Holler

It's the first day of NaBloPoMo. I thought I'd kick it off by reporting that I am drunk and hungry. The mere idea of Taco Bell is driving me insane, but I don't think anyone I know can drive right now. The Halloween party I just got home from was great. Unfortunately I ran out of whiskey early in the evening and got too sober to appreciate the boy in the dress running around head butting folks and braying like a donkey.

Plus I have an Econ exam later today. I studied earlier tonight and probably will again around 9 am tomorrow.

But oh, the Taco Bell craving is insatiable.

Sitting in the VU

It's official. Spain next spring, stay on for summer. Not only will Sharron be in the area, but I'll be able to hit Tomatina and Encierro. I wish I weren't American. Our holidays are so boring.

Note to self:

Gael García Bernal is pretty.

Must watch Babel, Dreaming of Julia, Amores Perros, and Y tu mamá también.

This took 2 hours for my distracted self to write

If Katamari Damacy taught me anything, it's that the world is full of things. Here are some things I like:

tea
peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches
listening to music while walking through a blustery wind
bike riding at 5 am
shopping cart rides
my front porch, and the people I sit with
when the Western Men Against Violence brave the middle of Red Square at 9 am in the freezing shadows just to hold their signs
pictures of other people
this dog
teaching swimming lessons

And just for some perspective, here are some things I don't like:

not being able to find free music on the internet
pickles
when Firefox shuts down and I lose what I've written here
being too lazy to clean my room
rolling over and waking up at 2 am every day for the last 3 weeks
missing friends in far away places

There are a few people in my life right now that I'd like to tell you about. They are all incredibly unique people who, by merely knowing them, are able to make life better.

Ben and Nick are two folks who, if anything, have improved with age.

Ben was my RA last year. He was attentive and supportive to a complete stranger going through an almost year-long bout of homesickness (in a sense). Through knowing him I realized that some people look perfectly normal, act perfectly normal, and come from perfectly normal backgrounds. Then there are the people who look normal, act normal, and it's a miracle that they've managed to pull it off. Ben isn't an RA anymore. He has a girlfriend that he likes to go on hikes with, he's learning to swim (again), plays raquetball, and gets very defensive about what math "is".

I liked Nick for maybe 30 days total last year. The rest of the time I hated him. He was argumentative about everything, arrogant, and basically a complete tool. But when we drank together! Oh, he was my best friend ever. We had some great times, sober ones too. We played X-Men and ate together regularly (even when we were hating each other), we argued about music and argued about books.
Now Nick has a girlfriend and I'm single. I'm attributing our new change in attitude toward each other to these two facts. Both of us are more mellowed out in our current states. We argue less; we're more excited to share new information than to prove the other person wrong. I don't get to see Nick as often as I'd like. When we're together, we both become giddy and excitable, even when talking about how miserable life is. Nick likes to say he's part of the Dead Parrots Society, but I haven't seen any proof yet. He wears indie glasses, dresses indie, and listens to indie music. He has a blog, too, but uses it to hone his writing skills rather than indulge in selfish pleasures (and I envy him for it).

Josh and Alex are two of my neighbors. They, too, are extremely fantastic people.

Alex cooks as if he were born with a skillet in his hand. He probably was, since both his parents are cooks. I hear he's also been around the world and back. My factual knowledge of Alex ends there. Mostly he's just the guy I walk back from my brother's house with. We have fantastic drunken conversations and usually eat some kind of excellent food. He and Josh are both mind-bogglingly active people. Every day there is a new soccer/basketball game to be had, another bike ride to go on, caves to explore and walls to climb and I don't even know what else they do. Alex claims he'll show me these Mt. Baker hot springs, maybe even invite me along on one of those crazy excursions to the bat caves, but until then I'm satisfied with being drunken party friends.

Josh is a vegetarian hip hop artist. Actually, everyone in that house across the street are up-and-coming hip hop artists. They have a myspace page, even. Josh is a hat model about to break into the big-time modeling world. He juggles and wants to learn to knit (though from what I've seen, his juggling coordination skills don't help the fact that he's a boy, and boys have big clumsy hands that don't knit very well. Oh well. He'll get better.) Josh accompanied me on a grocery shopping trip last night. I figure he'll be my new best friend.

Then there's Sharron. I met Sharron in our American Lit class last year. We rode the shuttle together and shared a mild curiosity in our professor's sexuality. I don't think Sharron and I will ever be close, but that's okay. She's slightly crazy and so am I; that's enough. Every couple weeks she says I should join the water polo team, but I'm resisting admirably. These days I like to watch Lost at her place on Wednesdays and watch her surf the internet after class on T/R.

Brent is my only Bellingham relative left. He's my older brother by about 3 years and I'm hard pressed to think of any flaw in his personality. He is sincere, patient, honest, and intelligent. I've heard some people say he's an asshole. That's because he doesn't put up with willful ignorance. To enjoy life is one thing; to not consider how our actions might effect us later is another. Brent is a pool shark. Don't play against him unless you are, too. Brent always has a goofy look on his face, but it's deceiving. He understands more about people and what motivates them better than anyone else I know. Also, he doesn't like being teased. At all.

I'm done writing about people now. I think I'll take a nap.

Pray if you want, there's no way out

I am loving this extra hour of sleep. Put it down on paper - my vote has officially been cast to make this a weekly occurance. Who cares if the whole point is to conserve daylight? I need to conserve sleep.

By the way. Dried apple chips are not the best food to eat first thing in the morning. Wheat Thins, however, are good at any time of day. They're mildly salty and the grainy-gooey texture once you get a good chew into them is just fantastic.

Yesterday was Brent's birthday. We headed out down home around noon and hung out with the family for a good 4 or 5 hours. And you know what? No one tried to kill each other. Scott has bronchitis, so he can't talk very well. I think that had a lot to do with it. Rather than hold the conversation in thrall of how amazing his life is, we all got a chance to steer the topics where we wanted. We got my mom to cry from laughter. Every last one of us ate all the food we ordered (yup, even me. Shock!) It was the kind of family dinner that I've never believed could actually occur.

It's probably been going on this way for years, but I'm finally in a place where I can recognize it.

10:30 am update: Next time I decide it's a good idea to take a spoon and eat Nutella straight from the jar, someone, anyone, please stop me.

Jack and Jack on a summer day

COLE IS BACK.

That's right. My long-term buddy from Christian camp is back in town. He's got a condo, no bed, and a job that takes him out to sea a couple days a week. We only got to visit for about an hour. I suck like that. Planning too much in one day to accomplish (especially when I require 10+ hours of sleep to even function.) He's still rocking the shaggy hair, callused hands, and constant high that I remember. Aw, man, I love this kid so much. He disappeared for about 6 months and I figured he'd moved to Alaska or something.

Can you tell? I'm so excited I can't even put together normal sentences.

ALSO:

From Exit 230 on Interstate 5, near past Mount Vernon, go east on State Highway 20 (North Cascades Highway). Just beyond the little town of Hamilton, but before reaching Concrete, turn left on the Baker Lake Road. Follow that road to baker Lake Resort, about twenty miles. Turn Left on Forest Service Road No. 1144 (gravel and usually snow covered during the winter) which goes about three miles to a widened parking area. (It's by scenic outlook and you will come upon it by surprise.) The trail, only about a quarter of a mile long, begins from the west side of the parking area (opposite the view point). The trail is unmarked, but take the left route from the parking lot. You will soon find yourself on some planked walkway, assuring you that the hot springs is a short distance away.

Broken Beads

There's several points in the above song by New Pornographers where they just make different drunk pirate noises. It makes me happy and I like to listen to it over and over again.

Rabies is downstairs spinning away on his wheel. It makes this horrible squealing sound, but whenever I go down to just watch him run, he stops and hides in his box. Feral hamsters suck as pets.

Neighbor came across the street today and knitted (knat?) with me. It was pretty cool. Irene called us gay after he left, but she's got no ground to stand on. If we want to knit, let us knit. Life's too fun to mock.

Tomorrow, Ben and I take each other on in another game of raquetball. It's been about 2 weeks since I've played and I'm sure to fall on my ass laughing more than actually chasing the ball. (Not a single one of our games has gone differently.) He puts up with me and I love him for it.

I only want it to begin

Every future Sunday is now officially reserved for reading A Book That Makes Me Cry. Not only does it give me a distraction from being sick, but I just don't read enough.

Today, I compromised between my love for watching the cars go by our house, and the fact that I didn't want to go outside. I sat in my windowsill, feet on the roof, Sobe in hand.

Self-Delusional

In the course of the last month, I've convinced myself I know how to knit. I don't, really, but I've got two scarves under my belt and now I'm attempting to make a gift scarf. It's a joke, really. They're all sloppy and tilty, but hey. Knitting is cool. And if I ever actually figure out what I'm doing, I'll soon have a plethora of hats and scarves in all assorments and colors. And never again will I buy another Christmas present.

Epiphany

Shaving my legs in the Green House Shower is more acrobatically challenging than having sex in the dorm showers.

Give me your eyes, I need the sunshine.

I got to scoot around Bellingham again today. Hurrah! Irene is seriously, seriously fantastic to let me just run off with her vehicle.

But I didn't accomplish anything academically today. Sigh.

Thinking about studying abroad this coming Fall. Screw UW. I want me some Spain.

Russians know how to do coats.

Any time I start feeling too serious, I turn to Whitey and Derek. Just a few hours with those boys has me telling fart jokes and making fun of women. Tonight we watched a 3.5 hour russian movie (Dr. Zhivago, whooo!) and followed it up with a trip to Taco Bell. If the evening ends with everyone standing around in a circle scarfing down food, you know you've succeeded.

The Frames are growing on me.

I had chili for dinner. It was lovely. All bean-y and meat-y and half cheese because that's how I like my chili. Two hours later and my stomach still hasn't quite forgiven me. It's not gurgling. It's not trying to claw its way out. It's not even making me all gassy (that's a lie.) No, it's more like all the cheese inside the chili somehow turned into cement, leaving this giant ball of chili to just hang out and slowly get harder and harder as the night goes by. It's like a chili baby. I was sitting in bed and realized that my stomach is more distended now, two hours later, than it was shortly after I consumed the whole thing.

Ohhh chili. You were lovely.

I think I'm getting a job soon. Yayyy money! With my very first paycheck I plan on going downtown and finding myself one kickass scooter with which I will scoot all over Bellingham.

I watched the last half of Amelie today. That movie is just as kickass as the last time I watched it.

10:36 pm: Read about a month's worth of old posts from Sniffing Glue. I miss those days, when there wasn't much difference between what went online and what went on paper.

Uncool, Bee, Uncool

I've been under the misled impression that bike riding is a pretty mild activity. My childhood was simple and happy. I'd spend my afternoons pedalling around the two couldesacs in our neighborhood, waving to friends and their parents and knowing that all cars would stop and get out of my way.

Flash forward about 10 years. I rode my bike every now and then during that time, but usually on a bike trail with my parents or down the road to Fred Meyer. Nothing too dangerous.

It turns out that bike riding is not safe. At all. There are some who embrace this challenge, like the good folks of London who race among traffic (Bumbershoot has excellent free movies). There are others who ride fixies, bomb to and from parties on their bicycles (drunk riding is very intense, I hear), and even those who form the notorious "Bike Gangs" of Bellingham. I make it sound like these wild, adrenaline-filled rides are for those who choose them. I'm sorry for misleading you. The truth is, anyone who places their feet on those pedals is begging to be initiated into the death-defying world of two wheels, mediocre breaks, unclear traffic laws, and little to no personal protection.

Take my own sad history with this transportation of terror. Two summers ago I was hit by a car while riding on the sidewalk. Fortunately, I was only flung across the hood of their car and landed on my back, which was stuffed full of towells. Today, I was innocently riding across campus to swim at the rec center, when I got stung in the throat by a hell-bent bee. Fortunately, I'm not allergic to bees, else I'd be dead right now.

So take warning, all you would-be bike riders. It is not for the light of heart. Even if you expect to take it easy, avoid risks, and stay out of the way, life-threatening situations will find you. I just hope you're lucky.

Norwegian Wood

"Like, suppose you whisked me somewhere far, far away, I'd make lots of babies for you as tough as little bulls, And we'd all live happily ever after, rolling on the floor."

La Belle et le Bad Boy

(from the CD: Cinquieme As: Fifth Ace)

Yeahhh, I've made a new mission for myself: Find above CD and LOVE IT. The song was playing in the coffeehouse about 10 minutes ago and I sat completely still, straining to hear every bit, trying to remember where I knew it from. And then I remembered. It's one of the main reasons I like to watch the Sex and the City series finale as often as I do. There's a scene where it flashed between Miranda running in the streets after New York and Carrie running in the streets of Paris. Above song is playing. I always make a mental note to myself to figure what the hell that song is because it is FANTASTIC, and then, true to my nature, I forget about it 5 minutes later.

Today I had this big plan where I was going to read my textbooks and do my homework and catch up on all that stuff I suck at doing while sitting on a laptop in the coffeehouse. I've got the laptop and coffeehouse thing down, as you can tell, but I'm failing miserably at the homework. Reason #1: cannot download macromedia flash something, which I need to even see my economics homework. Reason #2: Only have 2 hours with this baby, so reading Chapter 3 online before doing the accounting homework wouldn't work, I'd finish just in time to race to return the laptop. And Reason #3: they don't allow consecutive laptop rentals, so I figure I'm just going to sit here and enjoy it before I take it back. Then I'll camp out in the library and see what can be done.

By the way. My apologies for a ridiculously boring post. Sometimes I just have to sit and write and I just don't give a shit about entertaining whoever reads this anyway.

Bike Rides, Skipping Class

Shopping and hanging out in an Irish Pub in Vancouver? Best way to beat the Mondays.

Beast of Burden Again

Man vows to fight garden gnome arrest threat

When you spend a good portion of your day surfing the internet, you come across pieces of gold. Also included today is:

Rival miners hurl dynamite at each other

Other than that, gorged on indian food and waiting for the call to go out drinking. Walking back to the truck, there was a trio of strings (violin, cello, something else) sitting outside a coffee shop playing classical music. I took a picture and can't wait to tell Jessica. My only regret is that I didn't have someone to slow dance with, like the elderly couple next to us.

Beast of Burden

Let's give a big hurrah for another day of boredom and idleness beat back through sheer willpower. Last night Ben and I went out for food around, oh, 11? With my sleep schedule and all, that was not cool. But I'd just finished my scarf and Ben was hungry and besides, he's one of my best friends now and it's nice to see him. He decided that I'm finally good enough to meet his girlfriend, so Friday night before I head out to... somewhere... with someone... (I don't actually know what I'm doing Friday night yet, Help!) the three of us are going to go someplace nice to eat and have a good ol' time. I'm excited!

But the whole point of that paragraph was to vaguely explain why I was so damn tired when I woke up this morning. A panic-filled race to beat the bus to the bus stop woke me up nice and good, so classes weren't too intolerable. At 12, met a friend in the VU, and I'm hoping to finally hang out with her off campus this weekend. We're thinking of checking out the Catholic church on Cornwall for Sunday morning mass, and if the weather's nice we'll go swimming at Lake Samish. Yayyy. Swimming!

Back to Ben. We went to Applebee's for lunch/dinner today, after I woke up from my food-induced nap. (How's this for a disgusting image. Pizza rolled up burrito-style, and eaten with gusto. Eating healthy? Not my strong point.) My salad was very sad and pathetic, but the good conversation made up for it. Got dropped off on a corner to walk my ass over to Fantasia. The spanish table was... Exciting? Hard? Impressive? Not sure what to describe it as. Hopefully I won't suck and never go back. I enjoyed it and actually spouted off some scrambled spanish a couple times. Hurrah! (Wait. I have to go back, there's no option about it. I have to steal someone's digital camera and take a picture of the photo by the cash register.)

Sooo, here it is, a little bit late, a little bit early, depending on your schedule. I might go sit on the porch and eat a popsicle. I might knit. I might just sit and listen to the Stones "Beast of Burden" on repeat for a good hour or two.

Here Come the Redcoats

Last couple days have been alternating between intolerable and fantastic. Today was better than Sunday, by far, so I'll focus on that instead.

Skip all the boring stuff until 3 pm. Showed up for the tennis club meeting and I was the only beginner in sight. They tolerated me as long as they could, and they tried hard to be excited, but man. There is no way a 19 year old girl who has never had any hand-eye coordination to speak of will ever be able to keep up with 20-something students who have been playing since junior high at least. I said I'd show up again tomorrow, but it's already looking doubtful.

So, walking home, decided to call Ben and see what he was up to. Seeing as he was just getting back from raquetball, our sports connection decided that we should hang out. I met his kickass friend named Sam, a super-blonde Ukrainian (think David Saunders) who lives on Lummi Island with his clan of relatives that steal cheap liquor from each other. Random quotes from the evening flew thick like wildfire, this guy is completely hilarious and had Ben and I in tears of laughter while we ate at Boundary Bay. (That's right! I finally went! And got myself a beautiful maroon sweatshirt to go with it. Just need one more beer-related piece of clothing, and I can leave Western with a clear conscience.)

Finally, came home and made a few phone calls. While this all may not sound super-exciting, it's added up to me = very happy. And tired.

It's a sad day when I decide to go to bed around 9 pm, but hey, that's how I roll.

I have awesome pigtails.

SO very bored today. Listening to Guster and the Pale on repeat, trying to do economics and accounting homework. Oh God. It's so dull and repetitive. Thinking of doing another rum 'n coke 'n porch night, although also considering how to make hot rum toddies seeing as the weather has been progressively colder in just the last 4 days. Guess it depends if Dan ever calls back, might just get drunk with Irene and forgo any pretentions to class.

Sad thing is, I've only been up for 6 hours. Sleeping in that late is gross. Time to set an alarm for the weekends, too.

Please, Baby Please

Ohh my lord. This night has to be reported. I have officially found the coolest underground Bellingham hippie connection. It's called Sushi Night. The most hippy of the hippies get together once a week to make amazing sushi, then sit around and drink beers, smoke pot, play the drums and flutes and guitars and dance. Shoeless Dave led is all in a round of Cohen's "Hallelujah". This awesome guy Clay with dreds stood in the middle of the lawn and did some sort of fire dance, where you swing two flaming balls on chains around. His pants caught on fire and he didn't stop for a second.

Now, naturally, I was too awed and shy to really meet anybody, but if Irene and Tiana are making a ritual of this, I'll be sure to invite myself along. -- They have Om nights when they sit in a circle, hold hands, and tell each other about their feelings and thoughts and theories, then they join each other in a loud "om". God I wish I still believed I could be a hippy.

Awesome!

Home internet is up and running!!

Now we just have to get the hot water back, and everything's gravy.

I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You

I feel like talking.
Without you here,
There is less to say.

Oh Garden State soundtrack. I thought I'd lost it, and was pleasantly surprised when one of the songs came on through shuffle. So here I am, practicing Zen while waiting for my next class (1.5 hours from now.) I really do love my new mp3 player; I always get a confused look when I refer to is as my Zen, and it's nice to have a moment before admitting I've embraced consumerism. (I just saw my husband walk through the library. He didn't even look at me. I'm going to complain to Prof. Hugo about it.)

Elaina's been bragging about her new true-hippy music tastes, and nagging me about how I didn't introduce them to her. Sweetie, the mellow stuff that I've embraced came after an overdose of Marley and Zeppelin and the Stones while I was in high school. Good people, though, and I'm glad you're so excited about them.

Which reminds me. I need to look up Reverend Horton Heat, I've been hearing him mentioned and seeing reminders in ads and websites for the last 2 months.

Anyway, must talk to Jessica on the phone now and tell her how fishing went last night. (I went fishing last night!)

Brought to you by a laptop and a retro couch

It's so rare that I log in to Blogger from a different computer that it takes at least 5 tries before I get the right password. Today, I got it on the second try. Go me!

Was visiting BoingBoing today, and came across this. Figured I had to share it. Related yet unrelated, I'm thinking of going to Chile instead of Spain. Hell, if I want to move there, shouldn't I go and visit first? Of course, if I go to Spain, I can stay on for the summer and travel around Europe.

Also, I've been staring at the cover of Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood for a while, and I've decided that I want to be a full-blooded japanese beauty, with angled features and wide eyes. Although, seeing as the plastic surgery for this would cost more than I'll earn in my lifetime, I'll settle for being immortalized as an anime character.

Well, shit. I knew the Dead Sea Scrolls were coming to Seattle soon, but it turns out they just arrived yesterday. That was sooner than I thought. Since they go away in December, I might just have to borrow Brent's car for a day and go down to see them. Also, Femke Hiemstra is having a show in Seattle in the spring. Orrr in Vancouver - MARCH 8 & 9, 2007: 'Ladies only' art show, visual art by intermational female artists at the Tart Gallery, #C8-238 E. 10th Ave, Vancouver, Canada www.thetartgallery.com. Jessica, where are you?? I know you'd be up to these road trips at the drop of a hat. Goal for the year: Find unabashed lover of all things wonderful with too much free time, and maybe a car.

Anyway, as you can probably tell, I'm killing time. Three hours from now I'll head to the train station, 7 hours from now Brent will pick me up and take me home. From there, who knows? But right now I'm going mad with boredom, drinking too much Diet Coke, and trying to be patient with my oh-so-tiny music selection.

Hurrah!

Someone called my mom this evening. I guess she didn't like what they had to say. She came out of the computer room muttering, "What a stupid bitch..." This marks a new holiday, folks! First time I've ever heard my mom swear!

But I'm leaving in 3 days!

Early yesterday afternoon I noticed that our garage had a faint skunk odor. I like the smell of skunks (in small doses), so I was fine with it. Well. It looks like Mr. Skunk decided to take up residence under my window, because all night I long dreamt of the smell. Then around 3 am I woke up to realize that the smell was everywhere in my room. I shut my window, but the damage has been done. My room/the whole house reeks and there's no way to air it out. Ugh. Stupid skunk.

I've been saying "yar" in my head a lot lately.

five more days can barely wait it's so exciting! can't wait to see irene and seth again, can't wait to play raquetball with ben, can't wait to take beautiful photos of nick by the ocean.

Wishing I'd bought that Thievery Corporation poster

While wandering the house and thinking of different topics I'd want to write about, I came to a realization. Late-night posts are not healthy. Every idea that popped into my head was one of self-analysis coupled with self-pity. Not wanting to get into that kind of rut, I've decided that tonight's post will (hopefully) be the last of the latenight variety.

I'm Totally Not Down With Rob's Alien

Once again, it's getting super late (early?) and I have to work in 5 hours.

So this evening my dad took me down to Tacoma to the shooting range. We both shot my grandpa's revolver at a blue target, taking turns to get groupings in a specific body part. I did best while aiming for the stomach, while he showed me up with almost perfect aim every time. I'm hanging the target on my door at school as a memento. I'm hoping I can get him to take me out and use the rifle before I go. Considering I have a little more than a week left, though... Who knows?

GOD, this week seems like it's going to take forever. Made an appointment with the doctor to check out the bump on my foot. Baked snickerdoodles and ate a pineapple. Watched a 5-hour movie. Reading books and cleaning room and in general just trying to find a way to pass the time, now that my hours have been cut back at work and my parents like to steal the van from me. Why did everyone have to go back to school already? Why does Western start at the END of September? I'm going to fade away into a mist of boredom and depression, everyone will forget I ever existed, and I'll just float about the South Sound for all eternity, searching for some excitement.

On another note, Bumbershoot was absolutely fantastic and I think it's just the jolt from OHSOMUCH to absolutelynothing that's got me into this cabin-fever craze.

listening to Rilo Kiley without hearing words

Note to self: Steer clear of petfinder.com for a few years, otherwise may end up with an adorable puppy and no time to take care of it.

Not sure what to do today. Considering sticking up the library to find address of person holding my books hostage (ie, got there first and checked them out). Mom's sick and doesn't want to go to Seattle. Disappointed. Maybe I'll spend more money and go buy the Collector's Edition of BBC's Pride and Prejudice. Which reminds me, I was going to google images of Jennifer Ehle. ... Googled Jennifer Ehle, and I'm disappointed. Maybe I should leave actresses I've never heard of in their movie-roles, as seeing them out of character ruins the whole effect. Although this also increases my urge to buy previously mentioned movie.

'Course, driving away means I'd have to wax the van first. Do you have any idea how big that thing is?? I guess I'm willing to do it. Maybe I could get a couple bucks for the job, too.

First things first. Put clothes on, dry hair.

Shut Up Already

To all of you getting the wrong impression: I'm sorry.

All my posts seem to be about how unhappy and stressed I am. Truth is, while this summer has been eventless to the point of being completely immemorable, I'm loving it. Today I drove to Jessica's bookstore in Tacoma and bought 6 books for $30. The place looks small-ish on the outside, then you walk in and it's like that bookstore across the street from Michael's in Bellingham. (Why is it that I can't remember the name of the bookstore I worship, but can vividly recall the name of the bookstore I disdain?) Except Tacoma Books is way more packed, the shelves so close together that taking a step back to read the top shelves places you firmly pressed against the shelf behind you.

The drive, too, was fantastic. I'm going to miss having a car terribly, seeing as my moments of zen come from driving with the window down and music blasting at all hours of the morning/afternoon/night.

My last day of swim lessons was today. Received a $25 gift card to Safeway that I would have felt lackluster about last year. I hugged both the kids with joy, because now, I can go grocery shopping! $25 is like 7 boxes of cereal! Or 6 12-packs of Diet Coke! Or a bunch of pineapples! I am so excited to use it.

Papa Erola called around noon and told me he wants to push back my moving day to Sunday, the 17th. Even one more day seems like an eternity. The 14th is my last day at work, and I'd planned it so I'd only have enough time to furiously pack, and I'd be in Bellingham before I'd know what happened. Oh well. I suppose my grandma's more important. Maybe I can get her to help me pack.

Whew

I don't know if I did it on purpose or if it was just a nasty coincidence, but I predicted how my whole summer was going to go. A week or two before heading home for the summer, I updated my facebook account to let everyone know that my summer activities would go as follows:

Well I been workin’ in a coal mine
Goin’ down down
Workin’ in a coal mine
Whew about to slip down
Five o’clock in the mornin’
I’m up before the sun
When my work day is over
I’m too tired for havin’ fun
Lord I am so tired
How long can this go on
I been workin’ goin’ workin’
Whew about to slip down

It's completely accurate. It's a rare day I manage to stay up past 10 pm. Between getting off work and bed I usually opt for reading a book, rather than make an attempt to go and entertain/be entertained by other people.

Take today. I'm thinking about turning off my phone so I don't have to keep the plans I made on Tuesday. Does this make me a bitch, or just tired? Not sure. I suppose more of a bitch, because instead of seeing Sam I want to go to Jessica's used book store in Tacoma.

Later that same day...

My parents left for some place this morning, not sure where. Let me check. ... Glenacres Inn. Anyway, most of the day was a celebration of solitude, as most of my summer has been. I got lazy and hot and decided to walk around in my underwear after I got off work. Here it is, 6 hours later, and the idea of putting on the boy's boxers to sleep makes me feel all itchy and uncomfortable.

Things I did today: ate two bowls of Special K strawberries and 2 granola bars. That's all. But you should see how many empty Diet Pepsi cans are laying around. Found 3 different tubes of KY Jelly in my mom's nightstand. You didn't want to know, but neither did I. I stole her quarters for this year's laundry money as payback. Found $150 cash in an old wallet that's been sitting in a drawer of junk in my closet for about 3 years. Melted down 5 candles - 4 in a soap dish and 1 in my parents' hanging candle holder. The whole candle search was the original reason for digging through my parents' drawers. I learned my lesson there.

I've been reading up on my friends' summer blogs, and I'm feeling a definite lack of enthusiasm from my quarter. Oh, Bellingham will be lovely. I'm psyched about getting up there and finding a job and really digging my feet in to make this next year work. But there's also that part inside of me that is screaming "ohshitohshitohshit" over and over again. Certain people can make that voice go away. Left alone, however, and that voice will tear through me and prevent any kind of normal social functioning. I didn't read books all through junior high and high school because they were more interesting than the people around me. I read them because I needed that barrier to keep me from facing my fears.

Has anyone ever heard of this? "Face your fears"? I'm sure the term has been around forever, but it's a specific thing that the boys on my junior high bus did to each other. Face your fears meant that as you got off the bus, you had to trip and let everyone make fun of you. I only remember two of them ever doing it, but it came up at least once a week. Well, this year at Western I'm going to have to face my fears. I don't have a cousin and a clone to fall back on. I might have to take Chanel's definition of a break from the boy just to get myself into perspective. But I'm not going to hole up in my room and sit around in my underwear. I'm going to ride my bike and walk downtown and sit in the coffee shops and finally go down to the Downtown side of the waterfront.

I'm also going to buy some candles.

Stars - Your Ex-Lover is Dead

Man. I just spent a good 15 minutes trying to log in to Blogger. I guess Google acquired it officially since now and the last time I posted, and they tried to tell me I have no other login than my gmail account. Very annoying.

I've been in a bit of a blue funk all day. All week, really.

I may be driving myself nuts over nothing, but at least I've got the support of my parents. Most of the evening was spent wandering in and out of my dad's office, laying on the bed in there and complaining about how bored I was. About an hour ago I finally spilled what was on my mind, and he simply put his hand on my shoulder and said, "I've been watching you. You've put a lot of time and effort into this, and I'm proud. Even if things don't work out, I'm impressed." Maybe it didn't fix all the paranoia running through my head, but at least I know someone's got my back.

Excerpt from East of Eden

Cal crept quietly down the dark hall and edged into the room where he and his brother slept. He saw the outline of his brother's head against the pillow in the double bed, but he could not see whether Aron slept. Very gently he eased himself in on his side and turned slowly and laced his fingers behind his head and stared at the myriads of tiny colored dots that make up darkness. The window shade bellied slowly in and then the night wind fell and the worn shade flapped quietly against the window.
A gray, quilted melancholy descended on him. He wished with all his heart that Aron had not walked away from him out of the wagon shed. He wished with all his heart that he had not crouched listening at the hall door. He moved his lips in the darkness and made the words silently in his head and yet he could hear them.
"Dear Lord," he said, "let me be like Aron. Don't make me mean. I don't want to be. If you will let everybody like me, why, I'll give you anything in the world, and if I haven't got it, why, I'll go for to get it. I don't want to be mean. I don't want to be lonely. For Jesus' sake, Amen." Slow warm tears were running down his cheeks. His muscles were tight and he fought against making any crying sound or sniffle.
Aron whispered from his pillow in the dark, "You're cold. You've got a chill." He stretched out his hand to Cal's arm and felt the goose bumps there. He asked softly, "Did Uncle Charles have any money?"
"No," said Cal.
"Well, you were out there long enough. What did Father want to talk about?"
Cal lay still, trying to control his breathing.
"Don't you want to tell me?" Aron asked. "I don't care if you don't tell me."
"I'll tell," Cal whispered. He turned on his side so that his back was toward his brother. "Father is going to send a wreath to our mother. A big goddamn wreath of carnations."
Aron half sat up in bed and asked excitedly, "He is? How's he going to get it clear there?"
"On the train. Don't talk so loud."
Aron dropped back to a whisper. "But how's it going to keep fresh?"
"With ice," said Cal. "They're going to pack ice all around it."
Aron asked, "Won't it take a lot of ice?"
"A whole hell of a lot of ice," said Cal. "Go to sleep now."
Aron was silent, and then he said, "I hope it gets there fresh and nice."
"It will," said Cal. And in his mind he cried, "Don't let me be mean."

****

Now for some back story to help you understand. Cal and Aron are twin 11 year old boys. Aron is blond and beautiful and loved by everyone. Cal is dark and quiet and unrecognized. He lashes out against this rejection by hurting people, making them feel ignorant and distrusting themselves. Aron believes their mother is dead and buried across the country. Cal has just learned by eavesdropping that their mother is the owner of a whorehouse in town.

This was the passage that made me realize this book is everyone's life, wrapped up in fiction. I've personally had those nights where I've cried for acceptance, begged some unknown force to make me let go of my rejection and the cruel thoughts that follow. I can't imagine many who haven't. To not be afraid of those dark thoughts simply isn't human.

Anyway, anyone out there who can appreciate a good book, pick up East of Eden, by John Steinbeck. I cry every time I read it, so you should at least feel some slight twinge of emotion.

Sick Day

While laying stretched out across my bed at 10:30 this morning, trying to fall asleep again, I had the most wonderful daydream.

I imagined myself riding my bike around the block. Naked.

One Month Later!

I've been informed that my blog is in sad need of an update. So here it is: my life story.

Yesterday during an impulsive trip to the ortho, it was discovered that my teeth needed just a tiny bit more readjusting. I am now the proud new owner of a very, very painful new retainer (well, thank god the guy does invisalign, right? No braces!) Unfortunately, this leaves me feeling not too hot. The boy saw first hand how much it hurts to take them in and out, not to mention what eating is like. Soft foods only, thanks. Today when I screamed my frustration out for several minutes in an empty house, I decided that painkillers might be the only option. Alas, the good stuff is well over a year old. It seems that no matter how clumsy and accident-prone I tend to be, it's never enough to warrant a visit to the doctor. And perhaps year-old narcotics aren't the greatest idea. Twenty minutes into my shift at work, I broke out into a sweat, got very very dizzy and very very nauseous. Fortunately my boss is very understanding, and I was soon slowly driving the mile back home to my house, where I could lay down and wait for the room to stop spinning. The pills, naturally, ended up in the toilet.

In other news, I spent much of the afternoon with Tommy, Hayley, and Jessica. Before the two girls joined us, Tommy and I dinked around with my bike. We managed to get the tires filled again (a superhuman feat, I assure you) but the Slime experiment failed miserably. That green goo's been injected into my tires so many times that it started seeping out before we'd fully deflated my tires. Instead I just stole my dad's hand pump and I plan on taking it with me everywhere I go from now on. I think I'll tell him tomorrow evening when he gets home.

Other than that, my evening consisted of many episodes of Veronica Mars and several packets of Minute Made fruit snacks.

Oh, and one last thing. I am loving this whole room/bathroom/entire house to one's self for the better portion of the day. My bathroom is piled high with clothes in a way it never was when Scott was still around. My new big bed gets more attention than my computer chair. Books are strewn carelessly about, joined by the many cans of Diet Coke that my parents keep supplying. Home is Heaven.

HiC's Legal!

... In Canada. Elaina and I went out to Anthony's to celebrate. They gave us an option of waiting 20 minutes for a table or going directly to the bar to eat. We were both insulted and pleased because 1) we looked 21! and 2) we weren't in Canada. Damn.

Things I got: 48 capsule box of Sudafed Sinus Headache, bag of Riesens, Communist Party t-shirt, free lunch, free pastry from worker at free lunch's location, a 10 minute phone call from my mother, flowers (from the weekend), free dinner, and the fantastic memory of running down the street in heels and a sundress, holding my coat over my head as the rain poured down.

Happy Birthday to me!

My Bad

This is an apology to my weekend companion: I suck. Not only did I give the worst performance of a sane person ever seen, but I had the audacity to put the blame on someone else. Last night I feel deeply asleep around 9:30 and slept blissfully for 12 hours. I woke up, sore and sniffly, to the realization that the constant headache of Sunday evening wasn't just from being tired and whiny, but also from the oncoming spring cold. The next few days will be spent napping and spending time with the couch while I try to own up and girdle my loins for next weekend.

Also, my birthday is tomorrow.

Blurb

With all these beautiful sunny days in a row we're having, I'm fast running out of things to do. Yesterday I talked to a girl about kayaking -- plans fell through and here I am wondering what to do.

Last night was a fun late-night frolick with Ben. He wouldn't call it any kind of late, but since we left after dark, I say it counts. Saw the movie Stick It, which is fabulously entertaining when you have no idea what to expect.

Tonight is the BBQ! It's possible that it will be a huge flop - too many people invited, not enough confirmations. However, the simple idea of grilling burgers and wearing a sundress is enough for me.

The end of the year is bearing down on me with the same unexpected speed that the end of last summer did. I've realized that this life is one helluva fantastic game for me. Studying, playing, lounging in the sun at parks on a blanket or walking back and forth across campus at night -- I'm going to miss it all. The friends I've made are ones that I'm hesitant to lose. Who knows how summer will bring? It won't be like last summer, I already know that. RJ will be in Seattle, so no late-night cartwheeling rampages at Saghalie. Gas prices are shooting higher every day, so even the Seattle<-->Federal Way commute could hurt. Chanel, well, I like to hope we'll just forget all the distance that's come between us this year and just be summer sisters again. I'm pretty sure she thinks the same way, so it shouldn't be too bad. (There's also one huge stress factor that's been resolved. No more moping around 25% of the time.)

Not that I really have a whole lot of interest in worrying about the coming months. Daylight is practically endless, the sun is out and it just keeps getting warmer. How could anyone feel bad about life??

Tag

This game starts with 6 weird/quirky habits/things about yourself. Fun on a stick, love.

1. I sleep with a pillow between my legs. It's supposed to be good for the hips, but honestly, I don't care. It's just more comfortable.

2. I only floss my teeth in the morning.

3. When I was 13, I stole two of my oldest brother's CD's: Greenday's Dookie and Third Eye Blind's first album. These days, I cannot stand listening to Green Day, but turn 3eb on every day.

4. Every time someone else says 'good' instead of 'well', I feel smugly superior. Even though I usually make the same mistake.

5. If anyone else is in the house/dorm, I can't fully relax while taking a shower.

6. I like to eat sour cream straight from the carton.

Hot Apple Cider

I went on a bike ride this afternoon! It felt fantastic, it was the first time I've had time to go out and do some real hard exercise since the first week of this quarter. After a fiasco with pumping up Jack's bike tires so Elaina could ride it, we took off with sunglasses on and hair flying, legs pumping and hearts thumping. I had one destination in mind - Fairhaven Park (or Chuckanut Park, I've heard both names for it). People were scattered about the park on blankets and towels, soaking in the sun and enjoying the afternoon. Some people played basketball, some played frisbee, several clumps of girls were laying around in their bikinis, and one couple was chasing their pet rabbit around on the grass. I'm planning on going back many, many times -- but with a good book. The Tale of Genji may be the first novel ever written, but that doesn't make it a good read.

Home

My brother, his girlfriend, my cousin and I all went down to Bellingham's Secret Beach today. Much like the secret beach in Federal Way, there is a giant driftwood fort. That's where the similarities end. This beach extends forever in all directions, with no gross port boats in your way - literally, it's just you, the beach, and the rest of the bay. During low tide you can walk out onto the muddy dunes until you're almost a half mile away from the 'real' beach. Dogs love it, they go mad chasing the seagulls and often attempt to swim the impassable current out to the other sandbars.

About this fort, though. Before the police came and tore it down with chainsaws, it had two stories and multiple rooms. Brent showed me the extent of the fort -- it covered more ground than the house I'll be living in next year does. All sorts of inspiring phrases are written on the different pieces of driftwood - some are also painted in exotic colors. Locals who built the fort are currently working on resurrecting it - one large room is finished so far, lashed down with wires - and in the meantime, a sign dedicates the site "In Loving Memory of The Villa".

Basically, I love that place. Someday a dear, close friend of mine will find access to a car, and we'll drive all around Bellingham together, exploring and discovering all these fantastic locales. I don't know who this lovely friend will be, but in the meantime, Brent will do.

I need to: eat at Diego's, rediscover the route to the beach, stand in awe of the expensive mansions along the way, find Brent's pink house, and fire-bake hot dogs next to the ocean. Next week Elaina and I will try to arrange a BBQ at Lake Padden, and if that doesn't work, I'm going kayaking.

Eye of the Tiger

Mid-conversation with my roommates last night, I stumbled upon a fantastic concept: withdrawl. Not the kind I'm used to, where I miss my boyfriend/sleep/reading/anything I passionately love and desire and haven't been getting enough of. No, I'm talking about the kind of withdrawl where you stop going to class and receive a W on your transcript instead of an F. So here it is, kids: Not only did I get to learn about Islamic conflicts in the Middle East and read all sorts of materials I never would have picked up on my own, but I don't have to write a paper about it and I don't have to go back ever again. Celebrate!

So here it is, 2:30... There are plenty of options out there, but I think I'm going to take a nap.

My own true love, lost at sea.

I got all excited about the possibility of wearing one of my new dresses today... So of course the weather turned gross. It's actually not too bad, all cloudy and semi-raining but the ground's still dry enough to wear flipflops. I'm going to the doctor this afternoon, having them re-examine my toe and give me some kind of diagnosis. Maybe I'll just have them rip the whole thing out and let it grow back under a fake toenail, like Elaina claims she did.

Tristan und Isolde

In celebration of the recent amazing weather, I've spent no less than 8 hours, probably more, in direct sunlight within the last 48 hours. Hey, I know it's not a whole lot, but I have to go to class sometime. The result of these 8 hours of sun is that I now have a nice sunburn on my right shoulder and left boob. Weird? Definitely. But my face also has a healthy rosy tint, and I smell like sun and sun-induced sweat. It's my favorite smell in the world, second only to banana-scented sunscreen.

In other news, Nick and I went to Fred Meyer today in search of leftover Snickers Eggs. Our search was a failure, or a success, depending how you look at it. Vault soda (aka Surge reincarnated) is selling for 79 cents! It was delicious, and I stayed awake all through math today. Yes, those two facts are directly correlated.

Tonight I just may be watching a chick flick with 'Lainey. This Tuesday is, surprisingly, shaping up to be not so bad.

Wednesday AM

I have a test in 45 minutes that I have neither studied for nor bothered to read the textbook for. I failed a math test on Friday (40% whoo-hoo!) but essentially aced my Spanish test yesterday. Today I am going to stop trying to read The Question of Palestine (I went to class. I heard what we were supposed to get out of it), and instead jump joyfully into the Satanic Verses. Other plans for today include: sleeping, talking to teacher about said failed math test, perhaps watch a movie with my cousin's boyfriend (or go jean shopping with cousin, whoever wants me more), and finish getting dressed. Right now I am only wearing one shoe, and I know someone who might be mad about that.

The moral of this story is that I have nothing to talk about except how busy I am. I am just that uninteresting. I'm going to be one of those pregnant women who only talk about their pregnancy, then proceed into being one of those moms who only talk about their kids. My life can only associate with the here-and-now because I have no imagination. Sorry all you others who are unlike me, I can't talk to you. I just wouldn't understand.

Technocakes are the new fad. Goodbye, Cake Cakes.

On a normal day, I would kill for just two whole hours to do nothing. And by nothing I mean play on the computer and take pictures of myself and play with my hair.

But then we have today. The notorious Wednesday. Yes, yes, I know I had the exact same schedule every Wednesday last quarter, but going from constant stress and over-work and absolutely zero downtime to... this... this smorgasbord of free time... it scares me. I'm like a mole who's been digging, digging, digging away in his dark little tunnel who suddenly hits the surface and is surrounded by this world of bright lights and dogs barking and open air. I don't know where to start. Instead, I find myself sifting through Cosmo, listening to Moby, taking pictures of myself and playing with my hair.

I have about 3 hours before I even need to start thinking about that movie I'm supposed to watch tonight. In the meantime, I'm sorely tempted to go down to Haggen and buy expensive facial cleansers, lotions, bronzers and eye-makeup remover. (Not eye drops, though. I have more eye drops than any person could plausibly use in their lifetime. Hey, I'm not a stoner! I just get seriously over-concerned every time something abnormal happens to me, provoking me to go out and buy tons and tons of different medicines to cure whatever that abnormal color may be. Turns out it was pinkeye, so the Visine was pointless.)

I don't think I'll be buying any facial cleansers. Maybe a moisturizer, because I really do need one of those. But if I do make it down to Haggen, I'll be going for the fruit. Mmm, just the thought of a ripe peach, or a juicy mango, or better yet --- freshly cut pineapple!! -- has me very, very excited.

New pictures on Flickr, by the way.

Feeling like a Criminal

If you haven't noticed it already, I got a flickr account! (That's what that pretty flashy little box is over on your right.) Unfortunately, life mostly consists of homework and studying right now. These things don't make for good photo ops. Perhaps tomorrow at Open Mic something will inspire me, but mostly, I'm holding onto the thing for parties, get-togethers, and when RJ's not looking.

Breakdown

You know you're stressed when a series of cute animal photos with cliche phrases makes you cry.

I walked out mid-class today, shaking and sweating, heart beating rapidly. It's time to sleep.

I ♥ Mom

A few weeks ago when I was home, there were a couple days when I worked from early in the morning til late in the afternoon. On one of these days, I came home and crashed on the couch, refusing to get back up. My mother asked if I was okay. "Uhnn, today was terrible," I replied. Which caused her to immediately intone, "Aw, my poor Alexander. Alexander and the Terrible," at which point I joined in and we chanted together, "Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day!" I laughed as my mom continued, "Bad days happen everywhere, even in Australia."

Just One More Moondance

Elaina made me smile today. She went to get her hair cut, and when the hairdresser commented on its choppiness, she said "I let my little cousin cut it."

Today, right before deciding to head back to the dorm, I came down with the ever-dreaded low blood sugar tremors. After a quick stop by the VC for a late night sandwich, I commenced with the walking. And realized I left my keys to the dorm on my desk, at the same time my cell phone died mid-conversation with my mother. Fortunately, fate is on my side today. Someone was going into the dorm the very moment I walked up.

Other fateful things today. The homework I did before class was the wrong assignment (tonight's), but I finished the real one a mere 15 minutes after class. I now have nothing due until Thursday, supposedly. Also, Ryan's house is amazing. Lovely. Small yet perfect. I can't wait until September now, because I am going to looove my last year at Western (last two quarters? Spain, I hope so!!)

That's about it, though. If I don't get completely stressed out and fall apart mid-quarter, I'll be surprised.

No Pants Saturdays

Yesterday went by in a blur. I believe it was late Wednesday night I decided to call up a random stranger for a last-minute ride to Seattle. Friday morning I got up after about 5 hours of sleep to take a world record breaking Long Shower. It felt good, although I almost fell asleep a few times and only had maybe 45 minutes to get dressed, dry hair, and eat before class. I'd planned on giving myself 2 hours.

Maybe it's a little weird for other people to read about me and my hopeful friends, but oh well. There's this guy in my human geography and spanish classes, so we walk from one to the next together. After 2 quarters of this class with the same people, I'm finally making another friend besides Lauren.

But after Spanish I had to rush back to the dorm to pack, so I missed the first actual meeting of the Breakfast Lunch Club. Maybe Brunch Club would be easier, but then you miss the reference to the classic 80's movie that we're trying to imitate.

The whole ride to Bellevue was awkward. The girl I'd talked into giving me a ride fell asleep almost immediately, so I got to talk to her mom about swimming and working at the pool for two hours. Yeah... At one point while mentally going over how I'd get from Bellevue to Seattle, and what I'd do for four hours, I realized: William! That guy lives in Bellevue! (Turns out that he actually lives in Redmond now -- it's been so long since we've talked that I had no idea.) He picked me up and off we went to see Failure to Launch. And Elaina was right. That movie is hilarious! It's a chick flick, yes, but the supporting characters are what makes it memorable. Zooey what's-her-face plays an acoholic with a bird problem. ... Anyway. William and I had Pepsi and Pizza Rolls and some of his mom's homemade gingersnaps. We talked about his tendency to fall in love with girls after meeting them once and how his car is now a death trap.

Once I got to Seattle, there was one last Big Thing before I met up with the boy. While standing around looking for him, I saw Aaron Borth. Yes, Aaron! The big lanky kid I used to hang out with for days and days on end during junior high! I got a big ol' hug from him and waved good-bye, since neither of us had much time to actually talk.

And then there's the frat. RJ says "sure, it was a party," but only because there were a lot of girls around. I figure, if they make t-shirts for the event, it's a party. Which means that the entire last week has just been one long beer party. We ate steaks and chocolate chip cookie bars and drank free beer. We played caps and fooseball and sat around in a hugely overcrowded hottub before stuffing ourselves with ranch pizzas and holing up in the room for the rest of the night. And by holing up I mean passing out while RJ played video games.

Awesome Friday, no? This weekend was a great idea.

Feeling Fine

I stick loneliness
Your lips
And the two coins of your eyes
Into my pocket

"Big" things have been happening lately. The other night at Open Mic Night, I ran into Ryan. You know, that nice boy who lived across from me first quarter, who I'd donate plasma with and otherwise didn't know very well. He's got a house on Lakeway somewhere, and the rent is $250 a month. I haven't seen it yet, but I've talked it over with my mom. She's okay with my plan to move out. Now I'm all excited, hoping against hope that there's a bus stop right near the house, or that I'll come across a car over the summer. I want the house to be clean and sturdy, the bathroom not a Lebanese war-zone. Last night I was up for hours thinking about moving out, studying abroad, transfering schools, etc. Now one of them is an honest possibility that I can see clearly ahead of me. It's not just some vague half-wish, half-plan that I got into my head one night over a cup of coffee. Most of my future goals are coffee-plans. This one began in a coffee house, but I definitely only drank water that night.

If I move out, I'll need new things. A mattress and a bed frame, for one. Cleaning supplies. A dresser, more hangers. Bookshelves? I could always stack them around my room, but that's tacky. A desk. What else?? What else do people need to survive? More dishes, I guess. Cooking utensils, things like a can opener and tupperware. I'm sure most of this stuff I could recycle from home... Though I certainly don't want to same bed I've got at my house. It's half broken and creaks when I roll over.

I won't go into everything else on my mind. Transfering to UW is taking up most of my thoughts, plus what classes I'll need to take. I'm thinking about talking to an advisor while RJ's working this Friday.

Besides all that, I've been doing schoolwork. This is going to be a hard quarter, but I'm okay with it. I spend most of my day in the Underground Coffeehouse, camped out on a couch doing math and reading my heavy Middle Eastern politics book. I get through 5-10 pages and have to put it down to soak it in.. And I have two weeks to finish it. So it goes everywhere I go, and I take it out whenever I can.

Anyway. Rj's on the phone now, so I guess I'm done.

Carry On, Love is Coming

I've had water stuck in my left ear for the last hour. It started announcing its presence while I was walking through the parking lot -- I may have scared some motorists with my erratic sideways head-banging. Here it is, 5:15, and no matter how I swing my head or how many Q-tips I use, it's still there. This is one of life's lessons: the smallest annoyance will become expontentially worse for every minute you can't get rid of it.

Damn it feels good to be a gansta

Earlier tonight, I viciously ended a lovely phone conversation in hopes of getting some sleep before getting up at 7 am. Turns out that was a bad idea since here it is, 2:30 am, and I'm still wide awake and kicking. I was planning on writing about this weekend later this afternoon, but now seems as good a time as any.

The boy and I decided, early last week, to rekindle our old flames and go on a random adventure. Seeing as it's still below 70 at night, our best bet for fun and laughs would be some obscure show in Seattle. He pulled out his trusty Seattle Weekly, and while I played Animal Crossing in my bed, he described all the possible events during our chosen timeslot. It took many repeats, a few lamentations over impossibly fantastic shows going on while I'd be back in Bellingham, and several enthusiastic exclamations for ridiculously unimportant events. Eventually we settled on some band called the Super Geek League, a 40-man band that provides its own refreshments. We were intrigued.

Friday came along. I'd been working 10 hours previously, was functioning on 5 hours of sleep, but was determined to make it through the night. Our destination was a little-known joint known as The Paradox (not to be confused with the Paramount, a mistake that I was ridiculed for.) This location popped out of nowhere along the roadside, was completely unremarkable, but the inside was perfection. RJ was merely impressed by the seperation of the cafe/sitting area and the concert room. I not only worshipped the booths and tall round tables with stools (yes, my foot is still bothering me), but decided that I, too, would someday cover my walls in velvet curtains.

The opening bands aren't worth mentioning much. Though the first sang multiple times about pumpkins, and after a few sets a man in a chicken suit wearing a blue wig and WWII gas mask came running into the crowd. His dancing was ridiculous, with flailing arms and jumping and rolling around. He worshipped the pumpkin on stage, stole it and ran around the room with it held high in the air while other spectators chased him. For a few moments a goth girl had him by the ankle and slung him recklessly around on the floor.

Then came The Super Geek League. There was too much to accurately remember. The trendy girl I was jealous of turned out to be a Naughty School Girl who stripped onstage and danced through an entire set, while the Robot Bunny with visible gentalia ran around poking people in the crowd. The first song featured a gorilla on a trampoline throwing bananas into the crowd. We were hesitant at first, until the lead singer assured us, "Don't be afraid to eat the bananas!" along with a reminder that potassium is healthy. The moment I noticed the banana flung at my feet, someone grabbed it and ran away. I was sad for a whole ten seconds, before I saw what was going on around me again.

Other acts included Captain Plastic, who wrapped the crowd in saran wrap, the people with balloons for heads who were trying to hide in the crowd, but were mercilessly pulled onstage and executed (it's impossible to tell you the feeling of surprise, incredulity and amusement as the first man was held down, despite his struggling, then the sudden BANG! and he goes limp, his head gone.) There was a vicious water fight, the target of the crowd's agression being a girl in a vintage 1920's bathing suit and cap, who valiantly threw any balloon that failed to pop. Immediately after there was a huge pillow fight, including the use of stuffed animals that had been soaked in water during the water fight. A moose head was flung in our direction - RJ might've kept it if he hadn't shoved it in my face, which prompted me to throw it back into the crowd. Something about wet moose cotton in my face just doesn't encourage my feelings of sentimentality. A fat cannibal pushed a shopping cart loaded with free pizza around the room -- one of the severed heads on the tray actually turned out to be a crazy lady hidden inside the cart, though her antics never hindered anyone from obtaining a slice. As a warning to all those who drink the school milk, some crazy hormone-infected man came out and poured milk all over himself while his henchmen ran about with squirt guns loaded with milk.

The final act was the most inspirational. They'd rigged a leaf blower into a toilet paper launcher - whole rolls of t.p. were dispersed in moments, flung far across the crowd in an arc of white ribbon.

After an incredible show like that, there wasn't much else we could do with our night. We were back in Fedtown by midnight, and by 1 am I was catching snatches of sleep off the questionably clean tabletops at Shari's. Paying for dinner was a fiasco that will leave me under the power of an ungodly effective guilt trip for months to come. My sleep that night was one of the best ones in history.

Law and Order is Boooring

This break has been easy. Easy, somewhat antisocial, mostly relaxing. Why bother calling up old Federal Way friends when I have to get up early every day to work? Take tonight. The right thing would've been to find Chanel, finally, and have our long-awaited reunion. But then I thought, hmm, at work by 5:30? Up at 4:30? Maybe I'll just try to go to bed early. Sooo... Yeah. I'll see people during the summer, I guess.

I've watched one movie a day, at least, since being home. V for Vendetta was the best quality - Bride and Prejudice, a Bollywood version of the classic Jane Austen classic, was by far the most fun. I want to watch more Bollywood musicals now.

Next Stop: Shower

I wish Bellingham could be everything that Federal Way is right now. Sunny, comforting.. home. Maybe a car and a job would do that. Maybe local friends and the history of many years and the knowledge of locations. Of all the things I love about Bellingham, I don't love enough. I don't know where to go on a sunny Monday afternoon (Steel Lake, Dumas Bay, Dash Point) or things like how that one house has always had a fake plastic horse in its front yard, and how that other house goes completely buck-wild with Christmas lights.

Either way. I'll never pick Federal Way over Bellingham. I'll come home every now and then, summer won't be as bad as I thought it might be, and Bellingham will either become my new home, or I'll go somewhere else.

Work is my comfort place while I'm home. I can go to the Federal Way Pool, and like Ryan, sit around all day. I can swim laps any time I want, talk to Michelle or Bryce, answer the phone and joke with the kids from the high school on the other side of the parking lot.

Alright. Time for the story to begin. I don't think I'm going to do it justice -- too many days have gone by, my frame of mind has done a complete 180, and I just don't know what to think of it all. Last Wednesday I met up with Greg at Bay Street. He reminded me of Jon, in a way that even I can't explain. Maybe I'm just looking for a Jon in my life now. We talked family and jobs and music and books and movies. We went to a "museum" of hands-on interactive technologically interesting exhibits. It reminded me of the Science Center, only geared to older people. I have to say, I was disappointed there wasn't a bubble curtain. Either way, it was a fun little afternoon, though the girls back at the dorm put a lot more hype to it than they should've. (Julia sat and waiting for 3 hours for me to get back. It scared me.) So the reaction goes like this: I like Greg. He's nice and intelligent and perhaps if we hang out again, we'll find some sort of common ground that we can sit and make fun of other people about. That was how it began with Tom and I, you know. Making fun of people at the pool. Anyway, I'm hoping we can get to be pretty good friends. Hate to get back to this catchphrase again, but I want to meet new people. Make new friends. And he's new people, a new friend.

The result of this friend revelation, was, naturally, that things are not over between RJ and I. At all. I guess that was obvious. Our continuing 2-hour phone conversations every night. My reminiscing about summer and the times we drove to Bothell looking for my fisherman's pond. We have another summer heading our way, and I want to spend it with him.

It was a good decision. We're still completely incapable of pulling off a real date. Friday, we watched a rented movie - Mirror Mask - with mixed drinks made of leftover alcohol, fresh fruit, and Dog and Tom sitting with me on the couch while he was alone on the chair. We're both awkward with the idea of each other's parents now - I swear his mom looks at me funny, and he won't even come in my house. There's a lot we need to get through still, but we'll do it.

As for Tom and Chanel! Well, there's not a whole lot of news about them. Tom's hair is still shockingly beautiful, I've learned more about him in the last few days than I did all last summer, and he's thinking about visiting me during his Spring Break! While waiting for RJ at the pool hall, this was his Quote: "No matter what happens between you two, I'm still the guy who took you to Prom. Don't you forget it!" Chanel, well, I haven't seen her yet. I'm debating if I should see her today, or take this lovely opportunity of a day to drive up to Seattle. We'll see.

Finally. And right now, the most important. Anyone who has listened to me babble about books has eventually heard this from me. I've probably written it up here before. But Third Eye Blind is my favorite band. In one of their songs they claim, "I read dead Russian writers, volumes at a time." Ever since I heard it, I've been inspired to read the Russian classics. Anna Karenina scared me -- far too long, far too much talk about expenses and social theories. But since I've started reading Doctor Zhivago, I've become hooked. It's not one of those books that you can't put down, have to stay up all night reading. Sometimes I don't like those books - they're over too fast, and because of that I feel that there isn't enough content, enough new ideas that make you sit and think and go "hmm...". I like the "hmm..." factor. Doctor Zhivago has that. The Doctor has been able to explain my religious beliefs better than I've ever been able to grasp -- I don't want to get into religious preaching, so read the book. Within the first 100 pages you'll know exactly how I feel about God and formal religion. So there's your "hmm..." factor. Then there's the pure excitement. The women shooting ex-lovers, husbands joining the war as their only escape from their wives, and said wives becoming nurses to go find their husbands when they go missing. All within the first 100 pages! Ahh... Russian love.

Turkey, Cheese, Mayo, Spicy Mustard, and This Really Thick Healthy Bread That Could be a Meal On Its Own

For the last three days, every time I eat a "meal" (read: sandwich, hot pocket) I get the hiccups. I figure it's either because I don't breathe while I chew (thus resorting to giant gasps for breath between bites) or because I'm always staring at some sort of electronic equipment. Like now, with my mom's laptop. Or yesterday, with RJ's Nintendo DS, right before I broke it with a crumb.

Since I'm only working 'til 2 today, whereas I thought I'd be at the pool 'til 4, I solemnly swear that I will make a longer post this afternoon. Right after I take a shower and shave my legs and figure out who I love the most and want to visit: RJ in Seattle, Chanel in Federal Way, or Jon in the land of No Idea What That Guy is Up To These Days.

Cinnamon Roll Oatmeal

Things have turned out to be a bit busier than I thought. Maybe I'll find time tomorrow to do my mentally mapped out gigantic update, growing daily. But hey, no worries! Everything's going well - Tom still loves me, I see/talk to him every day, and Chanel called last night. I guess my F-dub friends didn't forget me after all.

Nothing good comes easily (sometimes you've got to fight)

Last week, I was scurrying furiously around campus trying to find a way - any way, honestly - to take my Logic final early. Professor Downing didn't like it when I lied about a family vacation, so I dropped it and settled into a bored resignation.

Looking at how things worked out, I'm glad I stayed.

Yesterday was an Event. I can't say exactly what it was because I'm teasing RJ about it, but maybe Saturday I'll write the whole play-by-play. It was nothing bad. In fact, it was part of a chain of events that I hope will make everyone happier and more satisfied with life than they are already.

In other news, I sold my books back today. For my $8 1/2 lb paperback Logic book, I got $25. For my $60 5lb rice paper concrete brick English book, I got nothing. I put it in a box full of other books that people couldn't sell back, but didn't want to hold onto. But y'know what? I still think I won.

He'd kill Nadia, quit school.

(Sorry. I rediscovered the joy of putting interesting tidbits on here a few days ago. I'll probably be on here several times over the next few weeks, then drop back to 'mehh, tired, went to class, nothing to say.')

This is what Brent has to say to the world about our "hometown":

Wow, I had no idea so many people hate that place as much as I do. I always pretended that I was the sole survivor, a lone refugee that escaped to Bellingham. We moved around a lot for a while when I was younger, and FW was where we finally settled down. Of all the places in the northwest we had been, FW was by far the worst. Here's how it all happened.

Parents: We're moving back to Federal Way.
Kids: Why the HELL would you want to do that?
Parents: We kind of like it there.
Kids: It's nothing but SPRAWL, the WHOLE CITY, the nasty leftovers from every city within 50 miles.
Parents: Leftovers? You mean like... lasagna?
Kids: No... like poop.
Parents: Poop?
Kids: Yeah, poop. You know, from a butt.
Parents: Well, we're moving there anyway.
Kids: ........


You can tell my brother's been reading PennyArcade quite religiously these days.

The Winner is Me

I'm lazy. I'm stubborn. But it all usually works out for me.

Take today.

I went with Julia to Bellis Faire, to meet up with Annie and buy things to decorate her room. Unfortunately, I somehow sprained my foot while running earlier. After about 20 minutes of limping around and cussing under my breath, I gave up and went out to catch a bus back home. Well, I got the wrong bus. Sort of. I got on the bus at 5:08. I didn't get back to BT until 6:42. (Not an exact time there or anything.) Basically, I figured the bus would get there eventually, so I sat through 3 stops at bus depots, endless loops, and drunk dirty bearded men sitting near me. But I kept sitting. And sitting. And nursing my foot. And chewing my gum furiously. And being entertained by the little asian toddler that was laughing at my funny faces.

Anyway, the moral of this story is: instead of having to transfer buses or even give up my seat, I went from Bellis Faire to BT's doorstop. It took me an hour and a half to do it - but I beat the system!

Not to be mean, But...

So, 5 am, here we are again. You know, we have a very odd relationship. You're really not one of my favorite people to hang out with (no offense). And yet, look at us! What is this, the third? Fourth day in a row? Look, I'm sure you're a really cool guy around other people, but you're just not my type. Maybe we can give it another shot in a few days, but seriously, right now, I need some time away from you.

Weakerthans are on repeat - sorry Zolof

All you ever want to do is drink and watch TV,
frankly that thing doesn't really interest me.

Today better not be an example of the days to come. I've been up since 6 am, wandering around waiting for the time to pass. 8 am final went well - I'm hoping to pull a strong B from that class, which isn't bad considering my brain's programmed to learn german, not spanish.

Ever since, well, not much has happened. I went for a run. We moved in a new suitemate. Brent and I went grocery shopping, he bought me this nasty jug of cheap Potter's vodka. Guaranteed hangover tomorrow. Mostly I've been rereading this blog, looking for comments I've missed, reminiscing about the old days when Chanel and I were inseperable, before RJ was numero uno BFFL. Maybe I'll see her next week, but I probably won't outside work -- the last two times I've been in town, it just hasn't happened.

So instead of doing something healthy and invigorating, Nick, John Books and I are all getting trashed on cheap vodka and quality orange juice. I don't know where, I don't know when, but we have the supplies and the will. I might try to bring the 6 lb bag of pretzels along, just to get rid of it.

I Hate Sundays

Alright, here's the deal. I fell asleep around 2 am, which is surprising considering I was only out on the town until 10, when Natalie and I headed back to the dorm. Oh, of course there was a reason to be up. There always is. This time it was Spider Solitaire and a long chat with a long-lost friend. I guess I was trying to avoid the fact that Sunday has to happen... As I was falling asleep, I had this incredible urge to take pictures of my toe. 'Cause, well, it's not going to be like this forever! But you're right, I should have done it last week when it still looked mean and angsty, like some 14 year old wanna-be emo punk.

Shall I tell you about my dream last night? Or this morning, I guess. I woke up at 8:30, went to the bathroom, checked a few websites, then decided it was too early to be up and went back to sleep. I dreamed that RJ and I were driving in his truck. We were coming to a stop on some backroads (near campus, I guess) and there was an assorted crowd of male Western students next to us. Some kids from Fairhaven, some football players, y'know, the whole shebang. Apparantly RJ flipped them off because he hit the gas and they started chasing us. One tall skinny kid threw his backpack into the truck to try and stop us, so RJ slowed down until they were almost on us, then put the pedal to the medal and took off. Ah, it was crazy! There was gravel spurting and yelling and fists being raised in anger. I loved it all. Naturally, I was woken up by Julia banging on the door.

(Still trying not to think about all that studying for the Spanish final tomorrow... 8 am... I haven't been up that early in weeks.)

Oh, right! Last night we went down to the Bay Street Coffee House. Natalie, Julia, and Annie wanted to see some guy they know from the Underground Coffee House, they backed him up one time with rubber band guitars. I went because, what else was I going to do on a Saturday night? Study? Nahhh. So we went, I got myself an iced latte, and we situated ourselves upstairs to hear this wonderful band whose name I don't even know. It was all screeching industrial noise, screaming in the background and the occasional hint of a melody. I thought of Vitaly Chernobyl and the Meltdowns, imagined myself in a concrete underpass and just let it happen. I loved it - Elaina would have, too.

One special thing about this coffee house. Upstairs, they have two bookcases full of dusty old classics. I could barely contain myself! If only Siggy were still in Bellingham, she and I would have made it a daily enterprise to go downtown, hit up Bay Street, drink some coffee and sit for hours thumbing through them. They had Lady Chatterly's Lover, One Hundred Years of Solitude, and Doctor Zhivago. I own the first, refuse to read the second again until I have a Spanish copy of it, and have been aching to read the third. So I palmed it. Hush, I know it's terrible to take things from a coffee house, especially one as hiptastic as this, but when Siggy moved away she took the Doctor with her.

Anyway, there was this other band that performed, some cool kids from Lynden in a decent band called Edson. The lead guitarist was this skinny, soulful type who claimed he'd never had a girlfriend. He was also the only one with a decent dose of creative talent - the rest of the strings did the typical repetition of a few easy chords that RJ has drilled into my head as being sub-par. I can't say anything about the drummer's talent - I had no complaints, but I'm no drum critic. He was good. But back to this guitarist! Aw, he was a sweetie. I found myself sitting on the balcony imagining him as this quiet bookish type with the occasional outburst of craziness (he'd have to have it, being in a band such as this.) I remembered Liz and her tendency to meet every local band member in Federal Way, and how she'd proceed to date every one of them. I wish I had her smarts on how to talk up strangers, but instead I was reduced to stalking. I went to the band website - and he is the quiet bookish type, and an English major no less! And at this point I realized, oops, stalking is Rule #1 in Things Not to Do When Attracted to Someone.

So I've admitted my problems - repented, if you will, and I'm on my way to becoming a better person.

Now I'm hungry, and I left my CD player running in the bathroom from when I took a shower an hour ago. Time to start the Sunday.

Something New

So lately there's been a lot of turmoil in my life. Everyone knows a piece of it, some know bigger pieces than others, one knows most of it. But I've found myself in a position where there isn't a single person disconnected enough from it all to pour my heart out to, and interested enough to listen.

I'm not going to do it here, either.

Anyway, tonight was just another example of the roller coaster that is my life. Let's start at 4 this afternoon, in English, talking to what I now realize could've been some really cool new people to make friends with, except none of us really opened up until a week ago. So there we were, last day of class, done with the teacher evaluations, trying to make an excuse to linger and talk. It didn't last long - Sharron and I had work to do! Off we zoomed to the Bellis Fair, where we parked our butts at some empty foodcourt tables far from other people. I snorted some quesadillas, she injected fish 'n chips into her veins. Then it was homework time for her - amazingly super awesome book about hackers for me. I knew I was letting my geek side slip through a scary amount when I started reading passages to her. Gah. Someday I'll learn to stop myself.

When we finally left the mall, acting like big stoopid teenaged highschoolers, it was starting to snow. It continued to snow as we fought our way downhill to the PAC, where we bought tickets to EVITA! Crappiest musical ever. Maybe Madonna's movie will be better, if I ever watch it. That play ruined every idea I ever had about that lovely Argentinian actress.

So then I came home. And called RJ. And he knows how that went. I feel helpless talking to him now, like everything I say and do is just screwing us up more, hurting him and making me feel guilty. We left off on a bad note, and to try and forget about, I bounced off to Late Night with Nick.

Luckily there were distractions. Like incredibly stupid stoned girls. Plus Nick being a dick (it rhymes!) to them and a waffle with strawberries to eat. Nick and I are on the verge of a beautiful friendship, if I can stop being annoyed by his arrogance. He knows it bugs me, doesn't care, so maybe that'll help.

Anyway, back home, talked to RJ again. This conversation started off bad, got better, and ended on a decent note. Maybe I can't get him another car, but if we work together we can lighten up and change the subject.

So now here I am, talking to Nick some more, winning a few games of spider solitaire, but mostly listening to my Top Rated itunes music.

I was born into the world, a friend to every falcon, shark, and bee

Born into the World - Supersystem

FANTASTIC song. I put it on repeat for an hour every couple weeks or so. It's perfect for just dancing around the dorm room, rocking out while washing the dishes. There's one part - I feel awkward for calling it my favorite part, but it really is - where the singer does some heavy panting along with the beat. That's the exact part that you realize, oh my God, sex. The heavy panting is exactly the kind that hits you when you're really exerting yourself. I love it. Not to mention that the lyrics alone make you feel like the greatest, coolest, most interesting person alive.

I keep on forgetting myself

So now my biggest concern is taking care of this toe. I know it's gross, but what else am I supposed to think about? The extra memory card sitting on my carpet? No, thanks. I'll focus on this toe, and the blisters around it, and the way I have to soak it for twenty minutes in hot soapy water every three or four hours. I'm airing it out because the white band-aid skin creeps me out. Those twenty minutes of forced stillness are good for me, too. It gives me a chance to write, to think, to sort through all this craziness flying around in my head. (I've been trying to fill up that notebook for almost three years now. Looks like I'm going to finally finish it.)

Maybe when I go home this weekend, I'll rearrange my bedroom. Finally get all my books into a decent order. Maybe there'll be some housework to do that will keep my hands busy. I can't just sit around listening to Third Eye Blind and reading forever, you know.

because life just isn't that easy

I don't think I can say "ow" enough here. I can't sleep. It's my goddamn toe. The doctor told me it probably wouldn't hurt much. MY ASS IT WON'T! It's throbbing. No pain reliever has helped. No matter where I place it, it only hurts worse. Damnit. So now here I am, dwelling on what I'd hoped to fall asleep and forget after all.

Supplies Needed: 800 mg Ibuprofen and Flipflops

About a year and a half ago, in one of my usual clumsy moments, I opened the door to my room over my foot, which caught my toenail, and ripped a big bloody chunk of nail off the side. It bled. It hurt. But in the end it was only a small section and I figured it would heal okay.

I was wrong, of course. It got worse, bit by bit, the damaged part oh-so slowly growing until eventually, this August, I realized I had myself a deep, painful, and completely out-of-control ingrown toenail. I tried everything. I got pedicures, where the asian lady mercilessly ripped skin away from my nail. I did my own home version of surgery, cutting away at both the nail and the fleshy part around it. Not much changed. It still hurt. I still felt a constant pressure on my toe. I guess I was lucky, though. When I first met Cole a few years ago, his charming way of flirting with me was to show off his puffy, pus-filled infected toe. Yes, Cole was the first person to introduce me to how horribly wrong a toe can go. My own foot never got like that. Thank God. When Cole got surgery on his foot it tooks months to heal, it looked aweful, and to this day I can't stand looking at his feet.

So basically, I had toe surgery today. My foot is all bandaged up to the size of a golf ball - I can barely fit it into my flipflops. The surgery experience was something I hope I never have to go through again. The doctor was nice, but I don't handle pain well. First he jabbed an incredibly long needle into my toe - the anasthetic barely kicked in by the third time he stuck me, each time in a different place, and that last time he went deeper than before and the pain was excruciating. Basically I sat there thinking "Oh my god, sure I can handle this, but how the hell am I going to have children? I don't want kids. I don't want kids. Oh my god, I don't want to feel anything like this ever again." He wrapped a tourniquet around the base of my big toe, too, and that just made it worse. Basically, I spent about 10 minutes twitching and breathing heavily and occasionally whimpering and just generally not having a good time of it. Then he took the tourniquet off, lowered my foot, and I forgot everything. Last night Nick and I were talking about the human ability to completely forget pain. Trust me, I remember the pain. I can recall the needle jabbing into my poor toe perfectly, the squeezing of my toe that made me think it would drop off in just a few more moments if he didn't remove that rubber tubing.

Fake Guitars Are Annoying

hmm, what to say.... lately i've been feeling a bit down in the dumps. but that's not really important.

what is important is that tonight, i went to a dance party. a filmed dance party, even. we rocked out to techno and bumped and grinded and eventually, it will be an awesome spoof of the scene in garden state where zach braff does E.

No matter what happens over the next few days, it will be literally impossible for me to be unhappy until at least, oh ... let's say Thursday. Next Thursday is the earliest possible moment I could have an inkling of a bad feeling. Why? You would ask that question.

Last night, I didn't feel much like doing my spanish homework. This would be no news to anyone. However, I did make an effort - I went and watched Spanglish with some folks from the dorm. There was a conversation about fondu, and such. But I think I said something that caught Ben's attention, because....

As I'm packing up for home this afternoon, around 4, Ben walks in with a GIANT tray of.. Pineapple! Little chunks of pineapple, hundreds of them, in perfect bite-size pieces. I have a huge gallon ziplock bag in my freezer right now, and another bag to take home with me on the train. Mmmmm, pineapple. I am so excited.

shamelessly ripped off

Five rules of thumb

October 31st, 2005

1. The stupider your ringtone, the longer it will take you to answer your phone.
2. The twin miracles of childbirth and pet ownership render you unable to share one photo of anything.
3. If your vanity license plate makes any reference to the make of your vehicle, the people you work with despise you.
4. Ph.D.s who ask to be called “Doctor” should be prepared to refer to every college graduate as “Bachelor.”
5. If you own more than one Enya record you might as well buy all of them and make a little fort.

number five. that's my favorite.

Finished A Tree Grows in Brooklyn today. That makes two books in a row that made we cry. I know it's a generic topic - strong women overcoming horrible suffering - but I still love it. I still look for it in new books.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
The Poisonwood Bible
The Liar's Club
She's Come Undone
Fall on Your Knees
Stones from the River

All of them are on the favorites list. And they all follow the same recipe. They're also all displayed proudly in my bookshelf here at school - I couldn't tell you how many of the same are at home. Oh, books. They're an escape from living, but create a new life all the same.

Best Feeling Ever

Today was another sunny day. This has been, what, 4 days in the past week? I'm getting excited. Today was the warmest so far. I opened the window, put on my summer Old Navy skirt, and lay down to take a nap. (Yes, I changed to take a nap. Going outside doesn't matter, just as long as you're dressed for summer.) I fell asleep to a chilly breeze, warm sun filtered through the window, and the sounds of traffic below my window. It was the greatest moment I've experienced in months.

Nick and I attempted to rent movies from Blockbuster. We took the long walk down there, meandered for a while, failed miserably at renting anything, and returned to campus for dining hall food. It was dark and more cold than chilly when I returned to my room. The lights were out. The window was still open. I felt a flashback to this summer, when RJ and I would stay out until 5 or 6 in the morning. My window was always open during the night, then. Fresh air is essential, but leaving a window open all night isn't smart during the winter. Anyway, about my room. The smell was indescribable. Just cold and clean, I could tell everything in my room would be chilly. My bed, my pillows, my clothes and my rug. Everything just felt... cleaner. This was how it was every morning when I would come home this summer. I would always be in a good mood, exhilirated yet tired from some other random adventure, and my room would be dusky and cool when I'd finally go to sleep. Coming home just now has put me back into that frame of mind. I feel optimistic, energetic.

Today, with the sun shining, was the first time in months that I was aware of the passage of time. I absolutely couldn't spend the day in my room. Which is why I walked over to Nick's room and suggested a walk. It was good.

What Just Happened?

Every now and then I get a hankering to write. I never know what I should put down, either. One of the biggest blocks I face is that I can't, literally can't, organize my thoughts on the computer as well as I can on paper. Every essay for class gets sketched out in a notebook first. My personal journal, though rarely touched because this is just so much easier, is full of revelations and phrases that I want to use in my daily repertoire. Also, this used to be a collection of daily activities and adventures. I never thought I'd reach this point in my life, but they've actually stopped. At least as far as I can tell.

Last night Elaina and I walked to downtown Fairhaven. We had no ride, due to her fighting with the boyfriend. It was invigorating - when we arrived at the Village Book Store, our cheeks were rosy and our hair was wind-tossed. We'd laughed and joked about jumping from extensive heights with no harnesses, we shared girly secrets and bitched about boys. Elaina is my best friend here at school. We've grown up together, off and on. She and I have secrets from each other, not really intentional, just major parts of our life that happened while the other was away. She's not a conventional friend. Knowing her is one of the greatest things my family has ever done for me, I love being around her, and yet. She is not a conventional friend. Chanel is a conventional friend. We don't assume to know the other person perfectly. There's more of an optional connection between us than a familial one. And I miss that. I miss a friend that I've chosen, gotten to know over time. I know I don't know everything about this cousin of mine. But sometimes I assume I do.

Basically? I miss Chanel. I miss our summer of driving in the Prelude of Justice. I feel nostalgic for our drives between work places, our evenings sprawled on her bed with the cats snuggled between us, and sunning ourselves on lounge floats on the sand, too lazy to actually get in the water. I thought I'd do more in college. And I did for a while. But there are too many days in between adventures where all I've really done is go to class and surf the internet.

I'm dissatisfied. And yet I love where I am. So peculiar.

Today in Class

Malevolent. That means 'mean'. --- my logic professor

jessica...

Why else do you think I'm reading it? Do you know how many books were first in line? Psh.


By the way, this is that post dedicated to you that I said I'd write eventually.

every time i hear that melody, something breaks inside

This is the first time in weeks that I've woken up fully alert. Five hours of sleep, and I feel better rested than I do after 10. Maybe it won't last. Maybe I'll fall apart around 3 this afternoon. But right now, I know for the first time this quarter that I'll make it through the day, get my homework done, go out like I plan, and not say "Fuck it all" and take a nap.

I read a book yesterday. It made me cry, it made me laugh, and gave me odd dreams about swimming. I haven't read a book that punched me in the gut that hard since last quarter. Up next: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.