July 15th, 2009

this is a list:

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

Write Here, Write Now

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

Going down singing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Always Want It to Be Your Handwriting

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

Facts in Figures

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

19. I love to climb trees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Making

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

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

"Teapotahedron"

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

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

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

Oops, Forgot to Change the Title

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

New York, New York

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

Saying Goodbye to You

and Goodmorning to the Sun

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

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

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

I Fucked It Up

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

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

Summertime
(when the livin's easy)

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

Frozen Hair Hot Tub
(M&M rainbow)

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

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

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

and I'm sorry.

Crazy Weekend!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Making Out for Lost Time"

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

I write letters though. So many letters.

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

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

Lapsus Clavis & Les Fleurs du Mal

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

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

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

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

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

In/Ex

now breathe

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

you're doing it wrong

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

Inlove/Exlove

"Tapestries are nomadic murals"

What a wonderful weekend.

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

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

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

heARTS and conSCIENCE

My major project for the last few days was to read through all of the courses listed under every single major Temple offers and make a list of the classes I want to take. It eventually came out to be 10 pages long, two columns, in 10 pt. font... There are so many things I want to minor in, but nothing appealing for a long-term immersion. While it looks like I'll be continuing with Calc II next semester, I don't believe I have "the math brain." Right now, the minors I'm most interested in are:

Biology (which I'll probably be declaring Monday morning at 8:30)
Art History
Sociology
Urban Studies
Information Systems & Technology

What the hell am I going to do with myself? Another, littler project was to more concretely define what I want in a future job. I only came up with 4 careers that would definitely offer a majority of my listed benefits.

Curator of a Museum of Natural Science (Franklin Institute! Sky bike!)
Professor, so I could take classes forever for free
Jeopardy! card writer (puns + trivia!)
Editor of a scientific journal or magazine (though magazines are dying)

I simply don't know. I simply don't.
Not to mention still considering law school as the "fuck it" option.

In Programming class, I put my computer to sleep to take a bathroom break. When I got back, I almost typed in my password.java. It was bad.

Collage

Dan G. has been writing short stories and poetry that collectively sum up existence of the suburbs. During math, I contemplated what I would write out to make a similar collection of my college experiences. The following is everything I wrote on the page.

thick bodied painted on dress
painted on face

unrequited love of math
deceiving myself
passive aggressive retaliation
for abandoning me every night
em{me

I am in fatuous infatuation

college is the first time I'm alive
so was my first kiss here my first kiss alive

subway
aeroway
arrowway

cornrows for Christmas

tan + blonde + fuck me heels

sexy changing new painful
he was changing in the bathroom

considering tattoos

high school to college
not call teacher
there's no obligation to teach

going to the play alone
michael jackson sing along

solo puedo escribir las lineas [broken]

sassy is the new black

Sweet Caroline (so hood! so hood! so hood!)

clothesline homesick

What I Desire vs. Logically Want

I'm a silly 18 year old girl who has nothing productive to show for her life.
I've only traveled to states that border the Atlantic.
I have no idea what I want for my life,
and yet I think I have my priorities in order.

Wait it out. Don't hope.

I Never Owned a Black Barbie

I've been doing mostly factual writing as of late. Organizational writing for memory's sake, but nothing especially creative in style or content. I like to think my unique phraseology adds some merit to the blasé recollections, but there are no new thoughts eventually collected in this electronic journal. It's been a very long time since I've had any tragedy worthy of inspiration. My last flurry of intensely productive thought was probably after Dave.

Coming back from an information session on Study Abroad, I ran into Sarah S. at the beach. We talked for a while on varying topics, at one point talking about the Charleston Market's ability to combat homesickness. Firstly, I barely remember any meal at my dad's that was not steak/baked chicken + mashed potatoes + corn/broccoli. Secondly, I haven't been homesick at all. Of course, I miss individuals and recognize that my mom would like to see me, but I have no desire to be home. :\

[Today, in thinking about my tablet, I realized I do not remember the day that I broke up with Jimmy, but I remember the day of our last kiss and where it was. I also remember the dates and locations of my last kisses with Dave and Jeff. Also, Fava, but that is not by any merit of his doing, and I geographically have no idea where that apartment is.

Retrospectively, today was not my day. I verbally expressed frustration at the cymbal girl I don't like, and unfortunately may've recognized the end to my infatuation after spending time with him and his roommate at the beach. Perhaps if I wasn't PMSing, things would have a better outlook. I'm on edge and cranky. My roommate told me that she was going to bed, so I'd have to listen to my music in headphones. Not a problem. However, "going to bed" to read for an hour does not get the same consideration. ]

Updates!

On Monday, we switched our cymbal grip from crazy to what I was familiar with at GV. So much more control, but it's a different kind of visual available to us now. However, cymbals are not the last step in my musical path. Temple has a "basketball band" which is open to any member of marching band who wants to join, sans audition. You get another scholarship and are able to travel with the team to NCAA tournaments (if applicable) where you'd get a generous weekend stipend. I've been considering what new instrument I want to learn, and saxophone has always called to me. [In typing this, I discovered the proper spelling is not saxaphone.]

On the note of band, I'm crushing out of my league on a baritone. He's a brother in Phi Mu Alpha and invited me to their bad movie night only a few minutes before Dana extended her own invitation. While it took a physical toll on me to watch four movies in a row (Thankskilling, Santa's Slay, Pootie Tang [not a bad movie], and The Toxic Avenger), I got to hug it out at the end of the night because I'd been through a shared traumatic experience. It makes me feel like a super cool kid to hang with Sinfonia. They're pretty much all the loud personalities in band, and they have pancake Sundays. I get invited to pancake Sundays. Yes.

To another note, I visited Viv! There were pancakes on her table from breakfast that morning, but as I arrived at her place slightly after 7, they were irrecoverable. We talked. We updated. She made me my first real dinner since arriving at school. It was fantastically good. She showed me her own personal studio in the building. Moore was giving away fancy, free tampons, so I grabbed a few packs. I intend to use the case of one for my camera. Touring the streets of Philadelphia, we walked and talked and patronized Yogurino for frozen yogurt. Taking the subway back to Temple was not terribly intimidating.

Related to art: I've been drawing buildings on campus as part of my "Buildings on Campus" poster series instead of paying ridiculous prices for ridiculous posters. My first piece, The Baptist Temple, came out slightly disproportionate, but the Paley Library has been coming along with more accuracy.

Jumping back to movies, my residence hall held a "Cult Movie Night" which featured "Videodrome." I'd tried to convince my suitemate Tina to come down and watch it with me, but she had homework and the Real World was coming on. She recognized that the movie probably had more creative merit and asked me to let her know if it was any good. Definitely an enjoyable time, the movie itself needed the introduction to be any good. It was very odd. I 110% rocked the discussion afterward. Watching TV is exactly the same thing as having sex. Exactly.

Tina knows Jeremiah, my little brother's best friend. While she is well aware he is a little ass, he also admired her for being the "cool, independent study photographer" who was unfortunately sitting in on Intro. Photography. Jack and Jeremiah were being super cool hooligans Saturday night, and I would love to have them come visit for a weekend.

However, not this weekend. My roommate, Jess,'s boyfriend is coming over this weekend to visit from Pittsburgh. While she made it clear she wouldn't really sexile me, I've decided to have a sleepover with Viv. He's arriving Friday night, and there's nothing to do about that. But Saturday, after the football game and a little bit of the band party, I'll be headed over to her super-luxurious RD dorm with my toothbrush in tow.

Also, not the weekend afterward. Temple University's Diamond Marching Band is going up to Penn State for a performance at Altoona High School Friday night, and the football game on Saturday. Afterward, I'll be spending the night at Jeff's and taking the Megabus home with some other drumline kids the next day.

With my weekends so busy, I have no desire to go home. There is absolutely nothing I could do there except to drive my car, which isn't even a pleasant thing. Sure, there would be good meals and my little brother, but my little brother should come up to the city, and food isn't really important to me anyway.

Kinda about food, I tried to give blood to a NJ Bloodmobile today, but their weight standards were different than the Red Cross's, and I didn't make the cut to give blood. It kinda sucks, 'cuz I usually am over the weight limit, but this summer totally knocked me out. In the winter time, I'm safe by a pretty good margin.

Using the subway has been a fun experience. Todd and I went to South Street to look for his alternative medicine placebos, and I got to learn the stops that come after Race-Vine.

Standing on the Hill

It is fantastic the number of people I don't think about until I try to recall the people I don't think about often. I've been having some very excellent conversations on Facebook about how everyone from back home is doing, now that we are scattered abroad. Even people I never spoke to much in high school, our shared experience is always a conversation point, as well as loudly enjoying the differences between GV and "here."

I found a 2 liter bottle of Ginger Beer for $.99. Even though I reminisced, I passed it by. Smiling through the rest of my trip, when I finally got to the express lane, I ran back and grabbed it. Heaven forbid the future trying to get through it.

On the way to the football game yesterday, I saw a dead baby squirrel. It had fallen out of the tree.

My roomie makes really terrible psychological evaluations of people, which I think is mildly hilarious. While it's okay to quietly laugh to myself, I'm bad about keeping it to myself.

Routeenager

I haven't had time to think at all. It's not actually that I don't have the time; I'm so flustered from the lack of routine.

Yesterday, I finally got to ride the subway for the first time and utterly bungled every step of the process. Headed into Center City for the Reading Terminal Market, I managed to lead the group onto the wrong side of the tracks. Luckily, our friends watching (laughing) from the other side corrected us. I didn't know why quarters and nickels came with my tokens, forgetting that they were my change. When I put in my token, I pushed the turnstile too early. Only Tina saw that, thankfully. On my way out, the escalator had broken into stairs (by the words of Mitch Hedberg). Being ingenious, I used them instead of the very crowded real stairs. I'm so cool! At the very last step, I tripped up it. While I proclaimed my "fineness," I was bleeding when I got back to the dorm.

It's been the decided that I should get a tattoo that says, "I'm really fucking cool" in some horrific font on my arm.

With my meal plan, I could get cheesecake every single night in my building. That is horrifying. Tonight was the first time I ate off campus at a McDonald's with Tina. I had a coupon for $4 20 nuggets, so she bought the fries and drinks. It was justified as a last night before classes celebration. I threw out my Welcome Weekend informational packet.

Intermediate Spanish starts at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning. I'm excited.

A big apology to all those I do not contact. I think about you.

Experts from Email

The following was an email I sent to Jeff that I have edited to remove the emotional content, and direct statements to him changed to about him:

The daily schedule is 8:30 downbeat (for legit this time) until at least 9:30, but will probably be longer. There are rumors that tomorrow is going to be until midnight because we only have our hard ass instructor until Tuesday night.

Because we have a hard ass instructor, I don't even know the names of all the drummers yet. The important and loud ones, yes, but not the two quiet tenors or most of the basses. Our lead cymbal is really nice and reminds me of my cousin Laura. She's also really pretty. There's an even prettier girl on the cymbal line, but she, in all serious, said, "Wait, is Portuguese really a language?" When everyone was absolutely dumbstruck to silence, she asked, "Is that a stupid question?" Luckily, someone managed to get out, "There are no such things as stupid questions," but my lord.

There are three freshmen on the line and none of us have ever played. One of the kids tried for snare I think, and got bumped. The other girl was homeschooled, but plays on a set. She actually, you know, reads percussion rhythms and counts, so she helps me out a lot when I don't need it. It's irritating, but I try to be nice. Also, she was homeschooled.

One of the sophomore cymbals who creeped me on Facebook is actually a total creeper. It was announced on the first day that he slept around a lot. I think the girl who announced it was one of them.

The other guy on the line reminds me of Wizpig because he's balding. He's next to me during all of my sets in "Bad Romance." Oh, yeah. The first show is Lady Gaga.

I think I go crazy when I'm alone, 'cuz I keep making all these weird noises when I have things to do in a rush. I'm glad I don't have roommates yet.

I had to learn how to shave my legs while standing up. Eventually, I went with a back press against one wall to support my leg on the other. There's all sorts of gross things growing in the shower, so I'll try to scrub it before my roomies get here, but I doubt I'll have time.

Kira moved in today. Sadly, we couldn't get dinner together or hang out after band because it ended so late and I was beat.

It's really weird to have A/C, because everything is cold even though I'm sweatin' balls outside.

I got locked out and my room key has still not turned up, so I may have to get a permanent replacement tomorrow. *sigh*

During the first all band practice together, they mostly played around as a warm up. One of the songs they played last year and will be playing again this year is "Fat Lip" by Sum 41. It was surreally awesome to be nearly exhausted, but still watching all these guys singing together "Don't count on me, I'll do it again..." During some songs, I got to groovin'.

I haven't made any real friends yet, but I'm working on it. I'm getting more comfortable with everyone. During the first meeting as cymbals, she told us to all get in a circle and we'd just talk. That made me a little sad/happy there's more circle time.

The snare captain reminds me of a young and more modern Bishop Bishop.

I'm not entirely sure if it's the college experience or picking up cymbals that has made me feel so refreshed to completely learn something new. Admittedly, I had the slightest background information, but still... I feel like such a weeny freshman, possibly aggravated by my lack of experience in this musical format.

On the first full day of lunch, I went to get orange juice from the little dispenser. Rather than going from the nozzle into my cup, it shot out at 90 degree angels parallel to the ground and got me slimed. One of the upperclassmen made fun of me with sympathy, and demonstrated again what had just happened to his friend. However, he was safely backed away from the jets.

My mom wrote me a letter that I was to read once they were gone and I was all settled in at night. It was super cute. Definitely not as relevant or meaningful as I would've liked as far as content, but it was very "my mom," which was more important. She spelled a couple words wrong, including my nickname "Punky." It's very obviously Pucky in all of the spellings.

I have all the hottest bruises this season. The ones are my stomach are totally ridic, but my hips and left arm are also taking a beating. There are no open sores on my hands yet though, like one of the sophomore boys.

The first full night I was gone, my mom called me, and when we said goodbye, I cried immediately afterward. I think it would've made her feel a lot better to know that, but I wanted her to think I was alright. She called me something like three times today and texted twice. Her second message was a little frantic, so when I finally called her, I joked that I hear police sirens all the time. I was joking, but it's also true.

After eating dinner at the cafeteria (hot dogs and french fries because I couldn't find the rice), my stomach hurt a lot during set reps. I knew that if I didn't focus on it, it wouldn't matter so much, so I tried thinking about Jeff. It worked super well! Until I almost got to the point of tears for a whole little rush of memories. Then I had to stop and think of something else.

Our hard ass instructor used his cell phone tonight, and we made fun of him from the field about his statement that cell phone usage at drumline is an automatic 256 laps. His musician friend going way back had a heart attack and is in a coma. He told us to appreciate life because you don't know when it will be gone.

I haven't managed to crack the drumline humor yet (because it's non sequitor pop culture references or inside jokes), but I have had some independent moments appreciated. Plus, I'm still enthusiastic as ever.

It's weird having super fast internet, but I don't know what our data usage rate is.

The difference between a competent band director working with kids who want to be in band vs. D and our band is astounding.




Today, I definitely made up my mind to make this blog private. It's not to keep the past out of my new life, but to keep the new people I meet from discovering my past without me knowing about it. Then tonight, I was wishy-washy on it. I'll figure it out.

Contentment

"Do you know what happened to the little boy who got everything he ever wanted?" asked Willy Wonka.

"No, what happened to him?" said Charlie with eyes widening.

"He lived happily ever after."

I got everything I ever remember wanting. Never peace on earth or a sky dancer, but everything else I remember wanting, from a pogo-stick to an Easy Bake Oven to a car to a college education to the guys I've had crushes on (except one :P ). This is a statement to the universe that I am gratefully satisfied, and I will do everything in my power to remain content with everything the future deems appropriate to give.

Dreams & Schemes

My dreams have been rather dark as of late. Not scary or bad necessarily, just dark.

Two nights ago, I dreamt that through my own trust and negligence, I let my dog Faith be dognapped. A man with two little girls asked to walk her and walked right off. My brother furiously and heroically managed to get her back, leaving me to feel extra guilty about my actions. This all happened in the back sale parking lot, so as Dad and I sat with the dog in the minivan, a couple guys came over and started harassing my dad. Because in the dream I already had my digital camera, I started taking their pictures to show the police, which made them mad. One guy menaced over and attempted to take the camera, which scared me 'cuz I kept thinking, "No! It's special, and I just got it!" At one point, I fell over and started kicking at him, but they decided to leave. Dad and I went in the sale to sort things out afterward. A lot of my dreams take place in the sale.

Last night's dream, well, there were several and I remembered them upon waking and later in the shower, but not now. Usually, if the ideas make it to the shower, they're in my head for the rest of the day. However, the feeling that lingers indicates the most important one was also dark. [Edit: I remembered my dream when I later said, "Nah, dawg" while reading Superpoop. Anyways, in the dream, my little brother, his friends, and I were snuck outside, sittin' at a picnic table in the driveway. The neighbor Jack kept slamming the door. But when I went to teach him how to shut it silently, there was this awful blaring music from the front yard. Everyone rushed inside, hoping my dad would rush to the front, not back, and we were right. Curious though, we also rushed to the front, only to find there was a choreography group in the grass of our front yard? My brother Jack and I were grounded, unfortunately, so I actually watched TV. One of the shows that proved hilarious was Sesame Street. I watched it twice within the hour, and recommended it to Jeff. At some point, my brother came in to the room with me, so I tried showing it to him. Sadly, during the third watching, I could not figure out why I'd ever thought it was funny. As I stood up to turn off the TV, we noticed there were additional cellar doors behind it. Inside was a dank room with a dais, a desk, and a bathtub. There were people everywhere, and we found out it was a "fight to the death" fight club. Somehow, I got volunteered, and managed to slowly get my opponent close to death, but I couldn't kill him. I didn't want to die though, so the lady at the desk said they'd take care of it. Then I found Yellow Version for $4.99 and bought it. Seriously. That was the end of the dream.]

My neighbor gave me a ton of purses. Not literally a ton, of course, but something like 1/100th of a ton of purses. One of them is a "for legit" Louis Vuitton, and while I was trying to identify the model number for eBay, I went through three other spellings before using the Google spell-check to arrive at that conclusion. Girls are really gross. Besides all of the paper trash in various pockets, there were a whole lot of weird, sticky stains I had to clean off. The collective smell made me nauseous, so they are in bags in two different rooms. Hopefully, I can make a lil' money, which would be nice to offset the ridiculous amount of money I've spent on stuff for college.

"He Models Genes"

During a TEDtalk on the moral roots of liberals and conservatives, the speaker surveyed the audience to determine what their political leanings were. There were more libertarians than there were conservatives. I giggled and giggled.

While browsing my book shelf organized as "Beloved Fiction," I stumbled upon Mrs. Dalloway, but momentarily thought she was the author and Virginia Woolf the character. Oops. For those interested, I eventually settled upon a book of short stories by Mark Twain. Now, for your enjoyment, some quotes from Mark Twain:

Of all the animals, man is the only one that is cruel. He is the only one that inflicts pain for the pleasure of doing it.

Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.

Always acknowledge a fault. This will throw those in authority off their guard and give you an opportunity to commit more.

Be respectful to your superiors, if you have any.
-Mark Twain

One of the reasons I post these is because the second quote seems to capture the essence of TEDtalks. Sadly, my interest is likely a binge and not habit forming. I can only hope that some of my professors can manage such thrilling lectures at least once.

TED Performancs

Dance

It's rare for me to think of dance as a legitimate form of art, because so rarely anything innovative seen in the public forum. My family is not much for arts and culture, so I've never been to the ballet or other movement performance. Still, I dream about dance. Ballerinas makes me feel ugly and loping, but stunned at the beauty of the human body. Most often, I herald the achievements of the mind and the creative spirit while ignoring the expressive body. This excerpt revitalized my appreciation. It's beyond my realm of imagination to the point it unnerves me for its oddness. It makes me forget the dancers are human and that gravity exists. Maybe the fact I dismiss its artistic potential is one of the reasons why it's so striking now.

[Edit: It's worth noting that this is the most erotic, most intimate interaction I've ever seen that I have not personally experienced. To communicate that tenderness is astounding, and something difficult to come across, even in music and literature.

Additionally, the movement is so natural, yet requires such unbelievable strength that it draws the comparison to spider silk. Even though I feel like such an irritating, flowery sell-out for that metaphor, it's appropriate.]

Life is Good

Mind you, I'm not going to be one of those douchebaggy, John Mayer types with the visors, bumper stickers, and frisbees, but it is a statement I will endorse. There are 17 days of paper left in my journal, which is just long enough to document my first full day away from home. Realizing this, I went back to see if all this writing had its intended effect, for me to be able to read the words and remember all the left out detail and emotions. Selecting two days at random, one from May and another mid-June, it appears to work! From the sentence, "We went to the mall." I remembered where and why we went and the conversations had along the way. I'm glad to see that my gifts were put to good use and so pertinent in recording this particular summer. Maybe this winter I'll read through the entries and hopefully just as easily say, "life is good."

Privileged

This evening, after the art museum, after my hair cut and half-slice of "Chocolate Lovin' Spoonful Cake," I retreated to the hammock in an attempt to get through Tortillas, Beans, and M-16s. Content wise, the book offers a fascinating insight into the guerrilla war of El Salvador during the mid 1980s. The author is a photographer, not a writer. I have to drag myself through her writing style. Her attempts at deep understanding and platitude fall very short from the mark. And I hate her whiny white person attitude, but appreciate that she does not portray herself as a tireless saint. Those complaints out of the way, I love the personal, intimate encounters with poverty. Because the author of the book primarily set out to document the war through photojournalism, her writings detail the daily lives of people fighting and supporting the "compas.*" While I've learned a lot about the nature of this particular war, the book draws my attention for highlighting the abyssal gulf between American perceptions and reality.

Poverty not necessarily in the sense of abject lack compared to an American middle-class standard of living, but how that absolute absence shapes and defines an entire culture. I feel so utterly self-absorbed and unaware as I read. Firstly, I have never traveled outside of the United States. I have never felt a need to understand in great detail the political and military histories of any countries that weren't covered in Euro. Especially those in South and Central America, Asia, and Africa, which is roughly greater than 70% of the world I would imagine. Secondly, my sense of how poverty affects the human psyche has always been in the terms of the American poor. The fact that other countries have different cultures as a result of their economic standing never occurred to me. I had naively assumed it was the different histories and geographies. I'm sure those factors play some part, most likely because they are the cause of poverty.

For all of the information and wealth and privilege that has surrounded me since I was born, nothing has ever prompted me to think like this. No public school education. No parental guidance. No other book I've read, fiction or nonfiction. The only thing that even got close to this consideration was Jeff's voyage abroad, because he personally narrated stories of the differences. Being in the AP track, my historical education was solely Euro-centric. Sure, while I hold the belief that the majority of "cultural exposure" classes are hastily designed to satisfy some politically correct agenda, by God, how much more could my horizons have expanded if I'd known? Every mention of poverty in school seems to instill the idea, "Aren't you proud to live in America and not these horrible other places?" No, I'm not proud, I feel guilty now that by lottery of fate and genetics, I am here, writing in my interblog on my nice laptop in my swivel chair with running water, electricity, and a half-slice of "Chocolate Lovin' Spoonful Cake" left in the fridge. And that I will still do nothing about distant oppression.

I'll get over the guilt, it's a white person thing. Admittedly, I'll probably even forget my initial horror at how ignorant I was. Still, I wish this wasn't some revolutionary, adolescent discovery. I guess if every child was inducted at an early age to realize how precious and tenuous their life is, they'd be more satisfied with themselves. They wouldn't need to buy so much, and then maybe they'd have a little more money and a little more time to actually do something about the problem.

*compas is short for compañero/as, "friend" similar to comrade

Judicial Review

The Christian idea of Judgment Day is a very cruel notion. Obviously, an omnipotent, omniscient being should have the ability to instantaneously determine "your" fate. Instead, it's been fabricated as a Holy courtroom to exploit human fears of shame and public speaking.

Text

Jack and I went to see Inception again this evening. It definitely proved its worth in rewatching, and a solid use of his free tickets. Nearly all of the early scenes dust in subtlety that requires an understanding of the whole. A second viewing also helped me solidly pin down thoughts about the movie and ideas it represents. Still, my mind wandered very far from the cinema. Forty minutes in, my mom texted me out of the blue. I hadn't spoken to her that day, and it made me sad I'd never realized that she probably spends a lot of time thinking about me when we're apart. Of course, technophobe as she is, she sent it in drastically abbreviated "txt tlk." Her text, short and broken as it was, summarized a nagging thought too tantalizing to ignore, but too painful to answer. As a practical utilitarian, I hope that she's wrong. As a cynic and a skeptic, I tell myself that she is wrong. As a selfish girl experiencing something more than anything I've ever lived through, I wish that she was right. I don't want an answer. I try not to think about it, try not to come to a solid conclusion. Because without a definitive answer, everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.

August 1st

The beginning of the end has begun.

Last night, the very late evening of August 1st and the very early morning of August 2nd, I snuck out to visit a friend. While waiting for their mom to fall asleep, I climbed up onto the roof of a nearby building and gazed up at the stars, reflecting on the joy of the day and how few days are left. I cried with my sweater all stretched out to cover my legs from the air and the bugs. I cried for the phrase " I don't know when I'll see you again," and the long hugs that follow. I thought about how lucky I was that this day, this perfect representation of everything I could want from a goodbye summer, wasn't over. I smiled and smiled and hugged myself and laughed for how happy I was. All thanks to friends.

Alcohol-Wise

For Temple, as for many colleges, I have to a mandatory alcohol awareness course. Some of it is informational, but it is a very condescending course. Also, its free-response sections are not very comprehensive.

For the prompt, "In your opinion, how would drinking rank on your list of fun things to do and what would be number one on your list. "

I responded, "#1 fun thing would be learning something with friends or going out, and because I don't drink, drinking would probably be at the bottom of the fun things list. "

No matter how I arranged that, I kept getting the response, "You must provide a relevant answer. Use at least three words in your entries, and DO NOT use any profanity." *sigh* I guess learning is not a fun thing. I'll probably have to put shopping or going to the movies or something abhorrent like that.

Revelations [The Edit]

A web comic in the tradition of great webcomics inspired me to Google Image search Barack Obama this evening. I forgot how attractive our president is, and I feel like a bad citizen for neglecting this important fact of government.


[Edit: www.en.wikipedia.org/Beewolf: Not to be confused with Beowulf

EVIL BEES!!!!!

My mom knows nothing about me!

I kinda want to write "Pit: The Musical." Or the very extensive music video.]

Nearness of You

Okay, so I loved Nora Jones, not so much for her voice, but for her composition of the song "The Nearness of You." While continuing my search for the perfect Sinatra album today, I found that she merely covered it! While I appreciate a beautiful singing voice, I find the beauty of creation far more stunning and admirable. Alright, alright, I don't think Sinatra ever wrote a song, but his voice isn't beautiful, it's a classic tradition that is more connotation at this point.

Started on my super secret project today, which was exciting. I took care of an obligation, briefly met with Dan G., hopped over to Molly's, though she was busy, so walked over to Lauren's while she was finishing up. Both visits were pleasant and overdue. Sitting on Molly's floor was sad to feel the pressing of so many memories that are no longer relevant to who we are. Afterward, I dropped off something for Keith at Wawa and continued on my merry way home.

Pulling into my driveway, I called Nick F. up to see if he was still at the sale. With all great fortune, he was. AND! with his lil' sister! I joined them for lunch, then went downstairs to find the Sinatra album I'd been desperately seeking. No luck, but I did find a good one for a dollar, and have reasoned that Sinatra covered every song Billie Holiday ever sang. It's nice.

From there, we drove over to Nick's and hung out. We did a lot of driving today for not doing much. At one point, sitting in the living room, Nick opened a vague forum for suggestions of what to do. Myself a veteran of the VB creek, opted to make a dam. That suggestion was turned into "look for tadpoles," even though it's definitely not tadpole season (as was later proven with limited experimental data). So we drive away from the neighborhood to this "swamp," where a stream supposedly held the baby frogs. Nick, Alex, and I search through giant muddy tire tracks filled with gunk to no avail. We saw one frog, and in a moment of "What the fuck?" see a giant tire swing in the distance. Excitedly running over to it, we realize we are in a clearing of magic. I could probably describe it pretty well here, but it's something I want to keep vague until it can be seen in person. It's interesting.

We went back there after getting Liz, traveled to the Grist Mill where I showed them the geocaches and explained the concept to Alex, who was very amused. He and Nick came up with startling abuses of the system, but hilarious ones, admittedly. Returning to the home of Nicholas, his mom sliced up some steak for us to make sandwiches. Brilliant, as I hadn't eaten dinner and it was ~8 by this point. We watched most of Superbad (which I'd never seen), and then "What Would You Do?" for an hour. It was an evening I had not expected, and one that I will attempt to recreate for others.

Dreams

I had 2.5 dreams last night.

The first one, both excellent and lengthy will be recapped here for memory's sake. The second has more cause for thought and will be written about elsewhere. The 0.5 was when I had the first dream, woke up and appreciated it, then fell asleep and continued it.

In Nick F.'s car, I was in the back seat behind the driver, with Brendan D. in the passenger seat. Coming up on the Sunoco near my house, Lil' F. greeted us wearing a shirt that said something to the effect "Oprah was a Teenage Prostitute." We exchanged pleasantries (while driving), but eventually went past and on to 202. The dream was cast in the purplish dusk of "right after twilight" time, and our destination was Brendan's house behind GV. Once at the school, it had the layout of a church I used to attend, and the place was swarming with Boy and Girlscouts celebrating Halloween. Being stealthy and whatnot, Brendan and I took great pleasure in scaring the children through the hallways. Stopping to help out right before leaving, we felt it made up for our mischief. While exiting the school and traipsing across his dewy yard, I woke up.

Eventually falling asleep back into the dream, I returned in Liz's house, where she was excited to see Nick. We all set about to joking, until Nick and Liz made it obvious they were going to hook up, and I realized that I could probably get with Brendan. I'm pretty sure there was more to this dream, but I don't remember it.

Somebody Else's Blog

Apparently these were all written by high school students, but there was some sort of objection to that. tl;dr. Either way, they're funny.

1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a ThighMaster.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

Naughty & Nice

Naughtiness failed. Nice was rockin'! Or hip-hoppenin', more like it!

Turns out Birds & Bees Risque closes at 7 on non-Friday weeknights. A terrible shame. Either way, I drove over to Kim's house and waited for her to come home from Vacation Bible School so I could serenade her. Her personally calculated E.T.A. was for 9:30. Because my shopping adventure ended abruptly, I had a little more time on my hands than original planned, and so serenaded Kim's neighborhood for a half hour or so. One guy sang a little Zeppelin, but the majority of dogs and passer-bys avoided my evening practice sesh. At 9:33, I decided to stoop it out on Kim's front step. There, I scared away her cats, and a few minutes later, I scared her mom. "Who is hooligan stoopin' it with a guitar?!" I explained myself before she could say that, but her thoughts may've beat me to it. She called out Kim, sneakily explaining that she needed help with the groceries. Bam! Kim was so surprised. For whatever reason, I did not spend my half-hour prep period attaching my shoulder strap to my guitar, so I pulled some nifty moves in holding it up/playing... "Whatever You Like" was the chosen song for serenade, as the result of a long dormant inside joke. Inside, she offered me water and "Chocolate Fudge Brownie" ice cream while watching the Barbie Fairytopia movie that I could. not. follow. Personally, I like to think I was charming and amusing during my time as her guest, but that is biased. All in all, while I did not get any exotic toys, I did make a lasting memory.

Passionate

"Too much capitalism does not mean too many capitalists, but too few capitalists."
-G. K. Chesterton

Every so often, I want to throw myself into a life of Bohemian abandonment. Maybe write a few articles for radical publications, volunteer at the anarchist book store, such and the like. It's not because I am exceptionally passionate about social reform. I can talk about the ills of society all day long, but what have I done to combat poverty, its hunger and homelessness, its destructive lack of education? Right now, I equate being informed with being involved. If I actually participate in the process of fighting injustice, I can alleviate my middle-class guilt, but that is still not the attraction. These moods are appealing because I wanted to be surrounded by passionate people. Artists and anarchists, I'm sure, have fantastic stories and excitement in their lives. It's the same with poetry, music, and art. The subject is appealing, but the people are what draw me in. Hopefully they won't call my bluff.

[Edit: Temple has THREE separate socialist clubs on campus!]

Numbered

It's true, and I suspect it is in reference to Iron & Wine.

Summery

"Maybe that's why you put gas in your car instead of paint thinner."
-the summary of my evening

Last night, with warm breezes and moon almost full, I realized that I could not have asked for a more perfect last summer. I snuck out. I partied. I went down the Brandywine on an alligator. I played guitar, and I napped in the hammock. I've been surrounded by friends, and the whole thing feels a bit surreal.

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!