Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Another night at Tom Jones.

Tomorrow night,
another night at Tom Jones.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Inputting, Outputting, Offputting

These past few days have felt like there is not enough time to learn everything that I want to. Today heralded my discovery of iTunes U, so the afternoon has been spent downloading various lectures from various prestigious universities across the globe. Open courseware is phenomenal, but I'm not sure if I have the time to actively focus on a lecture. Theoretically, the plan is to listen and attempt to draw everything that is being discussed. This serves both as a way to entertain without visual stimulus and to keep a rather eccentric set of notes as evidence of production. However, with all of this information I have yet to absorb, I wonder when I will devote time to the more fulfilling act of creative production. Of course, I have to have information to work with before I can make anything worthwhile, but I can't learn all my life AND make all my life. Luckily, making tends to infer a certain learning by its own right. It's an interesting perspective I'd never looked at before.

Holy Days

My favorite holidays are Halloween and New Year's. Both provide a reinvention. Halloween, for one night, a chance to be something more than anything I will ever be. I can be blatantly both witty and sexy. New Year's, the fresh start that is just another day, is a symbolic starting over. There are daily improvements I can make to myself and often try to, but for longstanding achievements, it is a good motivation. This year, my tentative resolutions include:

Host an impromptu art gallery OR have my art hosted by a legitimate gallery OR put up 5 pieces greater than 6x6" OR greater than 5 pieces of smaller art OR any combination of above
Get a literary work published in a forum reaching greater than 10,000 people
Compose an album of more than 10 songs, with at least half longer than 2:30 min.
Pull an all nighter
Sing all the verses of 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall
Create a three minute film OR produce a documentary
Visit a foreign country
Write my manifesto
Write at least two letters to local representatives
Self-publish a satirical newspaper OR a semi-weekly guerrilla commentary
Write and submit articles to a Temple news publication, The Daily News, The Inquirer, and one additional media source
Attend a Phillies, Flyers, Eaglesr, and Union Game
Make out in the Kimmel Center
Watch Rocky
Eat a Cheesesteak
See the Liberty Bell
Visit the Academy of Natural Sciences

Last Night, When We Were Young

Neither snow nor rain...

Antiques Road Show last night showed clips in which people, by sheer luck, rescued pricey objects from the inevitable destruction of a dump. Jeff came over slightly after its conclusion and left slightly before my adventure to Tom Jones. His curfew was retracted some hours as his parent's wintry response to the hazardous roads. At TJ, for the first time in two years, I was conflicted; I was not in the mood for breakfast food. There is only one other time in the history of me and Tom Jones where I did not order the Blue Ribbon Special. Eventually, after stalling the waitress, I settled on the mozzarella sticks, an economically poor choice, seeing as they are $4.19, as opposed to the staggeringly cheap $3.79 of the unrivaled BRS. Also, another poor decision was that I saw Donna F.. It'd been a while since I'd seen her, and she was sitting far away. I called her name. Not Donna. However, I was in Tom Jones after midnight, so hopefully her party assumed some sort of inebriation. Dinner was delightful. Conversation was pleasant, and two of our party utilized their fancy iContraptions to call up "Talking Earl" and "Talking Carl." These apps are adorable little functions in which the users may speak to the cute lil' pixel blob on the screen, and it will repeat what they said in a high pitched squeak. It was brought to our attention that when reflected against each other, Talking Carl and Talking Earl will eventually reach a horrifying, high-pitched singularity of shrieking white noise. I unnecessarily laughed to tears. We left and came to settle in to one of our warm and interesting rooms. I do not subscribe to the culture of things, but there were many intriguing things in this room. We talked for hours, the others lightly imbibing at the outset. I was made to try the taste of Peach Schnapps for its non-alcoholic taste. Now, my total alcohol consumption has been less than three ounces of peach flavored beverages. Only peach flavored alcohol. Why peaches? We wound up leaving around six in the morning, and getting dropped off, my dad was up. Oh shit. I waved to him, said good morning, and went to my bed.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Media de Gracias

I had a rather lovely wikilinking spree inspired by investigations into international academic competitions and googling "notable prankster wiki."

By the graces of Mrs. G. and Netflix, I've watched four documentaries in three days. I dislike the informal documentary practice of referring to a practice or object as something else, perhaps calling a corporation a shark, then showing a clip of a shark for good measure.

My little brother outgrew frolicking in snow before I did.

The dark roots are starting to show, so I suspect I'll be dyeing my hair back before break is over. I think I lose my blonde forever after this.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

The next time a guitar string breaks I'll paint the body.

I don't have a face for emotional strain.

For whatever reason, people see fit to give me an overabundance of fancy, black lady-gloves. They're totally non-functioning against the cold. I'm gonna have to start committing crimes to put them to use.

I wish American politics had a satirical political party. There are countries out there with more than one party competing for the silly vote. Seriously.

At this moment, I may possibly have the best series of Wiki articles I've ever had open at the same time. It's been a wonderful night.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Christmas Eaves

Freshman year, sometime during my first winter break of high school, I contentedly ate milk and cookies, all PJ'd up against the chilly evening. Though my face was never to appear on any milk carton, I was about to get kidnapped. From the night, a terrifying figure appeared at my door. The cold air that rushed into the house with him chilled my bare toes. It was ye olde section leader. I finished my cookies, assured that I would not leave the car and would not have to change out of my pink PJs with cats wearing hats. We drove through Katie's and Wasiq's neighborhoods looking out through the windows at Christmas lights. Though I cannot remember any singing or talking between us, the night has a sense of laughter. Despite the previous assurance, I had to evacuate the vehicle in order to ask Laura which house was Wasiq's. Knocking at the house we were directed to, Wasiq's hot older sister answered the door. But Wasiq doesn't have an older sister. We thought perhaps we'd mistakenly knocked on the only other Pakistani house in GV. Even better, it was simply that Wasiq's mom has got it goin' on. Tragically, Wasiq would not leave his house to join us in seeing the lights.

One of the very few regrets I had in not driving until this past summer was my inability to imitate this night with my freshmen buddies.

"No! Not Tiny Ira! What could we have done against such a lovable scamp?!"

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Censorship Wreck

On this blog, I almost never directly reference Jeff except in recollection of daily activities. Being a teenage girl, thus subject to emotional afflictions, and this blog, being quite generally a public diary, it is perfectly natural that I should write frequently about the relationship that has unequivocally influenced my adolescence. The pertinent word is public. This material may be found at any time, by any associate of mine, with or without my knowledge. In addition to the potential strangers, there are the recurring few who ever so occasionally check in on my scribbling.

Pens are mightier than swords, and keyboards are faster too. I recognize that everything I write here can create direct, real-world consequences, not necessarily negative, and not necessarily directed at me. Until I alter the privacy settings, it is in my best interest to publish without conflict, necessitating censorship. Still, there seems to be a number of times when my vague and cryptic posts retain their subject despite redacting. Analyzing my own writing, I've concluded immaturity. However, the personal necessity of public censorship in otherwise intimate content leads to an interesting approach in analyzing literature outside of myself.

Currently reading Bridges of Madison County, I've found too much presence of authorship as a result of this thinking. The novel claims to be reconstructed from diaries and public sources, such as newspaper articles, accordingly, I'd expect a gritty, truthful feeling to the book. Unfortunately, the poetic style, while nice, seriously detracts from the reality. Life doesn't happen so sensuously, destroying any belief I could've had in the content.

Nonfiction for Emily

No, you are not beautiful in the sense of ideal Western aesthetic. It doesn't mean you couldn't be; there's face paint and computers and surgeries and little deceptions to perfection. I mean, you are pleasing to the eye: pretty, cute, hot, sexy, things vary depending on how you aim to appear. But you are not a picture. You feel beautiful to me. My beauty was found karaoke'ing in a basement in Chinatown, in a capella where no other music could be found, in a corn field by moonlight, in being young and without obligation, in running through rain and children and parents to reach the car and pancakes. Beautiful beyond the eyes, something to remember. Your beautiful is something frail, something that can be lost, a little magic that may be outgrown. Your beautiful is not a look, it's not something I see. It is the essence of you. You are worth fighting for, I just don't have a 1000 ships.

Disreguardian Angel

An inexplicable presence.
These people who so effortlessly enter my life and change me with disregard for my self, I love them. I'm learning so much from them and with them, even if it's not going to be for their eventual benefit.

Sometimes, I feel mature for recognizing my love but not always acknowledging it. I've never supported myself. I've never lived on the West Coast. There is so much living I have yet to accomplish. Still, I know that love is there. It's not waiting; it will exist despite me.

I can't stand the thought of being someone's manacles. I can't stand the thought of people I love missing their world because of my actions. Mrs. G. says that the prom picture affixed to her fridge is a warning to high school sweethearts, not that it's very effective.

Being the center of someone's life is an awful thought. I want someone who does, not someone who solely appreciates the done. And anyone who thinks I am interesting enough to focus on does not have high enough expectations for excellence.

Tonight, I chatted pleasantly with pleasant people. I laughed.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Realization While Watching TRON

I would like it if Dip n' Dots produced tiny ice spheres to replace ice cubes.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Stupid, Useful Nightmares >:(

I'm going back to Philadelphia shortly, but I woke up an hour early due to overzealous clock setting. Not putting up with that kinda poo poo, I took care of the morning routine and found time for a little more sleep. During that sleep, I had a dream I forgot all of my ID cards to get back in the building, and my dad was really mad at me. That totally would've happened if I hadn't just dreamed about it happening. Awesome. I woke up from that terrible dream and made a mental note and hit the snooze, 'cuz fuck it if I still didn't have to wake up. During this second dream, I was playing a game of marco-polo with savanna creatures in the watering hole. Oh, and I was also a lion, to keep that in mind. While hiding with another lion behind some rocks, I asked her name. She was also a human-in-animal-disguise, but by revealing my similar status to her, I got turned back into a human playing games with a whole bunch of lions. Playground equipment nearby remained from an abandoned settlement, so I began to climb as means of escape. At the top was a hanging bar and a hanging bicycle whose chain had broken. I got the notion in my head to sit on the broken bike while holding onto the hang bar at the very top of this dangerously swaying contraption. Accordingly, my fear of heights struck in AND there were lions at the bottom if I fell. Then I woke up and put my ID cards in my pocket.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Resolutions (Done)

2009:
Learn to drive
Do a sport

Watch the following films:
Dr. Strangelove
Requiem for a Dream
Apocalypse Now
American Beauty
Braveheart
Alice's Restaurant
Fight Club
American History X
Office Space
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Be able to name and play 10 guitar chords
Bike and walk more
Sneak out at least 3 times
Visit Philly, New York
Set off fireworks
Get "something" pierced
Dye my hair a different color
Try to meet Pete Seeger or Tommy Smothers
Reconnect with Kyle
Practice break dancing, surfing
Graffiti something
Get into a college
Go out for breakfast
Learn to jump safely from heights
Ride a roller coaster
Practice getting over different fences
Design and wear my art
Vandalize a bathroom stall
Think of a senior prank
Be section leader
Ask more questions
Learn to play the electric mandolin

2010:
Go streaking
Become an NPR member
Donate to the ACLU
Build a snowman
Learn how to change a tire
Watch the launch of a space shuttle
Learn to roller blade (backwards)
Go to a protest
Go to college

Read these books:
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
A Streetcar Named Desire

Watch These Movies:
The Sound of Music
Rebel without a Cause

Resolutions (Left to Do)

2009:
Watch an Inconvenient Truth
Get my passport
Learn to ride clutch
Read at least 10 books from my list and A People's History
Get drunk
Practice piano
Watch all of Dr. Who in one sitting
Reconnect with Kristin

2010:
Get a working copy of a Zeppelin and Stones album
Send a letter to Jon Stewart
Start a webcomic
Build a wall mount CD rack
Learn to tango
Learn to change oil
Send a message in a bottle (in progress)
Plant a tree
Sleep under the stars
Learn to juggle (in progress)

Read these books:
Wide Sargasso Sea
Pride and Prejudice
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies
Heart of Darkness
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
The Age of Innocence

Watch these movies:
The Godfather Trilogy
Lawrence of Arabia
Singin' in the Rain
Annie Hall
Deer Hunter
Schindler's List
A Clockwork Orange
Good Fellas

Old Hearts, Old Haunts

A Thursday some weeks ago, Jake returned home to visit his girlfriend, Lisa. I'd invited him out to Temple's Got Talent, but jealously commended the excellent evening ahead. Later, after being wildly impressed by the talent at my fair university, Facebook informed me that my friend had been broken up with during his evening home. It hurt to see such a good couple go down, myself in the lingering pangs of self-pity for my illegitimate loss. However, that put me in the right mindset for reading his "I want you back" letter. The sweetness in his rambling, incoherent letter was more affecting for its sense of desperation. Despite the hurt, they are young and in love.

Even though I was in a similar situation, the letter was alienating. It felt so young. I've played the cynic so long it's habitual, and the passion is unsightly to me. How old I feel. I used to wish for that sort of ideal abandon.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Glittens or M'loves: you can't fail with a mitten/glove combo

"It is this on-the-fly fabrication that Nietzsche defines as the artistic essence of humanity, and in casual company, it is otherwise defined as bullshitting."
-Another bullshit essay for a bullshit class


Conceivably, I could make my own rainbow tie.

I made Christmas cards for most of the night.
It's going to be weird/wonderful having a whole bunch of people I can't just hand them to.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Quilty

I cried three separate times watching American History X.



Whenever I examine my life, I see other people. I am a collage of beautiful things other people have impressed upon me. Whatever I admire in someone else, I strive for in my self.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Titles for my "Mosaic" Posts

Truth Exists Beyond Human Consciousness
Dao It All Night Long
Qu'ran and On and On
Gilgameshed with the Bible
Enkidu or Don’t
Destruct-shun
A-tempted
Showmaniac
Rorschocking
How Many Psychoanalysists Does It Take to Screw in a Penis?
The Tickle Finger of Fate
Mixed Media
Linguistic It to the Man
Ocularcentury
Apolojesus
Martyrdumb
Promise-cuous
Keep Your Kierkegaard Up
Buy-ble
Textual Content Warning
My Confessions to the Mosaic Police

Time (Takes Time)

The Broad Street Line (BSL) held their winter concert tonight. It was beyond my expectations, especially as I'd been to every one of their performances except the Eagle's game. Their repertoire was far more extensive than I'd realized, and they'd saved crowd pleasers "Good Girls Gone Bad" and "Forget You" just for this performance. Good Girls Gone Bad was my favorite piece of the night and tremendously done. I don't know why hip-hop seems to translate so favorably to a capella for me. Additionally, they performed two Ben Folds pieces, "Time" and "Effington." I reminisced to Katie R. and Jeff discussing their inability to play Smoke at some party in the D.'s living room. For tonight, I made a sign "I''d Ride the Broad Street Line." Broad Street Line is even in orange, you know, a little shout out to the actual subway. That was a fun ice breaker with the guys, getting them to sign it at the after party. Slightly awkwardly, some alumni also thought it was "classy." While interesting conversation, "they old as fuck."

I don't know what I want. It's not entirely accurate to say I don't want anything, but it's a close approximation. Tonight's shindig wasn't a band party, so I was roughly free to make out with any passing stranger. Not a single passing stranger caught my eye or interest. I targeted Ben earlier in the night, but I just want to make out at a party for the sake of making out at a party. I don't normally have the drunk defense, and the one night I got to use it, I got a creep dancing up on me. That was super short though, to note.

I'm treading a very unfortunate line. I'm being less oblivious to sexual tension than usual, but I think his girlfriend noticed it before I did...

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Slatternly Trollop or Vainglorious Jezebel

Parties here make me feel pure and bright, much like the pit parties of another freshman year. It's a much stronger sensation now because I'm more self-aware. Being bright and joyous came naturally four years ago. For me, it persists. A friend recently confided that he's admired me for that, that in some odd way, he looks up to me. He asked that I never change. Of course, there will be wholly necessary developments to change me, but I profoundly hope that this current essence remains.

Early evening, rollin' up to the party, it's exciting to be welcomed into a place where I know nearly everyone and will meet more by the time I leave. There are moments when I double up in laughter, hear stories from a dark and terrible past, learn more about people I've recently met. Last night, I sang Britney Spears and Christmas carols. Again, my fabulous contact drunk conveyed the appearance of actual intoxication, but that merely impresses the people who are new to the fact of my abstinence. A number of people have expressed their undying appreciation for me during these drunken revelries. I expect they do not remember in the morning.

By the end of the night, there's a soft point where I wander a disconnect through the party. My friends who are sad drunks are sad. My friends who are otherwise are beyond the point of conversation. I've learned not to think about pit parties during this time.

I couldn't have ever imagined what it's like to be high, and I feel even less of a familiarity with the sensation of drunkenness. It's one of the few unknowns that would be more terrifying if it was pleasant.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Woody's

Woody's is a gay bar/club in center city and the location for Mitchell's birthday party last night.

I was excited to dance. I'd never been to any sort of club in my life, Kacey had raved for years about the excellence of this particular venue, and my hair cut + hoochie dress were dying to be tried out together. The evening leading up the outing was fun as well. Jake, Austin, Bubba, Kevin, and I played chirades in my room. At one point, I suggested only literary figures, and eventually chose Tennessee Williams. To illustrate my chirade, I chose Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, one of his central plays. Unfortunately, after getting "Cat __ _ Hot ___ Roof," they persisted in naming Dr. Seuss. Realizing my mistake, I switched to "A Streetcar Named Desire," which didn't take too long for them to figure out. Unfortunately, nobody, including English major, Jake, knew the author.

From ~9-10:30, I hung out with Matt, relaying to him the lecture on the geometry of music and generally talking about the interrelationship of music, math, architecture, and linguistics. We caught fourth meal, and I had too many mozzarella sticks for going clubbing in half an hour. I arrived back in my room at 10:40, giving me roughly 10 minutes to get into my dress and put on a little make up. Luckily, I'm not actually a girl and it worked. Dress. Pants. Eyeliner. Eyeliner. Lip gloss. Go! We met in the lobby of my building and headed to the subway! Tragically, we learned a party member did not bring an ID with a birth date on it, so she had to go back and rejoin us later. Her night was generally unfortunate about being inconvenient.

Club! Coat check was mandatory, an additional $2 to the $10 cover charge. It's up some stairs in a red lit room with a raised wooden dance floor. The DJs are phenomenal. Everything was expertly done, and I immediately set to dancing. Within a minute, I'd found a dance partner, and within 5 minutes, I'd been licked and declined further dancing with that particular person. Being my first experience there or at any club, I awkwardly danced near friends for a while before setting off to dance like my enthusiastic white self. It was the least discriminatory place I'd ever been. I danced with guys and girls, old and young, black, white, Hispanic, and Asian. It was wild and also very hot. Water was $4, so I gave no damns about drinking out of the sink. Two persons expressed interest in taking me home, one female, one male. That was flattering.

Afterward, the majority of our party went to IHOP for celebratory breakfast foods. IHOP serves neither sides nor rootbeer floats, but it is possible to order a scoop of ice cream and a soda for the unreasonable price of $5.19 + the going tax rate, which was $0.38 for me. Mitchell knew the server, and being the only patrons of the establishment, we all sat together creating pornos from movie titles or sharing ones we'd already heard. It started with a mention of "Saving Ryan's Privates," and progressed to "Guy Hard," "28 Gays Later," "Bitanic," and the eventual mention of "BI-HOP." We took a cab home, being nearly 3:30 in the morning, and I slept until 11. Lovely.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Trash and Plans

Talented People

Interesting Graphic

Pseudo-Science Made Real Science
(and job that I kinda want)

Today, I stole a number of lovely things from the Tyler disposal bins, but tomorrow is the official clean out day, so tomorrow is gonna be wild. I'm going to Woody's tonight for the first time, followed by late night IHOP. Abi is going to call me tomorrow at 6:45 to see if I'm still down for swimming. That's gonna be baller. We're going to go thrifting as well, is the plan, with a late night Temple-Georgetown game I have to play for. Call time is 8:15, and we always get there 45 minutes early. :P

Exciting!

Last night, everything bad or unpleasant that had been dwelling on my mind broke and left me. I'm so utterly relieved.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Wrexploring

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L1jfa68LrRI


I walk really close to the wall when I turn a corner, which sometimes means I almost bump into people.

Finally, of the two remaining movies on my 2009 Resolution list, Colin has graciously offered his copy and couch for me to finish American History X.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Beautiful Lecture

This afternoon, I attended a joint colloquium held by the music and mathematics department on "The Geometry of Music." As far as anyone was aware, it was the first time those two departments held any formal collaboration. The lecture was hosted by Princeton composition professor, Dmitri Tymeczko. His initial intent, in first attending Harvard, was to become a student of mathematics. Eventually, he discovered music to be his true love. For a brief time, he also studied philosophy at U.C. Berkeley. Additionally, he is attractive. Surprisingly, he spoke with elegance and personality. The circular, repetitive nature of the piano keyboard he described as the Maria principle: "ti, a drink with jam and bread, and that brings us back to doe!" "What takes six weeks of education for a new musician to compose, takes similarly forty-five minutes of programming for the computer science student." This was in reference to the brutally statistical nature of creating consonance.

1. Melodies move by short distances or "conjunct melodic motion"
2. Harmonies are structurally similar
3. Chords should be intrinsically consonant
4. Limited macro harmonies, in that a composition should use between 5-8 notes within a few bars
5. a Tonal center is present

By creating a computer program to generate a random series of notes, he would then apply limitations to the series. Melodies would need to move within 2-3 notes of the original. Harmonies would stay within the same keys, major, minor, harmonics. This was the introduction for the students of music. From there, he elaborated on geometry. While notes are usually perceived as a discrete concept, a repetitive octet, they are, in fact, continuous, with infinite tones between the traditionally defined notes. Because of the repetitive nature described earlier, the tones can be displayed as a circular form. For his presentation, colorful circles would represent locations on the keyboard, then illustrating the geometric patterns between chords of a certain key. He illustrated Chopin's prelude in E minor with a hypercube of related chords. With my limited knowledge of both music and mathematics, I could not understand the full concept, let alone relate it, but I loved it. At once, he described the melody of an atonal chord as, "restless shimmering within stasis." It was a convergence of knowledge beyond anything I'd ever seen. He created three dimensional models of music that he intents to sculpt. I understood the ability of Iannis Xannakis to construct music based on architecture. I felt privileged beyond measure to witness a man use the beautiful, broken English language to convey this idea of music as mathematical notation. Linguistics. Music. Mathematics. Expression of importance, in my lifetime, occurs nearly exclusively through these systematic notations.
"You have a good memory right? Like, you remember stuff. I like that about you. When I talk to you, you remember who I'm talking about, the stories continue into each other."

I didn't realize that this was a unique thing.


During the party on Friday, I walked up to Max and TA Jeff during the last word of their conversation. Jeff was having his lady friend over that night, and Max finished with, "...she's gonna come over, suck your dick, then fall asleep on the bed together!" With that, they noticed I had been in earshot. Jeff gave a "Max, in front of Chloe?" kind of look. It was endearing to me that they felt the need to protect my innocent ears. I fear that I am giving an innocent vibe. It will eventually benefit me to not have randomly hooked up with a band guy. I've never waited for a guy, and by that measure, I've never had a guy wait for me. I've never fucked a boyfriend. I don't have sensuous sex. The guys here don't have to know that. I can evoke tenderness. It'll take some work. It will take some resistance. I'll have to finally say "no," but in return, it will be under my power to finally choose, "yes."

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Last Week

It's hard to explain what happened. Nobody knew I had any sort of obligation, let alone my most important relationship. I never earned the title of girlfriend. There was no beginning. There was no anniversary to celebrate. But there is definitely an end, and I have my own sort of sadness. It comes up when they ask about my hair, when we talk about boys. They tell me, "I don't know this guy, but he's a douchebag and you're way better off without him." "He's a dumbass for dropping your gorgeous ass." I say, "But no, he really is my best friend. I'm going to see him all the time over break." Most girls tell me that's not good. That I need time away from him to get over it. Guys ask me if I'd still do stuff with him.

I could've gone home with anybody on Friday. Though, to avoid dumb mistakes, I've sworn celibacy into the new year.

Last Nights

Friday night was the formal band party at the Maggot House. Tina lent me her "freak 'em dress;" Shay did my hair and makeup; Katy lent me her pearl earrings. I felt pretty as a politician's wife. Girls complimented my hair with warm words. Guy complimented my look with their eyes. Poppa Max told me to go break some hearts, I was lookin' so fine. Katy, Kat, and I hung out during the preparations process, reading Cosmo, talkin' 'bout boys. We eventually went with the unanimous decision to roll out in jeans and hoodies 'cuz it was so cold and windy that night. Upon arriving at the party, John D. scorned the lack of fancy, but soon relented once us ladies squashed up in the bathroom to strip down to our lil' dresses. As this night was a "fuck boys, I just wanna dance" kinda night, we were pumpin' the hip-hop jams. A few of us danced, but only during "Roses" was there a large chorus. Being at the Maggot House, there were a number of non-band kids present unaware that I don't drink. Dancing as I was, dressed as I was, there were some strong indicators that I was drunk. However, in reality, myself being a sober fox, I caught a number of guys staring and took notes on who ogles the drunk chicks. At one point, a kid passed out near the bathroom and started throwing up. John D., like a drunk child-ape, danced around hollering, "Look at this kid puking! Look at the kid throwing up!" I told him to shut up and helped move this kid into the bathroom. He almost pulled the porcelain top off the toilet onto himself, but I grabbed it before anything shattered, including his nose. The other guy helping me commended the catch and was surprised to find I was sober. After that, I wandered aimlessly through the party. I introduced Kira and Gab to a whole bunch of people no one involved will remember, but otherwise the night was over for me.

~~~~~

Yesterday, Matt came with me to the Divine Lorraine to help me film/stencil/fight off crack heads. He came over around 2, so I could have company while cutting out the stencil of Divine on the body of Jesus. (Of course, wanting a larger stencil but only having cardboard, I stupidly forgot how much I hate cardboard as a medium.) This abandoned hotel is two subway stops away, but eff paying for that, so we walked. To note, we saw a hot pink stretch Hummer on the way there. A garish contrast to the dilapidated elegance we were about to see. After circling the building for a way in, we discovered a wrenched open door that required a bit of maneuvering to get in. Being my lithe-self, I managed it pretty easily, but Matt is tall and geometric and almost got stuck. The door that we entered through was immediately adjacent to the basement, so that was our first, horrifying stop. While it would probably would have been perfectly quaint if well lit, the flashlight we brought was not sufficient to dispel my slight fears of humanoid, Quarantine-esque mutants. Not wanting to carry around my stencil for the rest of our exploration, I sprayed it near the doorway and abandoned the cardboard to its fate. The first floor still retained a lot of elegance. While it was also the most trash-bedecked, there was evidence of crown molding and columns, the two pink marble staircases arch up on the North and South sides of the building. For the entirety of our adventure, we elected to use the South side staircase, and for good measure, as we later found out. Once we were ready to start heading upstairs, I took a moment to film some of the original architecture while Matt investigated some other section. Once I put down the camera, I noticed my shadow was cast unusually dark across the room. I turned to my right as Matt entered the room and noticed my shadow hadn't moved. Within that very short, very terrifying moment, my shadow vanished out of sight. Less than a moment later, I was calm again, realizing it was just the benevolent resident homeless person. He told us it was fine if we took pictures, though that moment of horror was perhaps influenced by my thoughts of basement dwelling creatures. Every floor held new works of graffiti. There were more interesting things on the outer balconies, but as it got colder and darker, we more hurriedly took to the stairs rather than leisurely looking at bad tags and mediocre pieces. It was interesting to note that there was not a single other piece of stencil work in the building. While I recognize it's mostly a white thing, I thought it would be more prolific. Finally, we reached the top floor, home to an enormous atrium. I went out onto the balcony and took pictures of the city. It didn't take long for us to find roof access, the first time I'd roof'd it in Philadelphia. It was unbelievable. I was more fearless than Matt, but that also came with me almost stumbling backwards on a very slanted eave. There was more excellent graffiti on the roof than there had been anywhere else thus far. I freehanded a mark for myself, but Matt and I agreed to come back when he had planned out something for him to write. Part of it came with sadness and being alive and higher than the rooftops and losing the feeling of something important, but I wrote "invincible summer" and meant it.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Hair Me Out

Of course, the recent hair dye was part serendipity, part brash spontaneity to prove I'm *a strong and independent woman.* It does make me feel sexy. It does make me feel older, and that makes me feel like someone else. My mom told me the story of living in California with her cousins who convinced her to dye her hair blonde. The red-headed roots coming back in were absolutely atrocious, especially her eyebrows. (!) This is just a phase. I wholly intend to dye my hair back to natural once my roots start growing in, but it's something to try. It's my wild without booze or boys. I never would've heard my mom's story without a similar prompting. One of her patients said I was pretty. I'm not used to that adjective except in "pretty cute."

I abandoned sad songs in favor of pop punk today after so many people liked both my picture and status. It's an all-over, dirty self-indulgence.

Currently, I have stolen hallway decorations from 3/7 of Temple's Residence Halls. Awesome.

Avalon and I screamed together during the Sand Crabs game. I was excited to wind up next to her, since I've been scared to approach how awesome she is. We wound up getting fourth meal after the game and talking for a bit. She didn't know I was a freshman! We're going to get matching Crab shirts though if I make them over the weekend. There have been more people in our fan section, The Tide Pool, with every game. It is one of the most absurd things I have ever taken part in. Not to propagate rumors or anything, but word on the street is that one of the players' mom is making a crab mascot. I love band. So hype!

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

*big hugs for Tina*
I hadn't expected to find anyone to talk to.


Mrs. K. once expressed to me that she didn't understand why people listen to sad songs when they're sad; it's only counter-effective and prolongs the pain. It's my temporary indulgence. I'll be alright shortly. If I were busier, it'd be better faster, but band activities have mostly petered out.


I ran today.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Thanks-living

Loss prompts gratitude, even if that loss is only imagined. I've had a lovely last couple minutes eating green M&Ms, being thankful for everything from friends and family to apple juice. It's a beautiful life that I have apple juice, that I may never lack in apple juice.

I spent the evening out with Jake, Austin, Bubba, and Kevin. We baked a funfetti cake, or, Kevin did while the rest of us watched. A comment on scars prompted storytelling. I convinced 3/4 of the guys that my convection oven burn was, in fact, a chemical burn caused by the tentacle slime of a particular species of octopus. The truth behind their scars were more interesting. There are generally many more "dumb things you've done that caused injury" stories among guys than girls. However, providing everyone lives, they do make for excellent listening.

Perhaps it's in taking tips from Ceci, but I get a pretty good reaction from my storytelling. Admittedly, I like to think my stories are fairly fantastic as far as content goes, but a good delivery is indispensable. At least half my recent stories involve Jeff, though I sometimes hesitate to say his name repeatedly, as if my only adventures happened with him. Some nights of stories, it's true.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Family

There is such an undeniable dynamic to family gatherings on my dad's side. Joe and Mike are funny. Joe is very nearly a cynical anarchist respectably informed on global politics. Jeanne laughs like a hyena. Kathy is a concerned, rich liberal. Grandmom is very quiet. Kathy's daughters are very laugh [edit: what?]. There is a lot of time spent laughing. I wonder if it's not a very hard dynamic to join, realizing that everyone there is in my family by birth. No wives or husbands.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Full of Thanks

Appreciate is my verb. It's what I do. To exist in this time in this place, with these details of my life, I've cried more for joy than any grief since the beginning of summer. If you're reading this, I am who I am, in part, because of you. Thanks for your part in my life.


What do you want to be when you grow up?
Happy.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

24

Yesterday following band practice, I caught a very quick dinner with a few guys from drumline and scuttled off to Drexel to meet up with Steve and Joel for "Philacapella." The groups were phenomenal, consisting of Temple's lines, "Broad Street Line" and "Singchronized," Swarthmore's "Mixed Company," F&M's "The Poor Richards," and both of Drexel's groups, "8 to the Bar" and "The Treblemakers." Wow.

Waiting in the lobby with Steve, I high-fived Kevin from BSL and generally made a scene of myself fan-girling the group. Rob gave Steve and me the "call me" sign, and Steve twice declared his intent to call. Dana came over and hugged me after Singchronized finished practicing, firmly securing my earlier statement to Steve that "I'm kinda a big deal with Temple a capella."

F&M's had the most professional group, but I'm biased in that they had a mash of "My Girl" and "Remix to Ignition" (kinda my jams). Broad Street Line was amazing as always, and I finally got to hear their rendition of "Semi-Charmed Life." Singchronized did a great performance of "Somebody to Love," though unfortunately, Pro Musica has set a very high bar for my opinion of that song.

I was supposed to watch The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen with Jake and his roommates, but Jeff texted me during the concert and wanted to come up and see me (mostly because GV extra sucks without its inhabitants). We talked most of the night, and he finally met my roommate. The morning was short lived, but we shared bowls of Honey Nut Cheerios fo' breakfast.

The zoo! It took a little time to figure out the trolley system, and a later negligence was almost detrimental, but I jump ahead. So, with my free museum admission, I got there a little early to scope out my hopeful future place of employment (aka look at penguins). The weather proved to be brisk but beautiful, and my time was well spent. The lecture portion changed which program I intend to apply for, so now I have to go about getting a letter of rec.

Leaving the zoo, I discovered the trolley only accepts exact change, and I am not paying $10 for a ride home. To get from the zoo to the trolley, one had to pass under this bridge where a guy was playing bongos. He talked at me a bit when I passed the first time, and when I came back rejected by trolley fare, he asked me where I was going and what I was studying. I told him I didn't know, just going, and studying everything. He called me a crazy motherfucker and laughed, but in a good way, a way I could relate and agree with. Returning after purchasing a postcard to break change, I gave him a dollar. We talked a bit. Shared our percussionist history. Talked about being musicians and artists and having a beautiful personality. He invited me over anytime. He's the curator of his own museum. We hugged.

After getting back from the zoo, I finally finished up my postcard from the Franklin Institute and wrote out the one I got at the zoo with a hippo on it. Respective recipients should expect them to arrive in their mailboxes soon, though I know one will not be at his mailbox for a while.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Carbon Updating

the antonym of a euphemism is a "dysphemism"

I got a hold of my first loaf of bread since coming to school. Between classes, I contentedly read Free to Choose and nibbled on little chunks.

Returning from programming, there appeared to be jugglers in the multi-purpose room on my floor. In my investigation, they invited me to learn, so I spent a half hour standing in a corner working on the form. I have the rhythm down, but need to work on staying in the xy plane. How lovely that such things happen at college.

My enormous marigold is verging on the point where it must leave my NPR mug and set about to being dried.

I'm out of Sharpie pens, picked up sidewalk chalk, and wrote a message to be put in a bottle. The letter describes my time at college, the boys I have loved, my family, and who I hope to be.

During floor decorating tonight, I made the most anatomically disproportionate hand turkey and the flyest top hat a turkey ever done wore.

Abrahamic Discourses

and yes I said yes I will Yes

I am the demonizing Abraham of Kierkegaard.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

I Feel Unreal

I am mentally unable to put this feeling to coherent words. It's a shame that I must think so verbally, instead of trusting the sensation.

My head lapsed backwards in some unpleasant constriction of muscles. The muscles are sore. Maybe from sleeping on the floor. Maybe from headbanging in the rain. Is it a normal life I lead that these things happen? My neck is definitely not sore from work or stress or the mundane.

All of the songs I haven't listened to in so long sound like human beings with their little vocal flaws, and the instruments in the background are louder than I've ever heard them. I'd never heard the jingle bells in this song; they are so delicate. The handclaps in another sound mechanic.

Cracking knuckles is the sound of our tragic origin.

People seem to swirl about me more ideas and icons than human beings. It's so hard to stumble into a conversation. First, we must establish a conversation, then I can invite them over to talk and to make them into real human beings.

First Day of My Life is terribly sad. It is a sweet notion that another human being can inspire life and love in another, but I want to be alive even if I am alone. I will be in love with myself, and critical and frustrated and angry sometimes, but that's how I'll grow.

I want to be an idea to most people, and me to myself and a select few.
I want to be a muse, and I want to make people fall in love with the idea of me.
I think I've inspired art here.
It is presumptuous, but I suspect I am why a boy tried flyposting, and I suspect it is because I stenciled, and because Jeff inspired me to stencil.
Making art is thrilling and terrifying. The feeling is more art than the product.

I want sidewalk chalk. I will transform it wall chalk somewhere it doesn't rain.

"the miracle of faith consists in the fact that Abraham and Sarah were young enough to wish"
I cry more with each successive re-reading of Catch-22, though I only ever re-read my favorite chapters.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Boys to Men

Gab T. has adopted TJ as her new best friend, but he's still wants the scoop on her mixed signals. He's never dated anyone younger than him, not that the one year difference is extreme or anything. Similarly, I've only ever been attracted to one guy younger than me, and not many my own age. Last night was Phi Mu Alpha's Fall Sinfonia, and I was much amused. It was also distinctly noted the difference in age between the guys was physically evident. Girls, I can't tell, but guys are easier to guess.

I'd never noticed the word sign in signals.

Next Semester, I am currently registered for:
Mosaic II
Principles of Ecology
Calculus II
"Dramatic Imagination"
Nature of Crime
Collegiate Band

The first clears up my "Intellectual Heritage" General Education (GenEd) requirement. Ecology is requisite of my Biology minor (two more classes to go!). Calculus is for funsies. "Dramatic Imagination" satisfies my Art GenEd, though I'm curious to see if it will turn out as exciting as its title. With the completion of this and the first, I have completed the entirety of my GenEd requirements. Nature of Crime is part of an interest exploration as I've never had exposure to the "Criminal Justice" field. All of these classes are Monday from 9-4, with a 50 minute block for lunch, and an awkward 70 minutes between my first and second classes. Collegiate band is my only class on Tuesday, and I will be playing mallets with one of my favorite people, Matt S.. It's a good lineup.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Sweet Mates

During dinner, I confided in Tina my habit of judging my friends based on if they would be a liability if we ever got in a bar fight together. I told her that if anything ever happened, I would fight for her, but more likely, take a beating for her. It's okay, though. My strategy is the one proposed on Hey Arnold, "you wouldn't hit a crazy girl, would you?"

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Surreal Life

"She had the clap so many times it amounted to applause."

Nick is currently engaged in puking in my bathroom.


Friday night saw the commencement of basketball season and my time as a saxophone player, which has infinitely more buttons than cymbals. Since Oct. 24rd, I've put in approximately 5 hours of practice, and to my delight, I played some right notes at the right times! And, to my surprise, I can kinda sight read! The only difficulty is in associating the notes with finger positions, which will come with time. As the first game of the season, they had an impressive half-time show from a world class juggler. For his final act, he juggled ~4 flaming pins and accidentally set the floor on fire. One of the songs he performed to was Explosive, so I set to good reminiscing.

Post-game, I hung out with Katy in anticipation of a "study session." While other band parties had gone under the guise of "study sessions," this one piqued my interest for being more intimate than usual on the Fb invite. Only twelve people were invited, and they seemed to all have activities of a certain persuasion in common. I believe that I was invited on the merits of my brother, but regardless, I was excited. How fantastical an evening! The sousa girl, who I particularly admired and believed "too cool for me," found that we have the same pair of crazy socks. For two hours I gave back massages, and only three people were the recipients of massage. After leaving for the evening, Katy and I stopped by 7-11 where I picked up some chocolate cake, and nearly wept for how fortunate I am to have the opportunity to wantonly get chocolate cake whenever I may please. It was a good night.

Last night, however, was even more absurd. During the day, I spent three hours working the Temple Gardens, then went to celebrate our president's birthday at a vegetarian restaurant in China town, called New Harmony. Firstly, the food was fantastic. Secondly, it was a karaoke restaurant. Our special party gathered in some basement in China town to sing "Colors of the Wind" and dance to "Funky Town" after we gave up on singing it. The karaoke "Happy Birthday" song went through >6 refrains of the chorus. Finally, we sang together "Bohemian Rhapsody," and I was so grateful for how surreal the situation was. After finishing up with dinner, I waited outside the restaurant for Nick to show up so we could head to a Temple party. He was already slightly intoxicated, so we sang through China town and talked about serial killers on the subway. The party was amazing. It was Alexis' birthday, so I made her a card. I sang and "sat danced" to every song. I met new people and further solidified friendships with others. Once again, I back massaged, and I made quite a name for myself. Hoorah!

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Here: You, Me

may angels lead you in
I think I like everything sung better.

Intramural Basketball:
The Boyer-Esther College of Music and Dance has spawned their own intramural basketball team, the "Fighting Sand Crabs." I don't believe there's a lot of dance representation on the actual team, but as a member of the "Sand Dollars," I've vowed to boogie oogie oogie and throw in some hair flips. Their first game went smashingly. Undefeated. The second game was tougher. The "Delco-Bros" were tough competition, and Mikey M., a key player for the Crabs, is a Delco-Bro himself.

Okay, let me break down what is interesting about this team. They're hilariously serious. First off, there was a cheering section. I doubt there'd ever been one beyond girlfriends or whatnot. Secondly, there was a pep band for half time. Thirdly, Singchronized came out to sing the national anthem, but were turned away. Fourthly, we have a dance team, the "Sand Dollars," captained by our very own Delco-Bra, Dana M. Fifthly, they held a post-game press conference back at the coach's. We gathered up our cameras to create the illusion of press-media. We questioned the coach and the players, all of it filmed in front of a Temple flag.

How absurd.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Need to Right

The man who was interested in my mom is dating someone else now. She swore he was only a brother-friend, but I think she was sad to tell me.

This is an article about a collaboration the president of Temple Community Gardens has been working on. She's the sweetest thing.

Lil' brother!
3:24pm
Big sisterrr!

[conversation]

3:42pm
i see i see
but i gotta go my ride is here. when i find my phone :[:[ ill text you
3:42pm
hahaha
I texted it a couple nights ago
:(:(
3:43pm
see ya chloe love you!
3:43pm
have fun with yo' ride and stuff
love you too!
lots and lots!

I'm going to take a moment this afternoon and read a chapter from Catch-22. When I glimpsed Tina bringing home the mysterious beret'd stranger who reads, I told her to introduce me, that I would pretend to read, and that it would be a fortuitous meeting. Unfortunately, while I did not meet him, I re-read a forgotten chapter of this, my favorite novel. Later, Tina recounted that from all of my silent eye-contact with mysterious stranger, he feels he knew me in another life. However, she also informed me his favorite drug is cocaine. So, while he may someday become the mysterious beret wearing acquaintance, he is perhaps too much for me.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Notes

Viv's happy statuses make me smile, but also reflective.
If it works out for her, or for Joe & Meg, then I will believe in love.

I think that I should like to get a few more sweaters for the upcoming chilly season, perhaps two or three with buttons that are not itchy.

The Cleopatra Exhibit at the Franklin Institute wasn't as well curated as I would've liked. Our audio narrator was an awful voice actress, and narrated in the first person with emotional sentiment. Ugh. While the artifacts themselves were certainly interesting, everything was so forcefully attached to the history of Egypt's last pharaoh that it rendered without cultural context. However, it was nice that my mom and I got winded together after flights of steps and had to sit down together. Damn young people taking up all the benches.

These stretches of sleepy illness produced so many dreams. Since coming to college, my lack of remembered dreams unsettles me. Maybe it's the lack of sleep routine or stress of change, but unsettling none the less. Most of these sick dreams touched on themes of summer. After all, my temperature regulation had me sweating spoonfuls.

I want to do installation pieces rather than stenciling. They're often more difficult for objectors to spot, and mine in mind don't cause property damage as vandalism. However, they're often bigger, unwieldy, and more time consuming than a small-medium sized stencil. And, while I like to claim that this sentiment is the result of a fear of cameras, I'll likely never do either.

Friday, November 5, 2010

maybe it's because I've been sick for two days,
but all of the webcomics I read felt extra funny today.

Monday, November 1, 2010

Favorite 90s Songs

1. Semi-Charmed Life
2. One Week
3. Everlong
4. Evaporated
5. The General

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Halloweekend Update

Both Friday and Saturday saw my appearance at Temple band parties. The first was a Gratz Manor party, and my favorite party locale. Band parties here tend to be filled with people I know, great conversation, and an under-abundance of disgusting crap on the floor. I, as per usual, was a pirate. Molly, a non-band trumpet player from my floor, dressed as a hipster but "totally not a hipster." Katy, a band trumpet player, went as a dead lady. Together, us 1300 ladies traipsed up to J&H to pick up Gab, also non-band, dressed as a lumberjack. Though, for one terrifying second, we thought she was also a hipster.

At the party, Gab and Molly made their own friends, which is delightful for not having to babysit. However, Gab had a lumber-ganger. Unfortunately, he had a real beard, an axe, and sawdust, so Gab was assigned "Lumber Jack #2" of the party. I beer-ponged with Lumber Jack #1, and, because we were so dominating the table, had to eventually switch out team LumberPirate for Team Lumberjack, who promptly lost. An RA got so drunk that I had to walk him home after he puked on the sidewalk. He still had his 40 and would not allow me to throw it away. Molly was scandalized to find her trumpet teacher at the party. Katy got walked home by a Sousa boy. Gab made best friends with Matt and TJ. I, drinking [water] from a flask like a real pirate, discovered I had a flask buddy. The night was a huge success until I had to go back to my roommate and her bear-snoring boyfriend.

Saturday was the poppin' party. It was fairly hood, so we got a walking group together. Molly had gone home and Katy's kid brother was over. But Gab returned as Peter Pan, and I brought Shannon from my floor. She was a tea-bag, and went around tea-bagging other guests to much delight. Gab, unfortunately, also had a Peter Pan double this night, despite him being very post-pubescent and beardy. There was an abundance of witty, ironic, and generally creative costumes. The tallest girl in band was a leprechaun with a top hat that added roughly another foot to her height. One kid was "a piece of shit," another a "pot head." There was a Ferris Bueller, a pyramid, a Ms. Pac-Man + ghosts, the moon, JT and Andy from Dick in a Box sketch, TMNT's Shredder, the entire cast of Gilligan's island, and a full Gumby suit. Not to mention I was "Babe Lincoln" complemented by the appearance of a slightly more realistic, more naturally bearded Abe. While I was upset by the existence of another tiny top hat, our TA was "Double Rainbow" guy, and "double tiny top hats, all the way"'d us. Another great night with an even better ending, because I spent the night at Gab's.

I am terrified of alcohol. At parties, I don't drink. While most nights see me having equivalent, if not more, fun than a majority of guests, my mornings are definitively more fun than most peoples'. Part of the fear is how much alcohol will impact my life. I don't know at point people start losing their ability to have fun without alcohol. When we were little, we could spend hours and hours on a playground in perfect paradise. Now, it seems people drink to have fun. If I ever came to that, I wouldn't know I was. I would lose my identity. I don't know if I could love that person, or if everyone who loves me now could love me in the same way.

I'm tempted to find out "who is drunk Chloe?" Sober Chloe is nearly equivalent to a happy drunk, to the point it's difficult to convince drunk people that I've only had water through the night. A few guys have intimated they'd like to see me drunk, and that worries me a little bit. I've had discretion enough not to act on anything that would give me a reputation in band. I suspect intoxication would inhibit that discretion. Maybe I'm a terribly sad drunk, as a few kids are. It's almost certainly assured that I am a clumsy drunk.

A mummified octopus sounds like a great mash-up for a Halloween costume, and one of the most terrifying things to ever encounter in real life.

I'm always excited to tell Tina how my weekend went and hear about hers.

"it was a little romantic, but also tragic and sad"
-Viv's Halloweekend

July 15th, 2009

this is a list:

1. Kiss my forehead
2. Hold my hand
3. Move the hair out of my eyes
4. Call me
5. Text me when you find something funny
6. Lie with me quietly
7. Stargaze with me
8. Sing
9. Write me a song
10. Write me a poem
11. Draw something for me
12. Introduce me to new music
13. Be proud of me
14. Get ice cream with me
15. Cloud gaze with me
16. Talk with me
17. Smile when we kiss occasionally
18. Let me borrow your sweatshirt
19. Warm my hands when I'm cold
20. Put your arm around me
21. Kiss my cheek
22. Ask me what I'm thinking
23. Like nature
24. Tease me (a little bit)
25. Tell me I'm pretty
26. Call me beautiful if I tried
27. Don't care if I wear makeup
28. Write me a letter
29. Rest your head on me
30. Let me rest my head on your shoulder
31. Play board games with me
32. Let me know if I turn you on
33. Appreciate my sexy underclothes
34. Appreciate candle light
35. Respect me
36. Be nice to my parents
37. Be smart
38. Have a good handshake
39. Let me massage your back
40. Occasionally offer to massage me
41. Be adventurous
42. Dance with me
43. Slow dance with me
44. Make eye contact with me until I giggle and smile and look away
45. Have your parents like me
46. Tell good stories
47. Isn't embarrassed by me
48. Have good hygiene
49. Have good grammar
50. Little to not text talk in earnest
51. Not allergic to peanuts
52. Good to animals
53. Respect the environment
54. Reasonably politically informed
55. Hold my hand when I'm scared
56. Don't preach at me
57. Care for my well being
58. Tell me when he's scared for my well-being
59. Make me laugh (pretty easy)
60. Put your hands on my hips
61. Look into my eyes before kissing me sometimes
62. Be bigger than me
63. Spoons!
64. Bring me flowers (edit: only if hand picked)
65. Be at my "events"
66. Hug me all the damn time
67. Hug me from behind
68. Karaoke with me if I ask
69. Be silly with me sometimes
70. Roll your eyes, but smile, when I tell a bad joke
71. Don't let me see you drunk
72. Hold my hand while driving
73. Watch horror movies with me
74. Carve our initials onto a tree
75. Teach me something new
76. Come visit me
77. Let me listen to your heartbeat
78. Take naps with me
79. Walk with me
80. Make sure my brother likes you
81. Have a special song with me
82. Try to note the special things I do
83. Touch my neck
84. Be aware I am mean in jest
85. Don't make me feel I have to be skinnier
86. Tell me goodnight
87. Bring me back a small souvenir from your vacation
88. Don't completely respect the law
89. No snitching
90. Do not discredit Wikipedia
91. Not a lot of facial hair unless it looks good
92. Have a smell that is "your smell"
93. Ask me to stay
94. Make me fell like you'd fight for me
95. Let me go with you places
96. Have some childlike wonder & imagination
97. Be able to restrain me
98. Let me win every now and then
99. Make me feel small and safe in your arms
100. Tell me you love me

Friday, October 29, 2010

Write Here, Write Now

Rode in a taxi in Philadelphia
Saw Frightened Rabbit Live
Also Halloween and a Nightmare on Elm Street
Voted!

Going down singing.

I don't ever want to lose this feeling. It's okay to dance and sing. I don't look good, and I don't sound good, and will be judged. But I sing because other people sang, so maybe someone else will sing because of me. The man behind me sang. I thought about being in love and running.

"Yes we are terrible for each other, and yes, we are a disaster, but doesn't your heart race for a hurricane?"

You are the love of my life so far.
(tomorrow's just a day away)

Last night, I had my second nightmare since being at school. It was, again, about zombies, but much more terrifyingly intimate than usual. I had to watch the evolution.

He is boring, and I still want to touch him. I don't know if it's wanting to be touched, or trying to replace the touch. I'm no good.

I'm so far away from foundation Chloe. Hopefully, she is responsible and doesn't think "what would an adult do?"

More than anything, I miss telling you what I did today.
I want to be passionate and vulnerable and innocent and yours.

Despite the want,
I will have to relearn how to love you.

I'M IN A GLASS BOX OF EMOTION!!!

I don't work hard enough. I don't produce enough. I don't learn enough. I don't think enough.
Maybe I've been happy for too long.
Maybe I need a little heartache.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

I Always Want It to Be Your Handwriting

Inspired by "Confessions" by Usher, I replied to a letter with an envelope entirely covered in confessions. I should've left the inside empty.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Facts in Figures

1. I didn't know how to spell my middle name until I was 13 (my parents still might not, because they didn't know then either). It's Kathryn, but spelled "Katherine" on my first library card.

2. I've been organizing M&Ms in rainbow order pretty much my whole life, and always ate the green ones last. Thus, for my first Valentine's day ever with a boyfriend, he got me two bags of exclusively green M&Ms.

3. I remember the dates of the first time I told JoeKat I liked him, my first kiss, the first time I told Dave I liked him, my first kiss with Dave, my last kiss with Dave, my first kiss with Jimmy, my last kiss with Jimmy, and my first kiss with Jeff.

4. A talent that may be semi-exclusive to me is my ability to carve little faces into apples and other fruits with my thumbnails. I've done elaborate stuff before, but it's tough to do detail work.

5. During my junior year of high school, our drumline's show was "Fear." In order to get into the mood, we had a Saturday circle time to share our biggest fears. I expressed that my biggest fear was that my brother would die an untimely death before me. The following Tuesday (January 20th), my brother got hit by a car and was in the hospital for several days.

6. I am extremely exclusive about what songs on my iPod get 5 stars, and I rate everything. Of the 1194 songs, 6 of them have 5 stars. They are: Hallelujah- Rufus Wainwright, Soco Amaretto Lime- Brand New, American Pie- Don McLean, Going to California- Led Zeppelin, You Can't Always Get What You Want- The Rolling Stones, and Wish You Were Here- Pink Floyd. Additionally, I will never keep a 1 star song on my iPod.

7. The first riff I ever learned on guitar was the intro to Wish You Were Here. Matt taught it to me some Monday on a drumline when our parents were a little late in picking us up. That was when I still had my enormous crush on him. It made me think of him until the summer after, when Dave sent me a picture of a beach sunset saying he and his uncle had just dueted Wish You Were Here.

8. I have never broken a bone. Never had surgery. Never smoked a cigarette. Never been drunk. Never had a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. Never been out of the country or to any state that doesn't border the Atlantic.

9. Nearly every single school day since I was five, I ate a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. Lucky Charms were the Saturday morning and special occasion cereal, though they eventually fell out of favor when I started sleeping in past 11. When I tried eating them again years later, I went to my fall-back strategy of eating all the wheat then gorging myself on marshmallows. I couldn't do it. It was then I knew I was no longer a child.

10. My dream job doesn't necessarily have perks or a good paycheck, but it would force me to interact with new information and learn all the time. My only passion is for learning new things, and that makes it hard to declare a major. I went through the list of every single course offered at Temple, leaving out no major, and made a list 10 pages long, 2 columns, in 10 pt. font of classes I want to take. *sigh*

11. For my first Christmas, my pop-pop got me a stuffed bear, who was subsequently named Bear, Mr. Bear, or "Bear Bear." For my first Easter, my nana got me the 1993 limited edition Crayola-Hallmark rabbit. He came to be named Bobbers. Those are my buddies that I've had forever. Bobbers I loved so hard that he had to be completely replaced by my aunt Jeanne, who sewed me a new rabbit. Bear is still in pretty good condition for all the lil' Chloe lovin' he got.

12. Of every talent and ability I've been blessed with, I still wish I could sing.

13. I love my little brother more than anyone on the planet. It makes me sad that my talents are really visible, socially admired, where he will never be very recognized for his ability to talk to people. He's part of my inspiration for becoming social.

14. Emily and Jeff are also part of my inspiration when I'm consciously trying to be approachable and sociable. It's working. Some of the things are becoming habit, now. It makes me feel warm all over.

15. Sometimes, I have a vague fear that my life is so unbelievably good right now that I will die young to make up for having an over-balance of satisfied living, or that I have a chemical imbalance that is the opposite of depression.

16. My cursive is absolutely gorgeous, if I don't say so myself.

17. One of the few things I am consciously proud of is the Villanova Trash Bowl where I took third place highest individual scorer. There weren't too many people at the competition, admittedly, but Garnet Valley was the only team that brought any freshmen, so I outdid all the other kids except Jeff and some stranger.

18. I am only consciously aware of my fears of cars and heights.

19. I love to climb trees.

20. I once accidentally coined the word "quilty" when attempted to type guilty. In my mind, it's a very good feeling, like a moment where every good part of your life and personality and those of your friends has been stitched together to tell your story.

21. Fiction is usually hard for me to read. For whatever reason, three years ago saw me enter a trend of almost exclusively reading non-fiction and classics that have stood the test of time. Even in Sci-Fi, my fiction love, I tend to stick to the masters.

22. My mom is a Dutch immigrant. The only Dutch I know is a Christmas song and the word "stoop." That's right bitches. Best verb in Philadelphia has the same heritage I do.

23. New York City has a few of my favorite memories, including singing "Bitches Ain't Shit" in the business district. Softly.

24. My dorm currently contains a contraband microwave, candle, and screwed in accessories.

25. I went to Baptist school from kindergarten to 5th grade. I was a regular ol' fashioned hateful, bigoted Christian, to the point of trying to convert my Jewish cousins and "not believing" in atheists.

26. I have 5 voicemails saved on my phone that carried over from my old phone. The first is my dad singing happy birthday to alert me to the fact I finally had a cell phone. One is all my friends calling from Hawaii to wish me Happy Birthday during the band trip. I doubt I speak to any of them anymore. The other three are drunk dials from Schade and Jeremy.

27. There is a mural on the back of my door back home that contains almost all of my favorite quotes, and a few little smidges of artwork. It's not finished yet.

28. My favorite smells include bonfire, the day after a grass cutting, honeysuckles, boy smell, laundry smell, vanilla, and the ocean. It makes me sad there are not many descriptive terms available to describe smells except by comparison to smells that already exist.

29. When I was first introduced to xkcd and A Softer World, I read every single comic of theirs available at the time within one week of first discovery.

30. I love who I am and the process of becoming the best me possible.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Making

The fear of ending up alone has never been mine, though I don't expect any sort of happy ending. Cynic that I am, I assume that I will settle with someone I will eventually come to disdain. Or, less terrible, I wind up with someone I utterly adore but live with the constant fear they will leave, because I am not good enough.

Tuesdays do not generally hold any particularly exciting event, but for some undetermined reason, I was especially productive today in my creative endeavors. Throughout the day, I wrote three letters and a postcard. I drafted and illustrated two "letter-books" which will be mailed out following the close of this weekend. With the paper scraps left over from composing those books, I fashioned "A RATHER BITTY BOOK." It is the text describing my college experience until this point. Currently, it is only text, but I have grand aspirations to fill in with blobby sketches. Even my comic book saw a slight revival today. In the midst of all this creation, I even remembered to print out my absentee ballot form and look up this horrific instrument. I suspect it is evil.

Monday, October 18, 2010

"Teapotahedron"

Last night heralded my second extensive wiki-linking spree of college. One of my "Mosaic" assignments was to create a "Freudian videogame," so I looked into the process of game development, something which holds personal interest for me as well. Within the very inclusive "Game development" article, I linked out to roughly 5 articles. From there, an adventure ensued. I learned that the original model that became the standard graphics test figure, the Utah teapot, physically exists in a museum. In 1983, there was a North American Video Game Crash. Who knew?

Some weeks back, Temple hosted a student groups gathering at the Bell Tower. I collected some literature. Signed up on some listservs. Good times. However, I didn't get around to reading the history of Palestine provided by "Students for Justice in Palestine" group. Off the bat, I support human rights. Also, I don't support propaganda. While I'm definitely learning a lot by looking up key players in the conflict, bias abounds.

At the party Saturday night, the friend from my floor I brought tried drinking for the first time. She kept to the limit agreement, and only got giggly and loud. Also from our floor and my trumpet friend, Katy, was also loud and giggly. Together, all three of us sat on a couch devising schemes to talk to boys. During all of this, a guy I'd met earlier in the night, who was somewhat drunk at this point, came over and attempted to put a charm bracelet on my wrist. He told me it meant a lot to somebody, but he didn't know who, but probably someone named Zack because that's what it said on the heart. His name was Adam. I put the bracelet in my memory box.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Oops, Forgot to Change the Title

I'm so mean to my mom. I speak with her as I speak with everyone else, truthfully and very bluntly. She asked me if I would spend the night at her house when I'm home for the weekend. I said, "No." She asked me why. I told her that if I'm only going to be home for two nights, I want to spend them in "my bed" in "my room," and that her house didn't even have a room for me. She immediately said her goodbyes and hung up. Well, I knew I fucked up.

My mom likes to think that I don't like being at her house "because it's a shithole" or "I don't have my own room." Her old place was a shithole. This one is not. It's not about having "a room." It's that no room will ever be my room like the current one is.

The truth is, I don't like spending time there because there is nothing to do except watch TV or go on the internet, and I hate to spend my time watching a screen. When I suggest going to the park or for a walk, she will walk the minimum distance, and we go home. She's not fun to talk to. She doesn't know anything about my life. Occasionally, we play cards. Being home, I want to spend my limited time doing everything I can't here. I want to spend no time watching TV.

She texted me back, complaining that she doesn't make a lot of money, but that next time, she'll try to get a three bedroom. That's fiscally irresponsible. I'm 18. I'm never going to live with her again. If I visit, I'll take the couch.

I responded:
"Mom, it's not about the room. This dorm is "my room" and "I live here," but the room at dad's is simply where I've been forever, and may possibly never be again. No where will ever take its place. I'll definitely visit you, but just not spend the night."

She responded:
"I hate my life and hurt more then you know.u"

Fuck.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

New York, New York

  • I fell asleep on the bus after doing calc made my head hurt
  • I figured out the Streets v. Ave before Steve had to tell me
  • But I used the sun, so late night, had no idea
  • Avenues suck
  • They are so damn long
  • I saw "Goodburger: Home of the Goodburger" and took a picture
  • I ate a cupcake that was actually a cupcake shaped cake
  • We ate at a store that exclusively sells macaroni
  • New York has sooooo many stores
  • How do people even have time to buy all this stuff?!
  • We went to Theodore Roosevelt's birth place
  • We went to a store called "Alphabets"
  • It was delightful
  • New York is different from Philadelphia in ways I never imagined
  • NYU has fewer black kids than I expected
  • However, we met one of the few other ones while in a park together
  • NYU has an unbelievably good business school?!
  • I rode the NYC subway system
  • There was a green market
  • I wanted vegetables :(
  • I now feel capable of up and going wherever I please
  • Went went to "the" Macy's that has 9 stories and wooden escalators
  • I had no idea wooden escalators had ever existed
  • Steve's workplace is very "unique"
  • I want to eat all of the soaps there
  • Put them right in my mouth
  • The couple next to me on the bus was SUPER cute
  • What with their subtle hand-holding
  • I thought a lot while fitfully napping on the way back
  • I was very scared I would not make the subway
  • Because I got into Philly at 11:40
  • And the subways close at 12
  • I caught the last Northbound train

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Saying Goodbye to You

and Goodmorning to the Sun

Today, math blew my mind. It was so pretty sitting on my white sheet of paper, and I thought about its visual aesthetics, then about its purity in expressing the universe. Humans are currently capable of expressing just about anything they want in mathematical notation, but I wonder if there is a more efficient, currently undiscovered symbol language.

I had a lengthy argument over the weekend about the limitations of the written word or its verbal counterparts. The kid I was talking to is a secondary ed English major who claims words are only as limited as the human mind. While a nice little phrase, I can make up any number of words describing my most intimate feelings, but there will be no way to define that word in a way that someone else will definitively understand.

Simply put, there are emotionally charged sounds humans are incapable of making, which is partially where music comes in, though that is also limited in its subjectivity. If I were smart enough, I could write a poem more beautifully in math than I could in the written word. If I spoke with all painful inflection and tone, that can be expressed as a series of sound waves. That style of reading doesn't come across when the words are simply black on white.

Monday, October 11, 2010

I Fucked It Up

My favorite song where your voice sounds best.
(I don't sing)

I've been inquiring how to apply for an intra-university transfer to the architecture program. It's a union of form and function, math, science, and art. My only problem is that I don't know what exactly an architect does once they get their masters....

Summertime
(when the livin's easy)

Steve G. and I saw the Social Network tonight. It was very well done, and the theater near Drexel's campus was the Digital Logic Projectors or whatever by Texas Instruments, so it was the sharpest thing I'd ever seen in theaters. We mosey'd about, stopping by Wawa. The Wawa smell hit me hard, because I'd missed it so much. Tonight was the first time since the first week I had legitimate homesickness. Steve talked about when he came home and visited his cats. I almost cried thinking about how I'll probably cry when I get into my bed and start thinking. "I don't live here anymore." I'll think about summer and impossibilities and about being a dumb teenage girl who can't even choose a major. I lost Steve's firefly running from the subway stop in the rain.

Frozen Hair Hot Tub
(M&M rainbow)

It's so weird when parents do stuff together. Neither of my parents came out to my things. My mom saw the movie "Drumline" and said, "I finally learned what you've been doing all these years!" I really wanted my dad to be at the band senior night, but when I called, he said he didn't want to go. Then they left out that I was a section leader on my bio sheet, but left in that my favorite thing about band were the freshmen, which was more important. I don't ever want to do that to Chloe spawn. I don't believe in always.

"It's okay to cry in front of your roommate"

I've never been mad enough to scream.
I've never been passionate enough to hold on tighter.
I've never loved enough to refuse to say goodbye.

and I'm sorry.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Crazy Weekend!

Friday Night:
After band, T. Pat and I caught dinner at J&H. We ran into Lutz and made a little drumline table, but that also meant conversation was almost exclusively drum related. This was also prompted by the fact that our instructor had just about given us a "pep talk," at the end of practice, but still, not my bag. When Lutz finished, T. Pat saw Tyler and called him over, so the conversation continued while he was eating. Everyone finished their meals, but we kept talking until around 8. T. Pat offered to give me a ride back to 1300. While I'd been in a car at Penn State, it felt like I hadn't been in one for much longer, and it was a special occasion. I don't know if he tried to scare me, because I said I was fearless, but if he always drives like that, I will never again accept his offer. After that, I got all gussied up to hang out with Kira and maybe catch a party. She'd watched the Phillies' game with Brenna, and they were a lil' drunk. Brenna's friend Bob was there, and we eventually all left to try and find her other friend from high school "H-Bomber" aka "Haley." I may've partaken in a little illicit drug usage, and so the entire evening felt like being an outside observer. It was lovely. I ate a bowl of Easy Mac, a single pizza roll, and a bag of popcorn. The Jew Frat was selling pancakes 2 for $1, so I treated Kira and myself. We wandered the streets just off campus, trying to find this girl, then looked for a party. I wasn't too interested in finding one, but I knew exactly how James Joyce felt to interpret Ulysses as the adventures of a drunken wanderer. Eventually stopping at 7-11, I got a chocolate cake-brownie and a bag of Lays, and marveled that the salty-sweet duality was the greatest invention of man. At one point, Kira held a Tasty-Cake and a half eaten chip in her hand, the symbol of excellence. I wound up spending the night at their place, and woke up just in time to welcome my mom to Temple.

Saturday:
Mom dropped off Jack and Jeremiah around noon and very promptly left. Even though I knew Jack didn't want to go to a museum, I'd been relying on Mom's badgering and money to get us to one anyway. With all of my potential plans destroyed, and the boys with ~$8 spending money between them, we went to the Wagner Free Institute of Science. It was closed. Our free activity alternative was for them to smoke a bit, and all three of us to take a nap. Good stuff. They smoked again before the a cappella concert (which was amazing!), and then we went to Wendy's where I got them food. Ethan escorted us to Mike's for the fancy band party. I was all fancy hoochie, forgetting how short my tuxedo dress is and wearing high heels. My fake pearls were ballin', though I didn't know how I felt about wearing them out to 18th St. The party was fantastic. Drum major Jeremiah was upset that I'd brought another, significantly underage, Jeremiah, but his fancy suit was possibly the most entertaining thing of the night, so I couldn't take him seriously. I was having a great time. It was kinda a sausage fest, and guys were talkin' to me left and right, but Jack and Jer were not feelin' the "band party thing," and they'd forgotten their bowls in the dorm. After much scrabbling for a piece, rolling papers, an apple, or a pen for a water bong, I guy volunteered to walk to his house next door in the service of my brother. However, during that time, my brother was brought to the attention of some other stoners who they began talking to, and were eventually invited to hang out with. Admittedly, one of them was trying to get with me, which I think might've been the reason for the invite, but hey, let's go to the hood and hang. I walked there in my high heels, over broken sidewalk and plywood, eventually taking off my heels despite the broken glass shimmering like starlight. Once we got there, there were a number of illegal activities taking place, with Jack and Jer eventually playing Mario Smash Brothers Brawl with the guys (one of whom was on '08 GV Grad?!), while I watched and listened to the admittedly interesting stories of this guy who managed to get closer to me every time he stood up and sat back down. I don't think he understands what kind of a cock-block a younger brother is, and I know he didn't know about my loyalties not to, but I couldn't hide that physically, I was totally good for it. Luckily, we all just sorta went to bed afterward, and when I woke up on a bean bag chair the next morning, I was a little unsure of where I was.

Sunday:
One of the guys who woke up early enough to see us off gave me a pair of socks to walk home in. It was exceptionally generous, and he acknowledged that it would only add to "the fake walk of shame." So I got J&H with Jack and Jer in my high heels and hoochie dress. I got the worst look from some bitch, and I was all, "That's right: 24/7 Sexy." We all elected for another nap, with me eventually getting them on the 5:23 to Claymont. Fortunately, I'm super duper smart and know how to use trains and shit, because I missed the first one because we were standing on the Outbound tracks instead of local, me unaware that you have to go through Center City first... They did get on the 6:23. I'm glad that my brother served as the guinea pig instead of me, because I have to catch a train home next Friday. Anyways, Kira invited me to J&H after that. She told me about her shitty Saturday night/Sunday morning another ridiculous story about the frequently occurring coincidence of people in her life knowing other people in her life. After that, we walked down to Shusterman Hall so I could add to my sketch of it, I could have an excuse to invite Chase over, and she could finally meet him. Unfortunately, after Josh Hopkins passed by, we got into a string of GV name dropping, otherwise, the conversation was good. Kira left to get ice cream and finish cleaning up before her roommates got back, so Chase and I headed back to my dorm to talk. It was relieving to find that neither of us wants a relationship at this point, and also good to finally acknowledge it. After Chase left, Tina and I shared our weekend updates and watched Jackass together.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

"...forgot my monocle for the fancy party tonight. Alas."

My brother and his best friend, Jer, are asleep in my room right now.

Jack asked me why the SATs were so expensive. I don't rightly know.

We're going to Acapacolypse tonight at 7:30, then the fancy band party.

I started writing the Pit Video Game as a text only walk-through game. Right now, the reader is capable of viewing the "Choose Character Screen," exiting the menu, or reading the rules. Hopefully, it will be a bit of a choose your own adventure, though I bet I'll only ever write the first level about trying to find a bathroom before the Upper Darby competition starts. Matt's emoticon is: d-_-b Apparently, there is a "Java 3D" scripting language, which is designed for expressing complex graphics. Of course, I am but the littlest programmer; but if get into stuff on my own outside of class, we'll see if I can't come up with some pretty neat code.

Shay, Tina, and I discussed our slight anxieties about having ugly children.

Unfortunately, Jack forgot my monocle for the fancy party tonight. Alas.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

"Making Out for Lost Time"

I've been meaning to write. Honestly.
I even have the last line of a short story written.

I write letters though. So many letters.

Tonight, there's a party with two DJs.
Tomorrow, my mom and brother are coming over.
-There is a fancy band party
Sunday, I will do homework.
Monday, Steve G. and I are catching a movie at Drexel.
Tuesday I'm going to a poetry performance.
I'm going to NYC Wednesday to visit Steve F.
Thursday, PostSecret and Jeff are coming.

Right now, I'm feeling the Sociology major. Only 42 credits. That way I can minor in everything.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Lapsus Clavis & Les Fleurs du Mal

Who cares if the flowers are evil? Put them on gorgeous display in a sunny window and love their adorable, ineffective maleficence.

Kira invited me over to J&H for Fourth Meal around eight tonight. Sure, I'd already eaten, still had homework, and wore sockless mocks in the chilly rain, but "if I have an invite, I'm not going to waste my time in a dorm." After trudging the three blocks to J&H, I had some mozzarella sticks, smiled for reminiscing, and talked to Kira for a good three hours. Despite my enjoyable activities, I'd been having a real poop couple of days. I'd kept my wits about me and didn't let it progress, recognizing the shitty weather and lingering emotions, but I still felt down. By some inexplicable process, eating junk food and laughing made me warm and fuzzy all over.

I <3 Cathexis, but it's scary sometimes for everything you might lose.

There is no Wikipedia article I could find about the act of "missing someone." I should think there would be a whole article or at least some fancy Latin terms to denote this integral human experience.

I think about driving away from MOJO13 listening to The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot. Think about sitting in a packed car with Viv and my whole world in the driveway. Think about packing my whole world in a car with a trunk 74 cubic Trishas big. Think about screaming "make me feel tiny if it makes you feel tall" and what large asses we were, I was. Think about quietly singing Bitches Ain't Shit in the business district of NYC, trying not to get shot. Think about trying not to cry on the ride back from NYC, the only person awake except for the person I desperately wanted to be, and the person I desperately wanted to be with. Think about falling asleep as the person I'd always wanted to be with the only person I wanted to be with. Think about who I am, who I've been, who I've loved, and who I've cried for. Thinking 'bout you.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

In/Ex

now breathe

It must sound like hero worship, the way I talk about Jeff. I talk about him and my brother all the time. In my stories, Matt is "my engineering friend." Stasi is "my hippie organic friend." Katie is "my crazy best friend from middle school who liked anime and made me not shy." Sometimes, Abby is "my mello friend who did Surf." I don't reference other people in my stories much, unfortunately.

you're doing it wrong

It's a real infatuation, and it's a real drive to get fucked, but there's only one thing I want right now.

Inlove/Exlove

"Tapestries are nomadic murals"

What a wonderful weekend.

Friday night, I went to South Street with a girl from band for First Friday shopping. While the only thing either of us bought was an ice cream cone, it was still a super fun experience. We checked out both Mood and Condom Kingdom. Penis pasta is definitely on the list of things I want to cook as a meal. It was a windy night, and I suppose there was a feeling in the night, 'cuz we were making eye contact with guys like crazy. One of the guys I saw was in a convertible, and I made sure to laugh while eating my ice cream. After getting back in for the night, I went over to the Tyler building and read their educational exhibit on the Coptic Monasteries in Egypt. Upon returning back, I sat with some girls from my floor and our RA in the hall and talked about whatever. It was a good time.

Saturday morning, I got up early to water the garden and help build a compost receptacle. Only four people and a kitten showed up, but it was an intimate time and we all made hummus at the club leader's apartment afterward, even though I don't really like it. Around 5, I went to catch dinner at the SAC and head over to Presser to get on the buses. It was a good ride up to Pennridge High School for an exhibition. We got a little bit lost, got a little bit slap happy. Even though holding cymbals through all of the announcements wasn't too hot, I enjoyed remembering high school. The bus ride back was even better. After that, I hung out with Chase and had the geekiest night of my life. It was a bifecta (like a trifecta, but two) of geekiness. I learned how to play Magic: the Gathering and got the briefest history lesson in the lore of World of Warcraft, with some notes on its origins in Tolkien.

Sunday morning, M&M pancakes. Mine were exclusively blue and green, and I made wishes and was thankful on them respectively. Around 3, I met up with Gab, Kira's roommate and a friend from Spanish class to go to the Philadelphia Museum of Art for discounted First Sunday. We got there a little late for its closing at 5, but still a wonderful time exploring. I felt like a barbarian for how little I know. We got dinner at "Rex's: Rex's is the best." It was some little pizza place on our way back to the subway with jumbo pizza slices at least twice the size of a normal slice. I was unaware of that at the time of ordering, and so got two slices. I couldn't finish the second one, because we also had mozzarella sticks and french fries. In the evening, I finished up my homework.