...
Nothing is progressing the way I'd like here. Marianna, the girl who is allegedly moving out of my room at Shannon's apartment, has not packed a single thing yet. We have a guest here--my parents' collegiate comrade from Washington DC, which just makes everything about nine times more tense and stressful. My hair is disgusting, and no one likes it, including myself, as of late. It's my sister's birthday, and nothing's moving forward. I want to die. But not really--I'd rather things just come together already.
Thursday, December 26, 2002
So this is Christmas
As the years have progressed, I've felt more and more distant to this holiday. This year, my excitement was at an all-time low. I'm not sure why--I went through the usual motions, such as singing "O Holy Night" in some church last night, attending and hosting large family gatherings, receiving presents (all but one I purchased by myself, for myself), and the like. I don't know...I think I was just hideously tired and therefore drained of all Christmassy feelings of hope and glee. It's quite depressing--for so many years, I looked upon this season as the year's grandiose climax. Thanks to work, stress, and other factors, I was left feeling numb and listless. Nothing inspired me, nothing made me sublimely happy. I miss being naive and cheerful, even if those feelings were fed by an artificial tree, tiny impractical lights, and the overuse of one of our precious natural resources, trees.
Visually, "Catch me if you can" was a delightful haberdashery of nostalgia, color, and contrast. I really enjoyed the film, and would recommend it to anyone who has a few hours to take a break from their rampant returning sprees tomorrow.
I love how Theo thinks so poorly of me and everything I'm about. Tonight was the real kicker--he sums up my life in these belittling, patronizing comments, like "Well, I'm not going to two singing and dancing parties on new year's eve." The one time he met my D. Shannon friends, none of them sang, danced, performed monologues from Shakespearean plays, or played with lavish stage makeup. I'm frequently offended by the coarse, low things he says to me. And the worst part is, he doesn't even recognize the offensiveness of his own words. He thinks he can say whatever he wants to me, because either a.) I'll just take the lickin' and keep on tickin', b.) He thinks that I agree with him about me being a vapid, horrible person, or c.) His comments make him feel like the/a better person. All I really know, for certain, is that these actions do not constitute the makings of a long-term, content relationship.
Vachement: French, "cowishly."
Ex.: "C'est vachement facile." (It's cowishly simple.)
As the years have progressed, I've felt more and more distant to this holiday. This year, my excitement was at an all-time low. I'm not sure why--I went through the usual motions, such as singing "O Holy Night" in some church last night, attending and hosting large family gatherings, receiving presents (all but one I purchased by myself, for myself), and the like. I don't know...I think I was just hideously tired and therefore drained of all Christmassy feelings of hope and glee. It's quite depressing--for so many years, I looked upon this season as the year's grandiose climax. Thanks to work, stress, and other factors, I was left feeling numb and listless. Nothing inspired me, nothing made me sublimely happy. I miss being naive and cheerful, even if those feelings were fed by an artificial tree, tiny impractical lights, and the overuse of one of our precious natural resources, trees.
Visually, "Catch me if you can" was a delightful haberdashery of nostalgia, color, and contrast. I really enjoyed the film, and would recommend it to anyone who has a few hours to take a break from their rampant returning sprees tomorrow.
I love how Theo thinks so poorly of me and everything I'm about. Tonight was the real kicker--he sums up my life in these belittling, patronizing comments, like "Well, I'm not going to two singing and dancing parties on new year's eve." The one time he met my D. Shannon friends, none of them sang, danced, performed monologues from Shakespearean plays, or played with lavish stage makeup. I'm frequently offended by the coarse, low things he says to me. And the worst part is, he doesn't even recognize the offensiveness of his own words. He thinks he can say whatever he wants to me, because either a.) I'll just take the lickin' and keep on tickin', b.) He thinks that I agree with him about me being a vapid, horrible person, or c.) His comments make him feel like the/a better person. All I really know, for certain, is that these actions do not constitute the makings of a long-term, content relationship.
Vachement: French, "cowishly."
Ex.: "C'est vachement facile." (It's cowishly simple.)
Monday, December 23, 2002
Identity Crisis
Do I really look that much like a woman?
I don't think so. But apparently, according to both Trashy IHOP Waitress and Trashy Krispy Kreme Cashier, I do. Last wednesday, Erin and I went out to breakfast at the IHOP in Columbia. We were sitting there, drinking coffee and whatnot, when this waitress who did not belong to us came up and asked, "Are you two ladies doing alright?" Shethen glanced at me and noticed that, horror of horrors, I have facial hair, no breasts, and armhair thicker than a Greek, John Goodman-looking bulldyke. (Pardon the expression, it's a Cho-ism.) She tried to redeem herself by saying something along the lines of "Oh, I only saw you from the back" and failed miserably.
Today, this evening, after shopping for my own birthday gifts at Geneva Commons and visiting Erin at Borders, I stopped to purchase some Krispy Kremes for my co-Gappers in honour of Christmas and whatnot. So, after SPEAKING TO HER IN MY MANVOICE THROUGH THE INTERCOM, I pull up to the window to pay the cashier, give her my credit card, which gave her ample time to LOOK AT MY FACE, and wait until she gives me the signaure slip, saying to me, "here you go, ma'am...oh...sorry." What is this? I really don't get it.
If this happens again, I'm shaving it all off and growing a big grisly beard.
Do I really look that much like a woman?
I don't think so. But apparently, according to both Trashy IHOP Waitress and Trashy Krispy Kreme Cashier, I do. Last wednesday, Erin and I went out to breakfast at the IHOP in Columbia. We were sitting there, drinking coffee and whatnot, when this waitress who did not belong to us came up and asked, "Are you two ladies doing alright?" Shethen glanced at me and noticed that, horror of horrors, I have facial hair, no breasts, and armhair thicker than a Greek, John Goodman-looking bulldyke. (Pardon the expression, it's a Cho-ism.) She tried to redeem herself by saying something along the lines of "Oh, I only saw you from the back" and failed miserably.
Today, this evening, after shopping for my own birthday gifts at Geneva Commons and visiting Erin at Borders, I stopped to purchase some Krispy Kremes for my co-Gappers in honour of Christmas and whatnot. So, after SPEAKING TO HER IN MY MANVOICE THROUGH THE INTERCOM, I pull up to the window to pay the cashier, give her my credit card, which gave her ample time to LOOK AT MY FACE, and wait until she gives me the signaure slip, saying to me, "here you go, ma'am...oh...sorry." What is this? I really don't get it.
If this happens again, I'm shaving it all off and growing a big grisly beard.
Sunday, December 22, 2002
What is this again?
It's been quite some time since I last updated. Alright...three days. That's a long time, for my standards. I really don't have much time to type--I've been scheduled to work at Gap at 7:00AM four days out of this week. One of them happens to be tomorrow. I may go into detail about these points later, but for now...
Things that have happened:
1. Erin and I haven't spoken to each other since Friday. I realize it's only Sunday, but that's odd for us. I think we had issues in the car and at Denny's. I hope what i think is going to happen doesn't happen.
2. I had dinner with Theo and his parents on Saturday to celebrate his birthday. We all met at Cafe Absinthe--I was hideously nervous about the whole thing, but I think the affair went quite well. I really enjoyed the company of Theo's father. I frequently felt like an imbecile, but I enjoyed it nevertheless.
3. Theo gave me a "Minimalist Duck," a French-esque "soup mug," and a set of eight beautiful, wonderful champagne flutes. Christmas has had a pleasant beginning this year.
4. Its end, however, will inevetably be a disappointment. My parents have yet to purchase a single gift for me. Who knows what's going on.
5. I'm working nearly forty hours this week--four hours more than my store manager, and I believe I'm working the most of all the other sales staff. I'm really not happy about that. I spoke to my store manager today about next semester, and as I was having trouble coming up with the most appropriate words, she said "we'll just keep our options open, alright?" So, basically I have full control of the job sit.
6. Everything else apartment related is insane.
That's all for now. Oh, and Theo and I might be fighting again.
It's been quite some time since I last updated. Alright...three days. That's a long time, for my standards. I really don't have much time to type--I've been scheduled to work at Gap at 7:00AM four days out of this week. One of them happens to be tomorrow. I may go into detail about these points later, but for now...
Things that have happened:
1. Erin and I haven't spoken to each other since Friday. I realize it's only Sunday, but that's odd for us. I think we had issues in the car and at Denny's. I hope what i think is going to happen doesn't happen.
2. I had dinner with Theo and his parents on Saturday to celebrate his birthday. We all met at Cafe Absinthe--I was hideously nervous about the whole thing, but I think the affair went quite well. I really enjoyed the company of Theo's father. I frequently felt like an imbecile, but I enjoyed it nevertheless.
3. Theo gave me a "Minimalist Duck," a French-esque "soup mug," and a set of eight beautiful, wonderful champagne flutes. Christmas has had a pleasant beginning this year.
4. Its end, however, will inevetably be a disappointment. My parents have yet to purchase a single gift for me. Who knows what's going on.
5. I'm working nearly forty hours this week--four hours more than my store manager, and I believe I'm working the most of all the other sales staff. I'm really not happy about that. I spoke to my store manager today about next semester, and as I was having trouble coming up with the most appropriate words, she said "we'll just keep our options open, alright?" So, basically I have full control of the job sit.
6. Everything else apartment related is insane.
That's all for now. Oh, and Theo and I might be fighting again.
Thursday, December 19, 2002
Q. "Are you from Missouri?"
A. "Kaaaansas City."
Kansas City, Missouri is one of the more beautiful towns in the midwest (that I've witnessed), and certainly the best town in Missouri. I almost have respect for this state, after visiting its westernmost city. I spent the majority of my time in the Country Club Plaza, an expansive hub of fine shopping and beautiful Spanish-style buildings. KC is known (not to me) as "The City of Fountains;" the plethora of Roman-looking fountains was a pleasant change from the farms and Wal-Marts of the rest of Missouri. Kansas City is also known for its beauiful Christmas decorations--every building was tastefully adorned in lights; I became inebriated from the beauty of the center, and wore a goofy smile on my face for the majority of the trip. (My smile drooped on the way home as I counted at least two dozen adult video stores. What.)
The Plaza contained almost every lower-upper class store you could want--Z Gallerie, Anthropologie, Armani Exchange, Saks Fifth Avenue, Cole Haan, Mark Shale, and more, as well as your standard gigantic Gap, A&F, Banana Republic, and Pottery Barn. I finished all of my Christmas shopping today, aside from Jesse and Shannon. I'm pleased with each and every one of my purchases.
I HAVE TO WORK AT 7:00AM ON SATURDAY. How grossed out am I? Ack.
A. "Kaaaansas City."
Kansas City, Missouri is one of the more beautiful towns in the midwest (that I've witnessed), and certainly the best town in Missouri. I almost have respect for this state, after visiting its westernmost city. I spent the majority of my time in the Country Club Plaza, an expansive hub of fine shopping and beautiful Spanish-style buildings. KC is known (not to me) as "The City of Fountains;" the plethora of Roman-looking fountains was a pleasant change from the farms and Wal-Marts of the rest of Missouri. Kansas City is also known for its beauiful Christmas decorations--every building was tastefully adorned in lights; I became inebriated from the beauty of the center, and wore a goofy smile on my face for the majority of the trip. (My smile drooped on the way home as I counted at least two dozen adult video stores. What.)
The Plaza contained almost every lower-upper class store you could want--Z Gallerie, Anthropologie, Armani Exchange, Saks Fifth Avenue, Cole Haan, Mark Shale, and more, as well as your standard gigantic Gap, A&F, Banana Republic, and Pottery Barn. I finished all of my Christmas shopping today, aside from Jesse and Shannon. I'm pleased with each and every one of my purchases.
I HAVE TO WORK AT 7:00AM ON SATURDAY. How grossed out am I? Ack.
Marks
Final grades are coming back for my classes. I'm doing surprisingly well so far--still have to hear back from Poly Sci and Philosophy, but for now I'm alright. I think it would've been alright if I would have done poorly this semester, becaus after all, this is the very beginning of an entirely different learning process. I assume that everyone performs on a sub-par level their first semester of college, but the subsequent semesters' grades hammer out the dent in every college student's GPA.
Final grades are coming back for my classes. I'm doing surprisingly well so far--still have to hear back from Poly Sci and Philosophy, but for now I'm alright. I think it would've been alright if I would have done poorly this semester, becaus after all, this is the very beginning of an entirely different learning process. I assume that everyone performs on a sub-par level their first semester of college, but the subsequent semesters' grades hammer out the dent in every college student's GPA.
BrownShirt's Book Club
So, I recently finished reading Mitch Albom's Tuesdays With Morrie. I was left feeling apathetic and uninspired. I was expecting a lot more--some prophetic thoughts on life, or at least a few stirring quotations or something. But, alas--the "novel" was trite and base.
I've moved on to Michael Cunningham's Pulitzer-garnered novel The Hours. I have this horribly bland habit of reading novels upon which films are based. So far, I've carved through the first hundred pages, and have been delighted. More to come soon. Oh, and since this is a "book club" (ha), I encourage you all to leave thoughts in the "comment" area. Oh, you know--that link that says "Comment (0)" on the bottom of each page that each and every one of you (save for Tata) has neglected to utilize.
Speaking of TaRa, she and I saw "Maid in Manhattan" this evening. Do I even need to explain to you how terrible it was? Ralph Fiennes is, even as I type this, scouring the want ads in the LA Times, because he will never be hired after this abomination to the American cinematic experience as we know it. My question is, if this film wasn't voted the worst film of the year, how gruesomely hid was "Swept Away?"
Theo and I = fighting again. Sigh.
So, I recently finished reading Mitch Albom's Tuesdays With Morrie. I was left feeling apathetic and uninspired. I was expecting a lot more--some prophetic thoughts on life, or at least a few stirring quotations or something. But, alas--the "novel" was trite and base.
I've moved on to Michael Cunningham's Pulitzer-garnered novel The Hours. I have this horribly bland habit of reading novels upon which films are based. So far, I've carved through the first hundred pages, and have been delighted. More to come soon. Oh, and since this is a "book club" (ha), I encourage you all to leave thoughts in the "comment" area. Oh, you know--that link that says "Comment (0)" on the bottom of each page that each and every one of you (save for Tata) has neglected to utilize.
Speaking of TaRa, she and I saw "Maid in Manhattan" this evening. Do I even need to explain to you how terrible it was? Ralph Fiennes is, even as I type this, scouring the want ads in the LA Times, because he will never be hired after this abomination to the American cinematic experience as we know it. My question is, if this film wasn't voted the worst film of the year, how gruesomely hid was "Swept Away?"
Theo and I = fighting again. Sigh.
Wednesday, December 18, 2002
Sommeil
I am so, so tired. Blech. I have gotten a combined 8 hours of sleep these past two nights--due, in part, by the imbeciles living on my floor. My RA clearly just took the position to make friends, not to be a leader or anything. (I'm really anal.) So it's 2:00AM, and certain ex-roommates of mine are yelling through the hall, "You white motherfucker" and yukking it up with his cohorts. I missed the joke.
Somehow in my eighteen years of existence, I assumed that it generally doesn't thunderstorm in December. But no...in Missouri it does. After it poured for several hours, the rain let up for about ten minutes, so that the clouds could prepare to unleash HAIL. It was so fucking loud. And then this morning, one week until Christmas, it's convertible weather--sunny, warm, dry. This is so insane.
My Astronomy final was alright--I'm not as confident as all-nighter Erin, but oh well. I'm really confident in two, and fairly confident in the other two.
Going out with Tara (I typed "Tata" again...jesus) tonight, then SLEEPING until tomorrow.
"Man, I gotta get out of this town;
man, I gotta get out of this pain..."
I am so, so tired. Blech. I have gotten a combined 8 hours of sleep these past two nights--due, in part, by the imbeciles living on my floor. My RA clearly just took the position to make friends, not to be a leader or anything. (I'm really anal.) So it's 2:00AM, and certain ex-roommates of mine are yelling through the hall, "You white motherfucker" and yukking it up with his cohorts. I missed the joke.
Somehow in my eighteen years of existence, I assumed that it generally doesn't thunderstorm in December. But no...in Missouri it does. After it poured for several hours, the rain let up for about ten minutes, so that the clouds could prepare to unleash HAIL. It was so fucking loud. And then this morning, one week until Christmas, it's convertible weather--sunny, warm, dry. This is so insane.
My Astronomy final was alright--I'm not as confident as all-nighter Erin, but oh well. I'm really confident in two, and fairly confident in the other two.
Going out with Tara (I typed "Tata" again...jesus) tonight, then SLEEPING until tomorrow.
"Man, I gotta get out of this town;
man, I gotta get out of this pain..."
Tuesday, December 17, 2002
Ecstacy
I love how generally, when one has a horrible, shit-shoveling day, that day is generally followed by a really surreal day. Today is (has been at least) my good counterstriking day. I am so confident about the results of my Philosophy exam...so confident, in fact, that I'm even considering studying philosophy. I can be a journalist with a philo. degree, I think.
I'm a Hillcrest Hottie! Kelly's just one of those people here (like so few others) that I sincerely wish I would have gotten to know better over the course of the semester.
I'm going to study "hardcore" with Erin all day today for our Astronomy final. Then, I'm giving myself a wee vacation--I'm going to see "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" seul tomorrow night, going shopping in Kansas City seul Thursday, having devious fun with Erin and Sarah on Thursday night, and coming home Friday!
I'm really quite content now, if you can't tell. The exclamation points sort of give it away.
I love how generally, when one has a horrible, shit-shoveling day, that day is generally followed by a really surreal day. Today is (has been at least) my good counterstriking day. I am so confident about the results of my Philosophy exam...so confident, in fact, that I'm even considering studying philosophy. I can be a journalist with a philo. degree, I think.
I'm a Hillcrest Hottie! Kelly's just one of those people here (like so few others) that I sincerely wish I would have gotten to know better over the course of the semester.
I'm going to study "hardcore" with Erin all day today for our Astronomy final. Then, I'm giving myself a wee vacation--I'm going to see "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" seul tomorrow night, going shopping in Kansas City seul Thursday, having devious fun with Erin and Sarah on Thursday night, and coming home Friday!
I'm really quite content now, if you can't tell. The exclamation points sort of give it away.
FrustratioN!
My frustrated self deemed the last "n" worthy of capitalization. It's futile trying to help people. For me, at least. I always feel like I subconsciously turn everything around onto myself, like I always have to commandeer every conversation. I was trying to help a friend this evening, who had had a few drinks (so it was hopeless), and I just went off on this tangent. He grew angry and hastily signed off. I really cannot help people, nor have I ever been able to help people, so no one shall ever ask for my advice/shoulder again. Thank you.
My blog is so dog-damned boring. Why do you even read this drivel.
Poly-Sci/Philosophy final tomorrow. I cannot sleep due to caffeine overdose. Everyone needs to have an Erin in their lives...unless they're really stupid and conservative and do not think beyond reality.
My frustrated self deemed the last "n" worthy of capitalization. It's futile trying to help people. For me, at least. I always feel like I subconsciously turn everything around onto myself, like I always have to commandeer every conversation. I was trying to help a friend this evening, who had had a few drinks (so it was hopeless), and I just went off on this tangent. He grew angry and hastily signed off. I really cannot help people, nor have I ever been able to help people, so no one shall ever ask for my advice/shoulder again. Thank you.
My blog is so dog-damned boring. Why do you even read this drivel.
Poly-Sci/Philosophy final tomorrow. I cannot sleep due to caffeine overdose. Everyone needs to have an Erin in their lives...unless they're really stupid and conservative and do not think beyond reality.
Monday, December 16, 2002
Fucking shit fuck fuck
I did something really stupid today. Or rather, I didn't do something today. Either way, I'm fucked big time. I hatehatehate what I do to myself! Aaghh. Plus, I have to buy about 800 gifts this week.
My French final went well. Mlle. Cisse is writing a letter of recommendation for me--horray!
That's all. Studying much today.
I did something really stupid today. Or rather, I didn't do something today. Either way, I'm fucked big time. I hatehatehate what I do to myself! Aaghh. Plus, I have to buy about 800 gifts this week.
My French final went well. Mlle. Cisse is writing a letter of recommendation for me--horray!
That's all. Studying much today.
Sunday, December 15, 2002
Musings
How glad am I that I saved all of those triangular-shaped notes I received in my middle-school heyday. They kept me entertained for hours last night, while I was supposed to be cleaning out my closet. Things seemed so complicated back then--in a trivial way. Our letters could very well pass for soap opera fodder. Oh, and I was really into writing love letters to random girls, and luckily I saved a copy of most of them. I was just way too charming for my age. I'll scan one and post it here someday.
I'm in BIG trouble with the law. Ok, so not really big trouble. But enough trouble to make me angry/frustrated. I dont'e ver ever want to drive another car again. As long as I live.
My weekend at home was good--theo and I saw a superb film last night, "Personal Velocity." It was great--really made me realize that the best films are ones shot with a minimal budget, few locations, and a home camcorder. It really...made me think. Which is something a film hasn't done for quite some time.
I really enjoy driving my father's van. I feel so much safer, almost empowered, when I'm high above everyone else on the road. Erin and I never cease to amuse ourselves--for the last hour of the trip, we sang the blues like always--although this time, our songs were improved by a primo rhythm section, even though we didn't have Frisbee the Slinky to assist us in our musical endeavours. Who would have thought that we could transcend our past musical experiences in the car with clapping? It was great. I don't want this to be our last trip home.
French final--tomorrow--10:30AM. (I'll) be there.
How glad am I that I saved all of those triangular-shaped notes I received in my middle-school heyday. They kept me entertained for hours last night, while I was supposed to be cleaning out my closet. Things seemed so complicated back then--in a trivial way. Our letters could very well pass for soap opera fodder. Oh, and I was really into writing love letters to random girls, and luckily I saved a copy of most of them. I was just way too charming for my age. I'll scan one and post it here someday.
I'm in BIG trouble with the law. Ok, so not really big trouble. But enough trouble to make me angry/frustrated. I dont'e ver ever want to drive another car again. As long as I live.
My weekend at home was good--theo and I saw a superb film last night, "Personal Velocity." It was great--really made me realize that the best films are ones shot with a minimal budget, few locations, and a home camcorder. It really...made me think. Which is something a film hasn't done for quite some time.
I really enjoy driving my father's van. I feel so much safer, almost empowered, when I'm high above everyone else on the road. Erin and I never cease to amuse ourselves--for the last hour of the trip, we sang the blues like always--although this time, our songs were improved by a primo rhythm section, even though we didn't have Frisbee the Slinky to assist us in our musical endeavours. Who would have thought that we could transcend our past musical experiences in the car with clapping? It was great. I don't want this to be our last trip home.
French final--tomorrow--10:30AM. (I'll) be there.
Saturday, December 14, 2002
A la maison
I'm home again. Just for the weekend. Not too thrilling.
Last night, after a long series of angry phone conversations, I went over to Theo's house and watched a bit of television. It was good.
Today began at around 12:30 for me, for some reason. Oh, yes--I was awoken at 5:30AM to help with some computer malfunction, so my sister could print some paper. My family will never learn how to use a computer...who knows what they'll do when I leave.
I went to Geneva Commons with Erin, did some Christmas shopping (Liz/Aunt J), ate at Cosi, and studied for about 87 hours at her house. Right now I'm watching "Monster's Ball."
Tomorrow, Chicago with Theo, and that's about it. This may be the most boring post I've ever conceived. Even I'm getting sleepy rereading it all.
I'm home again. Just for the weekend. Not too thrilling.
Last night, after a long series of angry phone conversations, I went over to Theo's house and watched a bit of television. It was good.
Today began at around 12:30 for me, for some reason. Oh, yes--I was awoken at 5:30AM to help with some computer malfunction, so my sister could print some paper. My family will never learn how to use a computer...who knows what they'll do when I leave.
I went to Geneva Commons with Erin, did some Christmas shopping (Liz/Aunt J), ate at Cosi, and studied for about 87 hours at her house. Right now I'm watching "Monster's Ball."
Tomorrow, Chicago with Theo, and that's about it. This may be the most boring post I've ever conceived. Even I'm getting sleepy rereading it all.
Wednesday, December 11, 2002
Don't let the math scare you
I hate my life. I really do. I was reminded today (by Theo, who suddenly questioned my motives for leaving Mizzou) how I made the decision not to come to Missouri for school this semester, based on the rediculous notion that I would have to live in a dorm on another college's campus a mile away from the heart of my university. But, no...I resolved to put the negatives aside and focus on the known variables of this equation called college--learning new and interesting things(a), meeting people so similar to me and so different from me(+b), and overall having the best four years of my life(=c).
I did accomplish all of those things, ironically enough. Well, "a" and "b" at least. I learned new things, like intense conservatism and closedmindedness, and interesting things, like how to gut a possum and chew Spam with only 7.5 teeth. I met Tara (I spelled her name "Tata" originally and giggled) and Sarah, and of course my Erin, who are all (seemingly) very similar to me. Everyone else...well, I was exposed to new people and new "ideas." That's all I have to say. But unfortunately, these factors didn't constitute a complete "c."
So, I'm moving on. I made a mistake and I'm righting it, in what I would deem a very good way. I am, as of last night, getting increasingly more anxious/nervous about my new situation, including my place of living and as-of-yet unknown university (I lied, Jeff--my winter semester plans aren't QUITE in stone yet). I throw myself into these situations where I have little to no control, and just expect things to work themselves out in the end, like some modern, horrid Dickens tale.
I'm going to go move my car now.
I hate my life. I really do. I was reminded today (by Theo, who suddenly questioned my motives for leaving Mizzou) how I made the decision not to come to Missouri for school this semester, based on the rediculous notion that I would have to live in a dorm on another college's campus a mile away from the heart of my university. But, no...I resolved to put the negatives aside and focus on the known variables of this equation called college--learning new and interesting things(a), meeting people so similar to me and so different from me(+b), and overall having the best four years of my life(=c).
I did accomplish all of those things, ironically enough. Well, "a" and "b" at least. I learned new things, like intense conservatism and closedmindedness, and interesting things, like how to gut a possum and chew Spam with only 7.5 teeth. I met Tara (I spelled her name "Tata" originally and giggled) and Sarah, and of course my Erin, who are all (seemingly) very similar to me. Everyone else...well, I was exposed to new people and new "ideas." That's all I have to say. But unfortunately, these factors didn't constitute a complete "c."
So, I'm moving on. I made a mistake and I'm righting it, in what I would deem a very good way. I am, as of last night, getting increasingly more anxious/nervous about my new situation, including my place of living and as-of-yet unknown university (I lied, Jeff--my winter semester plans aren't QUITE in stone yet). I throw myself into these situations where I have little to no control, and just expect things to work themselves out in the end, like some modern, horrid Dickens tale.
I'm going to go move my car now.
*Furling brow*
I don't actually know why. So don't ponder.
This week, like the weeks preceding it, has flown by quite rapidly. Few interesting things have happened to me, I'm afraid. Monday, I finished Stephen King's most recent collection of short stories, "Everything's Eventual," which was fairly decent. I always feel like a teenage girl reading King...his works have become adolescent "scare me" fodder. Tuesday, which I must remind myself is (well, was) today, was even blander than Monday. I had fun with Tara at the bookstore, ate and studied with Erin, and wrote a paper about global economics. I'm so relieved I'm coming home in a few days--I have officially run out of clean socks, and have very few fun shirts left to wear. Sigh.
I've been packing my things up these past few days--I feel like I came here with a lot less than I'm leaving with. Two car trips may not be satisfactory.
My apartmental (ha) future is back on track! I spoke to Shannon today (Yesterday? Shit.) and everything's finalized. I'm so excited! I have two windows, my OWN BATHROOM with a BATHTUB, hardwood floors, and wonderful queer-friendly roommates! I'm really excited about this prospect, if you can't tell. I hope to move in by December 29 (my parents' wedding anniversary, consequently). I feel like, for once in my life, things are finally looking up.
Oh, and one administrative thing--I'm going to take the commenting program off my Blog--no one uses them, and they sully the demure elegance of my journal. So, there.
I don't actually know why. So don't ponder.
This week, like the weeks preceding it, has flown by quite rapidly. Few interesting things have happened to me, I'm afraid. Monday, I finished Stephen King's most recent collection of short stories, "Everything's Eventual," which was fairly decent. I always feel like a teenage girl reading King...his works have become adolescent "scare me" fodder. Tuesday, which I must remind myself is (well, was) today, was even blander than Monday. I had fun with Tara at the bookstore, ate and studied with Erin, and wrote a paper about global economics. I'm so relieved I'm coming home in a few days--I have officially run out of clean socks, and have very few fun shirts left to wear. Sigh.
I've been packing my things up these past few days--I feel like I came here with a lot less than I'm leaving with. Two car trips may not be satisfactory.
My apartmental (ha) future is back on track! I spoke to Shannon today (Yesterday? Shit.) and everything's finalized. I'm so excited! I have two windows, my OWN BATHROOM with a BATHTUB, hardwood floors, and wonderful queer-friendly roommates! I'm really excited about this prospect, if you can't tell. I hope to move in by December 29 (my parents' wedding anniversary, consequently). I feel like, for once in my life, things are finally looking up.
Oh, and one administrative thing--I'm going to take the commenting program off my Blog--no one uses them, and they sully the demure elegance of my journal. So, there.
Sunday, December 08, 2002
The History of...
"Boy in brown shirt"
Many have asked me these past few weeks about the origin of my screen name/E-mail address/Blog's URL. "Boy in brown shirt" is what Theo referred to me as in his Blog (November 3), after we met in person at a Prospect Pride meeting. (I'm not going to go into grave detail about the whole affair, as far as why he was writing about me in the first place...make something up.) I was wearing this courdoroy-type (that is SO not how that is spelled) tan button-down shirt that evening, and the name stuck. To this day, I have never worn that shirt again. In fact, I have cut it up and used it to adorn several gifts to Theo.
More history lessons to come...if anyone asks me any obscure questions.
"Boy in brown shirt"
Many have asked me these past few weeks about the origin of my screen name/E-mail address/Blog's URL. "Boy in brown shirt" is what Theo referred to me as in his Blog (November 3), after we met in person at a Prospect Pride meeting. (I'm not going to go into grave detail about the whole affair, as far as why he was writing about me in the first place...make something up.) I was wearing this courdoroy-type (that is SO not how that is spelled) tan button-down shirt that evening, and the name stuck. To this day, I have never worn that shirt again. In fact, I have cut it up and used it to adorn several gifts to Theo.
More history lessons to come...if anyone asks me any obscure questions.
Sunday, Sunday
it's getting harder and harder to come up with relevant headings for each posting. Have mercy.
Erin and I rented Pumpkin today, an accurately farcical indepedent film about a sorostitute who falls in love with a mentally impaired man. It was really enjoyable and sad and wonderful. Christina Ricci--rock on.
I only have four days left of class, and then I take half of my belongings home, and then I have a few finals, and then I come home for good. Every day, I feel more and more out of place here, like a can of Spam in a Louis Vuitton suitcase. Or rather, I feel like a Louis Vuitton suitcase stranded in some gravel-runway airport in Alabama. That's more accurate.
My future is so up in the air--my conversation with C. Shannon this evening really clarified that. I have ten days (starting Dec. 21) to:
1. Move into my apartment
2. Transfer to the Broadway Gap
3. Get into a university
4. Have Christmas/New Year's/etc.
5. Work at my current Gap
I'm sure there are more things that I've forgotten that I'll panic about in the middle of the night. Well, i should get on that.
it's getting harder and harder to come up with relevant headings for each posting. Have mercy.
Erin and I rented Pumpkin today, an accurately farcical indepedent film about a sorostitute who falls in love with a mentally impaired man. It was really enjoyable and sad and wonderful. Christina Ricci--rock on.
I only have four days left of class, and then I take half of my belongings home, and then I have a few finals, and then I come home for good. Every day, I feel more and more out of place here, like a can of Spam in a Louis Vuitton suitcase. Or rather, I feel like a Louis Vuitton suitcase stranded in some gravel-runway airport in Alabama. That's more accurate.
My future is so up in the air--my conversation with C. Shannon this evening really clarified that. I have ten days (starting Dec. 21) to:
1. Move into my apartment
2. Transfer to the Broadway Gap
3. Get into a university
4. Have Christmas/New Year's/etc.
5. Work at my current Gap
I'm sure there are more things that I've forgotten that I'll panic about in the middle of the night. Well, i should get on that.
Apathy in the form of a day
I spent the former part of my day (which began at1:30PM) convincing Erin that I wasn't angry or anything with her. Then, I spent the latter part of my day in St. Louis. First, shopping at the Galleria, and then to Chris Jensen's chmber choir concert. I'm a big musical homo, so of course I love all choir concerts like I was the parent to all 30 musicians onstage. The concert itself was long, but the music was amazing--the vocalists were well above-par, and the selections were brilliant in themselves. I've always had a soft spot for performing in/listening to choirs, and being there really made me want to be in choir again. As a baritone, this time around. None of that tenor-shmenor shit. One last thing about the concert: the last time I've seen this many Jews in one place was last month's storewide clearance sale at Neimann-Marcus. Oy.
Oh, and don't take offense to that. J'adore les juifs.
I spent the former part of my day (which began at1:30PM) convincing Erin that I wasn't angry or anything with her. Then, I spent the latter part of my day in St. Louis. First, shopping at the Galleria, and then to Chris Jensen's chmber choir concert. I'm a big musical homo, so of course I love all choir concerts like I was the parent to all 30 musicians onstage. The concert itself was long, but the music was amazing--the vocalists were well above-par, and the selections were brilliant in themselves. I've always had a soft spot for performing in/listening to choirs, and being there really made me want to be in choir again. As a baritone, this time around. None of that tenor-shmenor shit. One last thing about the concert: the last time I've seen this many Jews in one place was last month's storewide clearance sale at Neimann-Marcus. Oy.
Oh, and don't take offense to that. J'adore les juifs.
Saturday, December 07, 2002
Misconceptions
There was a time, a time not long ago at all, that I thought Erin and I could do anything. There's a connection that best friends have that make each person feel invincible to all pain, better judgement, and reason. But, as I learned tonight, this is simply (cynically) not the case. We all live our own lives, and have to stand en guarde against our own fears and morals. Angry? Only at myself, I suppose, for being so naive to think that friendship is some wond'rous chastity belt against all the evil genitalia of the world, and that such an unseen, unprovable theory can enable people to ignore their own fears. Disappointed? Yes, but I'll get over it when Erin and I do something fun again in the future.
There was a time, a time not long ago at all, that I thought Erin and I could do anything. There's a connection that best friends have that make each person feel invincible to all pain, better judgement, and reason. But, as I learned tonight, this is simply (cynically) not the case. We all live our own lives, and have to stand en guarde against our own fears and morals. Angry? Only at myself, I suppose, for being so naive to think that friendship is some wond'rous chastity belt against all the evil genitalia of the world, and that such an unseen, unprovable theory can enable people to ignore their own fears. Disappointed? Yes, but I'll get over it when Erin and I do something fun again in the future.
Friday, December 06, 2002
Idle Memory #902 (And some assorted musings)
We were discussing the bathroom/water closet principle in French class today. For some reason, I immediately was reminded of the Hotel Aphrodite in Rome. Theo and I arrived in Rome around 1:00AM (midnight, maybe?) and of course hadn't a single hotel reservation made. So, after fending off the evil hostel salesmen in Rome's train station, we plodded out and called several hotels. After about the eighth try, we finalyl found a horribly expensive place, ironically named the Hotel Aphrodite. This place was just horrible...80 Euros paid for two doll-sized beds, a disgusting floor, a "lovely" view of two naked prostitutes in a window opposite ours, a fan with ho oscilation, and (this is what jogged my memory) a bathroom with a shower. But, this was no ordinary shower: it was actually just a hose protruding from the wall. No bathtub, no curtain...just a drain hole in the middle of the bathroom floor. I think we tried to flood the bathroom, to show our disdain. Rome wasn't one of my favorite places on the trip.
My father is such a wax philosopher, or so he'd like to think. I get these e-mails that are just insane, but really "cute" and thoughtful. It is nice to have a sturdy home life.
Someone down the hall from me is playing the "Let's Get Soakin' Wet" song. Hmm...I don't understand.
We were discussing the bathroom/water closet principle in French class today. For some reason, I immediately was reminded of the Hotel Aphrodite in Rome. Theo and I arrived in Rome around 1:00AM (midnight, maybe?) and of course hadn't a single hotel reservation made. So, after fending off the evil hostel salesmen in Rome's train station, we plodded out and called several hotels. After about the eighth try, we finalyl found a horribly expensive place, ironically named the Hotel Aphrodite. This place was just horrible...80 Euros paid for two doll-sized beds, a disgusting floor, a "lovely" view of two naked prostitutes in a window opposite ours, a fan with ho oscilation, and (this is what jogged my memory) a bathroom with a shower. But, this was no ordinary shower: it was actually just a hose protruding from the wall. No bathtub, no curtain...just a drain hole in the middle of the bathroom floor. I think we tried to flood the bathroom, to show our disdain. Rome wasn't one of my favorite places on the trip.
My father is such a wax philosopher, or so he'd like to think. I get these e-mails that are just insane, but really "cute" and thoughtful. It is nice to have a sturdy home life.
Someone down the hall from me is playing the "Let's Get Soakin' Wet" song. Hmm...I don't understand.
Thursday, December 05, 2002
Baise-moi
Aujourd'hui, j'ai commence le jour avec mauvais chance. Pour le cours de Francais, j'ai arrive avec ni mon cahier ni ma cerveau. Je suis tres stupide. Pendant le classe, j'ai ne sais pas rien. Je deteste etre non prepare. Donc, je suis ecriture dans ma Blog en le Francais. Vous allez a Babelfish pour traduire cette paragraphe. Merci.
(Babelfish fucks the shit out of real French. The translation looks like something David Sedaris would say.)
New W&G tonight.
Aujourd'hui, j'ai commence le jour avec mauvais chance. Pour le cours de Francais, j'ai arrive avec ni mon cahier ni ma cerveau. Je suis tres stupide. Pendant le classe, j'ai ne sais pas rien. Je deteste etre non prepare. Donc, je suis ecriture dans ma Blog en le Francais. Vous allez a Babelfish pour traduire cette paragraphe. Merci.
(Babelfish fucks the shit out of real French. The translation looks like something David Sedaris would say.)
New W&G tonight.
Wednesday, December 04, 2002
Flatlined
Now that I'm back, Blogging my soul away, I have nothing to write about. Nothing exciting/dramatic/noteworthy happens anymore. I've decided to quit, for the third time in the span of a month. We'll see if it "takes." This weekend will inevetably involve me seeing a movie solo on Friday (it's not as depressing as it sounds, honestly), and heading over to Wash. U on Saturday for a concert. I do really live a mundane life. Does someone want to irritate me, so that I have something to kvetch about? That wouldn't be terribly bad.
Now that I'm back, Blogging my soul away, I have nothing to write about. Nothing exciting/dramatic/noteworthy happens anymore. I've decided to quit, for the third time in the span of a month. We'll see if it "takes." This weekend will inevetably involve me seeing a movie solo on Friday (it's not as depressing as it sounds, honestly), and heading over to Wash. U on Saturday for a concert. I do really live a mundane life. Does someone want to irritate me, so that I have something to kvetch about? That wouldn't be terribly bad.
Tuesday, December 03, 2002
Pro
The only reason (aside from Erin) I would consider staying in Missouri next semester is the state's weather. Monday was a gloriously sunny day--I was awoken by the bright sunlight washing into my room. I stepped outside, expecting another frigid winter day, only to be wrapped in the warmth of an Indian Fall. The entire day was beautiful.
Erin and I had a Dangerous Liasons day. After watching the majority of Valmont on AMC (A remake of the novel/film), she and I rented the original Glenn Close period film and watched it. I did enjoy it.
A brief list of films to rent:
1. Dangerous Liasons
2. The Anniversary Party
3. Italian for Beginners
4. Lovely and Amazing
5. Monsters, Inc.
I found the perfect bed on CB2's website. All I'm getting for Christmas is furniture, and some conservative Republican propaganda from my grandfather. Isn't that depressing? I suppose, yadda yadda yadda, children in Somalia/Harlem/Carpentersville are lucky if they even get to eat and shower (Cyndi!) on Christmas day. I'm done complaining, I suppose.
I'm really left with nothing to complain about, now that my future happiness is partially secure.
The only reason (aside from Erin) I would consider staying in Missouri next semester is the state's weather. Monday was a gloriously sunny day--I was awoken by the bright sunlight washing into my room. I stepped outside, expecting another frigid winter day, only to be wrapped in the warmth of an Indian Fall. The entire day was beautiful.
Erin and I had a Dangerous Liasons day. After watching the majority of Valmont on AMC (A remake of the novel/film), she and I rented the original Glenn Close period film and watched it. I did enjoy it.
A brief list of films to rent:
1. Dangerous Liasons
2. The Anniversary Party
3. Italian for Beginners
4. Lovely and Amazing
5. Monsters, Inc.
I found the perfect bed on CB2's website. All I'm getting for Christmas is furniture, and some conservative Republican propaganda from my grandfather. Isn't that depressing? I suppose, yadda yadda yadda, children in Somalia/Harlem/Carpentersville are lucky if they even get to eat and shower (Cyndi!) on Christmas day. I'm done complaining, I suppose.
I'm really left with nothing to complain about, now that my future happiness is partially secure.
Sunday, December 01, 2002
Idle Memory #859
Our first kiss--it was on Thanksgiving, a year ago. Theo and I had just seen "Amelie" at AMC30, and were strolling through his neighbourhood (it was not as chilly last year) at a late hour. I started driving away, headed for home and a horde of thinking, as his Saturn pulls up into the intersection.
"I turn left, correct?" I naively asked.
"Yes, but I was wondering if it would be alright if I kissed you."
"Sure," I replied, with an enthusiastic grin.
He hopped into my car, and we kissed. It was so foreign--not only a new mouth, but a completely different style. I was used to the passionate, frantic hunger of a kiss, with tongue, teeth, and lips all swirling into a dissonant symphony. But this, this was different: more careful, delicate, like a wet paint brush dancing across textured canvas. His nose was moist; I immediately endeared that perfectly flawed trait. I drove home and pondered even more than I planned to.
Our first kiss--it was on Thanksgiving, a year ago. Theo and I had just seen "Amelie" at AMC30, and were strolling through his neighbourhood (it was not as chilly last year) at a late hour. I started driving away, headed for home and a horde of thinking, as his Saturn pulls up into the intersection.
"I turn left, correct?" I naively asked.
"Yes, but I was wondering if it would be alright if I kissed you."
"Sure," I replied, with an enthusiastic grin.
He hopped into my car, and we kissed. It was so foreign--not only a new mouth, but a completely different style. I was used to the passionate, frantic hunger of a kiss, with tongue, teeth, and lips all swirling into a dissonant symphony. But this, this was different: more careful, delicate, like a wet paint brush dancing across textured canvas. His nose was moist; I immediately endeared that perfectly flawed trait. I drove home and pondered even more than I planned to.
Saturday, November 30, 2002
Soiree
So strange. So, so strange.
I never thought I would run into those people again, but I did. ON PURPOSE. AT A PARTY.
And it was grand.
Let me explain.
I was supposed to go out with Jesse after work this evening, but he had to wake up at an ungodly hour the next (this) morning and wasn't really keen on the idea. So, I decided to take up Sarah Goldman's (and Matt Burris') offer to go to Matt's party.
These are people I was best friends with circa 1998-2000. They gave me the best childhood memories I'll ever remember. We lost touch over the years, mainly, I believe, because of my sexuality. They pushed me away because they were scared of me; I pushed them away because I was scared of myself. It was a bitter, uneventful farewell.
But, i wanted to see Sarah, so I attended Matt's party.
It was like a venture into the catacombs of my foggy memory--everyone I'd ever had some sort of fun/wierd/amazing experience with was there. It was like we were all in another CTE show together, and this was just another post-rehearsal shindig. I'll make a list:
Sarah
Best friend throughout middle school/freshman year of HS. We would call each other the moment we got home from school, chat until we had to go to rehearsal, chate all through rehearsal, and then phone each other following the aforementioned rehearsal. It was great. She was great, and seemingly still is. One of those friends you remember at the oddest and most comforting of times.
Everyone else
Everyone acted exactly the same as I remembered. Which is strange. I think we all pulled that CTE personality from the trunks in our attics, brushed the dust off, and wore them to the party. It was eerie, like nothing had ever changed.
What do people now look like?
Most of my fellow theatrical alums didn't change a bit. A bit of weight gain here, a different hairstyle there. Highlights include Tim N.(ess) becoming an intensely beauiful fellow, Katie K.(orby) struggling to come off as artsy and important (I shouldn't say struggling...jealousy perhaps), and Jacob A.(kemann) just growing taller and more awkward.
All in all, a surprisingly great evening.
I am writing shittier and shittier every post. Must get back in shape, linguistically-speaking.
Tomorrow: work forever and 23.5 hours, (hopefully!) lunch with another distant best friend, Laurne McLaurne, and an evening in Chicago (please?) with Theo.
Oh. Is it too much to ask for a "good deed" every once in awhile? I don't think so.
Another oh. Oh. Tara--that song is not good. At all. I'm sorry.
So strange. So, so strange.
I never thought I would run into those people again, but I did. ON PURPOSE. AT A PARTY.
And it was grand.
Let me explain.
I was supposed to go out with Jesse after work this evening, but he had to wake up at an ungodly hour the next (this) morning and wasn't really keen on the idea. So, I decided to take up Sarah Goldman's (and Matt Burris') offer to go to Matt's party.
These are people I was best friends with circa 1998-2000. They gave me the best childhood memories I'll ever remember. We lost touch over the years, mainly, I believe, because of my sexuality. They pushed me away because they were scared of me; I pushed them away because I was scared of myself. It was a bitter, uneventful farewell.
But, i wanted to see Sarah, so I attended Matt's party.
It was like a venture into the catacombs of my foggy memory--everyone I'd ever had some sort of fun/wierd/amazing experience with was there. It was like we were all in another CTE show together, and this was just another post-rehearsal shindig. I'll make a list:
Sarah
Best friend throughout middle school/freshman year of HS. We would call each other the moment we got home from school, chat until we had to go to rehearsal, chate all through rehearsal, and then phone each other following the aforementioned rehearsal. It was great. She was great, and seemingly still is. One of those friends you remember at the oddest and most comforting of times.
Everyone else
Everyone acted exactly the same as I remembered. Which is strange. I think we all pulled that CTE personality from the trunks in our attics, brushed the dust off, and wore them to the party. It was eerie, like nothing had ever changed.
What do people now look like?
Most of my fellow theatrical alums didn't change a bit. A bit of weight gain here, a different hairstyle there. Highlights include Tim N.(ess) becoming an intensely beauiful fellow, Katie K.(orby) struggling to come off as artsy and important (I shouldn't say struggling...jealousy perhaps), and Jacob A.(kemann) just growing taller and more awkward.
All in all, a surprisingly great evening.
I am writing shittier and shittier every post. Must get back in shape, linguistically-speaking.
Tomorrow: work forever and 23.5 hours, (hopefully!) lunch with another distant best friend, Laurne McLaurne, and an evening in Chicago (please?) with Theo.
Oh. Is it too much to ask for a "good deed" every once in awhile? I don't think so.
Another oh. Oh. Tara--that song is not good. At all. I'm sorry.
Friday, November 29, 2002
Thanks
Thanksgiving is always a sort of awkward holiday. I feel like we all have to put on this cheerful, content facade on holidays, and Thanksgiving is the epitome of that Marsha Brady-esque faux optomism. It's good to be thankful of things, but when exactly do we celebrate MyLifeSucks Day? Oh, that's right--it's called Valentine's Day.
I went to Waukegan for lunch/dinner with my mother's family, and then saw "Die Another Day" with Theo. Strangely enough, they both struck me as overrated, status quo, and droll. I just never got into family affairs/James Bond. It was kind of fun to see a film with Theo tonight though--last Thanksgiving, we had our second date ("Amelie") and our first kiss. It's so strange, to look back to a day that occured a YEAR ago and think, "Yep, that massive part of my life is still there, relatively unchanged, and I'm still happy about it."
Work all day tomorrow. Come visit me. It's going to be hellacious.
Thanksgiving is always a sort of awkward holiday. I feel like we all have to put on this cheerful, content facade on holidays, and Thanksgiving is the epitome of that Marsha Brady-esque faux optomism. It's good to be thankful of things, but when exactly do we celebrate MyLifeSucks Day? Oh, that's right--it's called Valentine's Day.
I went to Waukegan for lunch/dinner with my mother's family, and then saw "Die Another Day" with Theo. Strangely enough, they both struck me as overrated, status quo, and droll. I just never got into family affairs/James Bond. It was kind of fun to see a film with Theo tonight though--last Thanksgiving, we had our second date ("Amelie") and our first kiss. It's so strange, to look back to a day that occured a YEAR ago and think, "Yep, that massive part of my life is still there, relatively unchanged, and I'm still happy about it."
Work all day tomorrow. Come visit me. It's going to be hellacious.
Wednesday, November 27, 2002
Salvation, salvation
It changes every day. No, not my underwear, silly--my plans for next semester.
I came home from work an hour ago, and my parents told me that they want me to attend a university in Chicago, given that:
1. I see a psychiatrist regularly.
2. I get a debit card, so that I don't rack up their Gold Card every month.
3. I make a "good faith effort" to get along with ma famille.
4. I don't go to Columbia unless I really really have to.
So, I'm quite pleased. My life is on its way up! Have a great Thanksgiving, all.
It changes every day. No, not my underwear, silly--my plans for next semester.
I came home from work an hour ago, and my parents told me that they want me to attend a university in Chicago, given that:
1. I see a psychiatrist regularly.
2. I get a debit card, so that I don't rack up their Gold Card every month.
3. I make a "good faith effort" to get along with ma famille.
4. I don't go to Columbia unless I really really have to.
So, I'm quite pleased. My life is on its way up! Have a great Thanksgiving, all.
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
Die (yet) Another Day
Sometimes, I have these evenings where I just want to cease to exist. Tonight was one of those nights.
My parents make me wonder exactly how I grew up to be queer and liberal--they're so against anything different. It really bothers me.
I had to see C. Shannon tonight--she's a wonderful person, and I'm really glad she's "so happy," but for some reason, it just makes me feel even shittier about myself. Why does (seemingly) everyone else I used to be close to have the right to be happier than I am? I wrote pages and pages in my other journal about this tonight. When will my turn come?
I've been coerced into singing at a foreign church in Algonquin for Christmas. Not only am I in some octet, but I'm also being forced to sing "O Holy Night." I cannot sing anymore. This will be crap. Utter crap.
I'm in such an emotional rut right now...I feel like someone else is conducting my Life Train, and I'm just a helpless passenger. My parents are deciding my collegic fate; my peers determine my self-esteem. My job dictates my schedule; the weather tells my car what to do. (Which, lately, include very bad things.) I'm so helpless right now.
Theme song: "Die Another Day." I feel empowered when I'm listening to it--as if I cannot die today, because someday I'll escape this POW camp and reach the metaphorical end of the tunnel.
Sometimes, I have these evenings where I just want to cease to exist. Tonight was one of those nights.
My parents make me wonder exactly how I grew up to be queer and liberal--they're so against anything different. It really bothers me.
I had to see C. Shannon tonight--she's a wonderful person, and I'm really glad she's "so happy," but for some reason, it just makes me feel even shittier about myself. Why does (seemingly) everyone else I used to be close to have the right to be happier than I am? I wrote pages and pages in my other journal about this tonight. When will my turn come?
I've been coerced into singing at a foreign church in Algonquin for Christmas. Not only am I in some octet, but I'm also being forced to sing "O Holy Night." I cannot sing anymore. This will be crap. Utter crap.
I'm in such an emotional rut right now...I feel like someone else is conducting my Life Train, and I'm just a helpless passenger. My parents are deciding my collegic fate; my peers determine my self-esteem. My job dictates my schedule; the weather tells my car what to do. (Which, lately, include very bad things.) I'm so helpless right now.
Theme song: "Die Another Day." I feel empowered when I'm listening to it--as if I cannot die today, because someday I'll escape this POW camp and reach the metaphorical end of the tunnel.
Tick tick boom
I was going to be clever/kitschy and post on the glorious one year anniversary of my Blog. But, it's now 2:00AM on the day AFTER I published my first entry here, so the whole countdown thing was for naught. Sorry to let you down.
This past year has been quite...well, different from any of the other 18 years I've had. I found love, became a much more politically-oriented and independent individual. Like all of the other years I've forged through, I've had my share of accomplishments and letdowns--it just seems like those occasions were much more monumental and defining of who I am today.
Drivel...all drivel.
The best thing I can remember that has happened all year actually occured last night: for reasons unmentioned, I was outside of my house around midnight. Suddenly, I sensed some movement in the distance, and discovered a family of deer nonchalantly strolling through my backyard, not ten feet from where I was standing. It was very humbling, like I was less than all the things I thought I was and simply another animal, grazing on the Earth I've learned nothing about in Astronomy.
Tomorrow: photoessay and record of things that have happened since I last posted. Thank you for coming back. I missed you. Really. I did.
I was going to be clever/kitschy and post on the glorious one year anniversary of my Blog. But, it's now 2:00AM on the day AFTER I published my first entry here, so the whole countdown thing was for naught. Sorry to let you down.
This past year has been quite...well, different from any of the other 18 years I've had. I found love, became a much more politically-oriented and independent individual. Like all of the other years I've forged through, I've had my share of accomplishments and letdowns--it just seems like those occasions were much more monumental and defining of who I am today.
Drivel...all drivel.
The best thing I can remember that has happened all year actually occured last night: for reasons unmentioned, I was outside of my house around midnight. Suddenly, I sensed some movement in the distance, and discovered a family of deer nonchalantly strolling through my backyard, not ten feet from where I was standing. It was very humbling, like I was less than all the things I thought I was and simply another animal, grazing on the Earth I've learned nothing about in Astronomy.
Tomorrow: photoessay and record of things that have happened since I last posted. Thank you for coming back. I missed you. Really. I did.
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
One last thing before the static
This broadcaster will only be taking an extended leave of absence from his work. This hiatus may last three months, three weeks, or three days. I just have to resolve things within myself without my audience. I'm spending the next week reading, writing, and sleeping on the ocean's beach.
I don't normally do these. But this was entertaining.
Which Ani DiFranco Album Are You?
Brought to you by Tracie
"You've been through a lot, and all of that has made you a stronger person. You're kind, sensitive, loving...you've got a dark side though, and you've probably done a few things you aren't proud of, but hey, you've learned from your mistakes. Which is a lesson most people don't bother to learn."
How...appropos. I'll be seeing you.
This broadcaster will only be taking an extended leave of absence from his work. This hiatus may last three months, three weeks, or three days. I just have to resolve things within myself without my audience. I'm spending the next week reading, writing, and sleeping on the ocean's beach.
I don't normally do these. But this was entertaining.
Which Ani DiFranco Album Are You?
Brought to you by Tracie
"You've been through a lot, and all of that has made you a stronger person. You're kind, sensitive, loving...you've got a dark side though, and you've probably done a few things you aren't proud of, but hey, you've learned from your mistakes. Which is a lesson most people don't bother to learn."
How...appropos. I'll be seeing you.
Saturday, November 02, 2002
Au revoir
I don't think I'm going to continue posting here. I feel like my life is so utterly pointless, and sweeping around in a downward spiral. Why shall I market my mistakes and emotional distress for you all? I don't want pity, and I certainly don't want you to judge me based upon anything that has or will happen during my brief stay at Mizzou. Thank you all for supporting my journal by coming to it as many times as you may have come, and in turn, supporting me through everything I've been through for the past year. May my blog inspire you all to:
1. Start a journal of your own--be it online or on paper. It really is a great tool to have, for personal reflection and all that. I will continue to write in my own journal, because this experience has proven to be an effective means of getting it all out, Anne Frank-style. If and when you do decide to join the literally millions of Blog users, please E-mail me your link at Boyinbrownshirt@aol.com.
2. Learn from my victories and mistakes. Just...learn from it.
3. Most importantly, as cliche as this is, live life to the fullest, with no concern for what others think of you (with good intentions, of course). If you don't shed the gritty skin society cakes onto you, you'll never be able to see your real self. Exfoliate. It feels good.
Thank you all again. And, as Cyrol Connoly wrote, it is "better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."
Best regards,
Me
I don't think I'm going to continue posting here. I feel like my life is so utterly pointless, and sweeping around in a downward spiral. Why shall I market my mistakes and emotional distress for you all? I don't want pity, and I certainly don't want you to judge me based upon anything that has or will happen during my brief stay at Mizzou. Thank you all for supporting my journal by coming to it as many times as you may have come, and in turn, supporting me through everything I've been through for the past year. May my blog inspire you all to:
1. Start a journal of your own--be it online or on paper. It really is a great tool to have, for personal reflection and all that. I will continue to write in my own journal, because this experience has proven to be an effective means of getting it all out, Anne Frank-style. If and when you do decide to join the literally millions of Blog users, please E-mail me your link at Boyinbrownshirt@aol.com.
2. Learn from my victories and mistakes. Just...learn from it.
3. Most importantly, as cliche as this is, live life to the fullest, with no concern for what others think of you (with good intentions, of course). If you don't shed the gritty skin society cakes onto you, you'll never be able to see your real self. Exfoliate. It feels good.
Thank you all again. And, as Cyrol Connoly wrote, it is "better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self."
Best regards,
Me
Friday, November 01, 2002
The morning after
"Drunk dialing" is soooo not cool.
Last night, Jen, Erin and I basically just ran around and were loud and stupid. Is anyone surprised? I wasn't.
Erin is relatively angry with me...or rather, she resents me. She wanted to go to a party in Mexico, Missouri, but didn't because Jen and I didn't want her to. So I imagine she's upset with me. I knew she wanted to go to the party, and sort of figured that she wouldn't want me going. I don't know how I feel about it, but it's over so whatever.
My stomach and brain are currently involved in an age-old debate over whether or not I shall vomit. My stomach insists that it has things in it that shouldn't be in there until I'm twenty-one years old, but my head is rattling on about the horrors of vomiting and such. What to do, what to do, they ask.
I'm going to leave my drunken rants posted, so that I may look back upon this fateful Halloween with nostalgic disgust. (Notalgic disgust is like thinking about the eighties: "I had such a great time, but honestly, did I REALLY need to wear all of those socks and that side ponytail? And parachute pants? Who would have thought...")
"Drunk dialing" is soooo not cool.
Last night, Jen, Erin and I basically just ran around and were loud and stupid. Is anyone surprised? I wasn't.
Erin is relatively angry with me...or rather, she resents me. She wanted to go to a party in Mexico, Missouri, but didn't because Jen and I didn't want her to. So I imagine she's upset with me. I knew she wanted to go to the party, and sort of figured that she wouldn't want me going. I don't know how I feel about it, but it's over so whatever.
My stomach and brain are currently involved in an age-old debate over whether or not I shall vomit. My stomach insists that it has things in it that shouldn't be in there until I'm twenty-one years old, but my head is rattling on about the horrors of vomiting and such. What to do, what to do, they ask.
I'm going to leave my drunken rants posted, so that I may look back upon this fateful Halloween with nostalgic disgust. (Notalgic disgust is like thinking about the eighties: "I had such a great time, but honestly, did I REALLY need to wear all of those socks and that side ponytail? And parachute pants? Who would have thought...")
Thursday, October 31, 2002
Surprise!
Erin fucking betrayted me. Shen went to a party that she said she wasn't going to go to , and I thought we wereg oing to spend halloween togeher becaue we're BEST FRIEWNDS but apparently she'd rather hang out with her gentlemenf friends. and she's going to parpparty that i was going to drive us to but she got me trashed and nowobviously uii can't drive so yeah. I'm mildly pissed. off. i wished i would have stayed in my room because then i could be angrty and not be drunk. Oh well. And so it goes.
Erin fucking betrayted me. Shen went to a party that she said she wasn't going to go to , and I thought we wereg oing to spend halloween togeher becaue we're BEST FRIEWNDS but apparently she'd rather hang out with her gentlemenf friends. and she's going to parpparty that i was going to drive us to but she got me trashed and nowobviously uii can't drive so yeah. I'm mildly pissed. off. i wished i would have stayed in my room because then i could be angrty and not be drunk. Oh well. And so it goes.
Holiday
It's Halloween, everyone. In case you were unaware.
I "dressed up" like Eurotrash for a good part of the day. I dried my hair with a hair dryer, which made it 1970s porn-star curly. I wore my Diesels, which were, for some reason, really loose around the waist today, and a tan-ish tunic-ish shirt-ish piece of fabric I purchased in Rome. Oh, and to identify that I was, in fact, not only queer today, but also Eurotrash, I made nametags and placed them on my body. It was fun. Sort of.
My glorious Astronomy professor, Dr. Angela Speck, dressed up like a mysteriously sexy witch. As a bit of backstory, Dr. Speck dresses up like a witch for Halloween every year because, well, she likes it. (I think she's a closet wiccan, but that's mere speculation.) So, of course, her outfit was quite intricate, and had that "I dressed myself in the dark" British flare. She passed by me during class, glanced for several moments at me and my "Eurotrash" nametag, and said that it was "inventive." I imagine she was being sarcastic.
Theo is writing in his Blog again, for those of you who would like to know.
I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing tonight, so when I wake up tomorrow (or rather, after class), I will update.
It's Halloween, everyone. In case you were unaware.
I "dressed up" like Eurotrash for a good part of the day. I dried my hair with a hair dryer, which made it 1970s porn-star curly. I wore my Diesels, which were, for some reason, really loose around the waist today, and a tan-ish tunic-ish shirt-ish piece of fabric I purchased in Rome. Oh, and to identify that I was, in fact, not only queer today, but also Eurotrash, I made nametags and placed them on my body. It was fun. Sort of.
My glorious Astronomy professor, Dr. Angela Speck, dressed up like a mysteriously sexy witch. As a bit of backstory, Dr. Speck dresses up like a witch for Halloween every year because, well, she likes it. (I think she's a closet wiccan, but that's mere speculation.) So, of course, her outfit was quite intricate, and had that "I dressed myself in the dark" British flare. She passed by me during class, glanced for several moments at me and my "Eurotrash" nametag, and said that it was "inventive." I imagine she was being sarcastic.
Theo is writing in his Blog again, for those of you who would like to know.
I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing tonight, so when I wake up tomorrow (or rather, after class), I will update.
Tuesday, October 29, 2002
Where do you stand?
Hopefully not on my foot.
I did not just type that. I promise. Go here to determine your position on the Political Compass.
My results:
Economic Left/Right: -5.62
Authoritarian/Libertarian: -5.85
(Liberal democrat/leftist)
Get back to me about what your test results were.
Hopefully not on my foot.
I did not just type that. I promise. Go here to determine your position on the Political Compass.
My results:
Economic Left/Right: -5.62
Authoritarian/Libertarian: -5.85
(Liberal democrat/leftist)
Get back to me about what your test results were.
Do yourself a favour...
...and puchase Christina Aguilera's "Stripped." It's surprisingly amazing. She's delved, and rightfully so, into the world of soul/jazz, where her voice can be utilized to its highest potential. I adore it/her. Bob and I determined that her look could be...revised. But, like a book shan't be judged by its cover, don't judge a performer by her Cruella DeVil hair and leather chaps.
...and puchase Christina Aguilera's "Stripped." It's surprisingly amazing. She's delved, and rightfully so, into the world of soul/jazz, where her voice can be utilized to its highest potential. I adore it/her. Bob and I determined that her look could be...revised. But, like a book shan't be judged by its cover, don't judge a performer by her Cruella DeVil hair and leather chaps.
Catharsis
While my mood change is not as drastic as Chris', I have experienced a wide scope of emotions these past twenty-four hours. Last night, upon returning from the car hospital, I suddenly felt trapped/imprisoned without my car. I never realized how much how I depended upon my ugly, beat-up old vehicle. In theory, it provides me with a bubble in which I can float around the city, county, state and just be myself, by myself. I can think, listen to music, and in essence, escape reality. I felt so alone and helpless last night; it was possibly the lowest of lows I've felt in this new stage of my life. I just wanted to cease from existing. It was terrible.
(Randomly: Do you all know that five-minute period of time after waking up that you simply cannot and do not remember anything horrible that hppened the day before? I love that. Those are my favourite five minutes of every day. I woke up this morning without remembering any of the radical thoughts I had last night.)
But then, this morning, I was awoken to a phone call from University Chrysler, telling me my car was all better and I can pick it up whenever. And so, walking back to my room from class (a twenty minute walk, as a non-sequitur), I actually started thinking about staying at Missouri. This idea will most likely fly away like an abandoned balloon, but it gives some indication to how content I have been today. Me and my car. What a perfect couple.
While my mood change is not as drastic as Chris', I have experienced a wide scope of emotions these past twenty-four hours. Last night, upon returning from the car hospital, I suddenly felt trapped/imprisoned without my car. I never realized how much how I depended upon my ugly, beat-up old vehicle. In theory, it provides me with a bubble in which I can float around the city, county, state and just be myself, by myself. I can think, listen to music, and in essence, escape reality. I felt so alone and helpless last night; it was possibly the lowest of lows I've felt in this new stage of my life. I just wanted to cease from existing. It was terrible.
(Randomly: Do you all know that five-minute period of time after waking up that you simply cannot and do not remember anything horrible that hppened the day before? I love that. Those are my favourite five minutes of every day. I woke up this morning without remembering any of the radical thoughts I had last night.)
But then, this morning, I was awoken to a phone call from University Chrysler, telling me my car was all better and I can pick it up whenever. And so, walking back to my room from class (a twenty minute walk, as a non-sequitur), I actually started thinking about staying at Missouri. This idea will most likely fly away like an abandoned balloon, but it gives some indication to how content I have been today. Me and my car. What a perfect couple.
Monday, October 28, 2002
Morte
My car is officially in an intensive care unit. Apparently, the "spindle" of my rear driver's side wheel broke or something...basically, from what I witnessed, little metal teeth were falling out of my wheel and that is bad or something. I don't understand cars, and I'm not going to pretend to. So, it's going to be at least three days until I can have my car back. Three days. This means I have to walk to class from practically St. Louis (priss, you think to yourself) and eat...shudder...by myself in public. After reading Orwell's "Down and out in Paris and London," I've decided that starving is not that horrible. I can do it. It'll be fun. Three days...and holy hell, I have lots of junk food in my room. I'm fine. Two bottles of water...I'm set. SET.
And no, I didn't make that up.
My car is officially in an intensive care unit. Apparently, the "spindle" of my rear driver's side wheel broke or something...basically, from what I witnessed, little metal teeth were falling out of my wheel and that is bad or something. I don't understand cars, and I'm not going to pretend to. So, it's going to be at least three days until I can have my car back. Three days. This means I have to walk to class from practically St. Louis (priss, you think to yourself) and eat...shudder...by myself in public. After reading Orwell's "Down and out in Paris and London," I've decided that starving is not that horrible. I can do it. It'll be fun. Three days...and holy hell, I have lots of junk food in my room. I'm fine. Two bottles of water...I'm set. SET.
And no, I didn't make that up.
Sunday, October 27, 2002
Headache
I have one. Do you? Did you drink a dozen bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade last night? Thought not.
My sister is SO reading this right now and getting angry/confused/upset.
While I trekked back from D-town to C-town, my car threw its iron arms up in rebellion. It began to murmur noises of utter pain, a grinding bellow. I know she was faking it. Or I thought she was faking it, until she started flailing around on I-54, making her owner look like he had consumed the aforementioned bottles of wonder minutes ago, not hours. Fearing my life, I pulled over a few times, kicked the tires and smelled them (just in case...it seemed like the right thing to do). I made it home, fortunately, but my car will have to go to the hospital tomorrow. That'll "learn" her.
Reoccuring thought of the weekend-all of my old friends/aquaintances are getting to be big boys and girls. Jenny Way has her own CD, two of my friends are getting married...everyone's graduating college and moving on into the big bad world. Where did it all go? The time, that is.
So tired.
I have one. Do you? Did you drink a dozen bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade last night? Thought not.
My sister is SO reading this right now and getting angry/confused/upset.
While I trekked back from D-town to C-town, my car threw its iron arms up in rebellion. It began to murmur noises of utter pain, a grinding bellow. I know she was faking it. Or I thought she was faking it, until she started flailing around on I-54, making her owner look like he had consumed the aforementioned bottles of wonder minutes ago, not hours. Fearing my life, I pulled over a few times, kicked the tires and smelled them (just in case...it seemed like the right thing to do). I made it home, fortunately, but my car will have to go to the hospital tomorrow. That'll "learn" her.
Reoccuring thought of the weekend-all of my old friends/aquaintances are getting to be big boys and girls. Jenny Way has her own CD, two of my friends are getting married...everyone's graduating college and moving on into the big bad world. Where did it all go? The time, that is.
So tired.
Weekend-ing
I am at Millikin University right now, waiting for the bathroom to be unoccupied so I can urinate. Lala...I haven't drank since Europe, and even though that should have meant my resistance was down, I didn't vomit or do anything illegal/stupid! I now have Jenny Way's CD and that makes me happy.
The football game yesterday was actually really fun. I had a great time, which surprised me. We (Missouri) played against kU, our arch rivals, for our homecoming game. After our brutal defeat of the Jayhawks, about 3.2 million people in the stands decided to rush the field and, you guessed it, tear down the goalpost. It took the mob a while to succeed in their quest--they just don't make goalposts like they used to. It was entertaining to watch the police officers running around and such.
I need to pee. Now.
I am at Millikin University right now, waiting for the bathroom to be unoccupied so I can urinate. Lala...I haven't drank since Europe, and even though that should have meant my resistance was down, I didn't vomit or do anything illegal/stupid! I now have Jenny Way's CD and that makes me happy.
The football game yesterday was actually really fun. I had a great time, which surprised me. We (Missouri) played against kU, our arch rivals, for our homecoming game. After our brutal defeat of the Jayhawks, about 3.2 million people in the stands decided to rush the field and, you guessed it, tear down the goalpost. It took the mob a while to succeed in their quest--they just don't make goalposts like they used to. It was entertaining to watch the police officers running around and such.
I need to pee. Now.
Saturday, October 26, 2002
Une excursion du Missouri
I've decided not to waste my lonely free time sitting in my room, sleeping away the depresion and masturbating. Instead, starting this evening, I will report on the joys and wonders that grand old Missouri beholds.
Leçon 1: Jefferson City
What better place to begin my tour of Missouri than in its capitol, Jefferson City. Named after Thomas Jefferson, who had probably never been to Missouri, Jeff City, as the proleteriates refer to it as, stands as a fixture of Missourian tradition and glory. Centered around its majestic capitol building, Jeff City has looked the same for undoutedly decades and decades. Its main street is kitched up to the extreme, with its old-school department stores, jewelers, and eateries. Decked out in 1940s kitch, I was surprised to find that modern cars speckled its streets, instead of wind-up Model Ts. It was a treat to step back in time and find the place as quaint and warm as it may have been during the Roosevelt administration.
Seeing as how I arrived in this pearl of Missouri's oyster at 11:00PM, my options as far as entertainment, dining, and tourism were somewhat limited. I was delighted to find that the sidewalks weren't completely rolled up, and was able to purchase some beverages from Gerbes Supermarket. Gerbes smelled pleasantly of rotting produce, sweat, and floor cleaner. The cashier was skeptical about my purchase of a can of Red Bull.
For my main course, I ventured to the Convenient Mart but blocks away, and feasted on a delightfully sweet glazed pastry commonly referred to as a "Hostess Peach Pie."
Overall, I give this town a 9 for breads and a 6.47 for circuses. A photo essay will be posted shortly.
The next reservoir of paint I will dip my paintbrush into will most likely be St. Louis, since I hope to find a suitable therapist somewhere under the mysterious shadow of the Great Arch.
I've decided not to waste my lonely free time sitting in my room, sleeping away the depresion and masturbating. Instead, starting this evening, I will report on the joys and wonders that grand old Missouri beholds.
Leçon 1: Jefferson City
What better place to begin my tour of Missouri than in its capitol, Jefferson City. Named after Thomas Jefferson, who had probably never been to Missouri, Jeff City, as the proleteriates refer to it as, stands as a fixture of Missourian tradition and glory. Centered around its majestic capitol building, Jeff City has looked the same for undoutedly decades and decades. Its main street is kitched up to the extreme, with its old-school department stores, jewelers, and eateries. Decked out in 1940s kitch, I was surprised to find that modern cars speckled its streets, instead of wind-up Model Ts. It was a treat to step back in time and find the place as quaint and warm as it may have been during the Roosevelt administration.
Seeing as how I arrived in this pearl of Missouri's oyster at 11:00PM, my options as far as entertainment, dining, and tourism were somewhat limited. I was delighted to find that the sidewalks weren't completely rolled up, and was able to purchase some beverages from Gerbes Supermarket. Gerbes smelled pleasantly of rotting produce, sweat, and floor cleaner. The cashier was skeptical about my purchase of a can of Red Bull.
For my main course, I ventured to the Convenient Mart but blocks away, and feasted on a delightfully sweet glazed pastry commonly referred to as a "Hostess Peach Pie."
Overall, I give this town a 9 for breads and a 6.47 for circuses. A photo essay will be posted shortly.
The next reservoir of paint I will dip my paintbrush into will most likely be St. Louis, since I hope to find a suitable therapist somewhere under the mysterious shadow of the Great Arch.
Friday, October 25, 2002
Pieces of this
I am quite self-involved, I suppose.
I'm also quite tired.
This Blog has slipped into a drought of interesting things. (Whether or not this Blog ever has interesting things in it, is a question you may be asking yourself right now.) No relationship quabbles, no homophobic Jacobs alum--just a steady stream of depression. Lalala...
I am quite self-involved, I suppose.
I'm also quite tired.
This Blog has slipped into a drought of interesting things. (Whether or not this Blog ever has interesting things in it, is a question you may be asking yourself right now.) No relationship quabbles, no homophobic Jacobs alum--just a steady stream of depression. Lalala...
Thursday, October 24, 2002
Bright lights, big book
I have a lot to study tonight. Namely, 200 pages of a condescending, elitist American Government book, a hoard of NYT articles, and some Federalist papers.
I just got off the phone with my parents. I've come to the conclusion that it is imperative that I seek some sort of psychological assistance with my ever-deteriorating emtional status. I shared that information with my mother, only to be "soothed" by her for 1/2 hour. Apparently, she and my father have been discussing this for weeks, but didn't know how to suggest to me that I needed therapy. And of course, my mother just assumes that the only issue I could ever have in my life is my sexuality. "Find someone who understands what you're going through, and isn't going to mess you up." I have to remember that they mean well. I cannot, unfortunately, imagine that Columbia has a wealth of psychiatrists. I may have to drive to St. Louis for all of my emtional needs. Who knows.
Zoloft, anyone?
I have a lot to study tonight. Namely, 200 pages of a condescending, elitist American Government book, a hoard of NYT articles, and some Federalist papers.
I just got off the phone with my parents. I've come to the conclusion that it is imperative that I seek some sort of psychological assistance with my ever-deteriorating emtional status. I shared that information with my mother, only to be "soothed" by her for 1/2 hour. Apparently, she and my father have been discussing this for weeks, but didn't know how to suggest to me that I needed therapy. And of course, my mother just assumes that the only issue I could ever have in my life is my sexuality. "Find someone who understands what you're going through, and isn't going to mess you up." I have to remember that they mean well. I cannot, unfortunately, imagine that Columbia has a wealth of psychiatrists. I may have to drive to St. Louis for all of my emtional needs. Who knows.
Zoloft, anyone?
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
I got nothing
Hump day came and went without any sort of interesting things to write about. Quelle surprise.
I took a nap for a few hours, and had at least a dozen dreams about Gwyneth Paltrow. Oh, and Erin has officially "quit" smoking. I'm skeptical about this, though, like I'm skeptical about every other person's vow to quit something that seems a necessary and enjoyable part of their life. Hmm.
That was the extent of my daily excitement. Keep reading, though! More fun to come!
Hump day came and went without any sort of interesting things to write about. Quelle surprise.
I took a nap for a few hours, and had at least a dozen dreams about Gwyneth Paltrow. Oh, and Erin has officially "quit" smoking. I'm skeptical about this, though, like I'm skeptical about every other person's vow to quit something that seems a necessary and enjoyable part of their life. Hmm.
That was the extent of my daily excitement. Keep reading, though! More fun to come!
Tuesday, October 22, 2002
News tighty-whities
It's a pun.
My last shift of work in grand 'ol Columbia's Gap store has been completed, as of 10:45 this evening. It was sort of bittersweet--while I was glad to be rid of their conservatism, double-standards, and long hours, I feel like I made a connection to everyone that works there--even the strange hyper-obsessive managers. I spoke to three of them over the past few days, and they all sounded disappointed--my store manager even asked if I would come back, and she hoped I'd change my mind about quitting soon. I don't think I will.
My good friend (although he'd beg to differ) Jesse has been called back to audition for Paula and the gang for the next season of "American Idol." This is uber-amazing, and I am both thrilled for him, and jealous of his success. Out of all of my friends, aquainances, and enemies, though, I am glad that he was the one to first taste glory and pride in his talents.
I spoke to Jillian, my best high-school friend, last night. She's hard to read, but I think she's relatively happy at Columbia (Chicago). if I can't get into Shannon's three-bedroom flat on Lake Shore Dr., I'd like to find an apartment to share with her.
Today, I purchased a heated blanket, a hairdryer and some curl-enhancing hair serum at the "mall." That's really not important though.
I always hear this random thumping on one of the lower floors in my building. It's really obnoxious, and I don't know what it is. Hammering at 11:30PM? I think not.
It's a pun.
My last shift of work in grand 'ol Columbia's Gap store has been completed, as of 10:45 this evening. It was sort of bittersweet--while I was glad to be rid of their conservatism, double-standards, and long hours, I feel like I made a connection to everyone that works there--even the strange hyper-obsessive managers. I spoke to three of them over the past few days, and they all sounded disappointed--my store manager even asked if I would come back, and she hoped I'd change my mind about quitting soon. I don't think I will.
My good friend (although he'd beg to differ) Jesse has been called back to audition for Paula and the gang for the next season of "American Idol." This is uber-amazing, and I am both thrilled for him, and jealous of his success. Out of all of my friends, aquainances, and enemies, though, I am glad that he was the one to first taste glory and pride in his talents.
I spoke to Jillian, my best high-school friend, last night. She's hard to read, but I think she's relatively happy at Columbia (Chicago). if I can't get into Shannon's three-bedroom flat on Lake Shore Dr., I'd like to find an apartment to share with her.
Today, I purchased a heated blanket, a hairdryer and some curl-enhancing hair serum at the "mall." That's really not important though.
I always hear this random thumping on one of the lower floors in my building. It's really obnoxious, and I don't know what it is. Hammering at 11:30PM? I think not.
"I Saved Public Radio"
I am now an official patron of Chicago Public Radio, and will be receiving fun things in the mail soon for my generous (as generous as a student budget can allow) donation, including a subscription to Newsweek and a membership card, which will entitle me to discounts at many of Chicago's cultural outlets. Plus, as an employee of the Gap Corporation, whatever I donate to WBEZ is matched in full. That in mind, I am contributing quite a bit to the future of NPR. Why don't you donate?
Don't I feel fratastic--I purchased, and am in love with, the Tenacious D album. Not only are they amusing, but their music would be great even if they didn't sing about gently fucking and wonderboy. I'm always interested in an artist at least six months after they've had their heyday--to most people, Tenacious D's novelty has already faded, but now I suddenly like them.
I have plans on Friday! A Missouri first!
I am now an official patron of Chicago Public Radio, and will be receiving fun things in the mail soon for my generous (as generous as a student budget can allow) donation, including a subscription to Newsweek and a membership card, which will entitle me to discounts at many of Chicago's cultural outlets. Plus, as an employee of the Gap Corporation, whatever I donate to WBEZ is matched in full. That in mind, I am contributing quite a bit to the future of NPR. Why don't you donate?
Don't I feel fratastic--I purchased, and am in love with, the Tenacious D album. Not only are they amusing, but their music would be great even if they didn't sing about gently fucking and wonderboy. I'm always interested in an artist at least six months after they've had their heyday--to most people, Tenacious D's novelty has already faded, but now I suddenly like them.
I have plans on Friday! A Missouri first!
Monday, October 21, 2002
Stephen King's playground
My seven hour drive back to Missouri ("home") with Erin was quite possibly the strangest experience ever. It included nice police officers, wrong turns everywhere that somehow led us on the right path, and large dead animals on the side of the road--three things that could never exist in real life. But, I'm back now, and for the first time, my bed here actually felt comforting and familiar.
My day was blurred by my (literally) painful lack of proper sleep.
I'm not in the mood to discuss the status of my relationship with a certain Duck...and, more than likely, anything I typed in my journal would be misconstrued. Essentially, as the cliche goes, trust is the foundation of a helathy relationship.
Off to Barnes and Noble to watch Erin and Jen study.
My seven hour drive back to Missouri ("home") with Erin was quite possibly the strangest experience ever. It included nice police officers, wrong turns everywhere that somehow led us on the right path, and large dead animals on the side of the road--three things that could never exist in real life. But, I'm back now, and for the first time, my bed here actually felt comforting and familiar.
My day was blurred by my (literally) painful lack of proper sleep.
I'm not in the mood to discuss the status of my relationship with a certain Duck...and, more than likely, anything I typed in my journal would be misconstrued. Essentially, as the cliche goes, trust is the foundation of a helathy relationship.
Off to Barnes and Noble to watch Erin and Jen study.
Sunday, October 20, 2002
Changing winds
I think Theo and I are on a "break," a far as the popular term goes. I'm a moody prick who can't support my boyfriend, so I've deservedly been dismissed from the relationship. Theo belives that I'm not willing to accept that he's changing things in his life that make me morbidly unhappy, and my cynicism in this matter is unberable for him. He doesn't want to be in another dysfunctional relationship, and that seems to be where this partnership is heading.
After spending several weeks fretting about things that Theo does that are detrimental to our safety and our relationship, I realized that, as Theo has expounded upon for the duration of this relationship, he and I really do live two seperate lives. I shouldn't be upset about things that I have no jurisdiction over. But, now Theo doesn't like that and wants me to support his goals that include changing things in his life that have upset me. He gave me back the Tiffany's ring, and it's all a big mess right now...but, I suppose some commendation is necessary, since he and I have gone for almost a year with nary a quarrel.
I don't feel like talking about the rest of my day, because it bears little importance in comparison.
I think Theo and I are on a "break," a far as the popular term goes. I'm a moody prick who can't support my boyfriend, so I've deservedly been dismissed from the relationship. Theo belives that I'm not willing to accept that he's changing things in his life that make me morbidly unhappy, and my cynicism in this matter is unberable for him. He doesn't want to be in another dysfunctional relationship, and that seems to be where this partnership is heading.
After spending several weeks fretting about things that Theo does that are detrimental to our safety and our relationship, I realized that, as Theo has expounded upon for the duration of this relationship, he and I really do live two seperate lives. I shouldn't be upset about things that I have no jurisdiction over. But, now Theo doesn't like that and wants me to support his goals that include changing things in his life that have upset me. He gave me back the Tiffany's ring, and it's all a big mess right now...but, I suppose some commendation is necessary, since he and I have gone for almost a year with nary a quarrel.
I don't feel like talking about the rest of my day, because it bears little importance in comparison.
Saturday, October 19, 2002
For Theo's benefit...
...I will post about my impressions of his friends, Joe and Michael. Joe seems like a great, congenial fellow. He's adorably innocent, and seems like someone I'd like to get to know better more, and hopefully will via AIM. Mike seems like a typical queen--in a good way. He seems like an endless source of fun, and always has something amusing to say about minorities and "cultured queers." I like them both.
I visited Lauren tonight, and she gave me a really great lunchbox-type mangbagbox thing. It's decked out in 1940s London Tube advertising. It's uber-fun and I'm taking it with me everywhere. She really knows me.
I accomplished much today, including visiting the source of 65% of my insecurities and psychological ruin (JHS), picked up my new glasses (they're very strong), went shopping at St. Charles' new outdoor shopping center (Anthropologie still ferme), arranged to work at my REAL Gap over Thanksgiving break, and picked up some Krispy Kremes.
Tomorrow, I'm dining with Kim for breakfast, and then going to Chicago to shop for a winter coat, meet up with D. Shannon, and eventually go out with Theo.
...I will post about my impressions of his friends, Joe and Michael. Joe seems like a great, congenial fellow. He's adorably innocent, and seems like someone I'd like to get to know better more, and hopefully will via AIM. Mike seems like a typical queen--in a good way. He seems like an endless source of fun, and always has something amusing to say about minorities and "cultured queers." I like them both.
I visited Lauren tonight, and she gave me a really great lunchbox-type mangbagbox thing. It's decked out in 1940s London Tube advertising. It's uber-fun and I'm taking it with me everywhere. She really knows me.
I accomplished much today, including visiting the source of 65% of my insecurities and psychological ruin (JHS), picked up my new glasses (they're very strong), went shopping at St. Charles' new outdoor shopping center (Anthropologie still ferme), arranged to work at my REAL Gap over Thanksgiving break, and picked up some Krispy Kremes.
Tomorrow, I'm dining with Kim for breakfast, and then going to Chicago to shop for a winter coat, meet up with D. Shannon, and eventually go out with Theo.
Friday, October 18, 2002
Guilty pleasures
Is it wrong for me to look at showering without wearing foot apparel a luxury? Or even having one's sleeping quarters be kept at a temperature above 45 degrees Farenheit? Or being able to use my cell phone without unruly roaming charges? I think they shouldn't be.
The drive home took longer than Erin and I expected. I went to Royal, a seedy but entertaining club in Chicago, with Theo and his friends Joe and Mike. The highlight of the evening was probably seeing Brad Deron. I forgot how much I enjoyed exchanging awkward, all-knowing glances and "How are you"s with him in high school.
Must go to Maggiano's with family now.
Is it wrong for me to look at showering without wearing foot apparel a luxury? Or even having one's sleeping quarters be kept at a temperature above 45 degrees Farenheit? Or being able to use my cell phone without unruly roaming charges? I think they shouldn't be.
The drive home took longer than Erin and I expected. I went to Royal, a seedy but entertaining club in Chicago, with Theo and his friends Joe and Mike. The highlight of the evening was probably seeing Brad Deron. I forgot how much I enjoyed exchanging awkward, all-knowing glances and "How are you"s with him in high school.
Must go to Maggiano's with family now.
Wednesday, October 16, 2002
Home again, home again
In about 15 hours, I'll be on my way home. This makes me happy. There are so many people I want to see while I'm home, but I won't even get to see half of them. Highlights include Royal tomorrow, picking up my new glasses, going back to Jacobs, and dining with my family at Maggiano's Friday, breakfasting and shopping and other strange things Saturday, and hopefully seeing my grandparents on Sunday. Full, full.
Like most people, I have my good emotional days and my bad emotional days. Today was definitely a bad emotional day. Every day brings me new revelations about the life I've developed for myself. If I had friends, I wouldn't be allowed to think so much about things because I'd be too preoccupied with the mindless banter that is, conversation with a Missourian. A boy from Erin's floor already dropped out. That just seems very stupid.
Theo had to get his alternator replaced, and departed from sunny CoMo Tuesday morning.
Last night, I had to work at the Gap until clse to 3:00am. I befriended a girl from Colorado, however. That will develop into literally nothing, since I am no longer an employee at Gap.
Off to bed.
In about 15 hours, I'll be on my way home. This makes me happy. There are so many people I want to see while I'm home, but I won't even get to see half of them. Highlights include Royal tomorrow, picking up my new glasses, going back to Jacobs, and dining with my family at Maggiano's Friday, breakfasting and shopping and other strange things Saturday, and hopefully seeing my grandparents on Sunday. Full, full.
Like most people, I have my good emotional days and my bad emotional days. Today was definitely a bad emotional day. Every day brings me new revelations about the life I've developed for myself. If I had friends, I wouldn't be allowed to think so much about things because I'd be too preoccupied with the mindless banter that is, conversation with a Missourian. A boy from Erin's floor already dropped out. That just seems very stupid.
Theo had to get his alternator replaced, and departed from sunny CoMo Tuesday morning.
Last night, I had to work at the Gap until clse to 3:00am. I befriended a girl from Colorado, however. That will develop into literally nothing, since I am no longer an employee at Gap.
Off to bed.
Monday, October 14, 2002
50 words about my weekend
...Because that's all Theo will allow me to write. He's still here, because his car's damaged somewhat. We went to St. Louis yesterday, and are about to leave for lunch at Jimmy John's (Theo doesn't want to eat dorm food becaus he's "on vacation"). Besides the occasional game of Rummy and a lot of driving about, we didn't do much in this "one-horse town." I have 8 words left. Oh, and the bed is too small for both of us. That's it.
...Because that's all Theo will allow me to write. He's still here, because his car's damaged somewhat. We went to St. Louis yesterday, and are about to leave for lunch at Jimmy John's (Theo doesn't want to eat dorm food becaus he's "on vacation"). Besides the occasional game of Rummy and a lot of driving about, we didn't do much in this "one-horse town." I have 8 words left. Oh, and the bed is too small for both of us. That's it.
Friday, October 11, 2002
Read the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth
I'm not going to kill myself. It is just a current peroccupation. No warning signs here--I'm not giving any of you my things, I'm not madly scribbling down suicide letters, I'm not dressing in (all) black. I'm not suddenly "cherful and optomistic" like I would be if I were to off myself.
Today is National Coming Out day. Doesn't that make you sick? My fellow Mizzou queers were out queening around in Speaker's Circle today, with an irrationally-appointed loudspeaker. i avoided it like the plague...it just seems horrible. "Hey, all you breeders! You 'clit lickers!' This is our week to prove that we actually do like everything you think we do, we are, in fact, the stereotypes you think we are, and are just as bizarre as we seem! Come gawk at us. Now." As Erin and I stelathily walked far enough around the Speaker's Circle to not be seen, we overheard some small man shrieking: "Now we're going to sing some RuPaul!" I think I've had enough.
Theo is hopefully driving down tonight. That makes me happy.
I'm not going to kill myself. It is just a current peroccupation. No warning signs here--I'm not giving any of you my things, I'm not madly scribbling down suicide letters, I'm not dressing in (all) black. I'm not suddenly "cherful and optomistic" like I would be if I were to off myself.
Today is National Coming Out day. Doesn't that make you sick? My fellow Mizzou queers were out queening around in Speaker's Circle today, with an irrationally-appointed loudspeaker. i avoided it like the plague...it just seems horrible. "Hey, all you breeders! You 'clit lickers!' This is our week to prove that we actually do like everything you think we do, we are, in fact, the stereotypes you think we are, and are just as bizarre as we seem! Come gawk at us. Now." As Erin and I stelathily walked far enough around the Speaker's Circle to not be seen, we overheard some small man shrieking: "Now we're going to sing some RuPaul!" I think I've had enough.
Theo is hopefully driving down tonight. That makes me happy.
C'est tres morbide, ma vie.
Nothing to report. I've had this preoccupation with suicide lately--not to actually do it to myself, per se, but with the idea in general. I'm reading Bret Easton Ellis' "The Rules of Attraction," and have just finished the suicide-laden "The Bell Jar" by the wonderful Sylvia Plath.
I think if I were to do it, I would have a glass of wine with a few sleeping pills or tabs of codeine, slit my wrists with the shards of the crystal of the aforementioned goblet, and climb into a warm bathtub with one of my Bath Bombs from Lush in London, while listening to classical music or Jazzanova or Cibo Matto. I'd like to do this in some romantic place, like a four-star hotel in Paris, with ball-and-claw tubs. I would write several suicide letters on nice stationary, and have one addressed to my sister, my mother, my father, Theo, Erin, my Aunt Jennifer, and perhaps Lauren and Jill and C. Shannon (even though I'm quite apathetic about my friendship with the latter). I'd leave them on the unused bed. Don't worry, readers--we don't have bathtubs here, or wine or nice, expensive wine glasses. Just big ugly dirty showers, bathtub gin, and red plastc Solo cups. Not much damage can/will be done.
The thing that has kept me from suicide all these years has been my parents. I don't ever want to force my parents to see me floating around in a pool of blood and death, or ganging from a well-tied noose. That would break them. When I really wanted to do it, circa sophomore year and beyond, I thought I would hang myself in my closet, and put a big black garbage bag over my body with a note saying, "I love you. Don't look under this bag; I'm dead. Just call the paramedics and have them deal with it. I'm sorry." I don't want them to have to tell their friends and relatives that I was a weak little brat and killed myself, nor do I want them to have to bury me and deal with all of that emotional/financial trouble. I would hate that. I don't want to ravage my family's namesake.
Fuck, who am I--Mulan?
I think I want to study opera writing/music theory/musical theater writing/journalism/music performance at Columbia College.
Nothing to report. I've had this preoccupation with suicide lately--not to actually do it to myself, per se, but with the idea in general. I'm reading Bret Easton Ellis' "The Rules of Attraction," and have just finished the suicide-laden "The Bell Jar" by the wonderful Sylvia Plath.
I think if I were to do it, I would have a glass of wine with a few sleeping pills or tabs of codeine, slit my wrists with the shards of the crystal of the aforementioned goblet, and climb into a warm bathtub with one of my Bath Bombs from Lush in London, while listening to classical music or Jazzanova or Cibo Matto. I'd like to do this in some romantic place, like a four-star hotel in Paris, with ball-and-claw tubs. I would write several suicide letters on nice stationary, and have one addressed to my sister, my mother, my father, Theo, Erin, my Aunt Jennifer, and perhaps Lauren and Jill and C. Shannon (even though I'm quite apathetic about my friendship with the latter). I'd leave them on the unused bed. Don't worry, readers--we don't have bathtubs here, or wine or nice, expensive wine glasses. Just big ugly dirty showers, bathtub gin, and red plastc Solo cups. Not much damage can/will be done.
The thing that has kept me from suicide all these years has been my parents. I don't ever want to force my parents to see me floating around in a pool of blood and death, or ganging from a well-tied noose. That would break them. When I really wanted to do it, circa sophomore year and beyond, I thought I would hang myself in my closet, and put a big black garbage bag over my body with a note saying, "I love you. Don't look under this bag; I'm dead. Just call the paramedics and have them deal with it. I'm sorry." I don't want them to have to tell their friends and relatives that I was a weak little brat and killed myself, nor do I want them to have to bury me and deal with all of that emotional/financial trouble. I would hate that. I don't want to ravage my family's namesake.
Fuck, who am I--Mulan?
I think I want to study opera writing/music theory/musical theater writing/journalism/music performance at Columbia College.
Wednesday, October 09, 2002
Impass
I feel, suddenly, like my life really has no direction. I arrange my life around horribly absurd plans I have, make these naively conditional statements (if...then), and overall hope for some outlandish "best" that really never occurs in entirety. Why do I even hope that one day, my life is going to make some magnificent turnaround, and this yellow school bus to hell will put its red flashers on and let me off at the next suburban intersection? I didn't see the "Express" sign when I boarded, so please, Fate, just give me one chance to right my wrongs.
But then, I realize, I can't change myself; I can't change the situations I will encounter. Not because there is a fate, but because I am "destined" to act upon future experiences in a Freudian textbook way, based upon my past experiences and memories. A tree can't change its rings, the fruit it produces, the shape and colour of its foliage, its permanent resting ground. Why should I have ever thought...
Sometimes, I wish that bird had never nested in my branches. Sure, it's great to have a companion, to exist in some primal, deleriously sublime symbiosis with a brightly-painted, winged deity. But one day, the bird will not come back to lay more bits of stuff down in its settled, comfortable nest. It will not produce more eggs of wisdom and insight in my tree. It will fly off, into a sunset the tree will never really know, never touch, never experience. And then, what is left? A downyfluff part here, a meticulously-placed branch there. While all physical evidence is gone, while the nest slowly joins the breeze in an endless dance, while the eggshells of moments lost join the grass, the rings tell the story. The rings felt it all, and stored those experiences deep in its painted lines, its structure, its soul. Those moments cannot be cast from the somber, cold ellipses.
This featheryou have (or have not) been reading, made of fluffy words and birdshit, did have somewhere to land, but now it's stuck to the bottom of a Lincoln's Skecher shoe. In conclusion...ugh.
I feel, suddenly, like my life really has no direction. I arrange my life around horribly absurd plans I have, make these naively conditional statements (if...then), and overall hope for some outlandish "best" that really never occurs in entirety. Why do I even hope that one day, my life is going to make some magnificent turnaround, and this yellow school bus to hell will put its red flashers on and let me off at the next suburban intersection? I didn't see the "Express" sign when I boarded, so please, Fate, just give me one chance to right my wrongs.
But then, I realize, I can't change myself; I can't change the situations I will encounter. Not because there is a fate, but because I am "destined" to act upon future experiences in a Freudian textbook way, based upon my past experiences and memories. A tree can't change its rings, the fruit it produces, the shape and colour of its foliage, its permanent resting ground. Why should I have ever thought...
Sometimes, I wish that bird had never nested in my branches. Sure, it's great to have a companion, to exist in some primal, deleriously sublime symbiosis with a brightly-painted, winged deity. But one day, the bird will not come back to lay more bits of stuff down in its settled, comfortable nest. It will not produce more eggs of wisdom and insight in my tree. It will fly off, into a sunset the tree will never really know, never touch, never experience. And then, what is left? A downyfluff part here, a meticulously-placed branch there. While all physical evidence is gone, while the nest slowly joins the breeze in an endless dance, while the eggshells of moments lost join the grass, the rings tell the story. The rings felt it all, and stored those experiences deep in its painted lines, its structure, its soul. Those moments cannot be cast from the somber, cold ellipses.
This featheryou have (or have not) been reading, made of fluffy words and birdshit, did have somewhere to land, but now it's stuck to the bottom of a Lincoln's Skecher shoe. In conclusion...ugh.
Tuesday, October 08, 2002
Jack Shafer needs to tell you something! He needs to tell you right now, and you need to listen!
Read this article if you have any interest in journalism or going to a J-school. Right now.
Read this article if you have any interest in journalism or going to a J-school. Right now.
The queer man is gone, the queer man is gone--HALLELUJAH--the queer man is gone.
I finally quit the Gap today. I was very unsure about it all, because I would like the money, and I'm worried they aren't going to let me finish up the next two weeks out of anger or something. But, I went in to buy socks this evening and everyone was very cold to me. That was my first sign that my absence would be advantageous to me. Then, I tried on a new brown suede coat with that furry cotton interior in size small, and it was much too large. That was ironic sign number two. As I gave my letter of resignation to my manager, I overheard the redundant Gap tape: Shakira's "Objection (Tango)" was blaring, and the Latin lass was screaming "Get away...get away!" I knew then that my decision was of great benefit to me, even though I now will have no money and nothing to do in the evenings. Sacrifices must be made.
My beatiful freshman sister is going to homecoming! With a senior! In her beautiful strapless Jessica McClintock gown! I'm really excited, and upset that I couldn't come home this weekend to witness my sister's first big step into high school. Two weeks, Brian...two weeks.
Erin has started a blog, but I don't think she'd like me to put up a link to it. Just in case.
I finally quit the Gap today. I was very unsure about it all, because I would like the money, and I'm worried they aren't going to let me finish up the next two weeks out of anger or something. But, I went in to buy socks this evening and everyone was very cold to me. That was my first sign that my absence would be advantageous to me. Then, I tried on a new brown suede coat with that furry cotton interior in size small, and it was much too large. That was ironic sign number two. As I gave my letter of resignation to my manager, I overheard the redundant Gap tape: Shakira's "Objection (Tango)" was blaring, and the Latin lass was screaming "Get away...get away!" I knew then that my decision was of great benefit to me, even though I now will have no money and nothing to do in the evenings. Sacrifices must be made.
My beatiful freshman sister is going to homecoming! With a senior! In her beautiful strapless Jessica McClintock gown! I'm really excited, and upset that I couldn't come home this weekend to witness my sister's first big step into high school. Two weeks, Brian...two weeks.
Erin has started a blog, but I don't think she'd like me to put up a link to it. Just in case.
Comment dit-ons...stereotyping?
Tuesday is generally my favourite day of the week--I only have one class, French. But today, in la classe de Francaise, we were divided up into les hommes and les femmes to "describe what the perfect boy/girl would be like." Is that right? Can she really do that? I don't want to describe the "perfect girl" in a romantic sense. I felt awkward and betrayed, as I sat with Missouri's finest genteman discussing whether we want our girl to be really young, submissive, "hard-working," or short. Itwas immediately decided that she shouldn't talk very much. This is rediculous.
How do we feel about the headers preceding every entry? I think it's kind of convenient.
Tuesday is generally my favourite day of the week--I only have one class, French. But today, in la classe de Francaise, we were divided up into les hommes and les femmes to "describe what the perfect boy/girl would be like." Is that right? Can she really do that? I don't want to describe the "perfect girl" in a romantic sense. I felt awkward and betrayed, as I sat with Missouri's finest genteman discussing whether we want our girl to be really young, submissive, "hard-working," or short. Itwas immediately decided that she shouldn't talk very much. This is rediculous.
How do we feel about the headers preceding every entry? I think it's kind of convenient.
Monday, October 07, 2002
Drawing Blanks
Aside from "making" a B on my Philosophy midterm (Missourified English yeah!) and doing laundry, I have nothing to report. I'm writing a few letters now, but that's all. I puchased Monsoon Wedding at Wal-Mart today. Pardon me...the SUPER Wal-Mart. Sierra, my cashier, charged me (somehow) for two DVDs. If I hadn't have muttered something to Erin about the high price for my otherwise nominal groceries, it would have gone uncorrected. I have never had so much fun in Wal-Mart before, by the way.
I want to be able to fly. I really do.
Aside from "making" a B on my Philosophy midterm (Missourified English yeah!) and doing laundry, I have nothing to report. I'm writing a few letters now, but that's all. I puchased Monsoon Wedding at Wal-Mart today. Pardon me...the SUPER Wal-Mart. Sierra, my cashier, charged me (somehow) for two DVDs. If I hadn't have muttered something to Erin about the high price for my otherwise nominal groceries, it would have gone uncorrected. I have never had so much fun in Wal-Mart before, by the way.
I want to be able to fly. I really do.
Non-Sequitur
I suddenly had a memory wave over me--I remember, junior year, after I had broken up with Bob the first time and was really upset at myself for doing it, Erin writing on a piece of paper in green ink,
"Your heart will heal and you will love like this again."
Without Erin, I would be nobody today. I love her so much...more than I could love any man or any other friend. We are sympathetic overtones on a piano--when one of us vibrates, a perfect third or fifth is created by the other. She's helped me through a lot. I'm jst worried I'm going to forget that once I don't see her every day.
I can remember during "Crazy for You" we went through a fourteen-day period where we saw each other every single day. Which is hard for highschoolers, with transportation and all. But we did it.
I feel fortunate to have so many great people in my life, and have felt this way about all of my closest friends at some point. But this is the memory that came up first; the Lotto ball that was vaccumed from the plastic orb ahead of the others.
Good night.
I suddenly had a memory wave over me--I remember, junior year, after I had broken up with Bob the first time and was really upset at myself for doing it, Erin writing on a piece of paper in green ink,
"Your heart will heal and you will love like this again."
Without Erin, I would be nobody today. I love her so much...more than I could love any man or any other friend. We are sympathetic overtones on a piano--when one of us vibrates, a perfect third or fifth is created by the other. She's helped me through a lot. I'm jst worried I'm going to forget that once I don't see her every day.
I can remember during "Crazy for You" we went through a fourteen-day period where we saw each other every single day. Which is hard for highschoolers, with transportation and all. But we did it.
I feel fortunate to have so many great people in my life, and have felt this way about all of my closest friends at some point. But this is the memory that came up first; the Lotto ball that was vaccumed from the plastic orb ahead of the others.
Good night.
Sunday, October 06, 2002
Hall Meeting Excitement!
We had our second Hillcrest A-Wing meeting today. The "A-Wing" of Hillcrest probably has about fifty guys in it. There were seven residents at the meeting tonight. Hmm. But, I did "involve" myself by becoming the Publicity Chairman for our wing. This basically means I put up posters. But, it'll "look good on a resume." I was done with the meeting after the same trashy guy mentioned something about allotting hall funds to "get some strippers," and how "those fucking Mexican women" are cleaning the bathroom when he's in the shower. So, that about sums it up why I hate it here.
And, of course, surprisingly enough, Theo's mad at me. It's regarding the phone call I received yesterday morning. Apparently, me placing judgement upon him (...) is something he can't handle. Erin best analyzed this situation by saying, "There are two types of people: the people who, when someone is angry with them, lets it go, and the people who, when someone is angry with them, reciprocate those feelings and are angry back." That's all I'm going to say about that.
I'm awaiting a call from my parents about whether or not I have their support in quitting from Gap.
We had our second Hillcrest A-Wing meeting today. The "A-Wing" of Hillcrest probably has about fifty guys in it. There were seven residents at the meeting tonight. Hmm. But, I did "involve" myself by becoming the Publicity Chairman for our wing. This basically means I put up posters. But, it'll "look good on a resume." I was done with the meeting after the same trashy guy mentioned something about allotting hall funds to "get some strippers," and how "those fucking Mexican women" are cleaning the bathroom when he's in the shower. So, that about sums it up why I hate it here.
And, of course, surprisingly enough, Theo's mad at me. It's regarding the phone call I received yesterday morning. Apparently, me placing judgement upon him (...) is something he can't handle. Erin best analyzed this situation by saying, "There are two types of people: the people who, when someone is angry with them, lets it go, and the people who, when someone is angry with them, reciprocate those feelings and are angry back." That's all I'm going to say about that.
I'm awaiting a call from my parents about whether or not I have their support in quitting from Gap.
Saturday, October 05, 2002
When it rains...
My Saturday was quite unenjoyable. I was awoken both literally and metaphorically by a phone call. A phone call that quite disturbed me. A phone call I will not describe in detail, for purposes of confidentiality.
Work added another layer to the calorie-filled pastry of my life. I will not divulge why I am so angered, embarassed, and upset about my experience at work today, because it's incredibly horrible and embarassing. I will say this much: as a result of my experience today, and my general discontentment with my occupation, I am resigning from my position as an employee at Gap. This Gap, that is--I will resume work in West Dundee come winter break.
My Saturday ended on a high(er) note, as I watched "Sliding Doors" with Erin and Jen. I think I'll conclude there, unless there's something I'll need to complain about in my guestbook.
My Saturday was quite unenjoyable. I was awoken both literally and metaphorically by a phone call. A phone call that quite disturbed me. A phone call I will not describe in detail, for purposes of confidentiality.
Work added another layer to the calorie-filled pastry of my life. I will not divulge why I am so angered, embarassed, and upset about my experience at work today, because it's incredibly horrible and embarassing. I will say this much: as a result of my experience today, and my general discontentment with my occupation, I am resigning from my position as an employee at Gap. This Gap, that is--I will resume work in West Dundee come winter break.
My Saturday ended on a high(er) note, as I watched "Sliding Doors" with Erin and Jen. I think I'll conclude there, unless there's something I'll need to complain about in my guestbook.
Tragedy of the Commons
I'm pretty sure someone's going to die tonight. I'm sitting here, doing things that lack relevance to the story, while I hear screaming and shouting and crying coming from outside of my window, which provides a view of our lovely courtyard. Some assumably "white" girl is screaming about something. Then, she quiets down, when two obviously "black" men are shouting insults at each other, and threatening bodily harm and death on the other. Very strange. Oh well. Just as long as their bullets stay out of my room, I don't care who dies or loses a weave.
(I'll just apoogize about that one now.)
I'm pretty sure someone's going to die tonight. I'm sitting here, doing things that lack relevance to the story, while I hear screaming and shouting and crying coming from outside of my window, which provides a view of our lovely courtyard. Some assumably "white" girl is screaming about something. Then, she quiets down, when two obviously "black" men are shouting insults at each other, and threatening bodily harm and death on the other. Very strange. Oh well. Just as long as their bullets stay out of my room, I don't care who dies or loses a weave.
(I'll just apoogize about that one now.)
Friday, October 04, 2002
I'm going to make every attempt to return the state of my Blog to normal. Whatever that means.
My day was uneventful...that's no surprise. Highlights include getting yet another easy A on a Philo. quiz and a French test, studying at Denny's for Astronomy with Erin, switching to Menthol Milds, to be more economical (More nicotine = less smoking), and working. That's about all.
I cannot wait to move back to Chicago. Or to Chicago, I suppose, since I never really lived there before.
My day was uneventful...that's no surprise. Highlights include getting yet another easy A on a Philo. quiz and a French test, studying at Denny's for Astronomy with Erin, switching to Menthol Milds, to be more economical (More nicotine = less smoking), and working. That's about all.
I cannot wait to move back to Chicago. Or to Chicago, I suppose, since I never really lived there before.
Thursday, October 03, 2002
Wait...there are people in this world who can love me and accept that I'm a person, without focusing solely on my irrelevant sexual preference?
I'm glad my journal has become an outpost for all Brown Shirt loathers of the class of 2002. And to think, for all those years, I thought you all hated me because I was gay. I'm so relieved to know that it was just because I'm a "dick," a "stuck up bitch." Golly, and to think...
My day was clouded by the fact that unnamed peers have been abusing my Blog and my guestbook. Anyone else have anything to add, concerning your personal differences with me? You know where to go.
My day was clouded by the fact that unnamed peers have been abusing my Blog and my guestbook. Anyone else have anything to add, concerning your personal differences with me? You know where to go.
Holy fucking shit.
I invite you all to look at my guestbook. Go ahead, do it now. The first post is all you need to see.
Are you back? Good.
That is what I've had to deal with for the past four years. Nothing but blatant ignorance. Whoever posted that, and whoever is now reading this to mock my queer existence, fuck you. Didn't you do enough damage? I thought that once I received my diploma, it would all be over.
Thank you, though, for reminding me that I really am just a stupid fag. A big flaming faggot. For awhile, I thought the world was something more than sexuality, something more than ethnicity, something more than social status, something more than the permanent code passed on to us from generations prior.
But no. Clearly, I will never be more than a "flamer."
Thank you for telling me the truth. I needed that.
I invite you all to look at my guestbook. Go ahead, do it now. The first post is all you need to see.
Are you back? Good.
That is what I've had to deal with for the past four years. Nothing but blatant ignorance. Whoever posted that, and whoever is now reading this to mock my queer existence, fuck you. Didn't you do enough damage? I thought that once I received my diploma, it would all be over.
Thank you, though, for reminding me that I really am just a stupid fag. A big flaming faggot. For awhile, I thought the world was something more than sexuality, something more than ethnicity, something more than social status, something more than the permanent code passed on to us from generations prior.
But no. Clearly, I will never be more than a "flamer."
Thank you for telling me the truth. I needed that.
After speaking with my father, and trying to expertly weasel my way out of talking to an old friend but actually wanting to talk to him, or rather wanting him to want to talk to me, I have determined that I am a terrible person. I am an aspiring elitist, bu have absolutely no traits in my life to be proud of. I'm so underdeveloped socially, it's not even funny. I'm incredibly fickle and evil. I am condescending to everyone, and moreso to people who threaten my intelligence and sensibility. I just am a really horrible example of a human being.
Conservative Shannon. My heart goes out to her. My father told me that a girl on Shannon's floor slit her wrists, and then came into Shannon's room, bleeding all over. How traumatic is that. Even moreso, when considering this is not the first suicide CS has witnessed. As a freshman at Lake Forest Academy, Shannon was on the Model UN. While conferencing in Chicago, she and a few of her fellow UN-ers witnessed a woman leap from a skyscraper and fall mere yards from them. Why don't ungodly, horrible things like that happen to me? I'm the one who deserves to suffer, God--not Shannon.
But alas...my only punishment is the occasional mouse dropping I find scattered about my room.
Conservative Shannon. My heart goes out to her. My father told me that a girl on Shannon's floor slit her wrists, and then came into Shannon's room, bleeding all over. How traumatic is that. Even moreso, when considering this is not the first suicide CS has witnessed. As a freshman at Lake Forest Academy, Shannon was on the Model UN. While conferencing in Chicago, she and a few of her fellow UN-ers witnessed a woman leap from a skyscraper and fall mere yards from them. Why don't ungodly, horrible things like that happen to me? I'm the one who deserves to suffer, God--not Shannon.
But alas...my only punishment is the occasional mouse dropping I find scattered about my room.
Wednesday, October 02, 2002
Work last night went much, much better than forseen. My manager was chatting with the GapKids store manager when I arrived. She told me my absence was put in the system as just an absence, not a no-call no-show. So, I didn't get written up and everyone at Gap still loves me. Hooray. Or rather, horray.
While at the "cash wrap" (registers) last night, a short boy asked for my phone number. He told me it was for "his friend," but I'm almost certain, since I saw him at the Tri-Co meetingmy first visit, that he was asking for his own devices. I politely told him that I actually don't know my phone number, which is true. I was looking through my Caller ID and kept seeing what I thought was my number pop up. But, of course, it was Erin's number. Drat.
I spoke with Theo last night for an hour or so. I succeeded in irritating him over and over again.
I'm writing to all of you from the Artisan Cafe, a high-speed Intenet-friendly establishment I have spoken of before. Outside, there's a dreaful downpour occurring, washing away dust and grime this city contains, only for new dirt to fall upon the buildings, cars, and inhabitants anew tomorrow. The gentle Jazz music they're broadcasting through this quaint little find is soothing. Yet another escape from "CoMo."
While at the "cash wrap" (registers) last night, a short boy asked for my phone number. He told me it was for "his friend," but I'm almost certain, since I saw him at the Tri-Co meetingmy first visit, that he was asking for his own devices. I politely told him that I actually don't know my phone number, which is true. I was looking through my Caller ID and kept seeing what I thought was my number pop up. But, of course, it was Erin's number. Drat.
I spoke with Theo last night for an hour or so. I succeeded in irritating him over and over again.
I'm writing to all of you from the Artisan Cafe, a high-speed Intenet-friendly establishment I have spoken of before. Outside, there's a dreaful downpour occurring, washing away dust and grime this city contains, only for new dirt to fall upon the buildings, cars, and inhabitants anew tomorrow. The gentle Jazz music they're broadcasting through this quaint little find is soothing. Yet another escape from "CoMo."
Tuesday, October 01, 2002
Number eleven on my list may not be true for long.
Sigma Chi, a prominent fraternity on our campus, has just been suspended for four years, following a freshman's letter to the chancellor about hazing (which included ammonia being poured on pledge's heads, dry shaving, and being forced to drink from a used spittoon) and a month-long undercover investigation. So, now the 65 or so freshmen living in Sigma Chi's southern comfort mansion have to move into approved housing, per Residential Life edict. Since there's already a horrendous overcrowding issue on campus, I don't doubt these fratastic football-playing fools will have to move in here. Fuck fuck fuck.
I did, just a moment ago, discover why Christian moved out--the room accross the hallway was unoccupied, so now he and I both have our own rooms. Not too terrible.
Erin and I saw "Sweet Home Alabama" this evening. The ending was terrible, unrealistic and droll. People DO change, Mr. Screenwriter. Everyone changes, save for a few inherent, permanent traits. How many humans have successful life-long relationships with people they met before they experienced different culture, new environments, and people to match? Terrible, terrible.
I should stop reading books, seeing movies, going home, and dreaming while asleep. These hypnotic voyages from reality just make my real surroundings that much more to bear.
Work tomorrow. I'm scared. I don't know if I could bear getting fired.
Sigma Chi, a prominent fraternity on our campus, has just been suspended for four years, following a freshman's letter to the chancellor about hazing (which included ammonia being poured on pledge's heads, dry shaving, and being forced to drink from a used spittoon) and a month-long undercover investigation. So, now the 65 or so freshmen living in Sigma Chi's southern comfort mansion have to move into approved housing, per Residential Life edict. Since there's already a horrendous overcrowding issue on campus, I don't doubt these fratastic football-playing fools will have to move in here. Fuck fuck fuck.
I did, just a moment ago, discover why Christian moved out--the room accross the hallway was unoccupied, so now he and I both have our own rooms. Not too terrible.
Erin and I saw "Sweet Home Alabama" this evening. The ending was terrible, unrealistic and droll. People DO change, Mr. Screenwriter. Everyone changes, save for a few inherent, permanent traits. How many humans have successful life-long relationships with people they met before they experienced different culture, new environments, and people to match? Terrible, terrible.
I should stop reading books, seeing movies, going home, and dreaming while asleep. These hypnotic voyages from reality just make my real surroundings that much more to bear.
Work tomorrow. I'm scared. I don't know if I could bear getting fired.
Monday, September 30, 2002
So, the weekend.
Here are a few lessons I learned.
1. Fashion, no matter how hideous, is always fresh, beautiful, and modern.
2. I can drive up to the Chicagoland area in under six hours.
3. Pigeons can detect the difference between a Picasso and a Monet.
4. Laura-Ann is a wonderful girl.
5. My current employer does not have a very friendly/flexible/reasonable/logical absentee policy.
6. Someone from MU has read my Blog. All of it. Every single page. (Identify yourself via guestbook...or else.)
7. Theo and I are going to have a one-bedroom apartment in Roger's Park with two beds, no smoking, hardwood floors, and (preferably) a balcony.
8. Vases can wear corsets.
9. I still cry hysterically every time I have to return to this place.
10. I may really be "depressed," in the non-pop-culture medical way.
11. I no longer have a roommate--only an echoing, barren room I call my own.
12. I love Theo.
I think that's it.
Here are a few lessons I learned.
1. Fashion, no matter how hideous, is always fresh, beautiful, and modern.
2. I can drive up to the Chicagoland area in under six hours.
3. Pigeons can detect the difference between a Picasso and a Monet.
4. Laura-Ann is a wonderful girl.
5. My current employer does not have a very friendly/flexible/reasonable/logical absentee policy.
6. Someone from MU has read my Blog. All of it. Every single page. (Identify yourself via guestbook...or else.)
7. Theo and I are going to have a one-bedroom apartment in Roger's Park with two beds, no smoking, hardwood floors, and (preferably) a balcony.
8. Vases can wear corsets.
9. I still cry hysterically every time I have to return to this place.
10. I may really be "depressed," in the non-pop-culture medical way.
11. I no longer have a roommate--only an echoing, barren room I call my own.
12. I love Theo.
I think that's it.
Thursday, September 26, 2002
Yes, yes.
I didn't tell anyone about this new fact of my future life, because I didn't want people (especially Erin) to think my decision to leave Missouri was based upon Theo (alone). But, he's alluded to it, so I might as well expound upon it: Theo and I are getting an apartment together next semester, ideally in Roger's Park. I didn't want to tell Erin, even though it was horribly hard since she's my closest confidant and I'm terribly thrilled about the idea, but I didn't want her assuming more than I think she already does. (I think I explained my reasons for leaving quite well to her at Denny's on Tuesday, and she agrees with my points.) So, that's that.
I have so much to do, and such little time to complete all of my necessary tasks. I have an entire page of listed-off chores in my notebook--I hope to achieve all of them by the weekend's end.
I really do enjoy French as a language.
I didn't tell anyone about this new fact of my future life, because I didn't want people (especially Erin) to think my decision to leave Missouri was based upon Theo (alone). But, he's alluded to it, so I might as well expound upon it: Theo and I are getting an apartment together next semester, ideally in Roger's Park. I didn't want to tell Erin, even though it was horribly hard since she's my closest confidant and I'm terribly thrilled about the idea, but I didn't want her assuming more than I think she already does. (I think I explained my reasons for leaving quite well to her at Denny's on Tuesday, and she agrees with my points.) So, that's that.
I have so much to do, and such little time to complete all of my necessary tasks. I have an entire page of listed-off chores in my notebook--I hope to achieve all of them by the weekend's end.
I really do enjoy French as a language.
Wednesday, September 25, 2002
As the autumn wind breezes through the slowly changing leaves, a surprising alteration to my routine may transpire: Christian is moving out.
He's trying to room with the guy across the hall from us because "[his] computer's coming, and it won't fit in our room." This means that he's figured out I'm queer and doesn't want me watching him undress or some other homophobic rationale.
I know I should be excited about this, but I'm not at all. First, I feel guilty because I feel like I pushed him out of the room with my homosexuality. I hate that people can't accept menial things like my being gay. It really isn't that big of a deal. You look like a battered-and-deep-fried Frankenstein, Christian. Get over it; I'm not attracted to you. This further proves to me that, as chldish as it may seem, nobody likes me/can get along with me/stand me. Also, i feel like i'm going to be missing out on the "essential life experience" of having a roommate. If i transfer to Chicago (which everyone seems to know about even though I only told Erin), i'll be living in an apartment with people/someone I already know.
Sigh.
This does mean that I'll be able to actually SLEEP sometimes. And I set my own sleeping schedule. And my room will smell better. And Theo can come visit me. And I'll have more room. I'm so torn about this.
I'l find out tomorrow if this is "fo sho" or not.
He's trying to room with the guy across the hall from us because "[his] computer's coming, and it won't fit in our room." This means that he's figured out I'm queer and doesn't want me watching him undress or some other homophobic rationale.
I know I should be excited about this, but I'm not at all. First, I feel guilty because I feel like I pushed him out of the room with my homosexuality. I hate that people can't accept menial things like my being gay. It really isn't that big of a deal. You look like a battered-and-deep-fried Frankenstein, Christian. Get over it; I'm not attracted to you. This further proves to me that, as chldish as it may seem, nobody likes me/can get along with me/stand me. Also, i feel like i'm going to be missing out on the "essential life experience" of having a roommate. If i transfer to Chicago (which everyone seems to know about even though I only told Erin), i'll be living in an apartment with people/someone I already know.
Sigh.
This does mean that I'll be able to actually SLEEP sometimes. And I set my own sleeping schedule. And my room will smell better. And Theo can come visit me. And I'll have more room. I'm so torn about this.
I'l find out tomorrow if this is "fo sho" or not.
Monday, September 23, 2002
Briefly...
It's 11:30, my clock. That's 30 minutes past "quiet time." My RA (whose room is next door) is blaring his video game and yukking it up loudly and obnoxiously with...you guessed it...my roommate! I need my goddamned fucking sleep you brainless imbeciles.
At least I don't have roommate issues like Sarah. I wouldn't want to be in her shoes.
It's 11:30, my clock. That's 30 minutes past "quiet time." My RA (whose room is next door) is blaring his video game and yukking it up loudly and obnoxiously with...you guessed it...my roommate! I need my goddamned fucking sleep you brainless imbeciles.
At least I don't have roommate issues like Sarah. I wouldn't want to be in her shoes.
I never realized how resentful Erin is towards me, in the aftermath of our failed relationships. She truly blames me for her love issues (which I won't go into grave detail about here; that's distasteful), and I suppose I never really considered that as a possibility. I mean, in this day and age, what girl hasn't or won't date a gay man? I didn't know I was totally queer back then...I still believed in that juvenile theory called "bisexuality." This just adds another layer of urine to the litterbox.
Oh my...that's a disgusting visual image.
Oh my...that's a disgusting visual image.
The remainder of the weekend was unexciting.
Theo and I saw "Mostly Martha," a German film about a (beautiful) chef's tribulations with her newly-orphaned neice, love life, career foibles, and middle-aged status on Saturday at CineArts. It was quite enjoyable. Even my aunt (who obviously didn't see the film with us) loved it, and she has a very well-trained cultural palate.
Sunday, my beautiful sister "confirmed her faith" at a church my family never goes to anymore (they've switched to a more contemporary church in Algonquin, as opposed to our original decaying middleground Lutheran church). Gratuituous food and family followed, to my dismay.
"How's school, Brian?"
"Oh, it's...interesting. It's not what I expected."
I had to take ten-minute breaks from the incessant fibbing, my head hurt so badly.
My "sister" (neighbour I practically grew up with and lived under the same roof as) commented on my Tiffany's ring. "Who gave you that?" she chided. "No one," I pathetically replied. "I bet you and your girlfriend have the same exact ring." Something like that, Kim.
Terrible session in philosophy. Charles, as I've learned his name is, may possibly be the stupidest living being I have ever encountered, next to cats and single-celled amoebas. They say there is no such thing as a stupid question, but I believe that dear Charles could very well prove that theory false. His hand is constantly waving in the air, as though he suddenly remembered to ask Oz for a brain. My instructor (Horray for TAs...natch) made some quip about how he thinks rights are overrated; he feels like Americans look at rights as some superpower and demonstrated this principle comically. Charles raises his hand and says (I wrote it down in my notebook, it was so humorously preposterous), "Have you ever read the Declaration of Indepenence, Mr. Berntsen?" "Yes, I have; actually, I had to memorize it in school about eight times, I think." "Well, in there, it says something about how we as Americans have certain unalienable rights. That's why we have laws." A deadpan expression washes over everyone's face. Me and this girl Stacy, who occupies most of my class time poking fun at this ratfaced po-dunk imbecile, just sort of look at each other in a "Did that really happen?" grimace. I need to get out of here.
Theo and I saw "Mostly Martha," a German film about a (beautiful) chef's tribulations with her newly-orphaned neice, love life, career foibles, and middle-aged status on Saturday at CineArts. It was quite enjoyable. Even my aunt (who obviously didn't see the film with us) loved it, and she has a very well-trained cultural palate.
Sunday, my beautiful sister "confirmed her faith" at a church my family never goes to anymore (they've switched to a more contemporary church in Algonquin, as opposed to our original decaying middleground Lutheran church). Gratuituous food and family followed, to my dismay.
"How's school, Brian?"
"Oh, it's...interesting. It's not what I expected."
I had to take ten-minute breaks from the incessant fibbing, my head hurt so badly.
My "sister" (neighbour I practically grew up with and lived under the same roof as) commented on my Tiffany's ring. "Who gave you that?" she chided. "No one," I pathetically replied. "I bet you and your girlfriend have the same exact ring." Something like that, Kim.
Terrible session in philosophy. Charles, as I've learned his name is, may possibly be the stupidest living being I have ever encountered, next to cats and single-celled amoebas. They say there is no such thing as a stupid question, but I believe that dear Charles could very well prove that theory false. His hand is constantly waving in the air, as though he suddenly remembered to ask Oz for a brain. My instructor (Horray for TAs...natch) made some quip about how he thinks rights are overrated; he feels like Americans look at rights as some superpower and demonstrated this principle comically. Charles raises his hand and says (I wrote it down in my notebook, it was so humorously preposterous), "Have you ever read the Declaration of Indepenence, Mr. Berntsen?" "Yes, I have; actually, I had to memorize it in school about eight times, I think." "Well, in there, it says something about how we as Americans have certain unalienable rights. That's why we have laws." A deadpan expression washes over everyone's face. Me and this girl Stacy, who occupies most of my class time poking fun at this ratfaced po-dunk imbecile, just sort of look at each other in a "Did that really happen?" grimace. I need to get out of here.
Saturday, September 21, 2002
The trip home was quite eventful, in a decidedly negative way.
I was pulled over by a police officer unseen for going 86 MPH in a 65 speed zone. Oops.
Fortunately, that speeding and a newfound route allowed Erin, Jen and I to arrive home in about six hours. Which is pretty good considering the police incident and whatnot.
Theo and I watched "Breakfast at Tiffany's" last night. I'm really preoccupied with the inflection people had in their voices in films made before 1960. What is it about their tone of speech ? It's almost British. I do wish people spoke like that again. somewhere in the world. I want to study this in college--early 20th century accents. Audrey Hepburn is gorgeous.
I was pulled over by a police officer unseen for going 86 MPH in a 65 speed zone. Oops.
Fortunately, that speeding and a newfound route allowed Erin, Jen and I to arrive home in about six hours. Which is pretty good considering the police incident and whatnot.
Theo and I watched "Breakfast at Tiffany's" last night. I'm really preoccupied with the inflection people had in their voices in films made before 1960. What is it about their tone of speech ? It's almost British. I do wish people spoke like that again. somewhere in the world. I want to study this in college--early 20th century accents. Audrey Hepburn is gorgeous.
Friday, September 20, 2002
I'll be home-bound in about three hours' time, after eating, packing, and taking an Astronomy test. I'm incredibly pleased to finally be returning home.
A disturbing, disgusting revelation has been made about the communal use of my computer. I really shouldn't talk about it. It's sick. Very sick.
My sister has a date tonight with a short, pudgy annoying boy I knew from show choir. I don't know why; she's absolutely gorgeous and can do so much better. What's wrong with Pat, Liz? He's much more interesting and fun. As Erin said, "Everyone establishes their legacy freshman year. If she stars dating losers now, she'll never have a date with a ho popular boy." So true.
Erin's always angry with me. I think it's displaced resentment towards me for her always having to "babysit" me. Oh well. Only a few more months left, Erin. Then you're free.
A disturbing, disgusting revelation has been made about the communal use of my computer. I really shouldn't talk about it. It's sick. Very sick.
My sister has a date tonight with a short, pudgy annoying boy I knew from show choir. I don't know why; she's absolutely gorgeous and can do so much better. What's wrong with Pat, Liz? He's much more interesting and fun. As Erin said, "Everyone establishes their legacy freshman year. If she stars dating losers now, she'll never have a date with a ho popular boy." So true.
Erin's always angry with me. I think it's displaced resentment towards me for her always having to "babysit" me. Oh well. Only a few more months left, Erin. Then you're free.
Thursday, September 19, 2002
Well, now my blog is almost back to normal--I just have to add a few links and things, and we'll be back on track. Thanks to Theo for his help.
I think I really am just a spoiled five-year-old, who doesn't want to share.
I walked in to my room after taking a shower. Christian's sitting there, listening to his Aerosmith CD (...), reading my copy of David Sedaris' "Me talk pretty one day." "One of my friends told me this was a really good book," he said. Taking my books without permission now? I'm so confused. Then, his CD kept skipping (like always) in my computer's CD player (Sidebar: My CDs never skip when I'm listening to them...his always do), and he says, "We HAVE to do something about this CD player." As if he was the one who shelled out $1200 for the computer! As if he and I are a married couple, and the dishwasher's on the fritz, he criticises MY computer's ability to play his CDs and expects me to do something about it. If I wasn't so shocked/pissed/appalled/nauseous, I would have said, "Well, if you have a problem with MY computer, why don't you bring a stereo down, or better yet, your OWN computer?" But I just said, "Hmm."
Should I be upset about this or not? I don't know.
Trip home in T minus 27 hours.
I think I really am just a spoiled five-year-old, who doesn't want to share.
I walked in to my room after taking a shower. Christian's sitting there, listening to his Aerosmith CD (...), reading my copy of David Sedaris' "Me talk pretty one day." "One of my friends told me this was a really good book," he said. Taking my books without permission now? I'm so confused. Then, his CD kept skipping (like always) in my computer's CD player (Sidebar: My CDs never skip when I'm listening to them...his always do), and he says, "We HAVE to do something about this CD player." As if he was the one who shelled out $1200 for the computer! As if he and I are a married couple, and the dishwasher's on the fritz, he criticises MY computer's ability to play his CDs and expects me to do something about it. If I wasn't so shocked/pissed/appalled/nauseous, I would have said, "Well, if you have a problem with MY computer, why don't you bring a stereo down, or better yet, your OWN computer?" But I just said, "Hmm."
Should I be upset about this or not? I don't know.
Trip home in T minus 27 hours.
Wednesday, September 18, 2002
Tuesday, September 17, 2002
Monday, September 16, 2002
Anyways...
My weekend was terrible. I'm ill and I didn't do much.
I've found that sleep is my only sanctuary away from this bordello of idiocy. I my dreams, I can go to places unknown and places familiar; I can meet new people and visit with dear comrades. Unfortunately, Christian shifts so bloody much in his bed. His inhales are whistling, smacking upsweeps of breath; his exhales are frustrated sighs. Always.
More about Christian.
When we first met, he laid down two rules: We weren't supposed to have sex on each other's beds (I'm not from Missouri so I couldn't understand how that would even be a plausible activity), and that we were supposed to ask before we used each other's belongings. Well, yesterday, in my absence, Christ himself watched my copy of Face/Off on my DVD player and took some of my cold/flu medicine. I cannot deal with this. AND THEN...the old issues, like cutting some belt up and then leaving the refuse on my bed, and putting his things on my chair, while he has a perfectly good, perfectly empty chair mere centimeters away from him. Are my qualms unreasonable, prissy, or a balanced combination of the latter and former?
I deleted my post about Nick's disgust with my sex life. It wasn't very well written.
My weekend was terrible. I'm ill and I didn't do much.
I've found that sleep is my only sanctuary away from this bordello of idiocy. I my dreams, I can go to places unknown and places familiar; I can meet new people and visit with dear comrades. Unfortunately, Christian shifts so bloody much in his bed. His inhales are whistling, smacking upsweeps of breath; his exhales are frustrated sighs. Always.
More about Christian.
When we first met, he laid down two rules: We weren't supposed to have sex on each other's beds (I'm not from Missouri so I couldn't understand how that would even be a plausible activity), and that we were supposed to ask before we used each other's belongings. Well, yesterday, in my absence, Christ himself watched my copy of Face/Off on my DVD player and took some of my cold/flu medicine. I cannot deal with this. AND THEN...the old issues, like cutting some belt up and then leaving the refuse on my bed, and putting his things on my chair, while he has a perfectly good, perfectly empty chair mere centimeters away from him. Are my qualms unreasonable, prissy, or a balanced combination of the latter and former?
I deleted my post about Nick's disgust with my sex life. It wasn't very well written.
Friday, September 13, 2002
Thursday, September 12, 2002
Last night was interesting.
Erin and I, along with some other people who are Erin's friends but not really mine (surprise, surprise) went to what we thought was going to be a September 11 vigil. Instead, to my great excitement, it was a "NO more victims" protest. It was very fun--as if we all hopped into some Missouri-bred time machine and hopped back in time to the Vietnam era. In fact, one girl, Sarah, stormed away after approximately .5 seconds, hissing, "What the fuck is this? Vietnam again?" Whatever. I liked it, and will be joining some liberal left-wing protest organizations in the next few weeks. If my work schedule will allow.
I hate having a job.
I think Christian reads this for some reason. I get paranoid like that. It would make sense though. He's been very withdrawn towards me lately. I don't know what's going on.
I should find out today or tomorrow if I'm allowed to be a real college student, i.e. live on campus.
Prognosis:
Chance I'll get on campus housing this week: 4%
Chance I won't: 95%
Chance I'll be able to transfer out of here within the next 2 hours: <1%
Chance my life sucks: 102.79%
Erin and I, along with some other people who are Erin's friends but not really mine (surprise, surprise) went to what we thought was going to be a September 11 vigil. Instead, to my great excitement, it was a "NO more victims" protest. It was very fun--as if we all hopped into some Missouri-bred time machine and hopped back in time to the Vietnam era. In fact, one girl, Sarah, stormed away after approximately .5 seconds, hissing, "What the fuck is this? Vietnam again?" Whatever. I liked it, and will be joining some liberal left-wing protest organizations in the next few weeks. If my work schedule will allow.
I hate having a job.
I think Christian reads this for some reason. I get paranoid like that. It would make sense though. He's been very withdrawn towards me lately. I don't know what's going on.
I should find out today or tomorrow if I'm allowed to be a real college student, i.e. live on campus.
Prognosis:
Chance I'll get on campus housing this week: 4%
Chance I won't: 95%
Chance I'll be able to transfer out of here within the next 2 hours: <1%
Chance my life sucks: 102.79%
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Yesterday, I THOUGHT I posted a long and detailed report about how depressed I am here, and how I feel guilty that everyone else loves their college experience thus far and how I fear looking like an unsatisfiable twat. Unfortunately, it clearly didn't make it up here. So, enough of that. I'm not really in the mood right to talk about just how depressed I am.
Welcome to Republican country, everybody. There are senior citizen men dressed in three-piece suits walking around campus everywhere (at leasttwenty of them) handing out lime green-bound copies of the New Testament. Yesterday, Sarah was asked by someone if she knew where Jesus was. (My reply would have been, "I have him locked in my wine cellar...DUH.") In my seemingly-liberal philo. class today, this HICK HICK HICK who happens to live in my hall said that he's disappointed with "liberal media" and their "misguided" image of George W. Bush. When I said under my breath (but still very audible) "Yes, that's because members of this so-called liberal media are actually intelligent," I was the proud recipient of several dirty, shocked looks. Horray for supporting me beliefs.
Happy September 11th everyone!
(Does it not seem like today is treated by many as a pseudo-Halloween or New Year's Eve? Everyone's wearing their "I'm patri-like-otic" costumes, asking everyone what they're doing tonight to "celebrate," and paying close attention to what time it is.)
(Didn't mean to be insensitive.)
Welcome to Republican country, everybody. There are senior citizen men dressed in three-piece suits walking around campus everywhere (at leasttwenty of them) handing out lime green-bound copies of the New Testament. Yesterday, Sarah was asked by someone if she knew where Jesus was. (My reply would have been, "I have him locked in my wine cellar...DUH.") In my seemingly-liberal philo. class today, this HICK HICK HICK who happens to live in my hall said that he's disappointed with "liberal media" and their "misguided" image of George W. Bush. When I said under my breath (but still very audible) "Yes, that's because members of this so-called liberal media are actually intelligent," I was the proud recipient of several dirty, shocked looks. Horray for supporting me beliefs.
Happy September 11th everyone!
(Does it not seem like today is treated by many as a pseudo-Halloween or New Year's Eve? Everyone's wearing their "I'm patri-like-otic" costumes, asking everyone what they're doing tonight to "celebrate," and paying close attention to what time it is.)
(Didn't mean to be insensitive.)
Monday, September 09, 2002
Hello all--it certainly has been a pleasant break from recording the happenstances of my life here.
I spent the weekend at home--well, not really at home, but within a fifty-mile radius of home. My father and I had a long conversation when I returned home Friday night (After seeing Cyndi at Denny's with Erin), I picked out new glasses on saturday (black plastic-framed Armani specks), went to the bank, and purchased a pair of jeans from Diesel (they're really tight and have a zipper that's literally as long as the width of a Post-It note) with Theo.
Theo and I saw "Possession" on Saturday night. It wasn't very pleasant. It was a run-of-the-mill big-name production studio big-name celebrity film masquerading as a chic arthouse word-of-mouth flick. Theo was disappointed that I was disappointed, but we made amends later that evening. Let's just say--wow.
Sunday, I went to brunch with my nuclear family and grandparents and attempted to find a pair of shoes at two seperate malls, with no luck.
But, as the charcoal clouds parted, I found a beautiful pair of Diesel semi-formal tan shoes today with Sarah. Sarah is a fellow Mizzoulian who hails from a bumble-f town in Oklahoma. She's great.
Tonight, I'm going to the National Youth Rights Association meeting, hosted by none other than ambiguous brad, and later seeing "The Good Girl." No, I don't see homework fitting into that schedule. Which is probably not good, since I performed very poorly on my astronomy quiz on Friday--as did the rest of the class.
That's all.
I spent the weekend at home--well, not really at home, but within a fifty-mile radius of home. My father and I had a long conversation when I returned home Friday night (After seeing Cyndi at Denny's with Erin), I picked out new glasses on saturday (black plastic-framed Armani specks), went to the bank, and purchased a pair of jeans from Diesel (they're really tight and have a zipper that's literally as long as the width of a Post-It note) with Theo.
Theo and I saw "Possession" on Saturday night. It wasn't very pleasant. It was a run-of-the-mill big-name production studio big-name celebrity film masquerading as a chic arthouse word-of-mouth flick. Theo was disappointed that I was disappointed, but we made amends later that evening. Let's just say--wow.
Sunday, I went to brunch with my nuclear family and grandparents and attempted to find a pair of shoes at two seperate malls, with no luck.
But, as the charcoal clouds parted, I found a beautiful pair of Diesel semi-formal tan shoes today with Sarah. Sarah is a fellow Mizzoulian who hails from a bumble-f town in Oklahoma. She's great.
Tonight, I'm going to the National Youth Rights Association meeting, hosted by none other than ambiguous brad, and later seeing "The Good Girl." No, I don't see homework fitting into that schedule. Which is probably not good, since I performed very poorly on my astronomy quiz on Friday--as did the rest of the class.
That's all.
Wednesday, September 04, 2002
Tuesday, September 03, 2002
Final straw--he lays his DIRTY fucking army clothing on my BED. GET OUT OF MY GODDAMN ROOM.
I'm really really TRYING to get along. I've been good these past two weeks. But, as the slogan for the show goes, "...when people stop being nice, and start getting real."
I don't know how to be real without being a nuclear-warhead of a manbitch.
I'm really really TRYING to get along. I've been good these past two weeks. But, as the slogan for the show goes, "...when people stop being nice, and start getting real."
I don't know how to be real without being a nuclear-warhead of a manbitch.
Alright. First, one of three dryers ate seventy-five of my cents in the sketchy laundry room at Hillcrest. Meaning, there's only one real working dryer in this godforsaken building. What.
While at work today, a woman from some Christian bible worship group at Mizzou talked my ear off at the register and wants me to go to her meetings. I can't just say no. Not that I'm going or anything, but still.
Speaking of...how does one go about telling one's roommate to not walk on my carpet, sit in my chair, spill on MY DESK, use my computer, and the like?
Oy. Speaking of...
While at work today, a woman from some Christian bible worship group at Mizzou talked my ear off at the register and wants me to go to her meetings. I can't just say no. Not that I'm going or anything, but still.
Speaking of...how does one go about telling one's roommate to not walk on my carpet, sit in my chair, spill on MY DESK, use my computer, and the like?
Oy. Speaking of...
Monday, September 02, 2002
Her post to my guestbook reminded me of a high point of my weekend--Kim called me. I was pleased to take a break from the computer and "chat" with her about her exploits at ND. Apparently, she's inviting Condoleeza Rice to speak at Notre Dame this year, in honour of ND's anniversary of women present at the university. What, not Britney Spears or Anna Nicole?
So, the weekend unfortunately came to a close. I just dropped Theo off at the "train station" in St. Louis. Get this--their old, beautiful, expansive train station has been turned into a shopping center, and their current "station" is nothing more than a 20x20' closet.
We had a pretty good weekend. While Erin had "the worst night," Theo and I enjoyed each other's presence(s) on the trip from St. Louis to Columbia. Saturday, I napped, to Theo's dismay, and we later walked around town and saw "Simone," the new Al Pacino film. Very un-Al. Sunday, more walking around town ensued and a LOT more "Donkey Kong" was played, until the late hours of the night. Today, we drove back to Nelly's hometown, and stopped at a dilapidated discount stip mall on the way, to pick me up some girl's jeans (my first pair! I'm a four!) and other assorted inexpensive things.
I really miss him, but am pleased to know I'll be home again in four days.
Otherwise, nothing to report.
Oh, except this--I despise driving in Missouri. It's really unsafe, and that's a minor, MINOR reason for me not staying here. Every time, it seems, I drive on MO's main expressway, 70, there is a horrific accident. On Friday, Erin, Nice 'n Cool and I witnessed a muilt-vehicle collision which involved trucks beng ripped apart, fire, smoke and more smoke. Today, I was mere moments away from involving myself in a horrific accient on the same deadly street--about 100 yards in front of me, I could see billowing smoke everywhere. As I approached and was stopped by this fire, I saw it was a pickup truck, which was still very very ignited. More waiting. It was a long day.
Oh, and I didn't get Hero in the musical here. Ironically enough, I was cast as a Plebian slave--I just couldn't take the irony, of being this director's slave and kissing ass to further establish myself in Mizzou's weak, WEAK theatre department. (Pronounced "they-ate-r") So, I dropped. The production will be horrible anyways, inevetably.
We had a pretty good weekend. While Erin had "the worst night," Theo and I enjoyed each other's presence(s) on the trip from St. Louis to Columbia. Saturday, I napped, to Theo's dismay, and we later walked around town and saw "Simone," the new Al Pacino film. Very un-Al. Sunday, more walking around town ensued and a LOT more "Donkey Kong" was played, until the late hours of the night. Today, we drove back to Nelly's hometown, and stopped at a dilapidated discount stip mall on the way, to pick me up some girl's jeans (my first pair! I'm a four!) and other assorted inexpensive things.
I really miss him, but am pleased to know I'll be home again in four days.
Otherwise, nothing to report.
Oh, except this--I despise driving in Missouri. It's really unsafe, and that's a minor, MINOR reason for me not staying here. Every time, it seems, I drive on MO's main expressway, 70, there is a horrific accident. On Friday, Erin, Nice 'n Cool and I witnessed a muilt-vehicle collision which involved trucks beng ripped apart, fire, smoke and more smoke. Today, I was mere moments away from involving myself in a horrific accient on the same deadly street--about 100 yards in front of me, I could see billowing smoke everywhere. As I approached and was stopped by this fire, I saw it was a pickup truck, which was still very very ignited. More waiting. It was a long day.
Oh, and I didn't get Hero in the musical here. Ironically enough, I was cast as a Plebian slave--I just couldn't take the irony, of being this director's slave and kissing ass to further establish myself in Mizzou's weak, WEAK theatre department. (Pronounced "they-ate-r") So, I dropped. The production will be horrible anyways, inevetably.
Thursday, August 29, 2002
I finally learned the truth about everything here at Mizzou.
According to several offices, most importantly the transportation office from which I atempted to gain a parking sticker, I am classified as a transfer student. Yes, it's like I chose to live on another college's campus, and must park in a lot that's as far away from my classes as my dorm and eat there and not get Ethernet or cable TV or paint my walls--even though every student parked at he Virginia Ave. lot can WALK to class in under two minutes. So, I was furious and smoked a lot.
Which probably wasn't good, because I was called back for the role of Hero in "AFTHOTWTTF." Hero's the male romantic sort-of lead, and has a great song called "Love, I Hear," in addition to featured solos in many other songs. Unfortunately, Graham, the Louis boy who's from Naperville, I discovered today while conversing with him, was also called back for Hero. So, I'm not getting it. I'm really nervous, although I know I may as well not even go to the callback. Wouldn't it be grand, a freshman with a lead? Only in my sordid little world would that happen. Pah.
According to several offices, most importantly the transportation office from which I atempted to gain a parking sticker, I am classified as a transfer student. Yes, it's like I chose to live on another college's campus, and must park in a lot that's as far away from my classes as my dorm and eat there and not get Ethernet or cable TV or paint my walls--even though every student parked at he Virginia Ave. lot can WALK to class in under two minutes. So, I was furious and smoked a lot.
Which probably wasn't good, because I was called back for the role of Hero in "AFTHOTWTTF." Hero's the male romantic sort-of lead, and has a great song called "Love, I Hear," in addition to featured solos in many other songs. Unfortunately, Graham, the Louis boy who's from Naperville, I discovered today while conversing with him, was also called back for Hero. So, I'm not getting it. I'm really nervous, although I know I may as well not even go to the callback. Wouldn't it be grand, a freshman with a lead? Only in my sordid little world would that happen. Pah.