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!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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"
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"
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.
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!
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.
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.
This is an article about a collaboration the president of Temple Community Gardens has been working on. She's the sweetest thing.
Lil' brother!
i see i see
but i gotta go my ride is here. when i find my phone :[
ill text you
ill text youhahaha
I texted it a couple nights ago
:(
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.
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
Monday, November 1, 2010
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
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
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
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