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Sunday, March 25th, 2007
5:33 pm - Punctuation counts
Two letters:

Dear Jack,

I want a man who knows what love is all about. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. People who are not like you admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me for other men. I yearn for you. I have no feelings whatsoever when we're apart. I can be forever happy - will you let me be yours?


Dear Jack,

I want a man who knows what love is. All about you are generous, kind, thoughtful people, who are not like you. Admit to being useless and inferior. You have ruined me! For other men I yearn. For you I have no feelings whatsoever. When we're apart I can be forever happy. Will you let me be?


I just thought they were kind of interesting. Okay, okay, so I'm just putting off work and trying to keep my mind off the mounting guilt/embarrassment. Why can't I be normal?

current mood: guilty

(let it rain)

Tuesday, March 15th, 2005
10:11 pm - Vie
Someone has flipped the switch in my life to manicfrenzy and everything just goes 'round and 'round, building dangerous momentum like a deranged merry-go-round on a positive feedback loop. I don't think I can hold on sometimes because the twirling makes me dizzy and my palms are sweaty.

I've been reading some novels by Banana Yoshimoto. It's a new taste for me but I think I rather like it, just like how I found out that I really like Matcha tea with melon. I don't know when I'll have the time to buy Empire Falls or The Notebook --- maybe during break.

I've realized that there's something rotten in the state of my mind. Perhaps I'm receiving too many inputs or not receiving enough sleep but I can't control the random pathways my neurons decide to take. I can't talk/write/think about just one topic, it's more like 7 or 8 topics all vying for the spotlight. I can't stay on track. Even now I haven't been able to talk about one topic, as evidenced by skittish changes in topics. I'm dooooomed!

current mood: tired

(3 raindrops | let it rain)

Wednesday, January 19th, 2005
10:58 pm - Jumpy
Have you read the Iliad? No? Well, you should look into that because it's definitely worth your while; plus, the Lombardo translation is pretty darn easy to understand, although Fagle's wasn't difficult either. There's a lot of gore.

I wonder what makes someone interesting/fascinating/intriguing to us. Is it just on looks? An aura? Personal preference? Past experience? Take the blue-shirt guy from B&N, what is it about him? Maybe I just have strange tastes.

On a completely different train of thought, I'm so excited about going out of the country...even though I don't really consider it as "out of the country". Think about it, 5 whole days out from under the oppressive thumb of Dubya!

"You know, some guys just can't hold their arsenic."

current mood: weird
current music: Chicago - Cell Block Tango

(3 raindrops | let it rain)

Saturday, December 4th, 2004
11:21 pm - Late-Night
It seems that I'm only creative when it gets dark. By day I live the life of a shallow, giggly, college-fretting highschool girl and by night I'm...still a shallow, giggly, college-fretting highschool girl! Anyways, I honestly had a point to this post...something about the injustice of something, or something. Maybe it had something to do with food again? Err, well, here are some of my thoughts:

- I understand that social gatherings are good for well, socializing and the upkeep of social status, or something, but I find them shallow, unsubstantial, and analogous to cotton candy. They're just taxing on my poor soul; all that mingling and elbow-rubbing just rubs my fluffy inner-spirit the wrong way.

- Whenever I look at the stars I'm always reminded of just how insignificant I am. I look up and I'm hit by waves of what "eternity" could mean and how transient my existence is. It's a kind of subdued melancholy and longing. I don't know if anyone can understand this, and I don't expect anyone to since I'm rather bizarre.

- I don't understand the fascination with drugs and alcohol nor the dependency upon which people seem to relinquish themselves to wholeheartedly. No matter what the excuse is, it was by their own choice. Plus, the alcoholics I know drive with Stupidity as their chauffeur.

- I understand and can empathize in regards to feelings of jealousy, but what I do find distasteful is the inability to recognize that they're behaving irrationally and to try to curb such an ugly emotion. What does it accomplish, really? Show their emotional immaturity and constipated attitude?

- Why do people settle? There's a multitude of things that applies to, but I'm talking about relationships specifically. One by one the people around me buckle under the disease of INeedSomeoneNowitus. They've waited this long, is another year going to kill them?

- On a brighter note, I think I'm going to get a new screen name. Any suggestions?

current mood: contemplative
current music: Greenday - Boulevard of Broken Dreams

(2 raindrops | let it rain)

Saturday, October 23rd, 2004
11:51 pm
We're going to start easy. Don't strain your kidney; I know you have two of them, but that doesn't mean you should be so careless. They're like hepa-filters, you know, and that's why it's wise to drink red, cranberry juice sometime. My appendix is acting up again, but I don't think it can be fixed with cranberry juice.

Abe Lincoln

Abe Lincoln had a way with words.
In true silence.
And when you're pure,
You can almost hear him snoring in his grave.
He was pretty tall.

- Sifl -

I only have Cran-Apple juice now. Hey, I'm going to write an ode to juice. Brillant.

current mood: indescribable
current music: Modest Mouse - Heart Cooks Brain

(3 raindrops | let it rain)

Tuesday, October 19th, 2004
7:09 pm - Stop the Madness
Oh yes, I was just brutually reminded of another CWSB --- I haven't yet had the time to think of a good title for them yet; it's going to be a toughie. And you know what I really, really, REALLY dislike? When couples feel the need to parade their "love" around as if it was noteworthy or ingenious or distinguishable from the millions of other passion-induced, lust-crazed, hormone-happy couples. For goodness sakes, what are you trying to prove? That you count; that there are actually people who like you; that you're not a "loser"? Do you really need silly pet names or secret tongue shakes to feel truly connected to that person? I don't even know what to say anymore. If you wanted to evoke some intense emotion out of me, well, you got it.

The Summation of Your Puppy Love (With a Shakespearean twist):

(1) Read the excerpt from Macbeth below:

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

(2) Ponder upon the profondity of that passage.

(3) Now replace "Life" with "Your Relationship".

current mood: disgusted & apathetic at the same time, so apathegusted?
current music: Modest Mouse - Bukowski

(1 raindrop | let it rain)

Saturday, October 16th, 2004
12:06 am - Four
So I finally got some time to share some of my most sincere and deep thoughts with the online community (ha!). I'd like to open my mini-debut with a brief discussion on the CWSB*. I hadn't the foggiest clue just how rampant they were, but bam, as soon as classes began there they were --- think Dawn of the Dead except with more PDA involved. And seeing as I have little experience in dealing with these types of situations, I tended to oscillate between being horrified and laughing hysterically. As of right now I've seen about 4 types of CWSBs (I know there are more...they're out there):

The Polar Opposites
Not that there's anything wrong with being polar opposites, it just doesn't work like it does in the movies with this particular couple. He's a shy, bookish, button-down shirt type. She's a loquacious, semi-goth, not-all-here type. Once again, not that those characteristics automatically denote the red mark of a bad couple, but when she just uses him as the father-figure she's never had and he giggles constantly in her presence, well, the line has to be drawn somewhere. Plus, it doesn't help that they're not really a couple (although you'd never know from the way they keep trying to fondle eachother in the middle of the hallway), and that her current flame (who has an anger management issue) has put him on his to-kill list.

The Conjoined Twins
Is it one sentient being with extra limbs or two people that were tragically fused together during one of God's lab experiments? Do we know? No. Are we afraid? Just a little. They can finish eachother's sentences with little difficulty and maybe even read eachother's minds. Perhaps it's because of the sheer amount of time they spend with one another, but whatever the case may be, you eventually start noticing that they even start looking like eachother. They walk around as if joined by the hip, and when separated, they look strangely bereft and naked. The word that comes to mind is naked mole rat, but I don't think those two thoughts actually go together.

The Exhibitionists
Otherwise known as the PDAs. They're notorious for their blatant displays of fondling, groping, and exchanging body fluids (yeah, that one made you shudder, huh?). It's not so much that I get vaguely queasy at the sight of physical intimacy as it is the fact that there are better times and certainly better places for such conduct. Well, I certainly hope there are better places than in front of my locker. So now the question is: do they do this on purpose? do they derive some kind of twisted pleasure from PDA? and more importantly, no means no. In some small way it's rather romantic, but that's just because I've been brainwashed by those cheesy movies. Yeah, you think "Gag me" but there's a tiny part that wishes you were like the Kates & Seans of the world. Finally, we come to our fourth couple:

The Back-Scratchers
No, not the little plastic claws that old, portly men (and my, ahem, grandfather) like to use after Sunday brunch out by the patio. Think mutualistic. I put this item last because, frankly, these BS's are a difficult group to cover. Let's start with the idea of mutualism which is defined in the Random House Webster's Unabridged Dictionary as: a relationship between two species of organisms in which both benefit from the association. This is essentially what is witnessed for this couple. Of course, I have to interject here and express that most of the relationships we maintain contain a certain degree of mutualism. However, this pair seem to take this exchange of "aid" so to speak, a little farther than necessary. He needs a girlfriend. She needs a change. He wants someone to feed his fragile ego. She needs an outlet for her pent up ardor. Do they really even like each other? Can we tell?

Hmm...I just lost the battle with ADD. To be continued.

*CWSB = Couples Who Shouldn't Be

current mood: indescribable
current music: The Darkness - I Believe In a Thing Called Love

(1 raindrop | let it rain)

Tuesday, September 14th, 2004
11:14 pm
So, before any serious journaling occurs, I would like to get two minute things out of the way: (1) school is slowly sucking away the marrow of my life force (i.e. elan vital for all you French folks) and (2) it is due to this incubian (how do you adjectify that noun?) fiend that we are experiencing writer's jetlag. I would whine more about it, but hey, my life marrow is being sucked away! Sorry for the inconvience!

...I had this whole article I was going to write about the CWSB (i.e. Couples Who Shouldn't Be), but I'm fucking tired and plus, the administration is planning to cram me into little boxes with no windows to draw crystal bowls (do you know how freakin' hard it is to accurately depict a freakin' crystal bowl?!) over and over again. They call it "art".

current mood: bitchy
current music: Modest Mouse - Float On

(4 raindrops | let it rain)

Monday, August 16th, 2004
9:59 pm

I adopted a cute lil' cow fetus
from Fetusmart! Hooray fetus!

Er, I'm not deranged. Really.

I say China all the way. Although, the floor exercises are paddling their asses, and not in a good way either.

current mood: weird

(5 raindrops | let it rain)

Thursday, August 12th, 2004
11:05 pm - Affection
This whole having emotions thing is really starting to chap my ass. It's not only my own that are distressing me, it's everyone else's too, but we're not going to get into that today. From time to time I've toyed with the idea that I might have this deep, wildly illogical, probably incurable issue with affection. I'm perpetually stuck between a rock and a hard place (excuse the trite expression). I can't be satisfied. On the one hand I'm like the millions of others who wish and hope for some miraculous, semi-ethereal, sometimes creepy kind of love to hit me upside the head some day. On the other hand, however, I find the whole process rather agonizing and frankly, just a tad bit too eerie. I don't bode well with compliments; I think they must be bluffing. I don't handle intimacy well either; I get creeped out when mushiness is involved. And don't even get me started on being physically affectionate. I'd write more but I got compliants that my entries were too long (or was it too long-winded?). In any case, I should be banned from the dating pool --- the chlorine stings.

Oh, but I should mention that
Adrien Brody Rocks My Socks!(which are pretty neat too if I do say myself --- my socks that is)

Shit, tomorrow's Friday the 13th...anyone superstitious here?

current mood: thoughtful
current music: Tori Amos - A Sorta Fairy Tale

(7 raindrops | let it rain)

Monday, August 2nd, 2004
12:11 am - Extreme Journaling --- Kind of Like Kayaking, Except Better.
Has anyone noticed the new cultural trend yet? Yeah, that one, where everything has gone to the extremes? No one is safe. It's your car, your cat litter, your t.v. shows, your sports drinks, your underwear, and even your toothpaste. Heck, I've even decided to take up Extreme Journaling™. No longer is suburban-American content with merely the regular, no sir. We are a nation of the biggest, the baddest, the fastest.

Who ever said that plain cotton underwear was good enough for the mid-class? Hell no, you deserve the best; pleated, dyed, bowed, accessorized. Yes folks, now a piece of extreme heaven can touch your extremely toned derriere --- that you got from that extreme workout on your Extreme Ab-Buster™ --- for extremely low prices. No longer will your kids have to worry about satisfying their hunger with extremely innovated top of the line foods like Jello Extreme™ or Tandoori Sizzler Doritos Extreme™! And parents, after a long day's work, doesn't it feel delightful to be able to drift off in your Sleepeezee Backcare Extreme™ mattress?

So, in short, as a representative of your local marketing committee, I would just like to reassure every one of you out there waiting on extreme tenterhooks about the future of your extreme products, not to worry. We are closer everyday in inventing your next irreplaceable Extreme Moen Faucets™, Extreme Yoplait Light™, and Extreme Pantyhose™. In fact, due to the overwhelming number of requests and suggestions we've received, we have even worked out a deal with the National Sports Association (NSA) to introduce our very new brainchild: Extreme Contact Origami™!

Remember, all your base are belong to us.

current mood: cynical

(6 raindrops | let it rain)

Monday, July 26th, 2004
10:06 pm - Back in Season
Volleyball season is back in full swing --- with a vengeance. Coach Flora has a fondness for "Suicides". Enough said.

current mood: sore

(2 raindrops | let it rain)

Tuesday, July 20th, 2004
11:28 pm - In The Dark
Yup, that's where I've been residing for the past 5 days --- in the dark. And no, not figuratively speaking either. I'll give a break down of what's been happening...

Monday 07/12
- Pick up R.C. (aka Toilet Killer) from airport after a 4-hour delay. Bad for her, good for us :)
- Dying to get a haircut.

Tuesday 07/13
- Leave Toilet Killer at home while I waltz into class.
- Took T.K. shopping. She sure knows how to make money disappear.
- Humidity is suffocating. Big thunderstorm rolls in. Black clouds galore. Power goes out.

Wednesday 07/14
- LG&E reports that over 100,000 customers are without power. And hey look, we're one of them!
- Yelped through a brisk and ice cold shower.
- I go to class to teach the new factoring unit.
- Courtney and I scamble around like mad trying to get garden supplies together.

Thursday 07/15
- Woke up...and the power is still out.
- More shopping with T.K. She's making me poor.
- Haircut? Check.
- Gratuitous flowers? Check check.

Friday 07/16
- Are you seeing a pattern here? 'Cause the power's not back yet.
- Another cold shower. Another class. Another supply run.
- LG&E trucks pull up to my street, stop, then promptly leave. So close.
- Bundling hair to ship off to Locks of Love.

Saturday 07/17
- Take a wild guess at the power situation.
- I thought I would get used to the cold showers; I thought wrong.
- I feel like something's missing. Oh right, that would be my hair!
- Escorted the Otto family to the airport. Courtney's vacationing in Europe for 3 damn weeks.

It wasn't until the wee hours of Sunday morning that we got power back. However, it was a little to late for some of our perishable food items. There was more shopping and snickering as per usual with the T.K. ::Sigh:: I don't know if I can handle coordinating the whole community service project all by myself. Stupid Europe with their outrageously ridiculous monetary exchange rate.

current mood: grumpy
current music: Phantom Planet - California

(9 raindrops | let it rain)

Sunday, July 11th, 2004
11:57 pm - Disaster
Dear Lord, have mercy upon us for we are in great peril. The stench of fetid flesh clings to the air like satin on curves. The odor is offensive, disturbing, and nauseating. The sight is almost worst. Red chunks of decaying flesh glide across the linoleum floor all the while leaking pinkish foul fluids.

Quarantine is required immediately, but is it enough? The invaders have ambushed us, taken hostages, and now no amount of ransom is enough. Conventional denfenses and weapons are no longer effective --- something more is needed to obliterate the teeming masses of frenzied insurgents.

The aftermath is immersed in a cloud of solemnity only penetrated by the sour putrescence of what had happened. The tumultuous chain of emotions bleed seamlessly into one another, shifting and reforming, as glass beads in a kaleidoscope. Surprise to confusion to alarm. Then shock and disbelief followed closely by horror and panic. Finally, disgust and resignation take their place as the situation comes full circle.

It matters not the why or how. Not any more.

You might be wondering what the hell just happened, which you have every right to wonder about. No, no one is hurt or died or even mildly dying. I was merely recapping what happened when the nearly 30 pound watermelon residing in our kitchen decided to have a fit and melt. Yes, like the Wicked Witch of the West. No, really, it just pooped out on its own free will. My melodrama has drained the last of my energy and it still stinks in the house, so leave a note if you want the whole story. Now that I've said that, I bet no one comments ::pouts::

current mood: nauseated

(3 raindrops | let it rain)

Saturday, July 10th, 2004
7:02 pm - Poke Me. I Dare You.
When I found this little guy, I almost had an aneurism. Then, after I read the fine print above and below him, my heart seized up as if in the throes of severe cardiac arrest. I was lost the moment I gazed into his shiny, black, buttonlike eyes. I was held enthrall as I took in his svelte form --- okay, so it was more rotund than lithe, but still awfully cuddly.

If you're not comprehending or if you're just plain freaked out, I would suggest you to take a peek to your left; see the penguin now? You have to admit, just looking at him warms your heart, even if you wouldn't let him share your bed.

I have affectionately dubbed him Sir Pokie of Okie; no cracks about confines of my originality, please. From now on anyone and everyone will answer to him when trouble is a-brewin' (right here in River City)! He's an incredible listener, excellent chef, fierce bouncer, devoted compadre, and damned good lover. Attend the wedding if you can.


current mood: flirty
current music: Mendelssohn - Wedding March

(3 raindrops | let it rain)

Friday, July 9th, 2004
7:14 pm - Aicardi
It was like a zoo. Children hanging from the backs of chairs. Adults trying to keep the peace. Little boys stomping around hitting little girls with styrofoam contraptions. Adults running away from little boys armed with styrofoam weaponry. Children crying whenever the door opened. Adults dressing up as milkmaids to entertain hanging, stomping, and crying children.

Now I can understand why some day-care centers start "losing" children left and right. In the span of two hours six, yes, six kids tried to make daring escapes/jail breaks from the conference room turned pig sty. Three of them are probably going to end up in jail for assault and/or battery later ("Hey look! This is a bat!" ::begins swinging bat towards my head::). Two of them are going to grow up resolving tough situations with nothing but a trail of tears. And atleast 3 of them need to take a crash course with Miss Manners ("I want you to find me another dress!" --- "I want to play checkers, yeah, you play too!").

No, I wasn't babysitting all of the neighborhood kids en masse, although I might have preferred that. We (the "volunteers") were actually entertaining the healthy siblings of those afflicted with Aicardi Syndrome. Never heard of it? That's not surprising since there are only around 300-500 documented cases of A.S., with almost all of them being girls. So, get educated and come to Louisville in 2006 for the next conference so you can see me being bludgeoned to death by little screaming children!

current mood: tired
current music: Harry Nilson - Lime and Coconut

(3 raindrops | let it rain)

Sunday, July 4th, 2004
9:53 pm - Jump-start (Trial #2)
Although the last Gallagher essay didn't quite manage to inspire enough jealousy in my Creativity to lure her out of the cave she's been hiding in, it did, however, pique her interest. I'm feeling hopeful for an imminent reconciliation since she did write me a postcard detailing her stay in the humble abode of Mr. Osama Bin Laden himself. Apparently, she arrived just in the nick of time.

It seemed that Mr. Bin Laden had been suffering from mild liver failure and was too weak to make it out of his hole to the Kabul ATM for some Kwik-Cash. So, in a final act of desperation and with his remaining energies, Mr. Bin Laden sucessfully trained his pet chinchilla --- whom he so affectionately named George Dubya --- to scurry out into the depths of Fallujah in search of food and supplies, such as bunny slippers.

Ironically, the chinchilla took on the characteristics that are affiliated with having a name like George Dubya --- therefore, the chinchilla was only good for two things: (1) running into walls, columns, armored tanks, and the occasional bird or two at high velocities, and (2) bringing back flags of the United States which he would invariably choke on while being broadcasted on national T.V. And thus, by the time my darling Creativity showed up, Mr. Bin Laden was once again attempting to perform the Heimlich maneuver on poor G. Dubby (his words, not mine). Luckily, the flag pole was safely ejected from G. Dubby's esophagus, but sadly, it seemed that Mr. Bin Laden's liver just couldn't handle all the physical activity and excitement from the Heimlich.

As soon as G. Dubby the Chinchilla saw the slow demise of his wily and rather unkempt owner, he gleefully hopped out of the cave, promptly ran into a wall, and sucessfully stowed away to North America in a sack of rice, where he is currently planning to run for president. He has not forgotten his roots though. He still likes to bring home American flags and choke on them periodically.

Once again, this is another endeavor at jump-starting my Muse:
The Princess Bride: Chapter 1. Think it's working?

Oh yeah, and Happy 4th of July! May your flags not spontaneously burst into flames ^_^

current mood: dorky

(6 raindrops | let it rain)

Saturday, July 3rd, 2004
11:37 pm - Jump-start (Trial #1)
Since my Creativity has left me and took our kid Motivation with her too, I'm left with posting the essays of others (who I admittedly admire) as a last resort. Hopefully it'll act somewhat like a good 12-volt battery jump-start for my malnourished soul --- or maybe it'll make Creativity jealous/ashamed for being so useless ever since she left me. If that doesn't work, well, I've decided to skip town and flee to Canada where I will spend the rest of my days (1) herding giant prehistoric Alpacas, (2) making beaver hats --- no really, they'll each have hats courtesy of the Canadian government, (3) and join the notorious, yet much acclaimed "Alpacas For President". Well, here goes nothing:

Hugh Gallagher Essay )

current mood: blank

(2 raindrops | let it rain)

Wednesday, June 30th, 2004
4:21 pm - Three-Ringed Circus
Doesn't it always seem like when life might just get easier then all of a sudden 5 things hit you from every which direction since heck, you can't have your cake and eat it too (see, now that makes me really mad). Rather, you're forced to throw your caution (merriment) to the wind, become a contortionist, and join the nearest three-ring circus. Have I ever mentioned that I hate clowns?

To-Do (Or Not To-Do?):
1) R.S.V.P. to Mollie and Julie's birthday dinner
2) Organize the West-End Volunteer Garden Project
3) Decide on math curriculum to teach
4) Summerbridge
5) Pray that "Stephanie" will have labels by Friday
6) Call Graeters
7) Donate hair to Locks of Love
8) Save a small Southeast Asian village from angry army ants with only a shovel and a large glass of water
9) Skip town before the Squirrel Mafia decide to pay me another visit

To add insult upon injury, my Creativity has decided to dump me, saying something along the lines of I wasn't paying enough attention to the relationship and that I was taking her for granted. Pshaw!

current mood: busy

(8 raindrops | let it rain)

Tuesday, June 29th, 2004
12:24 am - No Exposé --- Squirrel Community Up In Arms!
So this started out as a wildly confrontational, in-your-face, go-sic-'em kind of exposé, but then I was approached by the Squirrel Mafia. Yes, you laugh now, but they all laugh before they're actually confronted with the world's second most lethal terrorist group.

They laid it out for me like this: if I reveal any of their secrets that would endanger their blithe existence (consisting of such activities like: scouting for acorns, burying acorns, having big acorn bashes, collecting and adding to their acorn caches, creating the perfect acorn soufflé, etc.) then I would suffer the consequences...and their wrath. Plus, they can be deadly with those acorns. Just imagine it now, being bludgeoned to death by thousands of small, but fatal acorn projectiles. It's not fun, folks.

So, with all things considered, I can only idly sit here and type out a good excuse for those disappointed squirrel fans. I don't have an exposé, but I can safely proclaim that: I am a hopeless romantic, I like running around barefoot, I would like to be lightly wooed by moonlight, I have deadly aim (yes, I am 1/16 squirrel; that's where all of my hidden talents come from), I can pack away dairy products like no other, I love running outside like a mad hooligan when it really rains, and if I had a choice I would own Chinese Throwing Stars and a Hattori Hanzo sword, a real Hanzo sword.

Stop twitching your face like that just because I included some personal information. Go somewhere else to quench your wonderlust.

current mood: disappointed

(4 raindrops | let it rain)

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