I Have Been Oriented!

My Temple Orientation was slated for the 19th overnight to the 20th.

Day 1:
Within ten minutes of arriving, I was given the wrong room key (but I didn't notice until ten minutes before it was over). Lecture. Blah blah blah. Lecture. Blah blah blah. "I'm freezing cold! Why did I wear shorts?!" Blah blah blah. "They just gave me a rape whistle...?" Blah blah blah. The first day was spent almost entirely becoming informed. The Honors Luncheon was scheduled for 12:30, which meant another lecture before we ate. While everyone else went to the all-you-can-eat dining hall, we got a cold sandwich, chips, an apple, and nasty shortbread cookies. I selected the chicken sandwich, ready to enjoy a good chicken patty. FUCK! It was chicken salad. Thankfully roast beef was still available. Dinner was spent with some kids from my orientation group, both of whom play guitar and one of whom is now my on campus connection, so to speak. The night was spent in and out of rooms after our leader abandoned us to the wolves of the street. Two of the girls I hung out with were from Serbia and Moldova. Woo, Eastern Europe! We tried to check out the dance party, but the DJ was awful, so everyone dispersed into the night. I wound up with an English major, and we discussed literature in his room until check in. He was adorably awkward. Mop of hair, Rayband glasses, laughed at inappropriate intervals. It was a good time. THE WORST SLEEP OF MY LIFE FOLLOWED THIS PLEASANT EXCHANGE.

Day 2:
I woke up early enough for breakfast (no pancakes or Honey Nut Cheerios, so I was about to get all up in here to petition somebody). More lectures. Not as freezing cold. Finally! Signing up for classes! Me and the other honors kids in my group wandered off for our advising, and there were a few laughs. Everybody there had some sort of AP/IB credit, but had no idea what kind of classes we were getting credit for. General Education classes are low-level bullshit classes that give everyone a "well rounded" exposure to culture. Of the 13 classes required by the Liberal Arts college, APs and placements mean that after my first semester, I will be completely done with all but one of them (providing I study abroad, which is happening). My first semester classes are as follows:

Honors Calculus I
Programming and Higher Languages
Honors Mosaic I
Intermediate Spanish
Race & Poverty in the Americas

I'm so excited! I had my band audition at 2, so I unfortunately missed the skits about buying condoms 10 for a $1, but ah well. There was a super awkward guard boy who was practicing roughly the same time I got there. Dr. Brunner gave me some time to practice, because I hadn't touched a marimba since graduation. The mallets were the shittiest Mike Balters with almost no weight to them, and the marimba was a slightly more professional "big red." Despite this, I warmed up with everything I knew, including playing The Heart Asks Pleasure First with only two mallets. Finally, I played Zoot Suit Riot, did a little sight reading, and was accepted to the band! They pay for everything except my shoes. Hoorah!

Growing Up

Physically, I have stopped growing up. In all other respects, I realize I have much farther to go.

Hate Driving

Today was the first time in the history of Chloe that I would be driving alone. Before going to my mom's, I tried to calm down. I took deep breaths. I sat in the car and visualized what I was going to do. I felt not terrible, and it got a little better as I went. My park job wasn't so good when I got there, but I just backed up and had it perfect. Mom and I visited Laura and her mom on Brandywine Blvd. and craziest fucking thing, my roommate was there and recognized me from Facebook! I talked to her real quick, but she seems totally normal and easily got into a conversation with my mom. It was a lovely afternoon with many stories told and three bagels eaten. On the way back, we took 95. I felt alright with it. My mom didn't direct me as well as I would've hoped, but hey, I recovered.

THEN.

>:(

I got home, went on Facebook to grab Surya's address, and then my dad decided that we should watch the State Farm safety video. "Oh! Excellent!" I thought, "some driving tips from the people whose business it is to make money preventing accidents." It was this motherfucking video that's about killing everyone you've ever loved with your car and/or yourself. That's exactly the kind of stuff that runs through my head anyway and makes me not want to drive. So I almost cried during this 11 minute "DRIVING IS SCARY" video, then almost immediately left for the party. If I hadn't been so emotional, I would've remembered that being emotional is not a great state to drive in and/or to go through my calming down routine. Totally not confident, I made it to Surya's house. I had a good time. I was the only white girl there. The food was delicious. Hallelujah. As I went to leave, I figured I would stop by Nicki's before going to Kevin's. She wasn't home, and I reasoned that it was too much driving for one day and that I should go home. I didn't turn the wrong direction on 202. I didn't rear end somebody going to in Wawa, but as I drove, that movie was alternating between the back of my mind and the forefront of my focus. Not good. Finally. I was relieved to see my house. I made a very quick turn into the driveway because a car was coming, then went to turn into my parking spot and ouch. Hit my neighbor's car. I don't know why he parks in our driveway. I almost cried sitting in my car before I saw the damage. I thought that my dad probably heard it and would be running outside, but no. I locked up. I walked around the front of my car. I had entirely smashed my right headlight. Thankfully, his only has minor superficial damage to the front bumper, but still. I will no longer be able to drive. I am almost sort of relieved that I won't have to again.

Duh

I never realized that coincidence was literally co-incidence, meaning two of the same events. D'oh.

Geocaching

Dan, Brandon, Gab, Alex, and I went geocaching in the Grist Mill today. The humidity remained at an uncomfortably high level, and Brandon flashed the entire parking lot as a result. Ignoring that, the day turned to one of discovery and ab-aching laughter. We eventually found three caches; two of them contained an interesting assortment of children's toys and knick-knacks, while the third was a film canister that held barely more than the signature log. Finished adventuring, we made our way over to Bravo's pizza, which reminded me of the night that Viv, Jeff, (maybe Dana K.), and I went there and ate sugar powdered Italian things. During the drive over, Gabby waved at a guy in a Corvette, which prompted him to roll down the window and start flirting. Learning that she and Brandon date, he advised him to stay in school, work hard, and maybe he could buy her a car like that one day. Later estimates pegged his age at somewhere between 50 and 60. Dan, Alex, and I got gas at Wawa, then took a smoke break in the Target parking lot. We got back to Gabby's around 8:30 to settle in and watch Dead Snow. Dan and I both saw it previously, but oh, it definitely earned its second viewing. The audience commentary added another layer of excellence to an already stellar film. Dan needed to get home by 11, so we took our leave. Another lovely summer evening complete.

Sign Graffiti

Emily and I set out last night to paint the town gold (with black Sharpie accents). Our goal was to leave inconspicuous little messages throughout the area. The stars were absolutely radiant last night, and the air was cool and mosquito-less. We laughed. We talked. We defaced public property. Several spots in a lot were converted to Handicapable Parking, and there is no longer Barking allowed in a few areas. Admittedly, I would call some of the work vandalism and not art, but that is subjective for the viewer anyway. Most of the time, I feel my graffiti is justifiable as art. The stencils are usually of some creative merit, and more often than not clever (not that I'm biased or anything). I see no harm in messengers. However, my graffiti hypocrisy is most evident when it comes to tagging. Occasionally, I can appreciate the skill involved, the uniqueness, the daring, but 99% of the time I define it as vandalism. Of course, the enormous three piece monstrosities are works of awe and nearly always art. Towards the end of the night, we settled in the hammock because she had not thought to bring a sweater of any sort. It was conversation of the sort that can only be had in a hammock at 3 in the morning during your last summer of no obligations.

Thinking Thoughts

I feel that in novels, tales of "love at first sight" always begin with, "and then she walked through the door, and the whole room seemed to stand still." Admittedly, if I saw a woman walked through a solid door, I would also be left speechless. One usually does not walk through the door, but through the doorway. Oh idioms.

5(s)

National AP Scholar! Fuck yeah!

How much studying did I do outside of class? I dunno. Maybe one hour for all of my subjects combined. BOOYAH! And most of that was literally outside the classroom waiting for the test to begin. Bangin'!

[Edit: this also means I am triple qualified to place out of Temple's basic English Comp.]

Gotta Hot* Date and Good Friends and Schemes

*Humid would be more accurate. It was positively nasty outside.

Joel and I went to see Despicable Me today. It was adorably in the style of Pixar, but without the cohesion and incredible story telling. The kids in the audience enjoyed a number of the slapstick scenes, but the adults I think were most amused by the Bank of Evil (formerly Lehman Brothers). For all of its good points, I wouldn't recommend it unless you didn't have to pay, as Joel and I didn't by simply walking into the theater because nobody paid attention. I <3 Painter's. Afterward we went to the Grist Mill. Of course, the night was filled with a torrential downpour and the air felt like swimming, but hell, Nature! Because it was an impulsive visit, I was wearing flip-flops. Awesome choice? No, no they were not. My feet got muddy and itchy and I got stuck in my shoe in a way I would not have expected. I was significantly less attractive by the end of our hike.

He's a little overbearing in conversation, which isn't much conversing, but more a scrambling for related stories to fill the void of silence. I discovered I'm kinda freakin' selfish and don't feel particularly guilty about leading him on. I'm not being overtly sexual, but it's flattering attention and something to do. It's nice to know I could get dates in college.

Nick and Emily came over last night, so we hung out in the yard with Jack & Jack. We talked. We scowled. Nick ranted. We walked down to the lake to listen to bull frogs, and there were geese sleeping on the water. They left close to 3. It was a nice night.

There is no mallet percussion section in Temple's Marching Band. I was warming up to the idea of joining band as something to do. With all the free time of college, it will be imperative I get out of the dorm and out of my head. If I get down, I'll need something to force me to get out and laughing with other people. Thus being true, I've sent an inquiry about possibly joining the battery. I'm sure I'd get cymbals or bass drum or something shitty like that, but maybe I could make tenors (what a lovely delusion). Their band meets Mon.-Wed.-Fri. and the mornings of home games. It's mostly pop music that is played simply for crowd entertainment that changes game to game. Every student receives a scholarship, which might translate to tuition remission for me. It would be weird to have spending money. I could go to museums!

I made and bookmarked a list of every museum and book store in Philadelphia that offers interest, relatively cheap admission, and/or free events. I'll try to bop up to NYC some weekend to visit Steve and perhaps crash at his place if possible. Ceci has invited me down to DC to check out all of her free museums *so jealous,* which I would definitely like to take up. I'll be sure to have Emily and Jeff over to visit, and seriously anybody who could possibly desire a night's stay in Philly. I will make it my business to hang out with Viv and her arty friends. Plus homework and classes and hanging out with kids on my floor and generally bothering everyone to find common interests; I'm very excited for college, but still worried that I may not live as brilliantly as I could.

She's So Lucky

I'm a cutie with smarts and a pretty sweet personality.
I don't have to worry about paying for higher education.
Jack is the coolest person I know and clever and generally awesome.
My dad is the handiest man I know, and literate on SO MANY SUBJECTS.
Our home is the homiest place I know. It is the best.
My mom lends unfaltering support and makes me a stronger person.
Collectively, my family is ballin'.
I could wax endlessly on my friends and their influence on my life.
In fact!

When Jewish Upon a Star

In elementary school, I was taught that because the Jews were God's chosen people but never given a home, that He gave them a special gift. That gift was their being good with money.

Seriously, my parents paid good money for me to learn that.

Jews are the only slight evidence I have for the existence of a Greater Being, specifically the God of Moses. They get so much extra-special shit, and in my experience, yeah, they actually are pretty good with their finances.

Relatedly, I had never heard the term "JAP (Jewish American Princess)" until maybe a year or two ago. Since then, I have found several examples to be true, though almost exclusively my cousins.

I Am Awesome

These are some reasons why I'm the shit:

I floss every day
-have awesome stories
-rock the random trivia
-carve fruit
-play guitar
-play mallet percussion
-have a fantastic memory
-have sweet dreams
-read poetry
-write often
-am a good listener
-keep a wall collage
-am a good screamer
-keep a journal
-don't drink lots of soda
-climb trees
-am a pirate
-have an eye for typography
-garden
-am an immigrant's daughter
-walk on my tip toes
-walk a lot
-give good handshakes
-give great bjs
-do not imbibe
-send letters via USPS
-can solve a Rubix Cube
-disregard authority
-'m just about fearless
-am politically active
-graffiti message
-listen to NPR
-am a feminist
-am anti-consumption
-am a terrible, yet proud, dancer
-deface money
-text quickly
-have never broken a bone
-have never broken a phone
-sneak out
-am an atheist
-have awesome posters in my room
-(almost) play mandolin
-love learning
-draw on shirts
-am a swell artist
-can flip a pencil around my thumb
-sing
-wear long, tall socks
-don't have cable
-word play
-am an alright conversationalist
-am beastly at CLUE
-also rock the Trivial Pursuit
-collect vinyl albums
-costar in an award winning short movie :P
-appreciate the things I have
-am above average in academic subjects
-talk to all sorts of people
-collect dirt/sand
-wear some crazy outfits sometimes
-read
-stencil on occasion
-can read treble clef
-hablo un pocito espanol
-listen to good music
-read xkcd
-am honest

§ 3124.1 Sexual assault

A person commits a felony of the second degree when that person engages in sexual intercourse with a complainant without the complainant's consent.

Indescribable Feeling (But I'll Give It a Shot)

First off, I have been in the most fantastic mood since Sunday. My dad and I spent the afternoon together, then ate dinner outside after the first successful test run of the grill. It really felt like summer, despite the fact it was already the 4th of July. Uncle Mike had us over for Sun Valley's fireworks as per usual. Since then, I've been so stupendously warm feeling. Every single day this week has had some wonderful, fantastic adventure with great people that I'm grateful to know. Monday saw the Brandywine followed by Lauren's pool party and ended with a sweet front porch evening. Tuesday I hung out with Joel and saw Jeff's hockey game, that night was so happy it lingered into Wednesday, which is when I finally had Juliana over for our sleepover. Thursday had me a little worried, because I was going with Meg and Stasi to Automm's. I'm not terrified of social situations, I get nervous about talking to people sometimes. Automm had two of her friends over, which got me a little stuck at first, but I told myself to get through it. One of my biggest fears is that I will have many acquaintances and no friends at college. I didn't want to be scared though. The person that I want to be is bubbly and outgoing and easy to engage in conversation, but that's not going to happen unless I practice. I thought about the magnetic personalities in my life, and what they would do in this situation. It wasn't a long thought, but I vowed to be fearless and funny and friendly. It worked! I told stories and evoked laughter and felt comfortable to be myself, even around strangers. The entire ride home, even stuck in an extra forty minutes of traffic, I felt so enveloped by joy. I often take my current friends for granted, but that time allowed me to be stunned by the people I'm surrounded with. I finally felt like I can be the person I hope to be. At home, wrapped up in bed, I couldn't stop smiling.

Vae Victo

I'm either an ass or making assumptions.

I only know the date when I have to write it down in my journal. My hope is that in writing sparse details of daily activities, my memory will always be able to fill in the rest. I'm forgetting things that happened in summers past, unless I can remember the date.

June 30th, July 3rd, 4th, and 5th, July 11th, July 19-20th, the 25th, August 5th, August 9th, September 7th, September 22nd, November 21st-22nd.

June 27th. July 10th. August 13th. August 15th (?). August 22nd.

I can recall hours from these dates, full of details and emotions and little stupid things. This is the first year I hold any significance to winter dates, but I'm scared this summer is so brilliant it will be without distinct highlights.

Envy and greed are the motivating forces of ambition - and without ambition, very little of any importance would be accomplished.
-The Satanic Bible
Woo, apathy!

Links & Connections

Currently open tabs (besides this blog):

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russian_jokes#University_students
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Non-24-hour_sleep-wake_syndrome
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Best,_worst_and_average_case
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Non-photorealistic_rendering
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rococo
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:French_loanwords
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trimix_%28breathing_gas%29
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Truth_and_Reconciliation_Commission_%28South_Africa%29
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terminal_burrowing
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Truth_table
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Propositional_calculus
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Truth_value
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_priori_and_a_posteriori_%28philosophy%29
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Degrees_of_truth
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/False_dilemma
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multi-valued_logic
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slingshot_argument

http://www.pdceng.com/portfolio/battery_energy_storage_system.pdf

I don't know how this happen sometimes; it just does. SO MUCH INFORMATION.

Ugly

"If there ever was a moment to be labeled poetic, this was it"

I enjoyed my company this week.
Party. Joel. Stasi. Party. Party. Jeff. Gary.

"she was everything; and we were endless"

Today prompted the beginnings of a new journal, as my last one was entirely filled. Every day since May 6th (with the exception of the family reunion) has been documented.

"I'm trapped between the foreground and the background as the only guy she ever knew who could make her tingle"

I can't wait for college to say 'no' for me. Augh.

"That sunset has put an end to more beautiful days than you care to count"

I remember everything. Every slight and cruelty and sweet moment no one else will ever remember. I hate it.

"It's taking something ugly, and painful, and heartbreaking beyond comprehension"

Most days, I'd peg myself at a 5.5-6 Throw on some eye make up and a bikini, I like to think that I could push an 8.

"and showing you just how fucking beautiful life can be."

When I feel like emotional shit, I want to go running. It's too bad that only happens at night.

"Coraline, UP, & Toy Story 3."

Sometimes I think about being nervous in the library or laughing on the couch together or standing out over the sunset after UP; but I never thought about us in a group, how room-dominatingly funny Jimmy is. I had reduced him to the word funny, acknowledged its truth, and proceeded to not think about what it meant in real context.

"Why are humans cruel?"
I wish I could explain or at least be blameless.

Deception & Monkeys

I got shit done today, bitches. Besides that, I also went to Anna's grad party and boogied the night away. I multitasked some badminton and spectated a game of ladder-ball. Ceci and Lauren arrived with conversation, and we discussed the scandalous going-ons of friends and minor celebrities who are (unfortunately) gay. It was determined who everyone at the party would marry; I to a record producer, who may perhaps be black. Anna had a DJ playin' some sick beats that nobody was particularly fond of, so when the Casper Slidek: Part III came on, I walked over to the badminton circle and cut a rug (lawn). It was a little after that when the monkey war started. The theme of the party, besides graduation, was monkeys. Every table was accompanied by at least three little plush monkeys, which had been gathered together as ammo. Andrew immediately became the main target due to his "impossible to have" allure. We sufficiently wore ourselves out enough so that everyone came back to the talking table. Some time later the DJ called us out, saying that he could see us bobbin' our heads to OMG by Usher. We were not into that. I went up to request "You Make My Dreams" by Hall & Oates, but to no avail. I reported the disappointing fact that all he had was a dance playlist on a Mac. Ceci was upset, but took it well, saying she would keep H&O in her heart. When the funky beat of You Make My Dreams did come on and I revealed my heartless lie, Ceci walked over and punched me. Then walked to the dance floor and got her groove on. E'rybody on the dance floor was gettin' down, and we requested the most ridiculous pop from the 70s and 80s. Ceci and I shared a dance-floor connection during "Hungry Like the Wolf," with much prowling and seductive undulation. Several cheesy songs into the list, we were pleasantly contrasted with "Jump Around" and then rebuffed by "Shots." I finally sat during Shots, a song advocating a horrendous lifestyle, and it was suggested that we were in the Temperance Society, or perhaps the Anti-Saloon League. Much laughter highlighted the evening, as did a few record scratches from the DJ, which were not well received. At one point, he ventured onto the floor behind Rachel, and Noopur just about screamed, "Watch Out!" and with horror the whole floor turned to witness her fear. He was kinda a scary dude. We played Sardines, and by that, I mean that I waited under a pine tree and got nature in my hair until everyone gave up without finding me. It was a good time. I'm glad I didn't leave early, but I'm excited for tomorrow. I'm feeling it's a cleaning day.

Things I Wrote

While on vacation in Myrtle, the majority of my time was spent in and about the pool thinking. In the evenings, I would go back to my aunt's house and write down everything I could remember thinking about during the day. This is that list (for my own convenience). Some of it is part of a "to-do list." Some of those items are already completed.

Spiderweb window screens
List of places to drive to
I can travel lighter
Get more classic rock
-Don't Do Me Like That
compare to
Oxford Comma
Invest Money (?)/Save for college
Life purchases
-house
-car
-insurances
-food
-guitar
-string of pearls
-camera
-computer
-stereo system, albums
-housing until #1
Rooster shock collar
Banana King- with crown + :3
Goddamn birth control
Do erased messages still send?
-probably, but test
How'd they get absinthe?
Why am I so sleepy?
Deal with social fear/self-worth
Talk to people, visit forcibly, 53 peeps
-[names, names, names]
Postcards
Gifts

Chores/Projects
Wash floors (?)
Fire pit
Clean toilet
Basement (?)
sexy dice
Bottles, candles, water (?)
Closet(s)
Watch Serenity, Borat
Album holder shelf
-alphabet, label maker bottom up shelf
Juliana sleepover
Serenade Kim
Sound of Music with Lauren
Birds n' Bees
Picnic with Gary
Fly kites with Steve
New Years' Resolutions
Debit/checking
Look into Brazilian
Establish credit (?)
Dry ice in pool with Nick
Get a job
To do list @ home
Register to vote
Make definitive "to read" list
Tired to sleep, exercise to
not get stuck in head
and to feel fulfilled
Volunteer (?)
Wetriffs photoshoot
Find excuse to dress like pirate
-Hagley (?)
Get calendar (?)
Perseids (with Jeff?)
Hang with Kira, story tent
Get passport
Insert friend birthdays into phone
-via Facebook
Visit Mrs. Rock
Make HiQ Memorial "thing"

Talk
-Grateful
-Jealous/Proud
-One down

Write About
-scary dream
-eating fruit
-being in sun
-talking to family
-drunken uncle
-pool volleyball
-thought-provoking

Thank-you Letter
Mike, Dan, Laura
Sam (?)
Kathye again
Doc/Rock

Father's Day
?!?!

Short story
share heartbeat
Aliens "missed" religion
black cat, stuck fighting snake,
-sets on fire
Woman "uses" lover to escape husband
"Why didn't you get her a black Barbie?"

Dreams
Interviewing Pearse
Class with Mr. C.
Crazy "children's songs" partridge
'Cruisin' round Myrtle
-telling him about it
-Alex Van, drinks?

Poison Ivy bj
tree falls in a forest
-don't get caught
onion grill cleaner
wasp spray mace
Jeanne, love, Pat
Get Yellow Version
-classic rock
-what a wonderful world
-Billie Holiday LP, Strange Fruit
Sweet Things
Jeff
Dave
Matt
-driving around
-Christmas cookies/[H]ouse
-NPR on living room floor
Stasi
-beach
-mac n' cheese
Talking to Laura late night

Twodays

Dead Snow: the most ridiculous movie, or the best ridiculous movie? The film presents itself as being about "Nazi zombies," when it is more accurately about undead Nazis and the hilariously gory ways to kill them. It is one of the better zombies movies I've seen, eliciting much laughter and also quite a bit of anxiety. I dropped my cell phone when I went to the bathroom; I was very startled. Oh, and the whole thing was in Swedish or something and we had to read the subtitles. My mom said it was a waste of time.

My yesterday (6-28) was both productive and enjoyable. The afternoon held interesting company and a few activities I rather forgot about. It was an interesting contrast to my usual routine. I played the most violent videogame for Wii and a little bit of MarioKart. I'm still terrible at Super Mario Brothers, but I apparently rock the bumper pool. I played fetch with a very silly German Shepherd. My evening was less straightforward. I went walking. There was a gentleman on his porch, unsurprising, given the hour, but he was still consciously in his spot when I returned past his home two hours later. That time in between was not so productive except to get me physically active. It was very humid for a summer night, and jogging left my shirt uncomfortably damp. My calves ached when I woke up, but my head was much less foggy melancholic.

The better part of today was spent downloading music, correcting grammar, and procuring album art. I'm pleased to say that only things from the internet are lacking artwork, which is approximately 10 songs or so. I have exactly 60 Disney songs on my iPod, one anarchist audiobook (because they like producing free stuff), and one almost terrific video that captures me and Rob H. traipsing about the school at sunset.

I've been trying really really hard and fairly successfully not to nap. I have a huge to-do list being slowly chipped away at, but in two months, I'll be all moved into college. That's not a lot of time.

Nobody Else, and I Sing at the Top of My Lungs

Being gone does things. It keeps me out of the loop, for one. I returned to a world upturned.

I'm sorry. I didn't know. I don't know why, but I understand more now. Perhaps my response was appropriate. Perhaps not. *hugs* It was a good way to tell me.

It doesn't feel right to leave childhood still so childish.

Steve and I made breakfast together this morning. He had two boxes of pancake mix, which when combined, yielded slightly under one cup of mix. Although, another thing adding volume to our one cup were the two bugs buried in the flower. There was no milk, so we mixed heavy cream and water together. They were the best pancakes I'd had since New Year's. One of them made a heart accidentally. Mrs. Girolomy taught him how to microwave bacon. He gave me my birthday present, which was a tiny pirate ship made out of clay. x]

I've thrown away my nights and wasted all my days over you-oooo-oooo-oo-ahooo.

And the upturned world fell into place.

[Edit: haha, flower]

"You are the sparkle in my life"

"We'll have the summer
He'll work and I'll work
We'll see each other at night
and on the weekends
Then he'll go to one school
and I'll go to another
Basically that will be it"

I flirted with Joel most of the afternoon. He was really appealing after the blink-182 concert last year, but I knew that was just the live music "I love this band" euphoria. I haven't dated anyone since Jimmy for my self-applied blinders. I felt like a dick that it continued later into the night, but also reassuring that it's not something wrong with me, and I'll be fine at college. There were more fireflies tonight than I've ever seen in my life. It was awing. That smokey smell in my hair under the bioluminescent twinkling, I realized there aren't bonfires or fireflies in the city. I saw Ferris Bueller's Day Off for the first time. I thought about fear and about not wasting time. I have to wake up at 3 am, but I go to college in two months. I always thought of summer as three solid months, but it's really not I guess. When I get back from Myrtle, there'll be pretty darn close to 60 days left. Then, BAM! Whole new world. Entirely new people. Yeah, I'll correspond with the old life, but I can't make it the same.

Sitting next to Joel at the beginning of the movie, I felt a hand scratching at my shoulder. It reminded me of sitting with Dave in the band stands. When Jeff came over, Dave put his arm around me. I told my mom about that, that it made me feel uncomfortable and special at the same time.

"I will miss you more than I've ever missed anyone."

FYAD is worse than /b

50 Most Played

I recently introduced a new friend to my blahg, and so decided to look over some old posts. It's ridiculous how much my Top 50 Most Played has changed.

1. Lullabye
2. Hero
3. All My Days
4. Seaweed Sheets
5. Oceanwalk
6. Everlong
7. Skinny Love
8. Soco Amaretto Lime
9. I Gotta Feeling
10. Good Arms vs. Bad Arms
11. Disloyal Order of Buffaloes
12. Hum Hallelujah
13. Thirteen
14. Bonfire
15. She's Got You High
16. Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want
17. Vagabond
18. Us
19. Savior
20. Velouria
21. Sweet Disposition
22. The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot
23. Mushaboom
24. Fast Blood
25. You Make My Dreams
26. Passing Afternoon
27. Indian Moon
28. As Time Goes By
29. Up Up & Away
30. Samson
31. The Coal Hits the Fire
32. Here's Looking at You Kid
33. A Complex Thing
34. I Believe in a Thing Called Love
35. Poke
36. What Would Steve Do?
37. (If You Are Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To
38. Man Overboard
39. Pursuit of Happiness (ft. MGMT & Ratatat)
40. Merry Happy
41. Queque'un M'a Dit
42. I'da Called You Woody, Joe
43. Song for You
44. Dirty
45. Blue Mind
46. Poison Oak
47. Thunder Road
48. 3rd Planet
49. The Fixer
50. Breakeven

Although, actually thinking about, it hasn't changed at all.

Not Worth Reading

[quote: WD-40 Posted]
One time my grandma and I were weeding in the early spring and my spade hit something shiny in the dirt, which I thought was some kind of interesting metal artifact, so I dug it out with my hands.

IT WAS A BALL OF EARWIGS.

Seriously gross. It was the size of a baseball and the ones on the outside were all dead. I guess that's how they hibernate. I screamed and cried and maybe fainted. My grandma destroyed it with her shovel, because she's badass.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH. Why do I keep reading this thread?!

Gettin' shit done, bitches! I have to make a list of things to do before I go to bed, or I won't wake up and won't do anything. I've already tackled two major projects, and I'm scared I'm going to run out of them before the end of June.

According to the internet, the Spirit Airlines strike has ended and I will be able to fly to Myrtle, not drive. Thank the lordless intertubes.

Perhaps my next thing to tackle will be organizing the shelves above the laundry room closet. Also to do is get my passport, make a driving playlist, and get some new underwear. It's a varied list. I also have to finish up my mural this summer on account of not living her anymore once fall strikes.

There is soooooooo much information on the internet. Like, conceivably my brain does not have a defined limit for learning, but sometimes I need to take a couple minutes to freak out and settle the kettle. Anything I want to know, I can spend less than 5 minutes rooting around the internet and I have source material right there. What the fuck?! This is amazing! What an incredible time to be alive! That and the free porn.

While cleaning out the family bookshelf, I found the MOST ADORABLE picture of my brother. I made a gurgling awwwwww noise for probably a good ten seconds. It was his little league picture from 2002. I still have another ten minutes or so I have to invest in the bookshelf. All of the things that weren't book are all piled on top of the stereo.

I want a vinyl copy of Led Zepplin IV. I don't think I would need another album ever if I got that. I've never seen a single Zepplin album on vinyl though, and that's the best of the best, so I may have to seek it out.

Summer time makes me happy! It's been kinda sucky weather, but from Friday to uh... maybe Saturday, I'm going to be straight swimming and eating mangoes and bein' in the sun and chlorine. That makes for some hot summer prep. Plus, getting a new bikini from the beachwear side of the family. SCORE!

Shout out to Jules!

So there's this boy I know whose ringtone is Smile by Uncle Kracker, and I feel like he must be a romantic to do that. It kinda makes me jealous?

Dreams

Last night, I had a really long and extensive dream that had me wake up with my heart pounding.

It started as a band trip during a winter out of a TV show the likes of Gilmore Girls. We were supposed to be playing for some far off college with Gothic architecture where Christmas lights were hung up in every tree and on most of the buildings. I was late getting onto the band bus, and realized the only seat left was with Abby. It was super awkies, but we didn't acknowledge it. She was talking to someone in the seat behind us, and I was talking to somebody ahead of me, despite the fact we were sitting in the front seat. At some point, I turned to look out the window and forgot who I'd been sitting with. We smiled at each other, and she said something that made me laugh, but we'd just arrived. Everybody hopped off the bus and waited around in the light dusting of snow, with rumors circulating that we were in the wrong place. Shortly afterward, D informed us that we would have to come back the next day, so he was taking us to a restaurant to get us fed in the meantime. We arrived in the city, and as is the nature of dreams, time sped up infinitely to the point where I was going to college in the same city, possibly in my junior year. I was running for some sort of political seat, but it was in the midst of a much larger political takeover where that seat happened to be one of the contested chairs. I went into a store to buy something, and the cashier was talking about threats of violence against candidates and the general public. It was unnerving, but I bought what I intended to come in for. I took my purchases to a barber shop, because I wanted to get my hair cut before debates two days ahead. Sitting down, I realized I'd bought Yugioh cards in a fundraising attempt. I'd spent $5 on cards, and was hoping to find a more valuable card to sell back. While I was looking through my stack, this little black boy sitting next to me started falling asleep on my shoulder, which hindered my sorting. I apologized when I woke him up, but he became interested in what I was doing. I gave him a few less expensive cards to look at, and I started to ask him about his classes. He told me that he had graduated 6 years ago, meaning college, and I startlingly realized he was much older than me. I was shocked that he had been so content to play with the Yugioh cards if he was older than me, at which point he leaned in very close and menaced the words, "Black Horse Troop," which was the name of the political party that was intending to sweep the elections by any means necessary. I was chilled with fear, and froze in my seat while he got up laughing out a back door. I sat and collected myself while waiting for my turn for a haircut. When I was called, the man was agonizingly slow, to the point I was paranoid he was working with them, since they knew where I was. I stood up and apologized for leaving so quickly, but I just about bolted out of the place when I realized it was close to noon, a time they had threatened to incite violence. The barber shop had been a part of a huge complex of stores, dorms, and classes, and I was walking through the covered portion to get to the exit that would take me to my dorm. As I got to the class exitway, there were people running and screaming past the door and into the complex. I stood in my place a few moments until I saw a window across the street shot out and shattered onto the sidewalk. Terrified, I ran with the crowd, but I gained my compsure and started making my way towards the second story to try to cross the street in the skywalk connecting this building and mine. The floor I got to was a mall, mostly abandoned by the time I got there. As I hurried to the skywalk exit, a half-dozen kids wearing black hoodies and bandanas burst into the mall ahead of me, and I couldn't move. I realized they were giggling and trying to catch their breath, and one of the kids made it clear to me they weren't with the opposition, they just wanted to smash in some windows and cause mayhem in the chaos. Relieved, I started walking with them away from the skywalk and further into the mall, when the door behind us was shot out and a kid next to me was shot. Panic erupted and I fell into a display as the kids mobbed past me. We ran to the stairwell, but panic gates had been erected across it. We pleaded with the person who had just locked up, but they ran away. The kids darted away further into the mall, but I hid between the door and the gate, realizing that the corridor was also a freight elevator. The floor that I came out onto housed the corporate offices for the mall, and also the dorms for those who worked in the mall. The first door on my left was bustling with people who were seemingly unaware of the terror on the streets. I made a statement to the effect they should take cover, but it was replied that they were crisis management and doing their best to coordinate the rest of the building. I left and found my way to the housing, where I knew my was temporarily living to help install telephone wiring in the newest section. I hugged him, and started prepping the room for a seige, when I thought I heard Jeff's voice a few rooms over. I crept out to see, and it was him with his roommate. I was so relieved, our hug seemed to last forever, but nearby gunfire sounded through the hall, so I had to leave. He shut the door as I left, and that race from his dorm to my dad's was terrifying. I slammed our door shut just as I heard shots in the crisis management room. The doors were very flimsy, so we laid down in the closet to avoid random fire, at which point I woke up.

Bad Habit

"And I lie down and remember you loved me here, and I tear up. And I remember when you kissed me despite my tears, and the tears roll across my cheek and perch upon the edge of my ears, and I remember when you kissed my ears and told me beautiful and temporary truths.

I feel strange."

I wasn't immediately sure who this was about.


Last night's walk was not a good idea, except getting home and playing with Cabot in the driveway. I decided once again that I make terrible decisions to the point of being a hazard. I obviously learned nothing being with Dave or Jimmy, and for all my self-esteem, I have really shitty self-worth. On a brighter note, fireflies are awesome and last night was pleasant.

I had a dream about the best kiss I'll never have.
Pretzels were $0.20 and the cashiers were friendly
and I wasn't afraid of traffic.

Thinking

Money has a way of making one think, and tonight I intend to go walking for the first time since Thursday.

I'm On Fire

Woah.

These past few days have left me at a loss for words. Thank you notes to Rock and Doc are summarized as, "I'm speechless and grateful." Even writing this blog there's not much I can drag up to say. It's a little bit overwhelming. My whole future changed overnight.

Waiting in line for graduation, Mr. L told me that this was a sign. He knows I float by in classes, and that this incredible opportunity isn't meant for somebody who accepts the minimum. I don't really believe in signs, but I do believe in advice, and he's right. Mr. L said in those difficult moments of "to do or not to do," I should imagine his bearded Jiminy Cricket face on my shoulder.

In congratulating me, several people mentioned that I deserve it. I don't necessarily feel undeserving, but it's an outrageously generous gift for only having written three essays. Financial need was the most heavily weighted factor in determining the recipient. Am I simply the poorest applicant, or did my academics weight me above somebody less fortunate? My dad wanted to know how many people applied for it. I don't know of anyone else.

Mrs. G. and my dad both asked where am I transferring to, but I don't think that's going to happen. Admittedly, when it came to application time, I didn't even look at colleges over $25,000 a year. Over the weekend, I threw out my booklets from NYU and BU.

By great coincidence with graduation, my cousin is getting a new car, and I'll be receiving her '91 Nissan Maxima as a joint grad gift from my dad and my uncle Mike. It was tentative for a while, but after the awards night, my dad said it was a definite. I'll have to get a job to pay for gas, but I'm still terrified of driving, so I feel this will mostly exist so I can pay to get myself to work.

Things I Think: Bleeding Liberal Edition

I think that if you have a yard, you should be growing food.

I think that all drugs should be legalized, because I think it is the system of obtaining illegal goods rather than the illegal goods that cause the majority of the problems to society.

I think that crimes against property are crimes of poverty.

I think that a solid high school education, a guaranteed affordable college, and a loving family would fix >80% of the problems in juvenile offenders.

I think that the death penalty is immoral. It's terrible that the government can take away my liberty and my happiness, but they should never be allowed to take my life.

I think that juveniles should always be tried as juveniles.

I think that the bail bond industry makes no sense.

I think that if everyone in America had health insurance, then premiums would go down because every single person is contributing to the system, and only a tiny fraction of those people need to use its services on an annual basis.

I think that hollow point bullets should be made illegal, or, in the words of Chris Rock, "guns don't kill people, bullets do." There's no way anyone is hunting with hollow point. Also, any automatic machine guns. Those are only used for killing people. I certainly understand a citizen's desire to arm themselves against the government, but I personally would not want any of those people to defend me against it. You can't "kill" a government will bullets anymore.

I think that the suburbs shouldn't have such fucking big yards, because they're wasting water and fertilizer and useless and they force everybody to live so far apart, which is why we need cars. Also, back when neighborhoods were smaller and houses closer together, every parent knew every kid in the neighborhood. This made everybody safer, and preventing a lot of the petty crime of teenagers, because any person you messed with would tell your parents.

I think that my ideal world would be if stopped producing so much useless garbage and began to focus on important* things, then the whole world would easily have an acceptable standard of living. However, I don't know what we'd do about overpopulation. If everybody had enough food to eat and clean water and was educated about illnesses and immunized against preventable diseases, there'd be a lot more people.

*important as arbitrarily defined by me, like food, water, clothing as necessary protection from elements, shelter, tools, and instruments of culture.

I think that "the media" is primarily a vehicle of consumption. Scary news stories and sports games and super sexy skinny women with perfect skin and hair are all trying to get me to buy something.

I think that sports figures are paid way too much money. If they really love the game, they would settle for basic health care and livable salary.

I think that medically assisted suicide should be legal.

I think that all drugs should be legalized, and that medical marijuanna should be a legitimate treatment option.

I think that gays should have the right to have civil unions that bestow upon them exactly the same rights as a heterosexual couple.

I think that gays should have the right to marry, but think more importantly that organized religions shouldn't exist to keep that religious symbol going.

I think that sexism is one of my most despised concepts, because so much violence and dehumanization occurs because of something the individual cannot control.

I think that people should plant flowers in their own backyards instead of giving environmentally wasteful bouquets.

I think that people should sit down and have good conversation rather than get drunk. However, if they want to get tipsy to enhance the experience, that is alright with me.

I think that all kids should have access to whatever musical instruments they want.

I think that I own too much stuff.

[Edit: Oops, wrong blog]

Thinkin' 'bout my good life

My black journal will only last until June 24th, at which point I'll have to switch to the green one. Together, I don't think they will chronicle the whole summer.

I get stupid when it comes to boys and sports. As in, I will voluntarily watch a sports game.

I have a perfect track record of getting dumb when I stop thinking with my head.

"Everything that's keepin' me together is falling apart."
-3rd Planet

I took my first nap in the new hammock yesterday.

I threw out my brochures for NYU. I never bothered to apply.

I've kept my daily journal now for exactly one month and only missed a single day. If anyone knows what I was doing on May 24th, please let me know.

Hummus

I miss the days when crushes were only mentioned in secret code words and thrown about like inside jokes.

Yellow. Doctor. Good vibrations... All accompanied by a raise of the eyebrow and a poking intonation.

Back then, I wouldn't even have known what to do if a crush was returned. "Like, I dunno. Do we hold hands? I don't really know if I'd want to kiss him necessarily..."

Now everything is much more straightforward, and there really aren't crushes. "Eh, I like him and all, but we'd never date. Oh, yeah, I sucked his dick, but it didn't mean anything."

Last night reminded me of that time when I giggled to even utter the word boner, and it was the most electric thrill to kiss the boy I liked.

I keep telling myself that the next time I find a boy to love, I won't mess it up by fooling around.

Papyrus Font

If there hadn't been all this ridiculous hype about Avatar, I probably would've liked it more. It was entertaining, yeah, but I felt removed the whole time. I also hoped that James Cameron would be a little less blatant. The animals were created by the set up, "What do you get when you cross x with y? Do we have guys who can animate that?" The script was mind-bogglingly simplistic, and the kind of "ethnic story" I would advise Lit. Mag. kids not to write. Alas.

I've been going through the lists of courses required for what majors and minors, and then stumbled upon the Honors courses. I'm filling up a whole sheet of paper with classes I want to take. :( Some of them are hilarious, like:

Honors: Shall We Dance?
Honors: DNA- Friend or Foe?

The other ones, I want all of them! I'm going to be all over those Special Permissions. I'll have to see which teachers will let me sit in on their classes.

GV Strings Concert

From the beginning of the concert, I detached from the room full of people and chairs, and sat amazed by the feats of human achievement. There is no other animal on this planet, or possibly even creature in this universe that creates music with such intricate and beautiful instruments. At some point, humans evolved enough to be physically agile enough to play the violin or harp or piano. Besides that strange affinity for aesthetics that seems more innate than conscious thought. Once humans were capable of making music, the instruments themselves evolved over time to become the standardized medium they are today.

I write good

"It is our pleasure to inform you that because of your superior performance on the English Placement Examination, you are among a very select group of students who have been exempted from the Analytical Reading and Writing requirement. You do not have to take English 0802."

Sweet!

Making this flash video for Gov blows. I don't know how to use the program efficiently.

Can I Make Your Garden Grow?

They gave us M&Ms at prom.
:]

I tried. I strove valiantly against these acrylic nails which bound me to inefficient typing and guitar playing. I sat on my floor listening to TAL for forty minutes while aluminum foil held acetone soaked cotton balls to my finger tips. They feel funny now, but the nails did not come off. Enraged. I cut them down to size. Then I played guitar.

I had a really awesome weekend pretty much straight through all 96 hours. I didn't sleep a lot and despite the free time did not produce anything artful, but I had excellent conversation and was surrounded by people almost the entire time.

Prom!

Pre-Prom:
I had nails/pedicure at 3 and hair at 4. My mom scheduled these things thinking prom started I don't know when, but with this line up, I was not going to make it. We got to the nail place at 2 and canceled the pedicure, waiting 20 minutes before I could be seen, but finished by a little after 3.
(Notes on Acrylic Nails. Why would anyone ever want to get a pair of these things? The process of getting them put on was painful, chemical, and had flying particles of acrylic and real nail flying around the whole time in a terrible smell. After paying to have them put on, I am rendered effectively nonfunctioning. It's painful to type and text, impossible to untie knots, and very difficult to play guitar. I couldn't even get my cell phone's charger cover off last night, though that may've been compounded by severe sleep deprivation.) Anyways, we got to my hair around 3:15, putting it up in curlers and setting it under the warmers. Getting them off was a mess. My hair is so fine that it was catching onto the curles being removed as Ms. Betty was taking them out. Ms. Betty's been doing my hair since I was 2, and my mom was telling stories all over the salon that I used to run around this place singing my ABCs. It was getting to be 5 on the dot, and Ms. Betty wanted to make more adjustments, but fuck it, my hair was beautiful even it was relaxing faster than a rate we could combat it. My mom sped home, but there were slow people in front of us the whole way. Traffic was so bad on the last road we pulled into the firehouse to park instead of my driveway. I told my mom to go around and park in the driveway so I wouldn't have to hobble in my heels across the grass, but she declined. I rushed into my dress, my mom is incompetent at clasping things shut. I had watched a youtube video earlier how to apply smokey eye, and hallelujah I had, because I did not have time to find out how. Jumping into my shoes and shuffling outside for quick pictures, we sped over to Steve's and took more pictures there. The limo driver, Pat, could not find us, but it was alright conversation until then. In the time spent waiting, we crafted a bootineer for Steve out of a handy carnation and some baby's breath from my bouquet that we taped together and pinned to his tux. It was legit. My dress filled my entire corner of the limo.

Prom:
Steve's uncle was the photographer, so he threw in some extra pictures for us. Our table was a power table, and despite Steve and I being the last ones there, I think it was the ideal arrangement. SHIRLEY TEMPLES! We headed over to the dance floor to meet with people and take pictures. People I didn't know were telling me I looked nice. It was unexpectedly pleasant. There's one picture where I'm getting "fingerbanged (Fonz'd)" by Dan and Steve, so I hope that one came out nicely. We returned to our seats for dinner. The utensils were so cold there was condensation on them. Joe M. taught us the neat trick of remembering bread goes on your left and drink on your right by making the lower case letters of your thumb and index finger pressing together at the tips. British school is like butler school. I had to request lettuce sans dressing, but those were some damn good croutons. Our table was good and waited to be dismissed by table, despite almost the entire area around us getting up without orders. We eventually heckled a server into letting us get up, though we did have our bribe money ready. The roast beef was unbelievably good. I liked the rolls (surprise!) and the mashed potatoes. After dinner, Sparks called out kids to the dance floor, so Steve and I boogied our way up. Once we got there, we were two of maybe 15 people on the floor, and we didn't know anyone else. I thought it would've been worse to slink away in shame, so we held out until the rest of our friends made it over. I was proud. Three songs later, we were told to go back to our tables for an annoucement. A colonial town crier annouced that the theme was "Post Prom Philadelphia 2010." Assuming it was 1776 Philadelphia, I told Joe he better watch his back. We resumed dancing, and I broke. it. down. Terribly. Steve danced a lot, and more so when Ching was there. I finally got to see Anna dance uninhibited, and it was AWESOME. At one point, too hot to dance any longer, I went outside to enjoy the cool night air. I had deceived myself about how cool it would be as it was outrageously humid, but still better than inside. I talked to Marty and Jason, and then a girl I didn't know recognized me. It was Corrine from the craziest 24 hours of my life. We hugged, and I was in shock she was here. We sorta reminisced on the only time we'd ever met and laughed. While walking back inside, I took a trip, but recovered so smooth the group applauded. After much more dancing, Lauren and I headed outside. I temporarily removed my shoes at the example of Jennica, but Lauren said she was gonna last it out. I said if she could do it, I could (though my shoes were higher, and I was dancing a lil' more actively). Dancing was occasionally interspersed by trips to sit down and one to the bathroom which I had not considered the logistics of my dress at all. The first slow dance was Amazed by Lone Star, and I could see a table of friends, and we were sharing profuse smiles. I don't know the name of the second one, but I was grinning for so long my face hurt. Steve jokingly asked me if I was having fun. The last one, Here's to the Night, we danced closer and I got sorta reminiscy. We hugged at the end of each of the songs. The last song was completely unfortgettable and Sparks Entertainment is atrocious. He should finally effing graduate. We rushed to grab our stuff and head out, even though we realized we had no way to contact Pat, the limo driver. Anxious as we walked out (me even more so because Lauren and I agreed we could take off our shoes in the car), we saw that Pat was right at the exit. It was AWESOME. We thanked him, got in, and my shoes were off. We opened the windows and had some good conversation.

Post Prom: We checked in. I looked for my dad. I got changed. I looked for my dad. I went into the auditorium to check out my poster and teared up just a lil' bit. Starting at the As, I went through and wrote on the people's I wanted to. Then my dad called to find and hug me when I got back to the Gs. People thought Jack's was really cute. I got a henna tattoo, and afterward, realized I got the same on last year in a different spot. My tarot card reader said that she felt school was easy for me and that there will be lots of academic success in the future, and a lot of changes in 3 months. Ooh. Scary. As I walked away, I realized I was wearing my HiQ shirt. My dad found me again when I was trying the "hit the bell" game. I got, like, 10, and then 15. My dad heckled me, and then I got 47. Katie D. chickened out on our agreement "I'll do it if you do it." I had a really nice conversation with Kira and Emily. Around 3:20, Lauren and I retired to the auditorium to watch the end of Rocky, which I'd never seen and still effectively haven't as he was only yelling, "Adrienne! Adrienne!" We were mostly talking. At 4, everyone was called into the auditorium for dismissal. This took way. too. fucking. long. However, as intermittent entertainment, Steve went up and told a joke. Then Eric P. went up and did practically a whole stand up routine on demand. It was hilarious. 40 minutes or so later, we finally got dismissed only to wait in line for our door prizes. I won a $20 gift certificate to California Tortilla. Thusly, Steve won a $20 gift certificate to California Tortilla, as I dislike Mexican food. I think my favorite part was seeing how much effort all of the parents put into everything.

Post Post Prom: My dad picked up me and Steve in a golf cart to take us to his car. It was the white van, so Steve and I shared the passenger seat. I was yawning a lot while recounting the night to my dad. We dropped off Steve. I got into bed at 5:40, which is when my alarm goes off for school. The birds sounded like heaven, and I noticed crickets. I slept until 1:30, but only got up at 3.

The Holy or the Broken Hallelujah

I've fallen for the hypocrisy I took up to fight.

In three months, I will not be here. As for now, I am discontent to love and be loved. There must be some extraordinary magic to my life that leaves me so blessed; and I am blind to action. For whatever reason, I've become intent on possession. To own and be owned. It's abhorrent for me to recognize. When did I corrupt my love like this? The world has given me a beautiful friendship, and I would rather make slavery out of it. How many moments have I wasted in cold jealousy of everything I can see and touch, but never have? I tell myself it's a shame these things won't be mine, when it is literally right there in my arms. I have three months to do everything I didn't do in the last four years here; it's a real shame to waste any of that.

Or as Ceci would say, "Betch, plz!"

"Betch plz...enrique is mine or mueno in spanish"

"You're obviously not using your mouth to talk when you're with Enrique, otherwise you'd be a little classier with your words."

"Enrique doesn't like chicks from juice boxes"

"Which is why he's with me instead of you Minute Maid. 'Cuz that's the longest you can last with him."

"Barbie called....she wants her dumb blonde back"

"She got the wrong number though. I gave her yours though."

Walk It Off

Whenever I'm in turmoil, I walk a lot more, but it really does help.
I've been talking to a lot more people and trying to keep my mind focused. I haven't napped since Tuesday, which was a terrible day, and I've been getting up before 11 to use my time wisely. I've been sketching and actively listening to NPR. I've eaten healthier and tried to be reasonable and maybe make people happier. We'll see.

"How do you feel when the person who made you the saddest feels sad?"

Sexual Dimorphism

There is no sexual dimorphism in blue jays!

Some of the best discoveries happen while you were looking for something else. Particularly like looking for a friend's phone number and texting an awesome random stranger instead!

Nobody's posted a blog in a hundred years. I'm embarrassed about my prolific posting to the point I may start typing these and not saving them for posterity's sake. However, I went through and re-read all of my blogs for 2010, and I think that would be a shame.

I kind of really like that the railing on my back steps is a set of old rusty pipes.

I'm going to learn to design a flash game (hopefully hopefully). It's primary function is for Gov class, but I'd also really like to get into computer programming and don't seem to have any purpose for it.

WORDS! Messenger graffiti websites like pictures of walls make me happy and inspired.

Waste of Space

Looking at my room, there are posters for awesome bands and movies, and a record player to capture all those sounds on vinyl. My feet rest under a keyboard, and my guitar and mandolin rest on nearby furniture. From the seat at my laptop, my awesome door mural is visibly devoted to quotes of all literary merit and cultural significance and art of my own design. There's my All-Delco HiQ Team plaque and NJHS chords to prove academic merit. There are dried flowers from the boys who loved me and a whole cork board full of memories. The picture from our AP Psych field trip sits three feet away from a picture taken with Matt.

Whatever life I had last June was completely destroyed by September. Since then, I can't seem to convince myself that I'm not a waste of space here. I'm very excited for college with the hopes that the larger pool of people will provide a group for me that actually fits. Still, I am the one who has hurt everyone I loved, so it's probably not the location. I've spent four or five weeks in contact with a National Guard recruiter. My personality doesn't matter so much in the Guard, and if I die, it will be nobly and unavoidably. I can enlist in July, serve my weekends, go to BTC next summer, take my personalized career training the summer after, and go to officer school the summer after that. Officer school acceptance looks good. When I took the practice ASVAB, I got a 96%, but only because I ran out of time on one simple arithmetic problem that was not making sense to me. The minimum enlistment is 8 years. During that time, I'd be paid, get health and life insurance, and they'd pay for nearly all of college, but no guarantee I wouldn't be [deployed] after two years. My dad says I should wait until two years into school to enlist, which is a reasonable consideration. The only real issues are I don't want to kill anyone, and I want to graduate from college. Jack has been considering the Army or Marines. I never ever thought that we could be a military family. Sometimes it feels like there is nothing else for us.

Some Questions, Some Rhetorical

What's the name of those images that you can only see when the ridges come together right? Like, if you're looking at it straight on, it might be a different image, but if you tilt it, there is a different image painted on the slats that can only be seen when all the ridges line up...

Why the hell isn't the news covering the protests in Thailand, like, all the time?

Why do we only cover poetry in sophomore year, when everyone only BS's what Mr. K. wanted to hear?

Why did it take me fourteen years to be exposed to good music?

Why had I never heard the term "moonbat?!"

D'AW!

No more gently caressing...

And no fucking either.

*Poof* Gone!

There's no time wasted in emptying the recycle bin.

What am I doing with my life?

Do I make people happy?
Do I encourage laughter and singing?
Do I make a place better for my presence?
How am I making life less hard for people?
Do I appreciate everything I've been blessed with?
Do I strive to improve myself and the world around me?
Where am I wasting time?
Do I create new and unseen works of beauty?
Do my accomplishments benefit others?
Do I remember times I've spent alone, or time with friends?
Am I learned every day?
What are the things that I admire in other people?
Why haven't I adopted or learned those qualities?
What are little habits I can adopt to improve myself or my world?
If I believe I am capable of worthwhile productivity, why don't I produce?
Where am I being wasteful, and how can I cut back?
Are there things I am doing now that will limit my time on Earth?
Does my creation have meaningful content, or is it simply beautiful?
How can I learn from the people around me?
Am I asking the right questions?
What stories haven't I heard? Why haven't I asked?
What music makes me happy?
What do I want to do before I die?
What collection of things make me special?

Germs do not go quietly

'If you find yourself lost in the woods, fuck it, build a house. "Well, I was lost but now I live here! I have severely improved my predicament!"'

"Listerine hurts, man, when I put Listerine in my mouth, I'm fuckin' angry. Germs do not go quietly."

"My belt holds up my pants and my pants have belt loops that hold up the belt. What the fuck’s really goin on down there? Who is the real hero?"

Vocal Disparity

It took me a long time to realize that the voice in my head doesn't sound anything like the voice that comes out of my mouth. I was first shocked watching a home video my brother and I took of an awful spy movie we made. I couldn't believe my voice actually sounded like that. It was most shocking when my mom told me I wasn't a good singer. I didn't believe her, but all of the voice recordings I took on her phone seemed to prove her right. It made me embarrassed for a long time. It didn't matter so much when I was in a group of people, especially the pit, because I can hit the right notes, providing I can keep up with the octave. Alone, however, I didn't even want to sing in the shower, but I would sing at night in my room. Now I have a better grasp of what my voice sounds like to auditory spectators. I'm also less embarrassed to sing. I try not to outdo myself in public because that's being self-confident where there is nothing to back it up and I'd look like a dick. But everyone I would want to be friends with wouldn't begrudge my singing. Although it's scary to share myself like that sometimes.

Thinking About Shirts

Whenever a shirt gets a stain or something, I'm less likely to wear it in public, even though the stain is just a testament to its duty. The whole purpose of a shirt is to protect you from "the elements," even when modern life has reduced those basics to preventing you from being splattered with chocolate milk or noodles or grapes. It would be a shame to be neglected because you were doing what you were supposed to.

My pencil is sharp and it makes me want to write.

Guy Montag

Nothing important is ever completely explicable.
-Madeline L'Engle

It makes me upset that Catch-22 is on the list of most-commonly challenged books, Slaughterhouse-Five as well. I can just barely wrap my head around objecting to the content, but there is so much of war and humanity and the end of innocence that these are the books that should be forced on children. "The Eternal City," chapter of gorgeous language and hideous imagery, struck me in its blunt appraisal of the sacredness of life. There isn't any. Aarfy kills a prostitute without regard. She's just another nameless person of millions dying in the war. What care is there for the sick and abused? Snowden dies freezing with only words for comfort where morphine would've been more appropriate. Even if there is objection to the story, the use of language is revolutionary in itself. The style and humor and flow of time are unique to the story and brilliant. I can't imagine denying any kid access to these books.

Stuff and Terrible Music!

The first time I ever saw a Sham-Wow commercial was during an episode of SNL and I thought it was another skit. I feel this is a satisfactory introduction to the product.

I haven't found a tree that I can climb at my mom's house yet, but I've been enjoying the creek (despite it being filled with trash).

On account of Joe's party today, I watched the music video to "Get this Party Started" and it was a great blast from the past. It also made me want to dance a little bit.

Aaron Carter was, like, 12 when Aaron's Party came out. Marketing music to 'tweens must be the easiest job in the world. "For now I won't sweat it, I'll just clean it up later." He couldn't lip sync. Lordie. It makes me ashamed.

I would LOVE to be the Britney Spears flight attendant from Toxic for Halloween.

I'm trying to figure out what the text limit on my new cell phone is. I'm at 54, so it's definitely above my last one.

[Edit: I got to 128 and decided to fuck it, because it's not like I'll be keeping that many texts.]

For the first and last time, a band concert was the least terrible part of my day.

Patient, Fine, Balanced, Kind

I've kept a journal for a whole entire week now. There are pictures and scraps of relevant paper inside, with very short summaries of the day. I'd like to keep it through the summer as a record of exploits and stories to be remembered.

One time post-Christmas season, I bought "Dinacell" batteries. I was pissed.

I'm terribly excited for college. People make exclamations about going to Temple, and there a number of GV kids going, but it seems like only the good ones who I wish I'd had more time with during high school. Who knows? My placement exam is Wednesday, and if I score high enough on English, I'm pretty sure I will be triple-qualified for Honors Composition.

My dad made some statements last night that I consider to be revelations. He sort of apologized for our fate, but that we are products of it and that we will ride it out.

I think I will title my surreal piece "Drifting Off," to imply three different meanings. One obvious. One related to the style. One personal.

I feel extra attractive today.

[edit: this morning I realized I have no idea what "humectant" meant on my shampoo, so I looked it up on Wikipedia. The information age is a wonderful age.]

Save the Music

ProMusica was MINDBLOWING. Somebody to Love is an especially challenging vocal piece to begin with, but there were some really phenomenal thrills. I gestured wildly at members, swooping my hand over my head in disbelief and giving the universal symbol for "head explode." Visually it was also very well organized.

Some performers blew the roof off the house. Lexie's Fine, Fine Line is a personal favorite on top of her impressive vocals. Taylor and Dan were silly sweet. Everyone loves Johnny. The last song crowding everyone on stage was lively warm with brass and acoustic guitar in a great ska sound. Sarah and Erik were delightful to the mix, with Kira and Mike's cameo mostly unnoticed.

Emily and PJ have such an easy sound.

I spent some of the evening hassling people who dare stand near the bake sale without buying cookies, "2 fo' a' dolla'!" In my years of harassing Wasiq, it would appear I'm a great saleswoman, though one not associated with Music Honor Society. There were many laughs exchanged through the evening, mostly at the charm of Kim and Melissa. Live music prompts some pleasant attachment.

500th Post

"While this is all saddening in my private moments, I do perceive it as a trivial, temporary, and inconsequential series of events."
- September 10th, 2009

"My memory is the thing I am most proud of myself for."
-September 25th, 2009

"She called me back, also worried for him."
-October 2nd, 2009

"He told me why we could never be together, even though my 10 year plan in Career Development was about us reconnecting after so long and moving to Dubai."
-October 9th, 2009

"I feel emotionally worn down."
-October 15th, 2009

"Recently, while on a Wikilinking spree, I came across the idea of 'anhedonia,' or absence of pleasure."
-October 28th, 2009

"I turned to Kira and gave an 'Oh No!' face."
-November 6th, 2009

"It's been suggested my family is genetically predisposed to getting hit by cars."
-November 25th, 2009

"It makes me feel unattractive that I cannot arouse a boy, who is stereotypically more sexually driven."
-December 4th, 2009

"I wish there was more for him."
-December 10th, 2009

"Paternally, my X chromosome is healthy except for glaucoma and a noticeable lack of "womanly endowment."
-December 17th, 2009

"If anything ever happened to either of us, I couldn't trust her reason anymore."
-December 23rd, 2009

"I'm very blunt, and my filter is a little more liberal than most."
-January 7th, 2010

I wish I'd had psychology this semester so that I could write Psych Journals to Mrs. G. again.

A Call (in)to Arms

"I celebrate myself, and sing myself"

I have been dishonest and immature.

"The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the
distillation, it is odourless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me."
-W. Whitman

I have never sent anything to PostSecret. But today, they had my words.

"This June bug street sings low and lovely."

Closing of the Week

I've had a really lovely two days besides getting all mopey this afternoon. Yesterday, I rocked the Lit. Exam, read Wikipedia during Art, got mistaken for a substitute, and spent all the rest of the day in anticipation and utter elation. Disbelief fringed the whole experience, and an exhausted relief that all of my anxious fears were for naught. Several times I've sang with a catch in my throat. Several times I've teared up while singing. However, I could not recollect having such experiences caused by disbelieving joy.

States was fun. The day had me flattered, as my intellect and my shoes were complimented. We missed qualifying for semifinals by two questions. Retrospectively, that what it always seems to come down to for our HiQ team. "If we had just done this..." "if only I had said 'hour' instead of 'day,' 'stream' instead of 'current....'" Still, it is an honor and wonderful experience to attend State Academic Championships. The Capitol Building is artful almost to garish effect. There are gilded cherubs and flowering scroll work EVERYWHERE. I explored around before lunch to amuse myself with the lavish government headquarters. Being with the team felt good today; though I didn't know how to compose myself, full of dirty thoughts tempered with respectable duties. Wasiq fell asleep in the van on the way home. It was kind of adorable.

Embittered

Today, I got a little down in sorts. Since the summer, I'm far more reserved. I've never especially been the one to "reach out" in a relationship, but now it has ceased almost completely. If I am home, I home alone with my thoughts. It makes me feel isolated even though there may be any number of people just waiting to be contacted. I don't often acknowledge them in my thoughts.

I wonder if I am still endearing. I'm more vulgar than I used to be, but also older. There is no older demographic to appeal to except for teachers, but my persona there is usually lazy smart ass.

I keep writing huge paragraphs and deleting them.

Holy shit, I'm excited.

Joek

My hands are on fire. It burns to type. I apologize guitar, for all that I've done and not done, the neglect and rejection. Never again will I allow you to fall into such disrepair as you'll be separated from me; 13 days in the company of strange men who fondle your neck and body.

Sometime, late at night in the recess of my mind, I wonder on New York, a city of gawking, if Joe had let me hold his hand, perhaps that man would not have made fun, would not have incited his classmates to laughter. They tipped him for the joek.

I've had two dreams about Viv in the past week.

Lover I Don't Have to Love

Today, after the dress fitting, I purchased fake pearls and "fuck me heels." The dress is so long that the heels won't be visible during prom, but I'll definitely be using them again. In anticipation of May, I've taken steps to get a little fit, to be a little sexier, and I see the results. They're nice. But I've been reconsidering my motive. Feminine appeal doesn't matter much if there's no reciprocated lust, and I've gotten in an awful rut of boys sans sex drives.

The Week Before Christmas

Some late night ago, I thought very vividly of the balls of light suspended in the trees at Brinton Lake around Christmas time. I got milk at Wawa, because the pending snowstorm had depleted the one on 202. Sitting in the car afterward, my eyes got watery, and the lights became like halos on fuzzy silhouettes. Everything else was closed, and no one was on the road. I don't remember singing. It wasn't the ocasion, but it was like something out of a movie.

Retrospectively, I can see where I was wrong.

Tonight was the HiQ banquet.
States are next Friday.
I'm so glad that this year is over.
I hated the team this year.
Except for Doc and Rock,
of course.

Windows and What's Outside

Old fashioned sink, checkered table cloth in farmhouse kitchen.

Whenever I read Organic Gardening magazine, it makes me want to raise chickens or a garden or do something productive, but I hardly ever go back in the garden except to look at how things are growing. Despite my lack of direct involvement, on those days when evening sunlight filters through the maple and the walnut, I look at the barn and a barn cat, maybe the field and fuzzy dandelions, and I'm grateful for my upbringing. I wash my dishes by hand and have done so since I was eleven. I walk. I sometimes hang laundry out to dry. My dad would push me on the tire swing. He built us a tree house and hung up a hammock. Now I wonder if I will have a window in my dorm.

Being a little hooligan with Katie, I remember an afternoon spent on the playground of Mt. Pleasant Elementary. We swore up and down we were of the wrong time, meant to grow up in the sixties and be hippies. I'll stand by the first statement. The fourth dimension has me wrongly placed. Admittedly, I enjoy each day. I love Wikipedia. The internet is a life-changing invention, but I should've been a teen in the 1970s. I should've been friends with my dad and the kids of the woods. My music is there. My style. My aversion to pure convenience.

But I'll live.

"I Like Your Sundress"

Today, volunteering at the art show, I thought about Clayton Park. Kate and sledding. Kate and Jeff and Stasi and sledding. Matt and pictures. Kacey texting me when I was walking off the hurt.

Every time I think about putting Bright Eyes quotes here, I know Nicki will notice.

Today went by fast. I learned.

"little babies, dreaming their little baby dreams..."

The Moth is beautiful. Straight up. The stories of origins, experiences that shaped lives and provided insight, it's an intimate sort of personal.

"...God will look over them, even when I do not."

I was deleting drafts I never published, and came across these.
I was amused and confused.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v229/Trigger_89/070220.jpg
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v299/Kanaro/babies.jpg
http://img.waffleimages.com/65d27585a27cfd54990173dd10fd62d9981edea5/2137a9950nf3.jpg
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v739/farkingbastage/ridindirty.jpg
http://img.waffleimages.com/9673dfe7d3db35441eb86a0a290dbe420127646e/pandas%203.jpg
http://i153.photobucket.com/albums/s238/LimeGouda/turtlemind.jpg
http://img.waffleimages.com/975f528ac51c583cafa09792e55fc944f387f89d/33.6.jpg
http://img.waffleimages.com/d1cf9bc21859697d633764c1512b3c19d4527786/oh-the-huge-manatee.jpg
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v102/kingofallblahs/523th5vze4.jpg
http://img.waffleimages.com/67f1892a6fff6a2c4ff93488457ccdd9089d10b6/074_apathy.jpg

Saturday through Sunday, Monday

"Maybe I'll love you one day
Maybe we'll someday grow..."

I recognize that my "love" is pathetically incomplete. I'm curious when and how it will evolve. I talked to my mom about it, and her answer, hands down, is "having kids." That seems like an obvious change, but isn't there something more to spousal love. Am I deluded? By example of my family, spousal love is a convenient working arrangement and is over post-convenience. But from some other families, there is definitely a greater understanding. Companionate love is a lingering love for me. It's probably not worthy to be called so by my definition, which is hazy, but in this age of adolescence, it fits. Hopefully I will learn to love by necessity, and not after it became necessary.

"...til then just sit your drunk ass on that fuckin' runway, ho"

Shocked and Persuaded my Soul to Ignite

"Nothing is crueler than children who come from good homes."
-Amanda Palmer

Today, my mom and I went for a walk. She told me about her aspirations for a three bedroom home. I told her about paying for college. She told me a few stories about the uncle I never met, her little brother. Sometimes I'm scared to death I will only be able to tell my kids stories. Those thoughts are infrequent, though. Jack and I talk about them. Sometimes he agrees.

He doesn't want to go to Garnet Valley anymore, says he hates it. "Parents just don't understand," but I do. I've got 40 something days left before I get out. He's got 540 something. And admittedly, a great majority of my 680 days in confinement were not as unhappy.

The Year of Secrets

Today in physics, I turned in my physics "diary." The definition of this homework assignment is an outline of "concepts, strategies, and reflections" about each day in class. We're supposed to write down what we did, what we didn't understand, and how we intend to induce comprehension. My physics diaries are written in a real diary that I kept from sixth grade into junior year. Earlier stuff is emo or tragic or silly or terrible poetry or the occasional bucket list. Kelsey and Natalie expressed interest in reading it, and I didn't mind. I'm responsible for my own thoughts and actions, and even if I'm ashamed of them, I will not hide them when asked directly. They both complimented my writing style, and we related on some experiences. However, it got me thinking about the things I never wote about.

I once said I'm really good at keeping other people's secrets, but not my own. Until this year, there was always an easy distinction between what is my secret and someone else's (duh, this should be obvious!). However, since summer, there are things that other people have done that affected my life and made me ache. There are revelations that make me very sad, things I "can't" talk about. I don't want pity or advice, but a sounding board or understanding.

I'm very aware that the best way to keep a secret is to never mention it. Since the start of 2010, I made only one vague allusion to any of the secrets I've kept. Now I'm looking for a way out. It'll take a while to find trust in a confessor. Don't be offended if it's not you.

"your FACE is an ad-hominem attack!"

we laugh at pornography
it's the hip thing to do

I am the fucking dragon queen of Lit. Mag. Take that formatting! *Pew pew* to all freshmen who dare not include their attachments. EXPLOSIONS!

I hate Macs! They're counter-intuitive!

My life is sort of busy. A sort of busy I have never encountered before. A sort of busy that keeps me doing necessary and productive work until I fall asleep exhausted, barely having time for food. It's WONDERFUL. I'm going to crash and burn and it's gonna be gorgeous.

Soon means a lot less when everything is measured in walking distance.

South African Pirate Party Wedding Weekend

The weekend wedding was lovely. "Uncle Rodger" wrote Karen two songs. The first, he sang as she walked down "the aisle." (The "aisle" is in quotes, because we were outside in a state park, so it was merely a divide in the chairs.) The chorus went, "It's all in the heart, my friend. It's the heart that tells the stories. It's all in the heart." He made everyone in the audience sing it, and I sorta kinda teared up a bit because it was sorta kinda perfect. Of all my aunts, I most identify with Karen. Now that she's married for the first time in her golden years, I feel there is hope for me. She is the most accomplished woman I've ever met, with a wide variety of interests and talents. Rodger is similarly intelligent and accomplished, with a very pleasant singing voice. He was an anti-apartheid protest singer and formerly on the South African government's blacklist. Now he produces operas and documentaries. NPR interviewed him about South African operas.

I saw my dad dance for the first time. It was hilarious.

I'd never heard "Killing Me Softly" before. On the way home from the wedding, I was riding in Sam's car, a very spectacular Mercedes, and Daniel was driving. We went through all of his Bob Marley before scrolling along to this particular ditty. Sam was singing with loud sincerity. Pam, next to me, admitted that it could be no more embarrassing if she and I were to start singing. However, as I'd never heard it before, I didn't know the words. Luckily, there's about 10 in the whole song, so I picked up quickly and sang with the best of them.

Goat is super delicious. Probably super fatty.

My uncle Joe was quite snookered Friday evening, when it was suggested that everyone go out for a pub crawl. My uncles, Joe especially, were upset because Rodger was not required to wear his eye-patch, thus, they could not force him to endure a "pirate themed bachelor party." The pub crawl was to be the substitution, sans pirate strippers. Because we had a massive family dinner outside in the courtyard, Joe had three of the four forks his room had contributed. They were in his pocket. Quite inebriated, he shouted, "I have three forks! That means we can stab three people at three different bars. Or I can give one to each of you, then NOBODY will fuck with us!" Some minutes later, when transportation was arranged, he calmly stated, "Wait, let me grab some shoes that lace up, just in case I have to kick some fuckers in the head." All of this transpired while my most Catholic grandmom was present.

Temperpedic beds suck dirty, hairy balls.

My aunt Jeanne has a few phobias, one of them being a fear a flying. Being thus, she elected to drive the six hours to Durham. However, she wanted to take a scenic route that avoided every single major highway and efficient road. She left my grandmom's around the same time we left for the airport. Twelve hours later (approximately 1 am), she arrives at the condominiums, exhausted, with an awful headache. The next morning, she was in the worst condition for a wedding. Sick. Throwing up. Sensitive to light, sound, and movement. Migraines. Even though she made a good show, she couldn't make it to the wedding on time. In fact, I did not see her at all until Sunday morning at ~10. She's going to be staying with my uncle Joe and aunt Jane to see their "new" devil house in South Carolina. It's cursed. More on that later.

For breakfast, I had a sesame bagel, most of a mango, almonds, and orange juice. I could stand to have that happen a little more often.

Joe and Jane's house is in a little backwoods Southern community. The grass is super grass that needs to be cut at least twice a week, lest it start eating the roaming dogs, raccoons, or foxes that frequent their backyard. It has required an immense amount of work. One of those things beingn to put new doors on the all the cabinets. So, being industrious, Joe and Jane cleaned off the heavy doors, maybe 5-10 lbs each, primed them, dried them, and left them outside to begin the last coat of white. However, the wind started blowing. Joe and Jane were standing on their deck and worried that the wind was going to blow all sorts of dirt and nastiness from their lawn onto the doors. No. That is not what happened. A mini-twister formed, picking up four or five of the doors, swirling them around in the air a bit, before smashing them against the rock driveway, smashing up the corners and removing promiscuous bits and pieces. Amazed and stupefied at what they had just witnessed not ten feet away, they brushed them off and applied the final layer of paint.

Durham is almost urban, as it is a former tobacco/textiles town. Jack and I hopped up on an abandoned train track and enjoyed the late evening air. It was interesting.

My female cousins are uber girls. When my aunt inquired how long it would take for us to get ready, I said, "Twenty minutes, but that's not including my shower." Each of the other girls replied, "An hour and a half, but that's if I have a whole bathroom to myself, so maybe two and a half." The oldest is intelligent and reasonable. The youngest is not. She has a dog, Lola, who is about the size of my ho' bag and about as intelligent, though more often underfoot and in the way. Also, in the words of my dad, "Peanut-head, peanut bladder." It pees.

During the pub crawl, my uncle Joe was this close to riding a mechanical bull when my cousin Daniel got carded. He's ~60 days from turning 21.

North Caroline is "the Tobacco State." Being so, with Jack jonesing, he requested that I attempt to buy him cigarettes from "Sleepy Eyes," the mildly racist, mildly stoned attendant of the gas station around the corner. The first day we encountered him, I was just casing the place, getting a feel for whether or not he'd sell to me. During that time, two Mexicans walked in. I was in my Soffees. The pink ones with green whales and skulls on them. They were hiked up pretty high. Two Mexicans walked in, and I was pretty suspicious they were checking me out. Then it was confirmed they were checking me out, as I made eye contact with one and he winked. As we were leaving, I caught "muneca" and was flattered. The second night, post-wedding, I was dressed up with my dressy shirt pulled down as low as possible, and Sleepy Eyes sold me the Newports. Jack bought me gum for my efforts.

Bad Penny Beer was the keg, a microbrew from a local place. My uncles didn't drink 'til they got back to the condos.

The dancing was great. My aunt is a swing dancer, and Rodger just makes it up as he goes. It was very nice, though the playlist was not the usual dancey selection. Both "Down Under" and "Oxford Comma" were played, and both were danced to as best as could, given the circumstances.

What Would Jesus Think?

I've been hurting, strangled up in possibilities and buzzwords. Some time ago, I recognized that I am the pilot of my happiness, and as result, I'm usually in a good mood and happy and enthusiastic. Still, internal monologue is suffocating that logic and sense of direction. I'm not really sure what will make me happy anymore, and there isn't busy-ness to fill the void and stop the incessant chatter. During the day I'm sane. I'm logical. I know what can and cannot be, and it doesn't hurt. Then I get home, get sleepy, think these half-twisted thoughts about what could and should, reflect negatively on my history of interpersonal relationships.

I'm gonna have some really fucked up relationships. Half by example. Half by personal failings.

I've given up on learning game design. My instructor jumped ship and the internet at my house makes watching instructional videos impossible. Neglecting game design negates the need to learn Java. Wikipedia has no appeal, except in those sparse and beautiful moods. Poetry is simply exotic diction, and I'm hesitant to jump into another book.

As of now, I've gotten to the point where I reach out to two people. I want to blame it on my history, my IQ, my "family issues," when I'm probably just a jerk. I have no desire to talk to anyone else, and I don't know how to get past the trite facades of most teenagers. Even with these two friends, I resent one and am too easily irritated by the other. The latter is purely my own fault, but I neglect to express that she is appreciated beyond any other. I feel guilty, but that's still not taking action to remedy the situation.

Don Hertzfeldt

"You could make a cartoon in crayons about a red square that falls in unrequited love with a blue circle, and there wouldn’t be a dry eye in the house if you know how to tell a story."

Rejected is the third best short film of all time, according to that great and respected authority, imdb.

"I'm feeling fat and sassy."

Highly recommended wiki: Don Hertzfeldt, followed by Rejected.

"it cuts to the next scene; a man with bunny ears walks up to three children, makes a mooing noise, and does as the quote said onto the three children"

Ded-Gifawe

I checked again, willing it to change from a Forever Stamp, but the handwriting was all wrong anyway.

Now that robotics is over, I have nothing but time. Maybe I'll learn a lot. Or walk a lot.

"Loanwords can also be called "borrowings". Although of long-standing usage, neither loanword nor borrowing correctly conveys the meaning, since no words are going to be returned to the "creditor" language."
-Wikipedia

I've got to look for loans shortly.

Mrs. S. commented that she liked my necklace. I said it was from a friend. A friend who is a boy. She noted the lack of naming names. Mrs. K. asked to guess, and damn if she doesn't know everything. I'm smiley all the time, though I wonder if it isn't influenced by Kate's infectious adorableness. It's a waste to be hesitant and nervous about the future, when now is so wonderful.

Augh. It's Depressing Comic Week #4 on C&H.
And I was having a really good week.
I've been all smiley, and almost maybe sorta kinda floaty.

Fun from Saturday

Step One: Find the biggest girl in the venue
Step Two: Jump on her back
Step Three: Ride her like a dinosaur

"the bill: tl/dr"

It's Not a Lusting

There was something serene in today, and a lot of laughter.
Ceramic scratch of metal spoon on bowl of ice cream.
Pink trail of airplane that looks like it's crashing to earth.
That little catch in his voice where it turns over to something rough and sour.
My dad and his easy way with animals, but alienation from people.

New Phone: Sounds

This is a list of the sounds I'll be forwarding to my new phone.

Always

Wish You

WahPow

The Connection

Sunshine Dust

Scharton

Heh

Farmhouse (long)

Farmhouse

Bitches Can't Hang

happy birthday from Abby and Sarah in Hawaii