the people I want to see before I leave.

A really long survey.  I promise a real entry soon.

What is your name?: Kelsey Sheehan

Are you named after anyone?: No

What's your screename?:SeekAmongAshes

Would you name a child of yours after you?: No, because that would be kind of odd for a girl to do, and besides, my name is okay, but not worth naming my kid after myself.  I don't have enough of an ego for that.  However, if my husband wanted to name our kid after him, I might.  Unless his name was like Melvin or Eugene or Goldthwait, in which case, I don't know why I married that guy, and it was probably out of desperation, and I feel bad for that self.

If you were born a member of the opposite sex what would your name be?: I think it probably would have been Connor or Michael, which is kind of odd.  I was almost a Mikaila (or maybe Michaela, I can't really tell how'd they spell it).  But really, I could have just been Kelsey just the same, since it's unisex.
If you could switch names with a friend who would it be?: I don't think I'd switch names with any of my friends cuz their names really aren't that cool.  I knew this girl named Siobhan once. That's kinda cool, although I bet she had a real hard time in school with teachers pronouncing it correctly.  (Shavon) 

Are there any mispronounciations/typos that ppl do w/ your name constantly?: A lot of people sometimes say "Kelt-sey", like they can't handle the lack of friction between the l and s.  I don't understand it, frankly, and it's usually extreme southerners that do it.  Other people like to confound my name with Chelsey or Chelsea, which, no offense to Chelseas, your name sucks.  I've also been called Kelly and Casey.

Would you drop your last name if you became famous?: No, because my last name is the coolest part of my name. Sheehan. Hell yea bitch.  Hot Irish luv.  okay.  But if I was famous and married, then..I dunno. probably not because Kelsey by itself sounds stupid.  Unless I changed my name to like...Avalon or Ms. Roboto. Which would never happen.

Basics
Your gender:: female

Straight/Gay/Bi:: straight

Single?: doomed to be, it seems.
Birthdate:: October 18, 1985
Your age:: 19

Age you act::  I think I act about 22.

Age you wish you were:: 21. I could drink my sorrows away!
Your height::I'm not sure, I think around 5'6"
Eye color:: grey blue
Happy with it?: yes, I like my eyes...although most people don't comment upon them.

Hair color:: Dark brown, with faded highlights.  I'm letting it go back to dark.  I kinda wish it would turn black, like my dad's did. That would kick ass.
Happy with it?: pretty much. Sometimes I wish it would turn black, though, like I said.  I mean black hair and blue eyes is really not too common so that's be cool. Sometimes I wish I could get it to curl.  I think I could, I just haven't figured it out.

lefty/righty/ambidextrous:: righty
Your living arrangement:: in good ol 232, with Kate.  Ehaus South. 
Your family:: My mom, Pam; my dad, Dennis; my brother, Devin; and my dog, Sanford.  And my 125839968343898 cousins and aunts and uncles.

Have any pets?: Oh, I already listed one.  My american cocker spaniel, Sanford. He is old and feeble. :(  I also have like 10 fish, the biggest of which is Enrique.  My betta fish in my room is named Leroi II. My brother's betta is named Mishkin. 
Whats your job?: I don't have a job, except for being a college student at UNC.  Hey I just noticed I'm using Carolina blue.
Piercings?: My upper cartilage of my ear, and double holes in each ear. 
Tattoos?: None, although I kind of want one, but I'm not sure.
Obsessions?:  Argh. I don't think I'm obsessed.  I like people, and things.  I guess I'm pretty much obsessed with Dave Matthews though.
Addictions?: None to speak of, yet.
Do you speak another language?: I sort of speak Spanish, but not really.
Have a favorite quote?: "Love, what more is there?" -- Dave Matthews.  or the one at the top of this blog, although I noticed, it should say "you've listened long enough" not "you've lived long enough" but I'll forgive that.  It's by Seamus Heaney in the poem Station Island.  Or one I heard, "I doubt, therefore I might be."
Do you have a webpage?: This is really the only one I have.  I've tried to make others but I don't have the skills.
Deep Thoughts About Life and You in it
Do you live in the moment?: I try to, but it's really hard.  I think you have to learn to do this, otherwise you're just going to be lost all the time, trying to figure out the future or worrying about the past.
Do you consider yourself tolerant of others?: I'd say so.  I'm very tolerant of other cultures and things.  Especially religions.  I think there is some truth to every religion.
Do you have any secrets?: Hm, yeah, I guess it's my hopeless romanticism. But it's not really a secret, it's just a guarded tendency.  Also, I have a few other secrets but if I told them, they wouldn't be secrets anymore.
Do you hate yourself?:   Sometimes.  There was a point in my life where I really did.  I don't blame myself for hating myself then either. I really fucked up and ruined everything I always wanted.  I really hate myself when I twist things around and doubt things until they make no sense and I feel bad.
Do you like your handwriting?: It's all right.  It's kinda...big. and sometimes I think it looks kind of childish.

Do you have any bad habits?: Yes, sitting around on the computer a lot. Not being motivated enough to do work.  Talking on AIM.  Doubting myself.  Sometimes giving in and eating cookies.
If a movie was made about your life, what would it be called?: Sophomoric.  Either that or The Great Kelsey Brigade.  I wish I had a brigade.
What's your biggest fear?: Being alone for the rest of my life.  And tornadoes.
Can you sing? I think my voice isn't half bad; it's just that I never let anyone hear it.
Do you ever pretend to be someone else just to look cool?: No, and I hate people who do that.
Are you a loner?: Sometimes, when I get really disillusioned with other people and think no one gives a shit about me.
What are your #1 priorities in life?: Finding love, my family, and writing. Oh and trying to get over doubting myself all the time.  And losing weight.
If you were another person, would you be friends with you?:  This is an interesting question. See, my first reaction was no.  Isn't that rather negative? I guess if I were someone else I'd see me as too shy and boring.  Not to mention fat.  But I'm not someone else, so I can't really say what they think, and it's probably just my doubts projecting onto others. 
Are you a daredevil?:  No, but sometimes I wish I was.
Is there anything you fear or hate about yourself?:  I fear that my doubts will keep me hostage forever and keep me from doing what I really want to do, or gaining what I really want to gain.
Are you passive or agressive?: Mostly passive, but I can be passive aggressive.
Do you have a journal: Yes, this one.  And this other notebook sometimes.
What is your greatest strength and weakness?: My greatest strength is my loyalty and caring.  Honestly, if you're my friend, I will listen to you whether it's the most wretched time or not, and if I love someone, I won't even look at anyone else.  My greatest weakness is my self-doubt, which bends everything and causes me to think people don't like me when they might, or to think I'm not good enough. 
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?: My weight, because it is inextricably linked to my confidence, sadly.  I don't want to be skinny, I just want to be normal, and I think I wouldn't doubt myself as much then.  But if I still doubted myself, then just not doubting myself, and keeping the weight, would be okay.
Do you think you are emotionally strong?:  I guess so; I have been through stretches where nothing seemed worthwhile, times where people have used me, times where I've fucked myself over, and got through it.  Now I understand some of my faults and try to check myself when I get too silly over things.
Do you think life has been good so far?:  Well, I'm not starving to death or a parapalegic, so I can't really say no.  Although I still feel like there's something missing.

What is the most important lesson you've learned from life?:  Don't doubt yourself so much.  If there's only one thing you have, it's yourself, and your pride.  Even if you have someone you love, even if you have family and friends, you still only really have yourself, and you've got to come to grips with that. 
What do you like the most about your body?:  I think my face is nice, and I like my hair and eyes.
And least?: My thighs.  They are...just. bad.
Do you think you are good looking?: Not right now, but I think I could be, and that's the most frustrating part.  I need to become a healthy weight and then I think I would be pretty.
Are you confident?: Not really.  I try to be sometimes, but it's difficult.
What is the fictional character you are most like?: I have no idea; maybe Stephen Daedulus.
Are you perceived wrongly?: Hmm, maybe.  Yes, actually. I think I guard myself too much and people don't see the side that can be pretty likeable.

Do You...
Smoke?: No
Do drugs?: No
Read the newspaper?: If I had one around, I would.  Sometimes I read the Daily Tarheel but that's not the same. 

Pray?:  Yes, in my own way.

Go to church?: Sometimes.  I think my relationship with God is more personal and doesn't always need to involve a congregation and all that.
Talk to strangers who IM you?: Yes, but sometimes they turn out to be  people that want to do bondage.
Sleep with stuffed animals?: Yes, at school I sleep with a stuffed seal and my carolina bear that Rita gave me. At home I have my bear that I've had since I was a baby. His name is Baby. And the reason I don't bring him to school is because he's had so much love, he's disintegrating.  It's really pathetic.  He looks like an antique that's 50 years old or something.  He used to be purple and fluffy carebear, but now he's grey and disheveled, with almost no fuzz and stuffed with little girls' stockings. I still like him best though.
Take walks in the rain?: No, although I enjoy the rain. I just don't enjoy being rained on.  I love driving in the rain.
Talk to people even though you hate them?:  Yes, and I am always civil too.  They probably have no idea that I hate them, unless I just get so fed up that I decide to tell them how stupid they actually are.  If I hate them, they're most likely really fake or a just an uncaring asshole.
Drive?: Yes, I love to just go out for a drive once in a while...sometimes to no particular place, but just to be alone and sing, and be on the road.  When I'm on the road, I feel like I'm on my way, like I'm going somewhere.  I like that feeling.
Like to drive fast?: Yes, but not like over 80 or anything.  It's kind of hard in a Honda Civic anyway.

Would or Have You Ever?
Liked your voice?: When I talk, I think I sound too mannish.  When I sing, I think I'm decent.
Hurt yourself: Not intentionally. 

Been out of the country?: Yes. I went to France once. It was amazing.  I really really really really want to go to Ireland.  Maybe even live there for a short time, or a long time, depending.
Eaten something that made other people sick?: No, I don't think so.  I've eaten something and became sick and others didn't...like barbecue.  I hate barbecue.  I've gotten sick from it twice; maybe that's why.
Been in love?: I think so.

Done drugs?: No, but I wouldn't mind trying it once or something.
Gone skinny dipping?: No, but maybe someday.
Had a medical emergency?:  I guess. One time I fell off a horse and almost had a concussion.  I've never broken a bone though, or got in a car accident and got severely burned or anything.
Had surgery?: Only oral surgery. The anesthesia made me throw up.
Ran away from home?: No

Played strip poker?: No, but maybe if I ever get that whole sexiness thing down, I would.  Maybe.
Gotten beaten up?: No, I've never been in an actual fist fight or anything, unless you count my brother and I beating each other.  And in those cases, I always win.  Because I'm older and bigger.
Beaten someone up?: No, I'm not a beating up people kind of person.  I'm more of a scalding remark kind of person.
Been picked on?:  Of course
Been on stage?: Yes, for chorus way back in the day, and for ITS.
Slept outdoors?: Yes, I remember it too.  All I had was a sleeping bag and we were in a field in California.  I think I was at camp.  It was really strange.  I mean, it was basically just me on the cold, dewy ground, under the stars.  We didn't even have a tent or anything.
Thought about suicide?: Yes, but I'm way too much of a wuss to ever do it.  I really only think about what people would do if I did commit suicide.  Which is rather more about attention than about sadness.
Gone one day without food?: Yes, I've gone more than one day without food.  Ah, the "don't eat for 2 days" diet.  Those are good times.
Talked on the phone all night?: Yes, most of the night anyway.  I never do it anymore.  It's sad.  I wish I had someone to talk on the phone all night to.
Slept together with the opposite sex w/o actually having sex?: No, because I've never had sex or slept in the same bed with a boy anyway.
Slept all day?: Yes, but that was because I only got two hours of sleep the night before, and probably like 4 all the other nights preceding it.
Killed someone?: Yes, I've killed someone. What the hell kind of question is this? If I killed someone, do you really think I'd say it?  Most likely I'd be a wanted murderer.  Or, maybe I'd be behind bars already.
Made out with a stranger?: No...I don't think I'd do it, unless I was drunk.
Had sex? No, okay. God how many times do I have to say it?
Had sex with a stranger?: Nooo.
Kissed the same sex?: No, and I wouldn't do it just to pull some stunt for boys either.
Done anything sexual with the same sex?: No..
Been betrayed?: Yes, by myself.  ::emo tear::

Thought you're going crazy?: Yeah.
Had a dream that came true?: Sometimes I feel like deja vu about some things, and that might be because I've dreamt it, but I'm not sure.
Broken the law?: Yes.
Met a famous person?:  I met Aaron Carter one time. 

Have you ever killed an animal by accident?: Yes, I hit a squirrel and I felt really bad.
On purpose?: No, not on purpose.  I would never do it on purpose, unless you count insects.
Told a secret you swore you wouldn't tell?: Maybe, but I probably didn't mean to.
Stolen anything?: No. Well, actually, yes, when I was like 5 there was this stuffed animal in a store, and I didn't know wtf I was doing, so I took it down and walked around the store with it, and I guess my mom didn't realize it until we left that I still had it, and the people at the store just thought it was mine, so yeah.  I got a free stuffed animal.  It was a fluffy white cat.  Why I picked a cat, I have no idea, because I don't even really like them.
Been on radio/tv?: No.
Been in a mosh-pit?: Not in one, but near one.
Had a nervous breakdown?: No, I don't think so.
Bungee jumped?: No.
Had a dream that kept coming back?:  Yes, I think I've had about 2 or 3 of those.

Beliefs
Belive in life on other planets?: Yes, because there are countless numbers of stars and galaxies out there, and we can't possibly be the only living thing in a nearly endless universe.  I'm not saying it's necessarily intelligent life; it could just be bacteria or something, but still.
Miracles?: I believe in miracles....where you from? You sexy thang, you sexy thang you.  Hah.  Okay, yeah I do believe in miracles.
Astrology?: Yes, some parts of it.
Magic?: No.
God?: Yes.  Unquestionably there is a higher power.  There have been too many coincedences and other events that have happened, and even prayers answered for there not to be. 
Satan? I don't really think I believe in Satan.  It's more just our own human frailties that keep us from really believing in God, or ourselves, or our convictions.
Santa?: That's weird. Satan and Santa are so close to the same word.  But no.  It was really magical when I did though.  I miss those days.
Ghosts?: I'm not sure, really.
Luck?: I don't know, I guess I think more of a 'karma' deal is appropriate.
Love at first sight?: I wish, but I'm starting to think no.
Yin and yang (that good can't exist w/o bad)?: Yes.
Witches?: No.
Easter bunny?:  No.
Believe its possible to remain faithful forever?: Resoundingly yes.
Believe theres a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow?:  Is there also a leprechaun there? Cuz that would be cool.

Do you wish on stars?: Not really, I just wish.

Deep Theological Questions
Do you believe in the traditional view of Heaven and Hell?: I don't think so. I think after you die, there probably is something like Heaven where you can either join back with God, or you don't, but I think if you don't you probably just come back to earth or something. I'm not sure.
Do you think God has a gender?: No, it's easy to think of him as white-bearded sage, but I think it's more of a genderless, formless presence.
Do you believe in organized religion?: For the people that like it, go for it.  I think sometimes it can get carried away with dogma and further hatred instead of religious well-being.  But I don't think it's all bad.
Where do you think we go when we die?: I think our soul reunites with the overall presence of God, if you have done all that you were supposed to have done, and believed.

Friends

Do you have any gay/lesbian friends?: I wish I did.  I always wanted a token gay friend.
Who is your best friend?: Martha.  I hardly ever see her though.
Who's the one person that knows most about you?: Probably Martha, but it could also be Stephanie Smith or Carrie.
What's the best advice that anyone has ever given to you?: Um, maybe "don't stress" or "you are not your mind."
Your favourite inside joke?:  too many, but probably "I don't when I go.  Never have. I've been three times and all three times I didn't look."  And "I have not been outside to-day." 
Thing you're picked on most about?: Being fat.
Who's your longest known friend?: Hmm, Martha, but she is my cousin so that doesn't really count does it.  Maybe Stephanie Smith or Carrie.
Newest?: John?  Maybe?
Shyest?: Carrie, by far.  Or Je[n]n.
Funniest?: I don't know, really. Maybe Kate.  Or Hillary.  Or Daffer.
Sweetest?: Martha; no one else is really all that sweet.
Closest?: Martha.
Weirdest?: Kate. haha.  I'm weird too though.
Smartest?: Probably Kate. Or Jinu.
Ditziest?:  I really don't have ditzy friends.
Friends you miss being close to the most?:  Hm....I'm not going to say.
Last person you talked to online?: Daffer
Who do you talk to most online?: Hmmm, probably Daffer.
Who are you on the phone with most?: Carrie
Who do you trust most?: Martha
Who listens to your problems?:  Martha, Daffer, Stephanie Smith, and Carrie. 
Who do you fight most with?: I'm not sure.  I don't really fight much. 
Who's the nicest?: .Martha, but really they're all nice.
Who's the most outgoing?: Stephanie Smith.
Who's the best singer?: Dude if I don't put Stephanie here, she'll wring my neck.
Who's on your shit-list?: David Garcia.
Have you ever thought of having sex with a friend?:  Uhhhhh.....
Who's your second family?: I don't have a second family.
Do you always feel understood?: No...
Who's the loudest friend?: Stephanie.
Do you trust others easily?: No, I'm rather guarded now.
Who's house were you last at?: My own house. I don't really go to people's houses, I go to their dorms.
Name one person who's arms you feel safe in:: None...it makes me sad.
Do your friends know you?:: Not as well as I'd like.

Friend that lives farthest away:: Martha. Sadly.

Love and All That
Do you consider love a mistake?: Love is never a mistake.  Even if it's not requited, you still have that feeling. 
What do you find romantic?: Showing up randomly at people's houses, telling people things you didn't tell others, sensitivity
Turn-on?: Dark features, a strong, well molded jaw, stubble, broad and strong looking...um.  But non physical wise...like being sensitive, yet having a manly facade. Really caring about something....artisticness. Oh and being family-oriented.  And traditional gentlemanly ways.
Turn-off?: Conceited or bloated egos, being really too forward, not caring about anyone, thinking you're really really cool, and long hair.
First kiss?: merg. let's not speak of this.
If someone you had no interest in had interest in dating you how would u feel?:  It really depends on the person.  If it's someone who obviously wants to lure you into an odd situation and then make you do weird depraved sex acts, then no.  But if they're a normal person, who seems nice, but I don't have an interest in them yet, why not give them a go.
Do you prefer knowing someone before dating them or going: I guess knowing them. 
Have you ever wished it was more socially acceptable for a girl to ask a guy out: Not really; I'm such a wuss, I would never do it.
Have you ever been romantically attracted to someone physically unattractive: Yes, I mean, they weren't like...ugly and deformed, but they weren't especially outstanding. They were average, not hot at all.

Do you think the opposite sex finds you good looking?: I seriously doubt it
What is best about the opposite sex?: Their manliness. I like the way a man smells. I mean...ha, that came out wrong. Not like...smells bad. Just like this musk.  And I like if they are big and protective and strong.

What is the worst thing about the opposite sex?: They're superficial.
What's the last present someone gave you?: Um, a rape whistle. lol.
Are you in love?: No, but I wish I was.
Do you consider your significant other hot?:  What significant other?

Who Was the Last Person...
That haunted you?:  Probably Jay.
You wanted to kill?: I didn't want to kill anyone.
That you laughed at?: Kate.

That laughed at you?: Probably Kate; she's always laughing at me. :(

That turned you on?: Hahah, I'm not telling.
You went shopping with?: My mom, actually.
To disappoint you?: Ummm....to be honest that kid I met randomly.  Not because he's mean or anything, but I think he dislikes me. Or I didn't live up to the standards or something.

To ask you out?: That bondage guy. I only attract weirdos.

To make you cry?: Ummm....
To brighten up your day?: Awr, I know who. The same person that probably made me cry.
That you thought about?: Stop!! I can't say.
You saw a movie with?: Carrie.  We saw Alexander
You talked to on the phone?: My mom, actually.
You saw?: Kate.
You lost?: Uhhh. Jay?

Right This Moment...
Are you going out?: No, I'm supposed to be studying for my English exam.

Will it be with your significant other?:Fucking hell, make me feel worse why don't you.
Or some random person?: No one.
What are you wearing right now?: Ew...okay, well I'm wearing my grey Dave Matthews Band t-shirt and dark blue fuzzyish pants, and my blue bra and some purple underwear.
Body part you're touching right now:: Hahaha, I'm not touching myself.

What are you worried about right now?: That some people don't really like me.  And that I won't study well enough for this exam.
What book are you reading?: American Psycho

What's on your mousepad?: Nothing, it's just blue.
Use 5 words to describe how you're feeling: Doubtful, wondering, tired, unmotivated, and a little lonely.

Are you bored?: Not really.  This has managed to entertain me pretty well.
Are you tired?: Yeah.
Are you talking to anyone online?:  Daffer.
Are you talking to anyone on the phone?: No.
Are you lonely or content?:  Lonely
Are you listening to music?: No.

The song in my head:

Come Out and Fight.

I was born on a Dublin street where the Royal drums do beat
And the loving English feet they tramped all over us
And each and every night when me father'd come home tight
He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus

Chorus:
Oh, come out you black and tans, Come out and fight me like a man
Show your wife how you won medals down in Flanders
Tell her how the IRA made you run like hell away
From the green and lovely lanes of Killeshandra

Come let me hear you tell how you slammed the great Parnell
When you fought them well and truly persecuted
Where are the smears and jeers that you bravely let us hear
When our heros of sixteen were executed

Chorus

Come tell us how you slew those brave arabs two by two
Like the zulus they had spears and bows and arrows
How you bravely slew each one with your sixteen pounder gun
And you frightened them poor natives to their marrow

Chorus

The day is coming fast and the time is here at last
When each yeoman will be cast aside before us
And if there be a need sure my kids will sing God speed
With a verse of two of Steven Beehan's chorus

Current Mood: Sigh. It's over.

Current Music: Clocks - Coldplay & Come Out and Fight - The Battering Ram

It's over. The semester's over.  Where did it go?  I feel so vastly relieved and kind of sad at the same time.  It'll be a month before I see my friends again.  Sure, I'll go home and see my friends there, but...it's not the same.  I'm really starting to get attached to this place.  To the old, regal buildings and quietly-brooding trees, to the hippiesque street, to the people stalking the dorm hallways at all hours.  I love it all. 

I didn't see people before I left, but it's okay, I suppose.  As I was walking back from my exam, on that familiar brick pathway trailing toward South Campus, I was smiling randomly at little tidbits of memory that entered my head.  I tried to wipe the foolish grin off my face but it kept sneaking back.  I wondered if others had thought at all about it and, at some point, laughed, too.

I still have those images, and memories, which I will try to finally dispel in my stretch of free time.  And I think to myself...watch me blossom. 

Watch me.  I will work to change myself, but remember fondly the past and think of those memories as only droplets of the future, shimmering.  And when I think of it that way, that smile, crooked like time, finds it way back to my countenance.

It is shockingly cold outside.  I walk along in the almost prickling air over seemingly numb bricks catcalling guys in my mind--"Hey sexy," "What a gorgeous jaw you've got there," "Mmm boy," "Helloooo nurse."  The bricks just flatly thud under my feet and blue eyes peering out of faces lined with stubble will never know. We are all bundled in baggy, crumpled clothes, cheeks burning red despite the crackling freeze.  The clouds are grey and flat like the bricks.  Somehow the cold makes everything flat and numb.  Even my normally untameable hair.  Someone has erased the poetry that was scrawled on the brick wall.  But someone else has graffitied "Sodomy, not bombs" on the pavement.  I think this place is crazy.  My mind bustles but there is nowhere to skitter off too.  I saw a dog run down the hallway past my class today on stubby legs.  It is something I would like to do. 

I really hope it snows. The day just calls for it.  Come on!

I sing to myself and for some reason I don't care who hears it.  I love the cold.

Scrubs is already a great show, but when colin farrell is added into the mix playing what else but a dirty irishman, then it becomes absolutely sublime.  This I must declare, and I must declare it to the masses.

"You have one day to bring me a gorgeous Irishman.  ONE DAY!"

It's come to my attention that using the word retarded is blasphemous, but sadly it's one of my favorite words.  Here's what I said about it on this forum:

Me:  I'm sorry, I'm going to be completely insensitive here and say I use the word retarded all the time. Seriously, all the time. "You're almost retarded!" Retarded is just a fun word. I'm not really worried about people who are actually retarded taking offense, because they probably have no idea what I'm talking about.

True, family members or friends of those with mental handicaps might take offense. It's a risk I'm willing to take. It's just words.

Oh and for the person who said I obviously dislike retarded people because I call things retarded, I don't, but let's face it, they do have a lower IQ or whatever. It's just the facts. When someone is stupid, I might assume they have a lower IQ, and thus use a hyperbole of retarded to highlight my claim.

I'm just saying it's not such a big hoodoo. I don't go around saying I hate retards and kicking them in the face. It's just like...a technicality. How it is. They have a lower mental ability. It's not necessarily something I look down upon in people with disabilities. Oh well I feel like I'm digging a hole. I just don't really care about name calling that much. I don't really call names that much either, but I don't want to be on edge everytime I talk because I'm at risk of offending someone. It's not just gays and retards, ya know.

Some Other Kid:  

"I'm not really worried about people who are actually retarded taking offense, because they probably have no idea what I'm talking about."

Today is going to be pure drudgery, methinks.  Yesterday was not so hot either.  After a fuzzy remembrance of getting home the night before from the party, I woke up to the screeching alarm, curled in a fetal position and literally encased in blankets, absolutely freezing.  It was so cold that leaving the bed was almost unthinkable.  But I had to, and did, legs shaking, teeth chattering.  I threw on some clothes and my winter apparel and dragged myself all the way down to the Dean Dome to stand in line for basketball tickets...freezing, hungry, my mouth tasting like fungus, my head throbbing and just feeling absolutely empty.  Let me tell you, it was pure torture for these tickets.  The cold was acutely sharp.  The minutes seemed to crawl by desperately, and I picture them digging their claws into and scraping themselves dreadfully across the plane of time in order to pass.  My face was so cold that it became hard to move it.  All the while two people near us hugged and made out and smelled heavily of alcohol, and jealously I wished I were one of them entwined in another's arms, at least.  After almost an hour someone told us that you could take refuge inside one of the buildings while waiting.  Rita and I's number was nearly the last to be called....so we ducked into the salerium and watched people swim back and forth in the pool below us, their arms circling up and down like birds' wings, and staring into the elusive ripples of the turquoise water, feeling a mixture of either wanting to eat or throw up...my head emptied of its contents.

Finally....finally...after about 3 hours we procured our tickets.  I fell into bed with my clothes on and slept for 5 hours.  Of course, I woke up just in time to have missed the dining hall being open.  I cursed it openly and then we travelled to Bandido's where I gorged myself and later we watched Napoleon Dynamite, and Colin Farrell on SNL (Napoleon voice: Lucky!).

And now today is here and I sit musing and thinking of dressing myself, but then think about how much work that takes, and like Jin would say, listening to the Shins like it's my job.  All yesterday I had "Gone for Good" stuck in my head...and I believe it might be the current theme for these episodic days...(I begin mid-song..) 

That's enough sitting on the fence

 For the fear of breaking dams

 I find a fatal flaw

In the logic of love

 And go out of my head

You love a sinking stone

 That'll never elope

So get used to the lonesome

 Girl, you must atone some

 Don't leave me no phone number there

 It took me all of a year

 To put the poison pill to your ear

But now I stand on honest ground, on honest ground

 You want to fight for this love

 But honey you cannot wrestle a dove

So baby it's clear

You want to jump and dance

 But you sat on your hands

 And lost your only chance

 Go back to your hometown

 Get your feet on the ground

And stop floating around

 I find a fatal flaw

 In the logic of love

 And go out of my head

 You love a sinking stone

 That'll never elope

 So get used to used to the lonesome

 Girl, you must atone some

 Don't leave me no phone number there

I wonder if it will take me all of the year to put the poison pill to someone's ear and I realize...Valentine's Day is coming up and ohhhh. How I dread it. I must eat and do work now. Shitloads of work. Fuuuuuuuuccccck.

Long time, no write.

A lot has happened.  Almost too much.

I'm listening to "Still Fighting It" by Ben Folds. 

good morning son
i am a bird
wearing a brown polyester shirt
you want a coke?
maybe some fries?
the roast beef combo's only nine ninety five
but it's okay
you don't have to pay
i've got all the change

everybody knows
it hurts to grow up
but everybody does
it's so weird to be back here
let me tell you what
the years go on and
we're still fighting it
and you're so much like me
i'm sorry

good morning son
twenty years from now
maybe we'll both sit down
and have a few beers
and i can tell
you about today
and how i picked you up
and everything changed
it was pain
sunny days and rain
i knew you'd feel the same things

everybody knows
it sucks to grow up
and everybody does
and so weird to be back here
let me tell you what
the years go on and
we're still fighting it

you'll try and try
and one day you'll fly
away from here

That song has always made me cry.  I cried this morning because I couldn't hold onto my dog.  I'm at home right now, and so of course it really sinks in that he isn't here, where he's supposed to be.  He's not in the corner curled up where he's supposed to be.  He didn't greet me at the door like he was supposed to.  Now I know why I didn't come home sooner.  The dog was part of this house, this place.  It feels strangely jarred without him.  Even when no one else was home, there was his little presence there among all the inanimate objects--glass lamp shades, clocks, tables...and now it's only objects, unenlivened. I only came home now because I pretty much had to.  I feel exhausted.  I'm sick.  But the one body...one warm body I could actually hold onto is gone.  I know, I know, it's just a dog, but the dog was the only one I could really hold, entwined in my arms.  Maybe that's why when I tried to write a poem about him all that came out were images of security stuffed animals and dolls...because I could hug and hold those too, really closely, and feel okay.  Wow, that's pathetic. 

My mom didn't even hug me today when I cried.  I guess I could have asked her to.  I'm sick of this wall between my parents and I.  It's their job to hold me.  It's their job to tell me they love me and they don't.  Now I have to take it upon myself to do those things if I want it.  Sometimes I don't want to be the one who professes their care for someone, or outstretches my arm for a hug, I want to be the one who's being professed to, to be the one who just gets wrapped up in arms.  I'm tired of hearing my dad's loud breathing just near me as I write this.  So stoic and absolutely impenetrable.  I really wanted to talk to him last night in the car, the moon hung in the sky like an ornament, the care between us hung there too, glowing like that, silent, precarious.

I just realized I've gotten way ahead of myself.  I didn't tell you all that the dog had died.  Well, he died.  I didn't see him before he went either.  I have dealt with it okay though, because God gave me a listening ear, at least, at that time. 

I'm really, really tired...too tired to write about the rest right now, because there is too much.  I will finish this later.

• became angry at the world, then reconciled with it
• thought I gained weight, but lost it
• made a great new friend
• realized that God's love can be as personal as any human's
  
• experienced my dog's death, but then realized it was okay
• thought the world was colorless, but then saw a girl wearing rainbow socks.
• admitted to someone how I cared, and realized that was okay.
• accomplished a goal to be honest to people I care about by the end of the month, with time to spare.
• didn't like class, so I just didn't go.
• bought several new shirts.
• wrote a poem that my prof said was 'basically finished.'
• decided to go to a monastery for Spring Break.
• felt steady for the first time in life.
  

• realized everything will be okay.
  

For some reason I've been feeling extremely musical. I can't listen to enough of it. Right now I'm listening to "Something" by the Beatles. You're asking me will my love grow? I don't know. I don't know...

Here's my 'lately' list:

1. New Slang - The Shins
I'm looking in on the good life i might be doomed never to find.
Without a trust or flaming fields am i too dumb to refine?
And if you'd 'a took to me like a gull takes to the wind
Well i'd a danced like the queen of the eyesores
And the rest of our lives would 'a fared well.

2. The Only Living Boy in New York - Simon and Garfunkel

Tom, get your plane right on time.
I know your part'll go fine....

Half of the time we're gone but we don't know where,
And we don't know here....

Tom, get your plane right on time.
I know you've been eager to fly now.
Hey let your honesty shine, shine, shine
Da-n-da-da-n-da-da-n-da-da
Like it shines on me
The only living boy in New York

Here I am...

3. Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown) - The Beatles

I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me...

And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown...

4. Still Fighting It - Ben Folds

Good morning son
I am a bird
...
You don't have to pay
I've got all the change

5. Tangled Up in Blue - Bob Dylan
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burnin' coal
Pourin' off of every page
Like it was written in my soul from me to you...

And when finally the bottom fell out
I became withdrawn,
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keepin' on like a bird that flew,
Tangled up in blue.

6. Shower the People - James Taylor

Shower the people you love with love
Show them the way that you feel
Things are gonna be just fine if you only will(do as i say, yeah)
Shower the people you love with love
Show them the way that you feel
Things are gonna be much better if you only will...

They say in every light
They say the rain must fall
Just like pouring rain
Make it rain
Make it rain
Love, love, love is sunshine oh.

7. You've Got a Friend - James Taylor
Hey, ain’t it good to know that you’ve got a friend?
People can be so cold.
They’ll hurt you and desert you.
Well they’ll take your soul if you let them.
Oh yeah, but don’t you let them.

You just call out my name and you know wherever I am
I’ll come running to see you again.

8. Daughters - John Mayer

Fathers be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too

9. And It Stoned Me - Van Morrison

Oh, the water
Oh, the water
Oh, the water
Hope it don’t rain all day

And it stoned me to my soul
Stoned me just like jelly roll
And it stoned me
And it stoned me to my soul
Stoned me just like goin’ home
And it stoned me

10. You and I Both - Jason Mraz

Was it you who spoke the words that things would happen but not to me
Oh things are gonna happen naturally
Oh taking your advice and I'm looking on the bright side
And balancing the, the whole thing

11. Wild Honey - U2

Did I know you...
Did I know you even then?
Before the clocks kept time
Before the world was made...

(What is soul?)
(Love me, give me soul)

12. Up and Away - Dave Matthews

Before you came, you know, I never cared.

13. Turn Me On - Norah Jones

Like the desert waiting for the rain
Like a school kid waiting for the spring
Im just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on

14. Sisters of Mercy - Sting and the Chieftains

If your life is a leaf
That the seasons tear off and condemn
they will bind you with love
That is graceful and green as a stem. ...

And you won't make me jealous
If I hear that they sweetened your night
We weren't lovers like that
And besides it would still be all right
We weren't lovers like that
And besides it would still be all right

15. Everything's Not Lost - Coldplay

If you ever feel neglected
If you think that all is lost
I'll be counting up my demons, yeah
Hoping everything's not lost

Life is for living, we all know, and I don't want to live it alone...

And now I'm listening to "Wonderwall" by Oasis...and maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me.

Feel drunk, no sleep, watching hands creep over guitar strings, thinking of going to parties, ignoring worries and not feeling sorry for not having finished my essays. these are my dear diaries.  you know who i care for. just wanted to hurry this out.  you never know what might pass up. tomorrow i'll write more, but til then just think of a fiery gamut of chords, or my penchant for procrastination, or that now i find in everything this lustrous allure, where i once thought it all a colorless bore.  i kinda wish i could kiss someone, but i dont really know who. i promise you im not a whore.  writing should not seem a chore but it is when im dead tired from staying up till four.  now im just rhyming, and that is not even aligning with the things i should want to tell you all, in a way that is sure to make you feel its core.  this is just ceaseless rambling.  i really feel something like an ambling euphoria.  your words, whatever you said.  i adore them.  more later, when im done snoring.  it's finally time for rest.

There's more than logic.  There is the bizarre, the beautiful, and the fleeting.  I hope you see it.

After reading a biologist thinks we're through evolving

Maybe I'll lose my fear

of artichoke hearts alone

or on pizza.  Maybe I'll fall in love

again with snow and build a fort

and crawl inside and call my life

on a cell phone and say

I'm not coming back.  Maybe

after an ice storm I'll gather limbs

and bolt a short forest together

in the basement to remind visitors

of their broken promises

until they apologize

to the dogs they didn't walk

and the mothers alone

in the ground without flowers

marking the spot of their bones

with a fragrant X.

Maybe I'll find the creator

of the fragmentation grenade

and fill his mouth with popcorn

and microwave his head and say

to his crispy consciousness

see?  Maybe with shovels and a backhoe

and three men surgically removed

from the dim light of the Tip Time

Bar I'll fill in the gouge

Teddy Roosevelt made

across Panama so people will stop

cutting through and Panamanians

can finally get some sleep.

Maybe when you wake

I'll kiss the backs

of your knees as a premonition

of the next time I do

something wrong or just

to taste your dreams

in the last place they hide

or to acknowledge the lips

are over-rated as the place

on the body to greet.  Maybe

I'll carry water and cotton

and wood rasps and sand paper

everywhere I go and begin

smoothing the world now

of every angle and rude surface.

Then when you're old, a pile

of sentient wrinkles,

and fall as you must, your hips

will smack the comforting ground

and I'll slap the back

of a young boy's head and say

give her a hand

and he'll lift you

like a tissue because maybe

science is wrong and you

will be the first person whose breath

never breaks.

-Bob Hicok.

Fuck
 

There are people who will tell you
that using the word fuck in a poem
indicates a serious lapse
of taste, or imagination,

or both. It's vulgar,
indecorous, an obscenity
that crashes down like an anvil
falling through a skylight

to land on a restaurant table,
on the white linen, the cut-glass vase of lilacs.
But if you were sitting
over coffee when the metal

hit your saucer like a missile,
wouldn't that be the first thing
you'd say? Wouldn't you leap back
shouting, or at least thinking it,

over and over, bell-note riotously clanging
in the church of your brain
while the solicitous waiter
led you away, wouldn't you prop

your shaking elbows on the bar
and order your first drink in months,
telling yourself you were lucky
to be alive? And if you wouldn't

say anything but Mercy or Oh my
or Land sakes, well then
I don't want to know you anyway
and I don't give a fuck what you think

of my poem. The world is divided
into those whose opinions matter
and those who will never have
a clue, and if you knew

which one you were I could talk
to you, and tell you that sometimes
there's only one word that means
what you need it to mean, the way

there's only one person
when you first fall in love,
or one infant's cry that calls forth
the burning milk, one name

that you pray to when prayer
is what's left to you. I'm saying
in the beginning was the word
and it was good, it meant one human

entering another and it's still
what I love, the word made
flesh. Fuck me, I say to the one
whose lovely body I want close,

and as we fuck I know it's holy,
a psalm, a hymn, a hammer
ringing down on an anvil,
forging a whole new world.

-Kim Addonizio

Stability results were moderately high which suggests you are relaxed, calm, secure, and optimistic.

Orderliness results were low which suggests you are overly flexible, improvised, and fun seeking at the expense too often of reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment.

Extraversion results were medium which suggests you are moderately talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting.

Dublin
December 1909

To Nora,
I would be delighted to feel my flesh tingling under your hand. Do you know what I mean, Nora dear? I wish you would smack me or flog me even. Not in play, dear, in earnest and on my naked flesh. I wish you were strong, strong, dear, and had a big full proud bosom and big fat thighs. I would love to be whipped by you, Nora love! I would love to have done something to displease you, something trivial even, perhaps one of my rather dirty habits that make you laugh: and then to hear you call me into your room and then to find you sitting in an armchair with your fat thighs far apart and your face deep red with anger and a cane in your hand. To see you point to what I had done and then with a movement of rage pull me towards you and throw me face downwards across your lap. Then to feel your hands tearing down my trousers and inside clothes and turning up my shirt, to be struggling in your strong arms and in your lap, to feel you bending down (like an angry nurse whipping a child's bottom) until your big full bubbies almost touched me and to feel you flog, flog, flog me viciously on my naked quivering flesh!!

Sincerely,
James Joyce

Oh my. Mr. Joyce! How dare you, sir!

What a genius. I've definitely found my DWM (dead white male) idol. And he writes dirty love letters too.

By the way, this letter is in no way contrived. It's pure reality.
http://arlindo-correia.com/joyce.html

Another quote, "You seem to turn me into a beast." Beast. LMFAO. This guy is the best.

PS man. i hate how when you copy/paste into mindsay, it fucks it up entirely.

Take our quiz to find out: www.runormal.com 

Your Normalcy Quotient is: 78 out of 100.

What really counts is how your score compares to those of your normal or not so normal group of friends. Don’t forget to forward them this email so you can compare results.

You are a Charming Conformist.

1) Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, find line 4. What's it say?
Luckily the nearest book to me is Ulysses by Joyce. I turn to page 18, line 4.
--You pique my curiosity, Haines said amiably. Is it some paradox?

Interesting, because the next line is a line which I have quoted in my blog before:
--Pooh! Buck Mulligan said. We have grown out of Wilde and paradoxes. It's quite simple. He proves by algebra that Hamlet's grandson is Shakespeare's grandfather and that he himself is the ghost of his own father.
Also interesting because Jinu, who I stole this quiz from, is in love with Oscar Wilde.

2)Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you touch first?
Nothing. But I suppose I could touch the TV if I wanted to.

3) What is the last thing you watched on TV?
The basketball game between Duke and Mississippi State. Man, that would have been sweet if Mississippi state had won, because Duke is despicable. That was like a week ago too.

4) WITHOUT LOOKING,what time do you think it is?
9:50

5) Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?
Booya, 9:51.

6) With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
A weird sound coming from the ceiling. It sounds like when a microphone is having echoey sounds. Also, my own typing...and the faint sound of another person's tv down the hall.

7) When did you last step outside? What were you doing?
About 15 minutes ago, I was getting out of my car and coming back into the dorm. I was coming back from getting my car from the PR Lot and eating an astoundingly delicious burrito at Cosmic Cantina, and writing a poem there.

8) Before you came to this website, what did you look at?
I looked at an IM window, and my friend was talking to me in spanish.

9) What are you wearing?
My grey jeans, my green shirt with a shamrock on it that says 'Everybody loves an Irish girl,' my black jacket, and these white socks with spotted dogs on them. And some blue underwear. Oh and my tan bra. And some cool earrings. And my claddagh ring.

10) Did you dream last night?
Yes, it was extremely odd. I dreamt I was on Jackass. Or maybe I was living with the guys on Jackass. And all the guys were doing gross and weird stuff. I remember I woke up (in my dream) and there was just this dick...in my face. I remember that I grabbed it in my hand and stuffed it under the sheets or something. And got really irritated. And then I remember they also had went through the trash and found dirty tampons and like...I have no idea what they did with them, but I guess they threw them everywhere and had to touch them. I hope they didn't like..ingest them. Ugh. Anyway it was pretty irritating all around.

11) When did you last laugh?
Ummmmmmmm. Probably when Anne was saying how hot she was in her outfit for the party. Or maybe when Michael read me his poem because it was pretty amusing.

12) What is on the walls of the room you are in?
A bulletin board with various photos and notes tacked to it, including pictures of my dog, Colin Farrell (the hotness), Dave (Orpheus), and James Joyce (my eyepatched muse). There is also a couple Van Gogh prints, including one of irises and one of roses. Also two Dave posters. Also a Pirates of the Caribbean poster. And also, some puppy posters (my roommate's).

13) Seen anything weird lately?
Yeah, your mama. Sorry, couldn't resist. Um...hmm. Well, I saw this weird homeless guy today. His body was contorted in a strange manner.

14) Last movie you saw?
Fight Club.

15) If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy first?
"A Walden-esque cabin in the woods, where I could transport Sally, and sit in front of my computer and write like it was my job." <--This was Jennifer's answer. I agree, except for the Sally part. But I would buy my own horse to transport to my Walden-esque cabin.

16) Tell me something about you that I don't know.
I talk in spanish in my sleep. My favorite number is 9. I started writing poetry in the fourth grade. I go for the dark, mysterious type of man.

17) If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would it be?
More health care money for those who need it. Or uhhh. something.

18) Do you like to dance?
Only when I'm drunk.

19) George Bush:
is an unbelievable dick.

20) Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
Probably Aislin.

Ice, your only rivers run cold.
These city lights, they shine as silver and gold.
Dug from the night, your eyes as black as coal.

Walk on by, walk on through.
Walk till you run and don't look back
For here I am.

Carnival, the wheels fly and the colours spin through alcohol.
Red wine that punctures the skin.
Face to face in a dry and waterless place.

Walk on by, walk on through.
So sad to besiege your love… oh hang on.

Stay this time, stay tonight in a lie.
I'm only asking, but I, I think you know.
Come on take me away, come on take me away
Come on take me home, home again.

And if the mountains should crumble
Or disappear into the sea
Not a tear, no not I.

Stay this time, stay tonight in a lie.
Ever after is a long time.
And if you save your love, save it all, save it all
Don't push me too far, don't push me too far.
Tonight, tonight.

Yesterday was sublime. It was a wrenching Good Friday. I felt wretched. I was wailing With or Without You on the way home. I was crying out at the top of my lungs. I was driving way too fast. Reckless. I didn't care. I almost felt that spinning out and crashing would be better than here. At least I wouldn't be so overwhelmed. Then I saw in the dusky sky 4 stripes of cirrus clawed across like God had scratched his fingernails down a chalkboad, and stripped away the orange gloss. And glowing phosphorescent, a lush and rosy cross marked an X above Borders bookstore. When I stopped my car, reeling, crumpled over the steering wheel in front of Taco Bell, and I choked on a sob, feeling, just feeling for something...yes or no? Are you there? Of course, he was. And I saw the spectacular cross in the sky. To be sure, it was totally bizarre. Two clouds, slashed just right to make a crux. I'm not lying, and I'm not crazy. In the hazy twilight, that lush pink cross hung, saying, Here I Am. An answer to my loud, crying song. And I remember the opal moon was large last night, round and full like his eye looking down, watching. Caring. And here I am, cursing Capernaum.

But like all days, Good Friday has gone. The moon has sunk. And on Sunday, the Son will have risen.

So I never told you about this weekend. I'm going to tell you now, since I accidentally set my alarm clock wrong, and so I didn't wake up in time for philosophy.

I had a sublime moment Friday, where I felt terrible and then saw a cross in the sky.  I wasn't making that up.  These two clouds just happened to perfectly form one.  It was strange, but not so strange that I couldn't believe.  But after that...I felt consoled.  I felt...I just needed to lay myself down, and accept.  It's what I had done. I had laid myself down on that steering wheel and just helplessly wept. Let everything fall as the dusk fell, easy is the descent. Accept.  Accept what people are, accept yourself.  Accept it all as God's will.  Just be, and be still.

Saturday, I didn't let on that anything weird had happened.  I just felt....good.  We sat for hours and argued about poems in what I like to call, "the underground poetry society."  Just my type of afternoon.  We talked about how cool it would be if one day, we all became famous and then we were colleagues.  And people would have documented our companionship and our work together.  "Actually," I declared, "that would be the coolest thing ever."  Just thinking about it, it really would.  What a story they'd have.  Imagine, now famous intellectuals Brenner, Sheehan, Collevecchio, and Highland having traded poems, (I use last names because it sounds more professional)  and scholars looking at the notes each other made on them...imagine that, imagine them laughing at our scribbling of "rofl" or underlining, quite immaturely, the phrase, "coming in two minutes." Imagine them discovering Sheehan and Collevecchio had travelled to a monastery together to gain sublime experience.  How perfectly poetic!  We'd be like...the Wordsworth and Coleridge of the modern day.  I remember sitting in that tree over the river and saying, "This is exactly what people in an underground poetry society should be doing together."   And imagine the intrigue when they discovered the precarious attraction held by the well-known poet Sheehan for the screenwriter and poet Highland.  Oh my, what scandal!  Pure poetry, indeed.  Although it never produced anything except a Yeats-esque pining in the former, but still, the classic longing!  Longing, and eventual acceptance. And imagine the further intrigue they discovered when they considered each of the secret talks they could have had with one another over this awkward state of affairs.  The confidentiality.  I believe, sir, it would be perfectly delightful for them. Just imagine that.  We don't even know what else could be.

Of course that's assuming we all make it.  And we will.  In our own ways, if not to become literati or pillars of poetic inspiration.  Even if it is swept away easily as dust from a table, it still was something.

Actually, I probably should go now. But I'm not done.  Sunday was just what I needed.

I knew I was Peter Pan.

Hahaha....second most was...the beast. Hahahaha.

I'll have a better entry later.  April Fool's Day is quite appropriate...I've been a total dumbass today.  I have this paper due.  Definitely due about 2 hours ago. And yet...I'm on mindsay. 

Today I was talking to Melissa about how my goal was to become bulimic over the summer.  Sure.  My throat would be burned by acid and my breath would perpetually smell like vomit, but I'd be skinny!! 

Yet here I am eating Brazilian candies when I want to lose more weight.  Mmmmm Nestle Especialidades. 

....

Random snippet.

I am anne's slushie fix. 

I am fulfilled by pina colada.

The white...not the blue.

.....

Later that day....

Wow, I took another quiz.  100% writer.  One-hun-dred.  That means I'm totally and completely a writer.  Wow.

I love that the apparent paragon of literature is JK Rowling.  My ass, she is.  Maybe one day I can write something as good as children's literature!!  Who cares about Harry Potter. Fags.

You scored as Peter Pan. Your alter ego is Peter Pan. You are a child at heart. Anything you believe is possible, and you never want to grow up. Peter Pan 94% The Beast 69% Ariel 63% Sleeping Beauty 63% Snow White 56% Goofy 56% Cinderella 44% Pinocchio 44% Donald Duck 31% Cruella De Ville 25% Which Disney Character is your Alter Ego? created with QuizFarm.com

roughshod pieces of something. unrefined.

Ode to Cosmic Part I

I sit in the cantina

tucked in the corner

of the alley

eating a burrito.

solo mio,

the radio croons sadly

with a chintzy mexican lilt

in the background,

one that strikes me

as really a gimmick.

I chew my food

in a booth made

for two, but I'm one

chewing my cud

digesting my thoughts

that are enough for seven stomachs

and savoring solitude like salsa

and nachos. cheesy.

estoy enamorada con la ideal de amor.

que pasada es pasada.

mi corazon,

esta salido.

solo mio.

Cosmic Part II

I wait behind the crazy lady

she ordered a burrito with nothing except rice

she's nearly bald

and her eyes,

deeply suspicious.

she bitches about not getting a few cents back

but then finds out she was wrong.

I get the same thing every time.

Chicken burrito.  No beans. Sour cream. Rice.

I wonder if people ever think I'm crazy.

Erik with a k in line behind me

likes the girl working today.

"I think I saw you on your way

to work," he says with a stray smile.

She makes a soft remark about the sun.

His name is stitched on

his uniform, labeled Erik with a k

with "materials management"

on the front,

and I wonder what that means.

Trashman?  Sanitation?

For a moment I think

a man is going to sit with me

and I am utterly terrified,

but thankfully he passes

and sits with Erik with a k instead.

I'm relieved he didn't come, I'm one and

I play the possible scenario

in my head, he tries to sit down,

I say, "Do I know you?"

and he says sleazily,

"No, but how can I get to know you otherwise?"

But this fades instantly because

he sat with the other one who pines

for that girl over there who most assuredly

cries for someone else,

and not to mention that someone

with me would never happen.

I sit under a wall painted crappily

with hippy murals that say Cre8

so I do. I scribble purely.

Erik puts hot sauce on his burrito

and a girl comes and asks me if I'm using mine.

I say no.  It reminds me of the time

my friend and I found some XXX hot sauce

in the teacher's purse. Pervert.

I look up and surely

a band called Virgin Eye Blood

is playing at Nightlight.

Blood, like hot sauce.

Virgin, I.

Less Than Jake at the Cat's Cradle.

Is that band named after a guy

who got rejected by a girl who liked some other

guy named Jake instead?  So he was less?

If I was a band I'd be less than Erin.

Or less than Rebecca.  What about Erik?

Less than him, less than her,

all cursing someone.  reckless. 

The crazy lady curses

the person who didn't give a few 

coins back to her purse.

Her virgin burrito

probably tastes like mercy.

We're still sitting, loving in reverse,

expecting the worst. All sure of it.

got no sleep last night.  not figuratively.  literally. i did not sleep. night before that i slept about 3 hours.  i was really drunk.  that partially explains my totally berserk entry, but not entirely. im coming to grips with that.  in fact, im even feeling a bit generous.  like helping them out.  tonight should be interesting...to say the least.ill try to get pics of the bonfire for you guys.  and probably the streakers.  go tar heels!  i love sean may with all my heart. 

more when i have something better to say and ive had more than 3 hours sleep in 2 days.

oooh okay. im going to do this survey because surveys are relatively mindless, and this will give this a little meat.

THREE THINGS YOU ARE SCARED OF:
01 | never finding love

02 | tornados
03 | failing at writing (and/or school)

THREE PEOPLE WHO MAKE ME LAUGH:
01 | Alex

02 | Jon Stewart

03 | Melissa (when she falls down)

THREE THINGS I LOVE:
01 | writing

02 | the idea of love

03 | sleeping when it's raining outside

THREE THINGS I HATE:
01 | fakeness
02 | arrogance
03 | my exterior.
THREE THINGS I DON'T UNDERSTAND:
01 | how to do a fatality in Mortal Kombat
02 | Michael
03 | what i'm doing with myself.

THREE THINGS ON MY COMPUTER DESK:
01 | notebooks with poems scribbled on them
02 | a box of weird Brazilian candy

03 | a Strong Bad coaster.

THREE THINGS I'M DOING RIGHT NOW:
01 | Feeling really really really tired.
02 | Hating school.
03 | Trying to keep awake.
THREE THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE:
01 | Go to Ireland.  Go to Thoor Ballylee.  See Ben Bulben. Dublin. The works.
02 | Marry someone I love and have lots of babies.  Name one Eamonn maybe.
03 | Publish something.
THREE THINGS I CAN DO:
01 | Procrastinate
02 | Overanalyze
03 | Love
THREE WAYS TO DESCRIBE MY PERSONALITY:
01 | Romantic (and this can mean idealistic too)
02 | Faithful
03 | Relentless

THREE THINGS I CAN'T DO:
01 | Pretend like nothing's wrong if there is.
02 | Accept that I have to be this way.
03 | Go to Ireland to study abroad because it's too expensive and that sucks.

THREE THINGS I THINK YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO:
01 | "JTR" - Dave Matthews Band

02 | "New Slang" - The Shins
03 | "Where the Streets Have No Name" - U2

THREE THINGS I DON'T THINK YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO EVER:
01 | Nickelback.
02 | Crazy Gary
03 | your mom

THREE THINGS I SAY THE MOST:
01 | "Remember the time..."
02 | "Fuck"
03 | "I don't want to"

THREE OF YOUR ABSOLUTE FAVORITE FOODS:
01 | Crabcakes
02 | Baked Potatoes.
03 | Dark chocolate.

THREE THINGS YOU'D LIKE TO LEARN:
01 | How to speak some Gaelic.
02 | How to be a master poet.
03 | How to kiss really good.

THREE BEVERAGES YOU DRINK REGULARLY:
01 | Water
02 | Water
03 | I don't like soda so water.

THREE SHOWS YOU WATCHED WHEN YOU WERE A KID:
01 | Sesame Street
02 | Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
03 | Eureka's Castle

I meant to share some of the stuff I did at the monastery much earlier.  But here's something.  If you can think of a better title, I'd be much obliged. 

Walking to Church in the Dark

We walked to Lauds this morning in the aching cold.

The land was hollow;

The earth lay strewn below the open womb of cobalt,

a lacuna dowsed indigo.

The fallow fields shivered with the dew.

We walked beneath the vaulting sky curved like a spoon;

the spoon holding us to the mouth of God,

food to be swallowed by the open maw,

consumed by the dark continuum.

We walked together, but apart;

The trees bowed, plumed in billowing moss.

The paths we crossed—arteries to the deep heart.

Monolithic trunks, grey-barked,

raised arms in vain to meet the concave sky

full of stars cradled in the purple arc.

I remember the sign of Scorpius,

marked by the scarlet star set in its head, Antares,

and its dagger-tail, delicately arched to sting.

Its harsh beauty awes and pins me

with a stark resignation, that before this, I was awful.

We are one in the dark, the ongoing onyx,

blue-black sky rolling in vibrato, stars scattered

in the sprawling shadows falling back

to harrow the ground again,  

world without end, without start,

and we are bound to the boundless,

we are found in the hallowed dark.

Monday, April 4, 2005.  UNC Tar Heels won the NCAA Championship for the first time since 1993. 

This is a photo story of the Tar Heel Victory.

UNC Tarheels--2005 NCAA Champions--Franklin Street Extravaganza

The fires of victory...

A crowd of 45,000 took to the streets to celebrate...

Setting fire to everything they could get their hands on..and then taking the leap of faith.

and crying, "Tar Heels!" to the heavens...

...spread the news throughout the land that Sean May is not mere man, but a beast...a gladiator among men...

bare it all for the tar heels...tear off all your clothes and burn them!

People were tearing at the trees to burn the branches...

Stick it to the man! Burn the signs!

And the finale, Carolina blue fireworks...

Because we're number 1!

The dynasty...'57, '82, '93...'05...

Can't get enough of those passionate, mysterious irishmen? Me neither. As I told Michael, our people are smoldering, burning with passion.  With the Celtic spirit.  Oh fuck yeah.  God I love these guys. 

I am feeling pissed off because everyone tells me I have to get a meaningless job and everyone tells me I would be hotter if I was skinnier and everyone tells me I can't live off what I love. 

Everyone giggles goodnaturedly when I'm feeling overwhelmed and everyone tells me he's an ass but I can't even convince myself of that, or if I'm trying to make myself feel better about it all,

and everyone tells me excitedly that school is ending soon which makes me feel bleak because I'll just be wasting every day behind the counter of some store without seeing anyone that I've come to care for and I'll come back months later and everyone will pretend not to know me, and giggle goodnaturedly.

And everyone tells me it will be fine, but then again, everyone is lying to themselves. 

I'll miss everyone.

Feeling incredibly lazy, tired, and unmotivated.

Came across this today:

"Productiveness is your acceptance of morality, your recognition of the fact that you choose to live--that productive work is the process by which man's consciousness controls his existence, a constant process of acquiring knowledge and shaping matter to fit one's purpose, of translating an idea into physical form, of remaking the earth in the image of one's values--that all work is creative work if done by a thinking mind, and no work is creative if done by a blank who repeats in uncritical stupor a routine he has learned from others--that your work is yours to choose, and the choice is as wide as your mind, that nothing more is possible to you and nothing less is human--that to cheat your way into a job bigger than your mind can handle is to become a fear-corroded ape on borrowed motions and borrowed time, and to settle down into a job that requires less than your mind's full capacity is to cut your motor and sentence yourself to another kind of motion: decay--that your work is the process of achieving your values, and to lose your ambition for values is to lose your ambition to live--that your body is a machine, but your mind is its driver, and you must drive as far as your mind wil take you, with achievement as the goal of your road--that the man who has no purpose is a machine that coasts downhill at the mercy of any boulder to crash in the first chance ditch, that the man who stifles his mind is a stalled machine slowly going to rust, that the man who lets a leader prescribe his course is a wreck being towed to the scrap heap, and the man who makes another man his goal is a hitchhiker no driver should ever pick up--that your work is the purpose of your life, and you must speed past any killer who assumes the right to stop you, that any value you might find outside your work, any other loyalty or love, can be only travelers you choose to share your journey and must be travelers going on their own power in the same direction."

-Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged

God dammit!! My parents are such assholes.  I stopped in yesterday.  My mom said, "You are very rude.  You can't just come over here without saying anything.  Go away."  What a jerk.  No wonder i don't go home much anymore...if I step in the door either no one gives a shit or they start into me right away.  I've walked in and my brother doesn't even say hello, or I've been home to tell them about cool things that happened in my life, really cool things like the monastery and my dad instead is pouting up in his room like a three year old, and fine, whatever, I'll just sit there and watch TV.  Right now I have NO money on my expense.  This wouldn't bother me that much except that I have a shitload of laundry to do and I can't do it.  And miraculously all 6 machines were open, which would have made it  a quick and easy laundry job but nooooo stupid jackass still didn't put any money on the card, even though she knows there is no other possible way for me to pay for laundry.  If I could I would use a sackful of my own change dammit, but it only takes fucking cards.  I'm also hungry and I can't buy any food.  I guess I'll go to the Ramshead and wait in line for 45 fucking minutes for one omelette.  Stupid fucking school. And my mom is so fucking stubborn that she wouldn't put any money on my card so I can't get a fucking measly hot pocket.  They never pick up the phone even though they are probably sitting right next to it. God, all I need is five filthy dollars to do laundry, CHRIST.  By the time they pick up the goddamn phone all the machines will be full.  Dammit!!!  And I have a 12 page research paper due tomorrow and I've barely started it!! AhhhhhhhhHHHHHHgoddamnmotherfuckingshit!!!!! FUCK.

"A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin." – H.L. Mencken

I feel like gathering a handful of flowers ripped fresh from the earth, bits of dirt still clinging to their leaves, upheld palms to the sky. Pink pom pom blossoms, soft and shy cherry buds, rays of lavender snapdragons, grape-like bubbling bunches of wisteria, crawling kudzu vines adorned with purple pentagons, yellow sprays of honeysuckle, yawning mouths of daffodils, dandelions, white cross-shaped dogwoods, spurts of thyme in the graveyard huddled over the dead like birds over carrion, bobbing bluebells, bushes bearing magnolias, common azaleas, auguries of camellias. I have a water bottle. I'll stick all the stolen blooms there under the window. Let them peek at the little bauble of sun, peek just over the edges, longing. A spot of spring in the corner. Freshly torn from the earth to color in my white walled room and unfurl their worth.

You wondrous bastard, punish me for want;

I’m slow succumbing to seductive guns

of eyes that do not care, uncaring flaunt,

your ego my magnum opus, my magnum.

Yeah, the last line doesn't quite follow in iams, but fuck that. It emphasizes the words magnum opus and magnum then. I've got some of another stanza, but I suck at fitting things into this pattern.  I think this poem wants to be trochaic, wants to be more forceful, less flowing.

Today was really not what I meant it to be.  I woke up at 1.  Spent hours trying to write a sonnet.  Didn't revise anything.  Then there was this party outside the dorm--so Alex and I went down the inflatable slide and the inflatable obstacle course.  That was pretty fun, though I got a friggin' burn on my elbow from sliding down the slide.  All in all, a very unproductive day.  I kinda wish I could see people this weekend. If only I wasn't so incredibly shy at times.  I'm tired of being the go-getter, though.  I'm tired of biting cold metal, mouth on the gun. I want to bite into something sweet and let my teeth sink in. And not have this weapon pointing back at me when I do clink my teeth down, realizing it only too late.  Metaphysical extension of my sonnet's theme of course.

Today Alex and I were comparing people to cookies.  Blondes are sugar cookies.  I like chocolate cookies, dark and sultry.  He likes M&M cookies, which are colorful and upbeat and showcase variety.   I also enjoy a good cinnamon type cookie.  Different flavors to bite into.

I've run out of things to say for now. Same old, same old. I was really feeling it badly earlier.  Just wishing I was being held by someone.  It reminded of so 'mainstream' a song by Dashboard Confessional...these particular lines standing out:

"And this bottle of beast
Is taking me home..." (How ironic...ha.)

"I'm cuddling close
To blankets and sheets..."

"But as for me, I wish that I was anywhere with anyone
Making out."

But she's touching his chest now

He takes off her dress now
Let me go...
And I just can't look
It's killing me
And taking control...

Jealousy
Turning saints into the sea
Turning through sick lullaby
Joking on your alibi
But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes
I'm Mr. Brightside

I have Mr. Brightside by the Killers in my head and I can't get it out... I am missing someone and feeling dumb. My mouth doesn't taste very good. I am feeling very ugly today. I would have been thirty minutes late to philosophy class, so I didn't go. That's just far too late to be tolerable. I listened to Yellow by Coldplay while riding the bus. That song makes me want to drive a bullet straight through my skull. I'm not sure why I listen to it. Don't worry, I'm not actually going to act on this gut-wrenching disgust. Christ, I need to enact my plan now, my plan to make me feel better about myself. I can't take feeling this terrible anymore. Even if its only in spurts. God I feel so freaking ugly. I have nothing to do this weekend. I guess I should do work. But I really would like to ...hmm...I dunno. Which would be better...talking to someone or sequestering myself? I haven't sequestered myself in a while. I have to go to the North Carolina Museum of Art on Sunday...write a cover letter, resume for this job I'm trying to get. Finish that damned sonnet about how love is like shooting myself. You know, people get on me for writing about beautiful things like flowers, rain, etc. But you know what? If I don't write about that, I just write about how ugly I am. Gahhhh these thoughts even get on my nerves, and they're my thoughts. They're so angsty. I need to get up off my fat ass and get back into trying to change my body, if I hate it so much. That's it. I'm starting my diet again TODAY. Pronto. I was going to wait til after exams, but whatever. Fuck this. Fucking fuck. There goes my whining again...there goes the angst.

1. Choose an artist and answer only in their song titles: Dave Matthews Band

2. Are you male or female: Dancing Nancies

3. Describe yourself: Grey Blue Eyes or Busted Stuff or So Much to Say

4. How do some people feel about you: I'll Back You Up

5.How do you feel about yourself: Dodo

6.Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Proudest Monkey

7.Describe your current girlfriend/boyfriend: You Never Know

8.Describe where you want to be: I Did It or If I Had it All or The Best of What's Around

9.Describe what you want to be: Captain or Too High

10.Describe how you live: Everyday or Stay (Wasting Time)

11.Describe how you love: Too Much

12.Share a few words of wisdom:

• Brandtson, Cursive, The Gathering, Gypsy Kings, Smashing Pumpkins, Travis, Guster, The Postal Service, Death Cab for Cutie, Neutral Milk Hotel, the Dresden Dolls, the Killers, Keane, Simon and Garfunkel, the Decemberists, lots more Pink Floyd

I stayed up still 7:30 in the morning again.  Helped a drunk friend, even helped clean up her vomit.  If you've never smelled like vomit once in your life, while digging pennies out of your change purse to rummage the money to pay for breakfast biscuits that you're eating for breakfast before you've went to sleep, then you've never lived. 

I haven't slept at all and I'm going to revise poems.

I absolutely love the people I've met this semester.

images and stats from off the top of my head.

Diego Velazquez.  Las Meninas.  1660. Baroque.

Jean-Antoine Watteau.  Pilgrimage to the Isle of Cythera.  1720.  Rococo. 

Jackson Pollock. Autumn Rhythm.  1950. Abstract Expressionism.

Aaron Douglas. Building More Stately Mansions. 1940. Harlem Renaissance.

Paul Gauguin. Spirit of the Dead Watching. 1900. Post Impressionism.

Jacques-Louis David. Oath of the Horatii. 1790.  Neoclassicism.

Eugene Delacroix. Death of Sardanapalus. 1820. Romanticism.

Henry Ossawa Tanner. Daniel in the Lions' Den. 1930. Harlem Renaissance.

Michelangelo. Pieta. 1500. High Renaissance.

Georges Seurat. A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. 1880. Post-Impressionism.

Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot. First Leaves Near Nante. 1850. Realism.

Claude Monet. Rouen Cathedral: Portal of the Sun. 1900. Impressionism.

Wassily Kandinsky. Improvisation. 1920. Abstract Expressionism.

Roy Lichtenstein. Oh, Jeff, I Love You, Too...But.... 1970. Pop Art.

Pierre-Auguste Renoir. Moulin de la Galette. 1880. Impressionism.

Paul Cezanne. Mont Sainte-Victoire. 1900. Post-Impressionism.

Rosa Bonheur. The Horse Fair. 1850.  Realism.

Marcel Duchamp. Fountain. 1920. Dada.

Vincent Van Gogh. Starry Night. 1890. Post-Impressionism.

Edouard Manet. Olympia. 1860. Impressionism.

Salvador Dali. Persistance of Memory.1930.  Surrealism.

and my favorites

Antonio Canova. Cupid and Psyche. 1790. Neoclassicism.

Joseph Mallord William Turner. The Fighting Temeriare Tugged to Her Last Berth to be Broken Up. 1840. Romanticism.

Which do you like?

Holy shit I feel like writing something but I've got this headmist. Just go, just flowing. I'm tired to plan things out, I just slept for twelve hours after an all nighter, I love you all. I just read a marvelous poem by my friend Tanner, and I don't even care if he sees this, but damn. I was reading it and I exclaimed, Christ on a bicycle! And my roommate flit her glance over at me with questionmark furrowed brow and asked What and I said: What I'm reading... It's good. It really reminds me of TS Eliot too, or something, and I love the stars and firegrit and all. Dammit just read it for yourselves. 

Viva the elite circle of poets!  I need to compose verse.  Need to. I want to frame each of them in words.  Lauren and I were discussing how we are going to become a real secret society with rituals of writing quotes on each other's hands.  The other night she wrote, "Will you be my bff?" Of course I answered yes, resoundingly.  Now we have formed a powerful alliance.  I want to write "You are fasted now, light-headed, dangerous. Take off from here. And don't be so earnest. Let others wear the sackcloth and ashes. Let go, let fly, forget. You've listened long enough. Now strike your note." Maybe on a wall. She told me about this red-headed mophead kid named Patrick who wrote poetry on the walls, and that poetry always inspired me; I should meet this lad. Seamus Heaney wrote my quote, I should scrawl it across the ground.  It's from Seamus's poem about the dream he had where James Joyce appeared to him as an apparition, a muse.  Seamus and I have the same muse.  Or at least, one of the same.  I have a whole circle of muses.  I'm rattling with the need to enscribe.  Goodbye sirs.

The opal hush poet
almost crashed
her car today.
She once wanted
to go out in a quiet
blaze of glory.

She goes by many names:
Sheehan, meaning peace;
Seek-among-ashes,
a lofty phrase

for a phoenix;
and finally, the opal hush:
the name for Yeats
and Irish mystics
who would drink in deep
the claret lemonade
of poetry

that revived the wandering Oisin;
the opal hush meant hope,
the steel’s silent gleam

in the capricious rush.

The screeching tires,
the excruciation ceased;

the car froze at the streetside.
She never noticed the ‘sh’
in each one of her names
whispering in a meek voice,
Shhh, hush-a-bye,
be still, my child.

She looked up at the sky,
wild eyes wandering
as she clutched the steering wheel
under the dusk

that was falling down upon her
in flying streaks.
Little beads of tears clung
to her cheeks
like clear shards of glass
but she was numb.

Stripes of cirrus
clawed across the open sky
like God had scratched his fingernails
down a chalkboard
with the screeching tires.
But seared into the orange gloss
and glowing phosphorescent,
two clouds appeared to form
a lush and rosy cross,
fearless, fiery, marking

an X above Borders bookstore.

There the crux hung,
saying, Here I Am, hush,
an utterance in reply
to her gut’s wringing song and
a call to each of her names.
She saw and just watched,
the world around still in flux,
but she, transfixed
in the twilight crucifix’s
opal hush.

She knew that although
the sun was going down now
in a quiet blaze of glory,
the sky dashed and bleeding,
on Sunday morning
the first breath of dawn
would blow away the stars
and bring the sun to life,
blushing pink over the horizon
in a still and silent gleam—
risen indeed
with the easterly wind's
opal hush.

A - Age you got your first kiss: your mom.

B - Band listening to right now: Coldplay.

C - Crush: ummm. I don't think I can tell you that.

D - Dad's Name: Dennis Michael

E - Easiest person to talk to: Alex. Stephanie. Joey, although it's hard to get him to talk back.

F - Favorite bands at the moment: same as always: Dave Matthews Band, Coldplay, U2, the Shins.

G - Gummy worms or gummy bears?: I guess gummy bears but I really don't like either.

H - Hometown: San Francisco, California. That's where I was born. But I was raised in Raleigh, North Carolina.

I - Instruments: writing instruments. pens. I have a pen fetish.

J - Junior High: You mean middle school? Terrible. Horrible.

K - Kids: I call everyone kid. Like, Hey kid, and you're a good kid...despite the fact that I'm younger than most everyone I know. It's a term of endearment. If you mean whether I like kids and want them, well yes. Someday. I want babies.

L - Longest car ride ever: to New York one year. 13 fucking hours. That is rigoddamndiculous.

M - Mom's name: Pamela Ellen

N - Nicknames: Kels, K-Funk, K-dawg

O - One wish: to become a great modern-day poet. Oh and to become hot. Hottie McHotterson if you will.

P - Phobia[s]: tornados. I'm absolutely fucking terrified of those. If I ever saw one I would die instantaneously.

Q - Quote: "The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea." - James Joyce, Ulysses

R - Reason to smile: all my friends, really.

S - Last song you heard: Don't Speak by No Doubt, as song by my roommate.

T - Time you woke up [today]: like 11 I think.

U - Unknown fact about me: I really hate when people swallow and chew too loudly. It's really annoying. Also....I'm...always...thinking...about...boys. Although, I doubt that's an unknown fact. I probably think about you more than you realize...I really cherish my friends. (that sounded creepy.)

 Oh, I know...I take the highest pleasure from singing at the top of my lungs.

V - Least favorite Vegetable: brussel sprouts...or tomatoes...or...your mom.

W - Worst habit(s): interrupting people, being shy, procrastinating, eating bad stuff, skipping class

X - X-rays you've had: none

Y - Yummy food: baked potatoes, fish, cheese, dark chocolate.

Z - Zodiac sign: Libra

I just got back from Gastonia and visiting my friend Josh.  It was the first time I've ever really driven that far by myself.  I would say driving three hours to get there was tedious, but it wasn't.  I flew on those roads.  Thinking.  At times, grinning, when I thought of someone I knew. I was amazed by stretches of radiant flowers, red and magenta, that passed by my window and with their dashes of color, passed the hours, too.  The roads' shoulders were furred with hypnotic poppies and emblazoned daisies (the latter of which, the same goldenrod color of the single, continuous line that stretches onward on the roadside, forever).  Hy-star-ia, the saffron yellow dollops chaotically scattered amid the frocked purple snapdragons, like stars plastered among the gargantuan plum-sky.  This let-loose matches the free anarchic spatter of "I love you" graffitied across an overpass.  Unbridle me, I say.  Going far, far away.  Singing my rebel anthems as a girl on the wing.  It's at times like these that I realize my walls really have been permanently shattered.  Freedom was also streaked across a concrete bridge.  People think things like these don't really matter.  They do, I insist. I take them as little signals and continue on the twisting, turning roads.  Please, try not to miss them!  It's the little tokens that show.

* * *

Josh's parents are about the nicest people I've ever met.  When I finally turned haphazardly into the small court, I staggered out with the paranoid fear that I'd waltz up to the front door, only to be greeted by an unfamiliar face wondering what I was doing at their house.  Fortunately, this fear did not come true.  His sister and I have the same name, which is strange, because I've never really met anyone else named Kelsey.  She and I had the same favorite kind of apple.  And our middle names both started with A.  Josh showed me some of his drawings, a lot of which I had not seen before.  Some were like rough outlines of a feeling--lines, some color, a word or two that could be grasped in different ways.  Like an inkblot.  I saw an archer in it.  Shooting an arrow where it may fall.  It reminds me of a poem I once wrote:

Sagittarius

I seek seclusion from

the hegemony of

the everyday,

the ceaseless pull

of supercilious, walling,

suffocating, galling

duties. Just wanting

a balsamic autonomy.

Something just to savor,

not to chew.

I forsake the wanton

push that ransacks

the seconds on the clock.

I think myself sagacious

but I am no sage;

my will is ramshackle

against the presage

of time’s crawl.

I beseech the nothingness,

“What is it all?

  What is it all?”

I want to shoot an arrow

just to see where it falls.

This resilience, this rebellion against the mundane--that's what's been missing since I've been home.  I've been so uninspired, but it takes something jarring, out of my normal bounds, on highways way beyond where I've been, to get my mind flowing.  This outpouring, galloping spirit that takes to the roads and flies--I'm convinced that I must be part horse somewhere, inside.  A mental centaur, surging forward, stars as guides. Fatalistic, come what may, luck.   Bursting forth, bucking everything that's been holding me back, cloying me.  I can't wait to get back to Chapel Hill.  It's emboldened me.  A few entries back, before the beginning of this year I dared, "Watch me blossom." And I did.  I'm an opening bud in the golden sunrays--no wonder at my newfound fascination with flowers. And when I was driving back today, I couldn't help but think, What a beautiful day this is! God has given me this, using the voices of boys on the wing.  Humangelus.  Miracles manifest in the simplest of simple, and bliss just takes some listening to find. 

I remember the last day I was in Chapel Hill.  I was waiting for the bus.  Oddly, I had also just left Josh too.  But I digress.  I was waiting for the bus, pensively, when I eyed a corpulent girl sitting on the bricks near me.  She seemed to be muttering to herself.  Now, I'm going to be honest and say that I thought to myself, This girl is weird.  One of those people that gives you the crazy eyes and keeps wondering if the bus can take them to Baltimore.  She must have seen my straying eye because suddenly a spry, "Hello!" greeted my ear and she got up and came over to me.  I stood to meet her.  "How are you doing?" she inquired zealously. 

"I'm fine," I replied offhandedly, not thinking.  But then...I did something different. I thought.  I wasn't fine.  I felt the tug of my heart as I knew I was going to leave the next day, missing everything and everyone I'd grown to love.  "Actually," I piped up, looking off absently at a cloud skimming the horizon, "I'm kind of sad because I have to go home tomorrow."

"Why?" she blurted innocently. 

"End of semester...you know," I said slowly, wondering at her obliviousness.

She stood for a moment, just looking at me with eyes of iridescent blue.  Bright eyes.  Then she smiled.  “You know, you’re never alone,” she said.  “Every day, even right now Jesus is standing right beside you.”  She continued to look at me with that glitterglow, soft, blue-eyed smile.  Slowly I looked back.  And for some reason, I did not think this was strange in the slightest.

"You know, I’m glad there are people like you who still say things like that,” I replied. “You don’t get to hear that often enough.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I know that might be weird,” she started bashfully.

“No, no,” I assured. 

She beamed.  And then went on.  “Well, you know, God feels every single thing you’re feeling.  He doesn’t want you to be sad.  He wants you to be happy.  I know.” She looked up fleetingly at the sky and her grin spread wider.  Then she hopped onto the brick and tottered a little, her body springing happily as she repeated, “I know.  He’s made me very happy.” She came back to my side.  “Everything’s going to be fine,” she piped, innocent eyes shining.  “Just remember He’s there—”

The bus came. “I’m sorry…I…” I stuttered as I took a half-step toward the open bus-door.  She sidled along, still talking. “I’m sorry.  I have to go.”  She stopped suddenly as if realizing for the first time it was there.  “Oh, that’s fine!” she chirped.  “Bye,” I said with a smile. “Bye!” she exclaimed, waving.  And when the bus pulled away, she was twirling and dancing next to the sign, as if invisible robes sashayed behind her. Another girl on the wing.

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Kelsey
2. Kels
3. Whores McCloud

THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. LiveToSeekUp
2. McLean6969 (inside joke)
3. TwoSteppinShee

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. dark, mysterious hair that sometimes falls rather wildly.
2. stormy grey-blue eyes.
3. heaving chest. (hah)

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. fat thighs
2. fat ass
3. all around fat

THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. Irish (roughly 50%)
2. Scottish
3. German

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Tornadoes
2. the thought of never finding anyone for me.
3. not living up to my potential.

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. music (I guess if I have to confine it to a physical object, a cd player)
2. computer
3. toothbrush

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. "Kiss Me I'm Irish" shirt
2. tight grey pants
3. striped underwear

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS:
1. Dave Matthews Band
2. Coldplay
3. U2

THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
1. ability to fully be myself
2. fully sharing.
3. finally find what I'm looking for.

TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE ..
1. James Joyce was a genius
2. God moves in mysterious ways
3. I am hot.

THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. Darkly passionate
2. Irish. (not a necessity but always nice to make my radar go off.)
3. a beautiful, dimpled chin.

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Writing
2. Drawing
3. Driving around aimlessly while singing.

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
1. See people I miss from school, like Alex, Tanner, Joey, Stephanie, Lauren, heck, even Michael...
2. go to sleep.
3. go back to school.

THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING/YOU'VE CONSIDERED:
1. Poet
2. Teacher
3. Lawyer

THREE KID'S NAMES YOU LIKE: (boys/girls)
1. Eamonn/Aislin
2. Jack/Ainsley
3. Macauley/Bria

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. publish something wonderful.
2. find love and have a plethora of babies.
3. ride a horse on the beach.

THREE PEOPLE YOU REALLY LOVE:
1. Alex my bff
2. the SKS crew (I can't just pick a few!)
3. the Elite Circle of Poets (I can't pick a few here either)

THREE PEOPLE YOU WANNA HAVE SEX WITH:
I don't think I can be completely truthful on this question. I can't name people I've actually hung around. Sorry.

1. Colin Farrell.
2. Han Solo (I know he's not real. But let me dream.)
3. Jennifer Nissley

THREE BOOKS YOU LIKE:
1. "Ulysses" by James Joyce
2. "Catcher in the Rye" by JD Salinger
3. The Norton Anthology of Poetry.

THREE OF YOUR HEROES:
1. James Joyce
2. Dave Matthews
3. Jesus

THREE FOODS YOU LOVE TO EAT:
1. Dark Chocolate
2. warm, gooey cookies
3. cheese

THREE REALLY GOOD KISSERS:
1. I
2. don't
3. know.

THREE THINGS YOU HAVE IN YOUR ROOM:
1. crap in boxes
2. a tattered copy of the complete works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge
3. a giant-ass poster of Dave Matthews Band.

THREE THINGS YOU'RE GOING TO DO THIS WEEKEND:
1. Sit around
2. Go to the library
3. Go to the movies

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE GADGETS:
1. Digital Camera
2. iPod (I wish I had one)
3. cell phone...I guess.

THREE THINGS YOU ARE GOING TO DO AFTER THIS IS OVER?
1. take off all my clothes
2. sleep because my head hurts
3. dream

The Killers are always in my goddamn head now. You know you gotta help me out, yeah. You know you gotta help me out, yeah. Oh, don't you put me on the backburner. You know you gotta help me out.

Enron pioneered deregulation of America's power business and expanded rapidly to become one of the largest energy companies in the world before its sudden demise....

The problem for Mr Bush is that the ties between the company and his administration were especially intricate and close. Mr Lay has been a supporter of Mr Bush ever since the president’s unsuccessful campaign for Congress in 1978, and has been known as a close personal friend of Mr Bush and his family. At one stage, Mr Lay was mooted as a possible energy secretary under Mr Bush.

The company has been one of Mr Bush’s biggest corporate backers. According to the Centre for Public Integrity, an independent research group, Enron, its employees and directors had given $623,000 to support Mr Bush from 1993 to November 2001. Mr Lay and other Enron executives have also long known other members of the administration. John Ashcroft, the attorney general, has had to remove himself from overseeing the criminal investigation of the company because he received campaign contributions from Enron during his failed bid to retain his Senate seat in 2000. Dick Cheney, the vice-president, has refused repeated requests for the release of information about the rather cosy relationship between the company and the energy taskforce which he led earlier in the year. That taskforce formulated the energy legislation currently before Congress.