Hold the Malaise
I'll begin this entry with what I believe is the most commonly typed sentence in the Blogging community:
"I really need to post more often."
Today marks, aside from Shannon's birthday (Best wishes, Shannno McShannno!), the two-year mark of my relationship with Theo. While I really should subtract a month from that calculation, the truth is, I loved him just as much during that exciting, yet empty month. I'm glad we reconvened, so that my near future never includes a moment when I won't be able to share my life wit him. Tonight, we just ate some cliche Italian food at home, since most restaurants we like are closed on Mondays. Tomorrow evening, we're going to Seasons, The Four Seasons' restaurant, thanks in part to NPR and its wonderful MemberCard. With, literally, my last few dollars, I bought him some cologne, a few pairs of Gap boxers, and a ticket for each of us for Rufus Wainwright's upcoming concert in Chicago.
I waited in a long line at Tower records this evening to buy, of all things, Britney Spears' new album. As I watched her special on ABC (the family-friendly channel? huh?), I realized that she's Christina with a cold, Kylie with less innovation, and Madonna with much ironic naivete. But I still enjoy her. My favorite tracks on In The Zone are "Toxic," a well-constructed, catchy, fun dance song, and "Everytime," which just has a great instrumental part, and proves that Britney does sometimes sing. "Me Against the Music" must be Britney's best first single since "...Baby One More Time," even though it's doing poorly in the charts. I also bought Joni Mitchell's Blue, which is a record my parents acquired when they were near my age. I'd often play it when I was younger, and now I have a more insightful understanding of her poetry and grace.
After talking to John, a co-worker of mine, I've been giving more and more thought to teaching high school English. In Chicago, first-year teachers generally make around $36,000--much more than many of the teachers found at my alma mater. It's come to the point where I've realized that dreams are fine and dandy, but the fluff of aspirations does not pay rent or provide food or electricity. I don't know...I'm always nervous about everything.
As usual, there are about 37 people I need to call. Mariam, that beautiful nymph, has called me once every few months for the past year, and I have not given her one return phone call. I am evil. And she's just an infrequent reoccurring character in my sitcom--what about Lauren? Erin? Tim? Shannon? This writer's forgetting about his principal protagonists.
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.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
21+
I need someone to assist me in purchasing some champagne for my two-year anniversary with Theo. Any volunteers?
A story.
Theo and I were shopping at our new Target, which is a 15-minute bus trip away. It contains two stories, connected by elevators and escalators, with that Ikea-esque shopping cart levy. Well, as Theo, the shopping cart, and I traveled up to the second floor, the cart lifter-upper stops. Us humans continue our ascent, while or inanimate future belongings remain behind. Of course, what's sitting in the very top of our cart? An economy-sized box of condoms. So, here's all these people traveling up the escalator, examining our every selection (don't you do that when standing in line at the grocery store?), and giggling or staring wide-eyed at the birth (?) control, which might as well be sitting and waving its arms like a small child strapped in to the cart. Eventually, a small army of confused Target employees fix the problem, and my cart returns to me, intact. Of course, then I had to go find Theo, who was hiding somewhere, avoiding embarassment.
I need someone to assist me in purchasing some champagne for my two-year anniversary with Theo. Any volunteers?
A story.
Theo and I were shopping at our new Target, which is a 15-minute bus trip away. It contains two stories, connected by elevators and escalators, with that Ikea-esque shopping cart levy. Well, as Theo, the shopping cart, and I traveled up to the second floor, the cart lifter-upper stops. Us humans continue our ascent, while or inanimate future belongings remain behind. Of course, what's sitting in the very top of our cart? An economy-sized box of condoms. So, here's all these people traveling up the escalator, examining our every selection (don't you do that when standing in line at the grocery store?), and giggling or staring wide-eyed at the birth (?) control, which might as well be sitting and waving its arms like a small child strapped in to the cart. Eventually, a small army of confused Target employees fix the problem, and my cart returns to me, intact. Of course, then I had to go find Theo, who was hiding somewhere, avoiding embarassment.
Saturday, November 01, 2003
I just need to write it down, so I don't stew over it.
I wish I transcended every element of everyday life.
I wish I was so delusional that I thought everything I wrote/said was witty and introspective.
I wish I honestly believed that every human within a three-mile radius of my beautiful aura cow-towed to my intellectual greatness.
AGH. Masochistically, I read things that I know will make me angry. I must stop.
I wish I transcended every element of everyday life.
I wish I was so delusional that I thought everything I wrote/said was witty and introspective.
I wish I honestly believed that every human within a three-mile radius of my beautiful aura cow-towed to my intellectual greatness.
AGH. Masochistically, I read things that I know will make me angry. I must stop.
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
Gross Inaccuracy
I am incredibly lethargic today. I have done little else but pretend to on-line shop, watch The Virgin Suicides (book = better) and look at everyone's away messages. Two caught my eye (I don't know why I'm recording all of these dumb observances lately).
First, one of my friends who I assumed was a Dem. posted this in her "buddy info." space.
"A Republican and a Democrat were walking down the street when they came to a homeless person. The Republican gave the homeless person his business card and told him to come to his business for a job. He then took twenty dollars out of his pocket and gave it to the homeless person.
The Democrat was very impressed, and when they came to another homeless person, he decided to help. He walked over to the homeless person and gave him directions to the welfare office. He then reached into the Republican's pocket and gave the homeless person fifty dollars.
Now you understand the difference between Republicans and Democrats."
Well, actually, if this allegory were true, the homeless person would not be able to even see the Republican because the sun's reflection off his halo woul blind him. And that damn Democrat...playing Robin Hood again.
Also, some girl in my political science class (who happened to message me once regarding something class-related) has this in her "info" box. I'm sorry I won't be able to guild the following with pink and purple letters, like she did.
"G.W. in '04!!!!! I'm going to Washington D.C. I'm so excited I get to see George in person!!!
'Only in America we kill the unborn to make ends meet ... Who will cry for the children ... Who will be their voice?' RESPECT LIFE FROM START TO FINISH!!! LUC PLUS club"
I am constantly forgetting about the fact that I go to a CATHOLIC university. Even so...it just bothers me.
That's all.
I am incredibly lethargic today. I have done little else but pretend to on-line shop, watch The Virgin Suicides (book = better) and look at everyone's away messages. Two caught my eye (I don't know why I'm recording all of these dumb observances lately).
First, one of my friends who I assumed was a Dem. posted this in her "buddy info." space.
"A Republican and a Democrat were walking down the street when they came to a homeless person. The Republican gave the homeless person his business card and told him to come to his business for a job. He then took twenty dollars out of his pocket and gave it to the homeless person.
The Democrat was very impressed, and when they came to another homeless person, he decided to help. He walked over to the homeless person and gave him directions to the welfare office. He then reached into the Republican's pocket and gave the homeless person fifty dollars.
Now you understand the difference between Republicans and Democrats."
Well, actually, if this allegory were true, the homeless person would not be able to even see the Republican because the sun's reflection off his halo woul blind him. And that damn Democrat...playing Robin Hood again.
Also, some girl in my political science class (who happened to message me once regarding something class-related) has this in her "info" box. I'm sorry I won't be able to guild the following with pink and purple letters, like she did.
"G.W. in '04!!!!! I'm going to Washington D.C. I'm so excited I get to see George in person!!!
'Only in America we kill the unborn to make ends meet ... Who will cry for the children ... Who will be their voice?' RESPECT LIFE FROM START TO FINISH!!! LUC PLUS club"
I am constantly forgetting about the fact that I go to a CATHOLIC university. Even so...it just bothers me.
That's all.
Monday, October 27, 2003
Let's Hear it for the Boys
There's only one person in this world who can make me feel like some 19th century British poet, and that's Tim. I feel like he and I are contemporaries in the realm of literature, and while we've never met, we write the most beautiful letters to each other. Well, he writes letters, and then I gush and think about how much I adore him. Here is a brief passage from one of these prosaic accounts, about his turmultuous adventures with sight-singing:
". . .It seems no matter how many hours are spent in a practice room, the tricks and tactics melt into an incomprehensible strain with the disonant (sic) tone of descending intervals and melodic minor identifications. But we're chugging along, even though there's something missing, some vaguely missing link."
Sigh.
My other gentleman friend, Jesse, came in with his friend Gio this weekend from Millikin. Jesse and I have been friends, off and on, since 7th grade. Through the latter part of high school and early part of college, I referred to him as my "best male friend." He, Gio and I went out to dinner at Houston's (a nice restaurant on Rush), and then I accompanied them back to the Lakeview area, where I assume he and Giovanni drank themselves into an uncanny stupor. Before I left them, we went into "The Lucky Horseshoe," which most certainly is the armpit of the Boys Town area. I even respect Steamworks more than this dingy, detestable strip club. We stayed for five minutes and left. I hope to see Jesse (and Gio!) soon, and perhaps have more entertaining conversations with each.
One sir I am not pleased with is Theo. Saturday was not good for us. Hopefully things of Saturday's nature will never again transpire.
There's only one person in this world who can make me feel like some 19th century British poet, and that's Tim. I feel like he and I are contemporaries in the realm of literature, and while we've never met, we write the most beautiful letters to each other. Well, he writes letters, and then I gush and think about how much I adore him. Here is a brief passage from one of these prosaic accounts, about his turmultuous adventures with sight-singing:
". . .It seems no matter how many hours are spent in a practice room, the tricks and tactics melt into an incomprehensible strain with the disonant (sic) tone of descending intervals and melodic minor identifications. But we're chugging along, even though there's something missing, some vaguely missing link."
Sigh.
My other gentleman friend, Jesse, came in with his friend Gio this weekend from Millikin. Jesse and I have been friends, off and on, since 7th grade. Through the latter part of high school and early part of college, I referred to him as my "best male friend." He, Gio and I went out to dinner at Houston's (a nice restaurant on Rush), and then I accompanied them back to the Lakeview area, where I assume he and Giovanni drank themselves into an uncanny stupor. Before I left them, we went into "The Lucky Horseshoe," which most certainly is the armpit of the Boys Town area. I even respect Steamworks more than this dingy, detestable strip club. We stayed for five minutes and left. I hope to see Jesse (and Gio!) soon, and perhaps have more entertaining conversations with each.
One sir I am not pleased with is Theo. Saturday was not good for us. Hopefully things of Saturday's nature will never again transpire.
Friday, October 24, 2003
Look Out! Fundamentalists! Cover Your Ears!
I traveled back to the suburbs on Wednesday to attend an opthamologist appointment on Thursday. While at home, I browsed through my sister's high school yearbook from the 2002-03 school year. I generally abhor yearbooks and their "goofiness," but I knew a lot of people that had graduated and wanted to see where they were going to college, etc. On one page, there was a box that posed the question, "What is your biggest fear?" One of the answers, coming from a girl I was acquaintances with (and who decided to delight my uber-conservative choir teacher with news of my Blog, sexual orientation, and living status) read, "That not all of my friends will be joining me in heaven." AH! What! This really flusters me. Any of you theologists may refute my objections, but I believe that this is a horrible way to witness to others. Even though Pascal's Wager is cynically true, the threat of eternal damnation is NOT an acceptable reason for maintaining one's faith. Perhaps this person (who, with my luck, will read this account) should show God's love to her peers by curbing her tendencies to gossip and lie, instead of telling them blatantly, "I'm sad because you're going to Hell."
On a related note, Wheaton College has always been this big mystery to me. Since D. Shannon told me about a mutual acquaintance going there, I have been oddly interested in learning about it, and figuring out why their "no drinking, smoking, gambling, or social dancing on or off campus" law has been so heartily enforced since the school's inception. This article caught my eye today, which covers the gradual erosion of this edict. Just kind of interesting.
I traveled back to the suburbs on Wednesday to attend an opthamologist appointment on Thursday. While at home, I browsed through my sister's high school yearbook from the 2002-03 school year. I generally abhor yearbooks and their "goofiness," but I knew a lot of people that had graduated and wanted to see where they were going to college, etc. On one page, there was a box that posed the question, "What is your biggest fear?" One of the answers, coming from a girl I was acquaintances with (and who decided to delight my uber-conservative choir teacher with news of my Blog, sexual orientation, and living status) read, "That not all of my friends will be joining me in heaven." AH! What! This really flusters me. Any of you theologists may refute my objections, but I believe that this is a horrible way to witness to others. Even though Pascal's Wager is cynically true, the threat of eternal damnation is NOT an acceptable reason for maintaining one's faith. Perhaps this person (who, with my luck, will read this account) should show God's love to her peers by curbing her tendencies to gossip and lie, instead of telling them blatantly, "I'm sad because you're going to Hell."
On a related note, Wheaton College has always been this big mystery to me. Since D. Shannon told me about a mutual acquaintance going there, I have been oddly interested in learning about it, and figuring out why their "no drinking, smoking, gambling, or social dancing on or off campus" law has been so heartily enforced since the school's inception. This article caught my eye today, which covers the gradual erosion of this edict. Just kind of interesting.
Monday, October 20, 2003
This...
Is lovely. I spent much of last night watching this over and over again, because it tickled me. Thanks, Joe.
Is lovely. I spent much of last night watching this over and over again, because it tickled me. Thanks, Joe.
Thursday, October 16, 2003
!
I have exciting news that I cannot write about here until I talk to Erin.
(I have indeed spoken to the aforementioned party, and my good news is that Erin, Cyndi and I are seeing Ani DiFranco in January. For all of you non-lesbians out there (aside from Cyndi and Erin), this probably doesn't excite you the way it excites us.)
I have exciting news that I cannot write about here until I talk to Erin.
(I have indeed spoken to the aforementioned party, and my good news is that Erin, Cyndi and I are seeing Ani DiFranco in January. For all of you non-lesbians out there (aside from Cyndi and Erin), this probably doesn't excite you the way it excites us.)
Friday, October 10, 2003
Three Things
My week revolved around three things: school, the Chicago International Film Festival, and a book.
School...I'm very sacred of my upcoming week. I have so much to do--three midterms, one presentation about Zora Neale Hurston, a 6-page midterm paper, and start constructing a group presentation about Cinema Paradiso (Erin, please send me your notes from your film class!). I took a "personal day" today, so that I could study for said midterms and finally do some laundry.
CIFF...Tuesday, Lauren and I saw The Singing Detective, an indescribable film starring Robert Downey Jr. (excellent), Mel Gibson (disguised), and other people who might be famous, but I cannot think of their names. Here is a description; I can't really do it justice. We both enjoyed it, but left it rather confused.
Not as confused as Joe and I were after seeing Chokher Bali, an Indian film NOT featuring wonderful singing and dancing. Here's the description, even though it doesn't reflect ALL 26 plotlines and "themes." (There was a Q&A after the film with one of the actresses, the producers, and the PR woman, and the first question was, "What was the theme of the film?") Fortunately, Aishwarya Rai, who might be the most beautiful woman ever, starred in it, and of course, India itself is beautiful, and the cinematographer was excellent, so all in all, it wasn't a bad film at all.
Book...before starting my studying this afternoon, I knew I had to remedy myself of a horrible addiction. No, not THAT. I have been spending all of my free time (in which I should either be sleeping or reading something class-related) reading Jeffrey Eugenides' Pulitzer prize-winning epic Middlesex. A long book (well, long compared to what I usually read) but never boring, eloquent without being verbose, smartly written without suffocating the reader in pretentious diction, Middlesex earns my "Best Book of the Year (so far)" award. Do read it. As or the rest of the year, I think I need to not open another personal read until after the semester's over--it's a horrible distraction for me.
I'll be honest with you, dear reader: during the day when I'm not with a computer, or even a pencil and paper, I DO think of interesting things. Eventually, I'll have a moment where I'm actually BORED (Cyndi, I envy you) and can post some of these thoughts. But not now--now, I'm going to go watch an abridged (by me) version of Devdas and try to sleep.
I'm assuming the Cubs won, because I hear a lot of screaming and horn-honking. That makes me excited--I have learned so much about baseball in the past two weeks.
Ok, now I'm really done.
My week revolved around three things: school, the Chicago International Film Festival, and a book.
School...I'm very sacred of my upcoming week. I have so much to do--three midterms, one presentation about Zora Neale Hurston, a 6-page midterm paper, and start constructing a group presentation about Cinema Paradiso (Erin, please send me your notes from your film class!). I took a "personal day" today, so that I could study for said midterms and finally do some laundry.
CIFF...Tuesday, Lauren and I saw The Singing Detective, an indescribable film starring Robert Downey Jr. (excellent), Mel Gibson (disguised), and other people who might be famous, but I cannot think of their names. Here is a description; I can't really do it justice. We both enjoyed it, but left it rather confused.
Not as confused as Joe and I were after seeing Chokher Bali, an Indian film NOT featuring wonderful singing and dancing. Here's the description, even though it doesn't reflect ALL 26 plotlines and "themes." (There was a Q&A after the film with one of the actresses, the producers, and the PR woman, and the first question was, "What was the theme of the film?") Fortunately, Aishwarya Rai, who might be the most beautiful woman ever, starred in it, and of course, India itself is beautiful, and the cinematographer was excellent, so all in all, it wasn't a bad film at all.
Book...before starting my studying this afternoon, I knew I had to remedy myself of a horrible addiction. No, not THAT. I have been spending all of my free time (in which I should either be sleeping or reading something class-related) reading Jeffrey Eugenides' Pulitzer prize-winning epic Middlesex. A long book (well, long compared to what I usually read) but never boring, eloquent without being verbose, smartly written without suffocating the reader in pretentious diction, Middlesex earns my "Best Book of the Year (so far)" award. Do read it. As or the rest of the year, I think I need to not open another personal read until after the semester's over--it's a horrible distraction for me.
I'll be honest with you, dear reader: during the day when I'm not with a computer, or even a pencil and paper, I DO think of interesting things. Eventually, I'll have a moment where I'm actually BORED (Cyndi, I envy you) and can post some of these thoughts. But not now--now, I'm going to go watch an abridged (by me) version of Devdas and try to sleep.
I'm assuming the Cubs won, because I hear a lot of screaming and horn-honking. That makes me excited--I have learned so much about baseball in the past two weeks.
Ok, now I'm really done.
Monday, October 06, 2003
Floss
My weekend's big excitement was a gold g-string. How sad is that? After an exhausting day of work, theo and I went over to our "friend" Frank and his boyfriend James' house for thei birthday party. Someone hired these hulking Latino strippers, and they certainly set me straight about a few assumptions I had about strippers. I thought you couldn't touch a stripper--oh no! I thought strippers didn't get erect during their act: wrong again! I thought a stripper, no matter how raunchy, would never put his unclothed penis near someone's mouth: whoops! I will never allow strippers to molest me for my birthday--you never know where that gold lame pouch has been.
My weekend's big excitement was a gold g-string. How sad is that? After an exhausting day of work, theo and I went over to our "friend" Frank and his boyfriend James' house for thei birthday party. Someone hired these hulking Latino strippers, and they certainly set me straight about a few assumptions I had about strippers. I thought you couldn't touch a stripper--oh no! I thought strippers didn't get erect during their act: wrong again! I thought a stripper, no matter how raunchy, would never put his unclothed penis near someone's mouth: whoops! I will never allow strippers to molest me for my birthday--you never know where that gold lame pouch has been.
Saturday, October 04, 2003
Another Dense, Boring Update
So, it's 8:40 AM on a crisp, chilly Saturday morning. Fortunately, as of thirty seconds ago I have heat (which means my apartment will no longer be 60 degrees and the city can stop coming over to hear my fellow tenants and me grouse about the landlord), but unfortunately, it's 8:41 and I am awake. I figured that, since there's nothing else to do in these early morning hours but drink coffee (check), eat breakfast (check), or go jogging (. . .), I would update.
Traveling from less caustic to moreso, we'll begin with school. School is always good--always meeting new people, learning new things, falling in love with a wonderful professor. My English teacher, whom at first I disliked, has grown on me, little by little. I'm still not a fan of working out of anthologies, nor do I care for the pieces she chooses, but she has a great sense of humor. My Environmental Studies professor, on the other hand, took no warming up to. Dr. French has this horribly wonderful way of being so wry and sarcastic about the Bush administration without actually being unprofessional about it. My Environmental Studies class (basically a hippie "Save the world!" kind of class, with a smidgen of God on the side) surpasses all of my other classes (even bland Euro. film), which is ironic considering it was a last minute "my mother will think it's better than urdu" switch.
Hmm...next happiest thing in life must be...media apparati. I'm still in the habit of reading class-assigned books less than my own personal books. Bah. I finished The Devil Wears Prada--hated it, working on The Autograph Man by Zadie Smith--enjoying it--and Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides--loving it. I haven't had time to see any films recently, but I did purchase Want One, Rufus Wainwright's new CD. Wat a great album--it's quite a "departure" from his last album, Poses, with less musical theater-esque songs (still a few) and more pseudo-Coldplay and just good "pop/rock" tunes. Tim will be getting this CD in the mail (I'll be burning it in effigy for him, as a retaliatory measure against the RIAA) within the next few weeks.
Briefly, work is terrible. Too much working (22 working hours compacted into three days in a row) combined with new administration (it's like comparing Bush to Clinton--very...different...in that euphemistic way), combined with the fact that I'm STILL not receiving paychecks at my store, nor am I getting paid the right amount, just means that I'm generally unhappy about my job and would love to work somewhere else. My co-worker told me about his group interview for H&M (which is superwonderful!), and it thoroughly discouraged me from re-applying. Apparently, they did these hokey group exercises, like building a castle out of same-colored Legos while passing a tennis ball or something, which does NOT appeal to me. I'd like to get some pittly job at the Chicago Free Press, since it's right up the street from my apartment. We'll see.
And, unsurprisingly, my relations with other humans are suffering as usual. Erin is horribly angry with me because I've (self-admittedly) pretty much ignored her for the past two months. Lauren hates me because I haven't called her back, and she's called my house/cell phone (which was buried somewhere in my car for two weeks) many times. Theo...as I, ironically, fight with him at this very moment...Theo and I have had some difficulties as of late. I'm hoping we can make it through at least the lease period. Yeah, it's that bad.
Agh. Now I'm in a bad mood--I should have written about the "bad" things first. I'll make more of a concerted effort to post with somre regularity, and speak to those people with whom I desperately need to speak. Off to work for 87 hours, and then a party, if Theo and I don't start fighting when I return from work (as usual). AGH.
So, it's 8:40 AM on a crisp, chilly Saturday morning. Fortunately, as of thirty seconds ago I have heat (which means my apartment will no longer be 60 degrees and the city can stop coming over to hear my fellow tenants and me grouse about the landlord), but unfortunately, it's 8:41 and I am awake. I figured that, since there's nothing else to do in these early morning hours but drink coffee (check), eat breakfast (check), or go jogging (. . .), I would update.
Traveling from less caustic to moreso, we'll begin with school. School is always good--always meeting new people, learning new things, falling in love with a wonderful professor. My English teacher, whom at first I disliked, has grown on me, little by little. I'm still not a fan of working out of anthologies, nor do I care for the pieces she chooses, but she has a great sense of humor. My Environmental Studies professor, on the other hand, took no warming up to. Dr. French has this horribly wonderful way of being so wry and sarcastic about the Bush administration without actually being unprofessional about it. My Environmental Studies class (basically a hippie "Save the world!" kind of class, with a smidgen of God on the side) surpasses all of my other classes (even bland Euro. film), which is ironic considering it was a last minute "my mother will think it's better than urdu" switch.
Hmm...next happiest thing in life must be...media apparati. I'm still in the habit of reading class-assigned books less than my own personal books. Bah. I finished The Devil Wears Prada--hated it, working on The Autograph Man by Zadie Smith--enjoying it--and Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides--loving it. I haven't had time to see any films recently, but I did purchase Want One, Rufus Wainwright's new CD. Wat a great album--it's quite a "departure" from his last album, Poses, with less musical theater-esque songs (still a few) and more pseudo-Coldplay and just good "pop/rock" tunes. Tim will be getting this CD in the mail (I'll be burning it in effigy for him, as a retaliatory measure against the RIAA) within the next few weeks.
Briefly, work is terrible. Too much working (22 working hours compacted into three days in a row) combined with new administration (it's like comparing Bush to Clinton--very...different...in that euphemistic way), combined with the fact that I'm STILL not receiving paychecks at my store, nor am I getting paid the right amount, just means that I'm generally unhappy about my job and would love to work somewhere else. My co-worker told me about his group interview for H&M (which is superwonderful!), and it thoroughly discouraged me from re-applying. Apparently, they did these hokey group exercises, like building a castle out of same-colored Legos while passing a tennis ball or something, which does NOT appeal to me. I'd like to get some pittly job at the Chicago Free Press, since it's right up the street from my apartment. We'll see.
And, unsurprisingly, my relations with other humans are suffering as usual. Erin is horribly angry with me because I've (self-admittedly) pretty much ignored her for the past two months. Lauren hates me because I haven't called her back, and she's called my house/cell phone (which was buried somewhere in my car for two weeks) many times. Theo...as I, ironically, fight with him at this very moment...Theo and I have had some difficulties as of late. I'm hoping we can make it through at least the lease period. Yeah, it's that bad.
Agh. Now I'm in a bad mood--I should have written about the "bad" things first. I'll make more of a concerted effort to post with somre regularity, and speak to those people with whom I desperately need to speak. Off to work for 87 hours, and then a party, if Theo and I don't start fighting when I return from work (as usual). AGH.
Thursday, September 18, 2003
GOP Bumper Stickers (Thanks, Dad)
Bush/Cheney '04: Four More Wars!
Bush/Cheney '04: Assimilate. Resistance is Futile.
Bush/Cheney '04: Apocalypse Now!
Bush/Cheney '04: Because the truth just isn't good enough
Bush/Cheney '04: Compassionate Colonialism
Bush/Cheney '04: Deja-voodoo all over again!
Bush/Cheney '04: Get used to it!
Bush/Cheney '04: In your heart, you know they're technically correct.
Bush/Cheney '04: Leave no billionaire behind
Bush/Cheney '04: Less CIA -- More CYA
Bush/Cheney '04: Lies and videotape but no sex!
Bush/Cheney '04: Making the world a better place, one country at a time.
Bush/Cheney '04: Or else.
Bush/Cheney '04: Over a billion Whoppers served.
Bush/Cheney '04: Putting the "con" in conservatism
Bush/Cheney '04: Thank you for not paying attention
Bush/Cheney '04: The last vote you'll ever have to cast.
Bush/Cheney '04: This time, elect us!
Bush/Cheney '04: We're Gooder!
Bush/Cheney '04: Asses of Evil
Bush/Cheney '04: The economy's stupid!
George W. Bush: A brainwave away from the presidency
George W. Bush: It takes a village idiot
George W. Bush: Leadership without a doubt
George W. Bush: The buck stops Over There
Vote Bush in '04: "I Has Incumbentory Advantitude"
Vote Bush in '04: "Because every vote counts -- for me!"
Vote Bush in '04: "Because I'm the President, that's why!"
Vote Bush in '04: Because dictatorship is easier
Vote Bush in '04: It's a no-brainer! Don't think.
Vote Bush! God Save the King! Let Them Eat Yellowcake!
Vote Bush! Peace & Prosperity Suck -- Big-Time
BU__SH__!
Vote for Bush & You Get Dick!
Who Would Jesus Bomb?
P.S. If you have read this far, under Section 17 H(2)a.3 of the Patriot Act, you are under arrest.
Bush/Cheney '04: Four More Wars!
Bush/Cheney '04: Assimilate. Resistance is Futile.
Bush/Cheney '04: Apocalypse Now!
Bush/Cheney '04: Because the truth just isn't good enough
Bush/Cheney '04: Compassionate Colonialism
Bush/Cheney '04: Deja-voodoo all over again!
Bush/Cheney '04: Get used to it!
Bush/Cheney '04: In your heart, you know they're technically correct.
Bush/Cheney '04: Leave no billionaire behind
Bush/Cheney '04: Less CIA -- More CYA
Bush/Cheney '04: Lies and videotape but no sex!
Bush/Cheney '04: Making the world a better place, one country at a time.
Bush/Cheney '04: Or else.
Bush/Cheney '04: Over a billion Whoppers served.
Bush/Cheney '04: Putting the "con" in conservatism
Bush/Cheney '04: Thank you for not paying attention
Bush/Cheney '04: The last vote you'll ever have to cast.
Bush/Cheney '04: This time, elect us!
Bush/Cheney '04: We're Gooder!
Bush/Cheney '04: Asses of Evil
Bush/Cheney '04: The economy's stupid!
George W. Bush: A brainwave away from the presidency
George W. Bush: It takes a village idiot
George W. Bush: Leadership without a doubt
George W. Bush: The buck stops Over There
Vote Bush in '04: "I Has Incumbentory Advantitude"
Vote Bush in '04: "Because every vote counts -- for me!"
Vote Bush in '04: "Because I'm the President, that's why!"
Vote Bush in '04: Because dictatorship is easier
Vote Bush in '04: It's a no-brainer! Don't think.
Vote Bush! God Save the King! Let Them Eat Yellowcake!
Vote Bush! Peace & Prosperity Suck -- Big-Time
BU__SH__!
Vote for Bush & You Get Dick!
Who Would Jesus Bomb?
P.S. If you have read this far, under Section 17 H(2)a.3 of the Patriot Act, you are under arrest.
Saturday, September 13, 2003
Iowa
I heart Bill Clinton and Howard Dean. And Tom Harkin's pretty nifty too.
I had a great time visiting Allison at Grinnell this weekend--it was about time she and I got to know each oher a bit better. While my car is quite broken, it managed to get Theo and I to and from Iowa.
I have a gross, disgusting cold.
I heart Bill Clinton and Howard Dean. And Tom Harkin's pretty nifty too.
I had a great time visiting Allison at Grinnell this weekend--it was about time she and I got to know each oher a bit better. While my car is quite broken, it managed to get Theo and I to and from Iowa.
I have a gross, disgusting cold.
Tuesday, September 09, 2003
Media Reviews
I knew I'd have to start Blogging again eventually. This seemed like a logical way to do it without keeping myself up for hours trying to recall everything that has happened recently.
Books
I'd been reding Dave Eggers' You Shall Know Our Velocity!, until I was at Barnes and Noble one night, and it happened to be the night before Jhumpa Lahiri's new book The Namesake was released. So, I purchased, read, and enjoyed that. (Lahiri won the Pulitzer for fiction a few years ago, and is a great Indian-American author.) Then, I picked up Eggers' book again, which I soon lost interest with (even though Eggers is one of my favorite authors from the past ten years) because Zoe told me about a "surprise" about 3/4 of the way into the book, and when I got to that surprise, I was disappointed. So, I started reading Jennifer Finney Boylan's She's Not There, which is a collection of autobiographical short stories charting the Colby professor's evolution "from a man named Jim to a woman named Jenny." I never knew much about transsexuality, and even though I'd call this book self-indulgent fluff (for the most part), I did learn quite a bit about the "tranny" thing. I thought about returning to Eggers, but instead decided to start on Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a book written in first-person by a 15-year-old autistic boy. Really quite entertaining and well-written so far. I should be done with that by the end of tomorrow.
Films
This evening, Theo and I saw Party Monster, a film about two gay "club kids" (played amusingly by Macaluay Culkin and Seth Green) involved in drugs, sex, party hosting, and other fun things. My favorite lines? "I'm not addicted to drugs...I'm addicted to glamour." "I thought of a wonderful sentence today." The plot was just as thin as the spandex club outfits worn throughout the film, but I found mself laughing quite a bit. I rented Raising Victor Vargas a few nights ago, which was "cute," and Theo and I saw Freaky Friday last weekend (I think), and it was also "cute."
Music
I've been frightened by the RIAA, so I'm no longer file sharing, which means I'm no longer finding new songs. I do like Black Eyed Peas' "Where is the Love?", which isn't surprising because they are great. And the soundtrack to Camp should be arriving in the mail soon, along with the rest of my textbooks.
Otherwise, I've fully submerged myself in the semester, and with working at least 16 hours each weekend, I've had little time for relaxation. There are so many people I need to contact, socially. Three good things about the week ahead:
1. Friday: H&M opens on Michigan Ave. at noon. Well of COURSE I'll be there.
2. Weekend: Theo and I are driving out to Iowa to attend Sen. Tom Harkin's Steak Fry, a political event that will feature Bill Clinton and all nine Democratic presidential candidates as speakers. We're staying with Allison, Theo's friend, who goes to Grinnell. (This really really excites me, in case my lack of extraneous exclamation points confuses anyone.)
3. Monday: I get to pick up my nifty jacket from Polo, after having (free) alterations worked on this week.
Need sleep.
I knew I'd have to start Blogging again eventually. This seemed like a logical way to do it without keeping myself up for hours trying to recall everything that has happened recently.
Books
I'd been reding Dave Eggers' You Shall Know Our Velocity!, until I was at Barnes and Noble one night, and it happened to be the night before Jhumpa Lahiri's new book The Namesake was released. So, I purchased, read, and enjoyed that. (Lahiri won the Pulitzer for fiction a few years ago, and is a great Indian-American author.) Then, I picked up Eggers' book again, which I soon lost interest with (even though Eggers is one of my favorite authors from the past ten years) because Zoe told me about a "surprise" about 3/4 of the way into the book, and when I got to that surprise, I was disappointed. So, I started reading Jennifer Finney Boylan's She's Not There, which is a collection of autobiographical short stories charting the Colby professor's evolution "from a man named Jim to a woman named Jenny." I never knew much about transsexuality, and even though I'd call this book self-indulgent fluff (for the most part), I did learn quite a bit about the "tranny" thing. I thought about returning to Eggers, but instead decided to start on Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, a book written in first-person by a 15-year-old autistic boy. Really quite entertaining and well-written so far. I should be done with that by the end of tomorrow.
Films
This evening, Theo and I saw Party Monster, a film about two gay "club kids" (played amusingly by Macaluay Culkin and Seth Green) involved in drugs, sex, party hosting, and other fun things. My favorite lines? "I'm not addicted to drugs...I'm addicted to glamour." "I thought of a wonderful sentence today." The plot was just as thin as the spandex club outfits worn throughout the film, but I found mself laughing quite a bit. I rented Raising Victor Vargas a few nights ago, which was "cute," and Theo and I saw Freaky Friday last weekend (I think), and it was also "cute."
Music
I've been frightened by the RIAA, so I'm no longer file sharing, which means I'm no longer finding new songs. I do like Black Eyed Peas' "Where is the Love?", which isn't surprising because they are great. And the soundtrack to Camp should be arriving in the mail soon, along with the rest of my textbooks.
Otherwise, I've fully submerged myself in the semester, and with working at least 16 hours each weekend, I've had little time for relaxation. There are so many people I need to contact, socially. Three good things about the week ahead:
1. Friday: H&M opens on Michigan Ave. at noon. Well of COURSE I'll be there.
2. Weekend: Theo and I are driving out to Iowa to attend Sen. Tom Harkin's Steak Fry, a political event that will feature Bill Clinton and all nine Democratic presidential candidates as speakers. We're staying with Allison, Theo's friend, who goes to Grinnell. (This really really excites me, in case my lack of extraneous exclamation points confuses anyone.)
3. Monday: I get to pick up my nifty jacket from Polo, after having (free) alterations worked on this week.
Need sleep.
Tuesday, August 26, 2003
Useless crap.
I find it important to weave strands of the past into the textiles of the present and future. Take me, one year ago--I was in a new environment doing something I'd never done before. Regardless of how many otherwise-unexplored things I dealt with, I always had Erin to connect me to myself and my memories. Truly, I can only remember my fondest moments of Mizzou now, and nearly all of them involved her in one way or another. Now, I have Lauren, my partner in crime throughout high school (and hopefully into the next chapter of our lives), to once again ground myself and force me to remember what I've achieved and experienced so far. I may live in the past too much, but I think that one must take two steps forward in life, and then take a single step back, to be able to appreciate how he came to this point--to see the full collage instead of just the one condensed segment.
My first day of class. Somehow, I mistakenly enrolled in a poetry-writing advanced ADVANCED course, and I have no idea what I should do. I'm thinking I should do Wednesday's workshop and see where to go from there. (Those of you who don't know me and my relationship with poetry--I generally despise it and cannot write it. I'm way too verbose.)
More stress culminated when I realized that Tripp and I share a class together, European Film. It's horrible, because I don't know what terms we're on, or how to stealthily approach the situation. Or, if there's even a situation to approach, since I'm beginning to feel like the entire gay male population at Loyola despises me. (But then again, conversations between me and acquaintances never really go well, because I start getting weird and then start saying what I'm thinking about myself and in the end I just want to flee the social crime scene, as it were.)
I'm going to have 1,000 papers due, and I have to do class presentations in two or three of my classes--something I hoped I'd never have to do again.
This post was blandoori.
I find it important to weave strands of the past into the textiles of the present and future. Take me, one year ago--I was in a new environment doing something I'd never done before. Regardless of how many otherwise-unexplored things I dealt with, I always had Erin to connect me to myself and my memories. Truly, I can only remember my fondest moments of Mizzou now, and nearly all of them involved her in one way or another. Now, I have Lauren, my partner in crime throughout high school (and hopefully into the next chapter of our lives), to once again ground myself and force me to remember what I've achieved and experienced so far. I may live in the past too much, but I think that one must take two steps forward in life, and then take a single step back, to be able to appreciate how he came to this point--to see the full collage instead of just the one condensed segment.
My first day of class. Somehow, I mistakenly enrolled in a poetry-writing advanced ADVANCED course, and I have no idea what I should do. I'm thinking I should do Wednesday's workshop and see where to go from there. (Those of you who don't know me and my relationship with poetry--I generally despise it and cannot write it. I'm way too verbose.)
More stress culminated when I realized that Tripp and I share a class together, European Film. It's horrible, because I don't know what terms we're on, or how to stealthily approach the situation. Or, if there's even a situation to approach, since I'm beginning to feel like the entire gay male population at Loyola despises me. (But then again, conversations between me and acquaintances never really go well, because I start getting weird and then start saying what I'm thinking about myself and in the end I just want to flee the social crime scene, as it were.)
I'm going to have 1,000 papers due, and I have to do class presentations in two or three of my classes--something I hoped I'd never have to do again.
This post was blandoori.
Sunday, August 24, 2003
Tradition
For as long as I've been able and willing to swallow pills, I've taken one sleeping pill each night before the dawn of a new school year. This day has always found me awash in a thousand scattered emotions--excitement, fear, anxiety, curiosity. This year, I feel void of all of these. I have no real idea what the next several months will present me with, nor have I had the time to analyze the possible perils I will make my own and grow from. I suppose all that I can hope for is the best.
For as long as I've been able and willing to swallow pills, I've taken one sleeping pill each night before the dawn of a new school year. This day has always found me awash in a thousand scattered emotions--excitement, fear, anxiety, curiosity. This year, I feel void of all of these. I have no real idea what the next several months will present me with, nor have I had the time to analyze the possible perils I will make my own and grow from. I suppose all that I can hope for is the best.
Saturday, August 23, 2003
Freedom
Today and tomorrow have been officially designated "responsibility-free" days by me, since starting Monday, I'll be waking up at 7AM every morning and working all weekend every weekend. I'm really not ready to begin school again--my summer moved at such a frantic pace, what with working and taking classes. Bah.
I've spent my week reinforcing stereotypes--got my nails done, eyebrows waxed (complete with long red scabs!), and went shopping. I bought some white pants (cheap!), some shirts to wear to work that aren't from Gap, and this great coat (left) from the Polo Ralph Lauren store. They're tailoring it for me and everything.
Tonight, hopefully Theo and I will spend some time not fighting.
Today and tomorrow have been officially designated "responsibility-free" days by me, since starting Monday, I'll be waking up at 7AM every morning and working all weekend every weekend. I'm really not ready to begin school again--my summer moved at such a frantic pace, what with working and taking classes. Bah.
I've spent my week reinforcing stereotypes--got my nails done, eyebrows waxed (complete with long red scabs!), and went shopping. I bought some white pants (cheap!), some shirts to wear to work that aren't from Gap, and this great coat (left) from the Polo Ralph Lauren store. They're tailoring it for me and everything.
Tonight, hopefully Theo and I will spend some time not fighting.
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
Important Political Propaganda
(A letter I've been requested to send to my fellow voters)
Hello!
I’m writing you because I want you to join me at a Dean campaign event that I'm attending. Howard Dean is the only candidate running for President who says what he thinks, and acts on what he says. I think he’s dead on, and the only candidate making sense about foreign policy, health care, and fiscal responsibility. Dean is not only taking on Bush, but directly addressing the failures of the Democratic party to give people a reason to vote. He also has a powerful record of success as Governor of Vermont. If you don’t know about him, visit his website:
http://deanforamerica.com
You can sign up for my event here: http://action.deanforamerica.com
Type in your zip code and find my event in the list of events in our area.
I don’t want money to decide who leads this country, and for the first time in a long time, it might not because Dean is running a very grassroots campaign that relies upon people like us to go out and spread the word.
Its inspiring to be a part of something this big, but where each of us still counts. Even if this is the first time you have heard of Howard Dean, or if you are unsure about who you support, please come along and learn more. Howard Dean's campaign is important to me, personally, and I think it is critical to the country. Also, it should be fun.
Thanks! I hope you come! Here's the info on the event(s):
People-Powered Howard Sleepless Summer Tour
Navy Pier, Terrace D Rooftop, 600 East Grand Avenue
Tuesday, August 26, 11:00 AM
Come join Howard Dean and thousands of others as we rally to take our country back! 11:00AM-1:00PM
Hope any of you in the Chicagoland area who share similar views with Dean on abortion, war, education, taxes, and gay rights (which can be viewed here) are able to attend.
More from me to come soon.
(A letter I've been requested to send to my fellow voters)
Hello!
I’m writing you because I want you to join me at a Dean campaign event that I'm attending. Howard Dean is the only candidate running for President who says what he thinks, and acts on what he says. I think he’s dead on, and the only candidate making sense about foreign policy, health care, and fiscal responsibility. Dean is not only taking on Bush, but directly addressing the failures of the Democratic party to give people a reason to vote. He also has a powerful record of success as Governor of Vermont. If you don’t know about him, visit his website:
http://deanforamerica.com
You can sign up for my event here: http://action.deanforamerica.com
Type in your zip code and find my event in the list of events in our area.
I don’t want money to decide who leads this country, and for the first time in a long time, it might not because Dean is running a very grassroots campaign that relies upon people like us to go out and spread the word.
Its inspiring to be a part of something this big, but where each of us still counts. Even if this is the first time you have heard of Howard Dean, or if you are unsure about who you support, please come along and learn more. Howard Dean's campaign is important to me, personally, and I think it is critical to the country. Also, it should be fun.
Thanks! I hope you come! Here's the info on the event(s):
People-Powered Howard Sleepless Summer Tour
Navy Pier, Terrace D Rooftop, 600 East Grand Avenue
Tuesday, August 26, 11:00 AM
Come join Howard Dean and thousands of others as we rally to take our country back! 11:00AM-1:00PM
Hope any of you in the Chicagoland area who share similar views with Dean on abortion, war, education, taxes, and gay rights (which can be viewed here) are able to attend.
More from me to come soon.
Saturday, August 09, 2003
Market Days "Pre-Party"
My Market Days weekend began shortly after 1:00AM, when the city crews began making as much noise as they could assembling and placing the "Road Closed" blockades. This was directly followed by the "market crews" erecting their lead pipe tents. From what I could tell, either they were drunk while assembling their "markets," or they were trying their damnedest to make as much noise as possible. A miraculous fifteen minutes of sleep fit its way into there somehow, which ended as Theo came into his room to ask why I wasn't sleeping in my own bed (he kept rolling on top of me, or "climbing all over me," as I bluntly put it). Then...ta da! Like some sick joke, the sun emerges and says to me, "Nay, nay, Brian--no sleep for you tonight."
So, I put an end to my angry thrashing about in bed, took a shower, and headed towards IHOP, the only place I could think of that was serving food at 6:40AM. I brought a few books with me and this morning's Tribune, hoping to catch up on some reading. Oh, but no...
Mr. Smelly McDrunk from the adjacent booth strikes up a Hall & Oates-themed conversation with me (Note to self: who the FUCK are Hall & Oates? Will research later), and asks if he can come over and talk with me for a few minutes. So, we discuss life...or rather, he loudly, erratically tells me about his life. He never mentioned that he was homeless, and he very well may not be, but judging from his situation ("I have nothing to live for," etc.), and the way he was eyeing my bacon, I assume he was. So, two hours later, and after my waiter passed my/our table and mouthed the words, "are you ok?" to me every five minutes, Jeff (he never introduced himself, but he liked to talk in the third person) and I parted ways.
Now I am at home, tired, crabby, and ill-feeling. Looking forward to a grrrreat day!
My Market Days weekend began shortly after 1:00AM, when the city crews began making as much noise as they could assembling and placing the "Road Closed" blockades. This was directly followed by the "market crews" erecting their lead pipe tents. From what I could tell, either they were drunk while assembling their "markets," or they were trying their damnedest to make as much noise as possible. A miraculous fifteen minutes of sleep fit its way into there somehow, which ended as Theo came into his room to ask why I wasn't sleeping in my own bed (he kept rolling on top of me, or "climbing all over me," as I bluntly put it). Then...ta da! Like some sick joke, the sun emerges and says to me, "Nay, nay, Brian--no sleep for you tonight."
So, I put an end to my angry thrashing about in bed, took a shower, and headed towards IHOP, the only place I could think of that was serving food at 6:40AM. I brought a few books with me and this morning's Tribune, hoping to catch up on some reading. Oh, but no...
Mr. Smelly McDrunk from the adjacent booth strikes up a Hall & Oates-themed conversation with me (Note to self: who the FUCK are Hall & Oates? Will research later), and asks if he can come over and talk with me for a few minutes. So, we discuss life...or rather, he loudly, erratically tells me about his life. He never mentioned that he was homeless, and he very well may not be, but judging from his situation ("I have nothing to live for," etc.), and the way he was eyeing my bacon, I assume he was. So, two hours later, and after my waiter passed my/our table and mouthed the words, "are you ok?" to me every five minutes, Jeff (he never introduced himself, but he liked to talk in the third person) and I parted ways.
Now I am at home, tired, crabby, and ill-feeling. Looking forward to a grrrreat day!