Merry Christmas, ___________ !
The holidays (well, my holiday) have come and gone. In the grand, tacky tradition of impersonal, overly cheerful, and poorly written letters inserted in half of the Christmas cards my family received, I'll present you all with a brief list of my yuletide activities.
-Worked long, repetitive days at Gap...I love our country's economic reliance on a religious holiday!
-Survived mind-bending pain following the separation of my filling from its tooth...Advil stocks soared!
-Bought most of my Christmas presents two days before the holiday...overdrawn on my checking account!
-Helped Theo paint the dining room a beautiful shade of red...hard work, but worth it!
-Ate wonderful meal with wonderful parents and sister...so much for life-long traditions!*
-Sang songs I'd never looked at with warbly church choir...I was actually leading my section!
-Pastor compared George W. to Jesus Christ...Jesus Christ, indeed!
-Opened few gifts, including H&M GC, books, and oven mitt...everything I always wanted!**
-Helped Mother cook delicious meal for our fourteen Christmas guests...yum!
-Favorite unmarried cousin visited, with ADHD offspring in tow...sorry, kitty!
*In the grand tradition of Scandinavia, we've always celebrated Christmas Eve with my grandparents, like many would celebrate on Christmas Day. This year, for whatever reason, that didn't happen and my father's parents came for dinner on the 25th, meaning no awkward silences with father's white-trash brothers et. al. So, the four of us had a delicious meal and a wonderful time relaxing, before the squall of Christmas day inundated us. Traditions are great, but Christmas Eve with just my small family was the best gift I received.
**I asked my parents not to give me anything for Christmas, because more and more I've realized how lucky I am to receive the year-long gift of a thorough, intense education. I have so many things already, and I wanted them to understand how truly grateful I am for their generosity and overall greatness. They gave me a few little things, which were perfect. My sister gave me a magnificent magenta/yellow phalenopsis orchid.
Obviously, some of my "letter" was sarcastic, but some of it rings true--we served a delicious meal to my mother's family, the dining room looks regal and elegant, and the recent surreal turnaround in the economy really came, not because of W.'s sublime leadership, but rather, because this financial quarter provides many (if not most/all) businesses with more than 1/3 of their annual earnings. My store alone (I could get fired for this) garnished over $1 million in earnings these past 30 days alone. That's like, over four months of earnings for my store.
A great holiday was had by all, except my sister, who (I think) hated the pink leather gloves and matching scarf I gave her for Christmas. Oh well. She will have good fashion sense one day, if it kills us all.
Tomorrow, I'm seeing Hairspray! with my immediate family and favourite "exterior" relative, Aunt Jennifer. I'm not sure if I've written about her--she is the strongest, wittiest, most intelligent and well-read relative I have, and one of my top five favorite people in the world.
In case I don't update before it passes us by, enjoy your New Year.
A record of the life and times of one brown shirt-wearing university student, struggling to escape his fear of intimacy, overcome his hunger for eternal supremacy in every aspect, and never have to write a description of his life like this again.
Saturday, December 27, 2003
Friday, December 12, 2003
Ugh
I am so ill. Whatever I have rumbling through my body totally ruined my finals week, which in itself is pure hell. I have gone through at least two entire boxes of Kleenex, and now, whenever I blow my nose, it bleeds for a few minutes. Rushing rushing blood out my nose.
AND I get to work all weekend, too.
I am so ill. Whatever I have rumbling through my body totally ruined my finals week, which in itself is pure hell. I have gone through at least two entire boxes of Kleenex, and now, whenever I blow my nose, it bleeds for a few minutes. Rushing rushing blood out my nose.
AND I get to work all weekend, too.
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
"...And remember that your brother is a boy."
Okay, I have to post all of the lyrics to Rufus' song "Little Sister," because I missed some of them in the concert and am in love with them all over again.
Little sister come and sit beside me, beside me
And we'll play a tune on this old piano forte
Just for a while, just for a while, just for a while
Til your hair becomes a powdered wig
And I become a total bastard
Feet that hardly reach the pedal
Sold to a tremendous shadow
Ave ave history is on my side
So complain have no shame
And remember that your brother is a boy
Though it seems the stakes contain some ante - grate
We all feel it still is based on good old intrigue
Just for a while, just for a while, just for a while
You may have to use your hips as fodder
Still putting your best foot forward
Madame didn't stack the cupboard ended up like mother hubbard
Ave, buddy, history is still a game
So complain have no shame and remember that round one has just been played
And you are poised for centuries to claim
Follow examples from no longer a choice
The world be just a ball to pass or gaze upon
And one more thing
Before we go on again
Let's end this maze
Keep out the threat of a kid
Oh my little - little sister
When he performed it, it was just piano, with nothing else. It has this delightfully simple melody, like something my sister and I may actually have played on our piano. A lot of major chord repetition and such. I love it.
Okay, I have to post all of the lyrics to Rufus' song "Little Sister," because I missed some of them in the concert and am in love with them all over again.
Little sister come and sit beside me, beside me
And we'll play a tune on this old piano forte
Just for a while, just for a while, just for a while
Til your hair becomes a powdered wig
And I become a total bastard
Feet that hardly reach the pedal
Sold to a tremendous shadow
Ave ave history is on my side
So complain have no shame
And remember that your brother is a boy
Though it seems the stakes contain some ante - grate
We all feel it still is based on good old intrigue
Just for a while, just for a while, just for a while
You may have to use your hips as fodder
Still putting your best foot forward
Madame didn't stack the cupboard ended up like mother hubbard
Ave, buddy, history is still a game
So complain have no shame and remember that round one has just been played
And you are poised for centuries to claim
Follow examples from no longer a choice
The world be just a ball to pass or gaze upon
And one more thing
Before we go on again
Let's end this maze
Keep out the threat of a kid
Oh my little - little sister
When he performed it, it was just piano, with nothing else. It has this delightfully simple melody, like something my sister and I may actually have played on our piano. A lot of major chord repetition and such. I love it.
"Little sister come and sit beside me, beside me / And we'll play a tune on this old piano forte."
It's been so long since I last posted, my web browser didn't remember who I was in relation to Blogger.com. I'm in the midst of final exams, with three done and two to go. I'm hoping for two Bs (thanks to an ATROCIOUS theology final) and three As, but I never have any idea what grades I'm going to receive.
The only important thing that I've done in the past few weeks happened this past Saturday, when Theo and I saw Rufus Wainwright (and his talented, Cyndi Lauper-voiced sister Martha) in concert. What Theo and I found to be most amazing was how, on his albums, he sounded exactly the same as he does live. With a supporting act of five men and women, they recreated almost every song off of "Want One," as well as a few favorites from "Rufus Wainwright" and "Poses," and two wonderul songs from "Want Two." In fact, one of the songs from "Want Two," called "Little Sister," summoned some tears up (but not out, thankfully), just because it'd be so wonderful for my sister and I to be Rufus and Martha Wainwright. The concert was sublime, and even though Theo has spent hours and hours researching Mr. Wainwright and finding "imperfections," he will remain one of my favorite musicians for some time to come.
When I listen to music, I'm really only looking for one thing: poetry. The melody can be so-so, and the voice lacking, but as long as the lyrics possess splendid rhetoric and beautiful diction, I'm sold.
I am also dying from a disgusting cold. I thought I was getting over it this weekend, since my throat no longer felt like there was a safety pin stuck in it, but now my nose is doing that "drip-drip" nonsense everywhere, and I am coughing at all times. I wanted to take a nap yesterday, but couldn't because I was coughing so much.
And I'm looking down at my last post right now, and I noticed I used "it's" incorrectly. And I'm angry at (with? I always tell Theo it's "with") myself. And I'm going to go fill out some Christmas cards and wrap my sister's Christmas gift and clean my house and do laundry.
It's been so long since I last posted, my web browser didn't remember who I was in relation to Blogger.com. I'm in the midst of final exams, with three done and two to go. I'm hoping for two Bs (thanks to an ATROCIOUS theology final) and three As, but I never have any idea what grades I'm going to receive.
The only important thing that I've done in the past few weeks happened this past Saturday, when Theo and I saw Rufus Wainwright (and his talented, Cyndi Lauper-voiced sister Martha) in concert. What Theo and I found to be most amazing was how, on his albums, he sounded exactly the same as he does live. With a supporting act of five men and women, they recreated almost every song off of "Want One," as well as a few favorites from "Rufus Wainwright" and "Poses," and two wonderul songs from "Want Two." In fact, one of the songs from "Want Two," called "Little Sister," summoned some tears up (but not out, thankfully), just because it'd be so wonderful for my sister and I to be Rufus and Martha Wainwright. The concert was sublime, and even though Theo has spent hours and hours researching Mr. Wainwright and finding "imperfections," he will remain one of my favorite musicians for some time to come.
When I listen to music, I'm really only looking for one thing: poetry. The melody can be so-so, and the voice lacking, but as long as the lyrics possess splendid rhetoric and beautiful diction, I'm sold.
I am also dying from a disgusting cold. I thought I was getting over it this weekend, since my throat no longer felt like there was a safety pin stuck in it, but now my nose is doing that "drip-drip" nonsense everywhere, and I am coughing at all times. I wanted to take a nap yesterday, but couldn't because I was coughing so much.
And I'm looking down at my last post right now, and I noticed I used "it's" incorrectly. And I'm angry at (with? I always tell Theo it's "with") myself. And I'm going to go fill out some Christmas cards and wrap my sister's Christmas gift and clean my house and do laundry.