(insert title here) writers block

I'm up on the tight rope...

2005-10-14T08:28:00.000-07:00

Between nights of drunken debauchery...

listening to Leon Russell and watching Night Court,

I:

(aren't I cute?)

Have settled into my little living space quite nicely. And now...I offer you the tour...

I sleep here. My parents purchased my bedsheet, and they were a hideous hue of purple/indigo. So, I went to savers and bought a few blankets to cover them up.

above you see my shrine. The record player and my beautiful speakers that I love so very very much...and above the shrine, we have...

I have managed to cover most of my walls...I offer the following as examples...

finally, we have the TV and the fridge...with a tiny microwave that burns popcorn...

That about covers it all.

PS: Those dudes are just friends, and very un-gay. They're just...awesomely weird.

adventures abound...

2005-09-04T03:16:00.000-07:00

The first two weeks of college living. Interesting, to say the least. I am quite pleased with my newly gained freedom, it's lovely to have a non-existant curfew. Strange enough, I have become domesticated. It was thrilling to buy cleaning supplies.

I am a loser, what can I say?

Anywho, despite the fact that I've spent more time at Matt's house than my own dorm, I quite like it. It's my inner sanctum, my womb. A home, if you will. And, in the highly unlikey circumstance that zombies attack, I can implement the use of the dead bolt lock and pray to god my suitemate follows suit.

He loves me so...

2005-08-06T01:36:00.000-07:00

Spent a wonderful evening with my boy...First Fridays was thriving despite the edifice where Thought Crime once stood in all its glory was slowly being gutted and vacated. Another landmark that will disappear into the horizon and be forgotten.

This is why I have to get this project started.

More details.

2005-08-03T23:10:00.000-07:00

An elaboration of the preceeding. It will be a mini-series/documentary type formatted for either the History or Travel Channel. It will be a sort of ode to 20th century America, exploring the evolution that commenced in that century. Possibly further back, I don't know. I guess it's a last-ditch effort to get the feeling of a time whose people are slowly dying out. More later.

Have mix, will travel...

2005-08-03T02:06:00.000-07:00

observe.

The blue van. One day I'm gonna own a van, just like big blue. I'll gut the inside, save a couple seats, turn the rest into a small camper, and travel the mountain ranges and national parks. I'll stop at every waffle house, dingy diner and whatever else catches my attention along the way. I shall document the trip either by film or book. I haven't quite decided yet.

This really just hit me tonight. I think this is what I've been searching for, and I finally understand what I need to do to achieve what I wish to accomplish.

Hold the line...

2005-07-31T20:11:00.000-07:00

love isn't always on time.

That is all.

Back In Time...

2005-07-27T21:59:00.000-07:00

No Huey Lewis reference intended, I assure you. Featured below this text is my beloved boyfriend Matt back in 1989...I'm guessing at about 18 years of age...ain't he cute?

And here is dear Matt now:

Still very recognizable I think. If this is any indication of what lies ahead, he's got nothing to worry about in the aging department methinks.

reruns...

2005-07-26T01:00:00.000-07:00

I repost this from another blog I have, it's out of date, but to be honest, I'm proud of the rant and wish to share it here.

Plus, it's summer. If network television can get away with showing me reruns of Conan, I feel that this is well within the lines of acceptable.

***rerun commencing now***

Ohhhh......this is sooooo goood.

Anyone who knows me knows when I'm angry, I am fucking ANGRY!!! So today, Kaela (sister), Becca (friend), and I ventured out to 24hr. fitness for a quick run and some yoga. We brought 20 bucks along so Becca could work out with K and I, but as we arrive at the front desk, we find that she cannot be admitted without proper identification.

Calmly, we ask if we could implement possible alternatives. The lady, who really wants to let us in, keeps relaying our questions to the "operations manager", whom I shall dub "Steroid Boy", SB, that Son of a Bitch. I digress.After a few minutes, Steroid Boy tires of the middle man and comes over to deal with us himself. He mechanically goes over company policy again, to which Kaela counters, "But we've been able to do this before". Then, like a complete dick head, he boasts that he will "FIRE" the person who did that. Kaela then responds with "Umm...you were the one who did it." That REALLY pissed him off.

Then he proceeds to repeat company policy again, except this time his tone is exponentially more condescending. You all should know that there's nothing that flairs me up more than condescension.It was at this point that I really started to lose it. I told him I did not appreciate his tone with me. So Steroid Boy threatens to call the police and have us thrown off the property on the charges of harassment. Apparantly, by asking him some questions, we were "HARASSING" him. What a fucking pussy. He is lucky I resisted the urge to leap across the counter and grab him by the shirt collar. LUCKY! My arms and legs were trembling, my eyes were fixated on his freakishly tan mug, and my right eyebrow was raised to my hairline. A lone vain in my forehead began to pulsate. You do NOT throw someone out of a club whose family pays almost $2000.00 in yearly membership fees. I'm sorry, that's complete bullshit.

So the three of us agreed that sticking around to hear this overinflated, pompous, ignoramus, cocksucker windbag was fruitless. We headed towards the door, my arm extended towards the sky and my middle digit standing fully erect. Granted, my exit wasn't the most graceful, ladylike, or mature, but as I have said, he's lucky he came out of this with both of his ears. I was angry enough to go Mike Tyson on his ass.

My biggest problem with Steroid Boy (other than his abhorrent and repugnant demeanor)is that ego-identifies with his title to an unhealthy degree. He was gung ho to fire the person who let us in the first time, and after a heated phone conversation with him later (playing the role of 'mom'), I come to find that he's also firing the lady who was talking to us in the first place.

He was coarse, unmannerly, abraisive and dealt with his CUSTOMERS in a rude and unhewn mien that I deem utterly unforgivable.In laymen's terms: asshole, cocksucker, shitweasle, dickweed...take your pick.

He must be stopped.

***end rerun transmission***

Funeral for a friend's dad.

2005-07-25T22:16:00.000-07:00

Matt's father was buried today...and the only piece of me present was one of my earrings around Matt's finger. This isn't how it should have been. I should have been there to support and console him...comfort him.

But I wasn't. Instead, I spent the day at the mall in Texas, thinking about how dirty it felt to be shopping when I should be at home helping to ease the emotions of my boyfriend. I don't think I can forgive myself, no matter how much he says that "It's alright".

I'm sorry.

Drinkin' lots of carrot juice and soaking up rays...

2005-07-25T22:01:00.000-07:00

Is something I'm not doing, however, Steph has fudgecicles in her house, and they're low fat. 40 calories a piece, and DAMN are they terrific. How can you not enjoy the creamy chocolate-ness of the fudge...cicle?

So the time in Texas has been quite productive, been buying lots of clothes on dad's credit card, which I guess is a passive-aggressive way of saying "Thanks for not being there for all those 'kid things' I used to do". Hey, at least I'm not taking it out on small furry yard animals with my lawnmower...

If I had a lawn mower.

That's not to say I don't love my parents, I do...truly. I have profound respect for what they've accomplished in their lifetime, and wish only the best for them. They just drive me nuts sometimes...which is normal. So K and I have the credit card to take care of business and childhood aggrivation all in one swipe*

*pun most certainly intended.

In other news, I am going to buy an address book which reads "MY BITCHES" on the cover. Someday.

AWOL

2005-07-24T17:59:00.000-07:00

And never a more fitting title if you ask me. Been absent for the past few months, which stands to reason because in all fairness to me, I've been busy with more important things. Such as Live Journal...

...

*ba dum dum*

Let's pretend I didn't say that.

Anywho, in Houston, TX staying with my sister and eating all her food...and looking to get back in the habit of updating here.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Hedwig.

She was really mad...

2005-02-07T13:41:00.000-07:00

Charles Bukowski

I love you, she said
and spit in a bowl of
jello
put it in the refridgerator
and said,
you can eat that later
for dinner!

then she was gone
like a whirlwind
out the door
in a rush of angry
skirt.

Yeah. What have I learned today? This guy was a genuis. He was cantakerous and bitter as all hell, but genuis nonetheless.

And in the background, Neil Young begins the opening riff to "The Loner"

2005-01-26T22:54:00.000-07:00

You scored as Loner.

Loner

63%

Punk/Rebel

56%

Geek

50%

Drama nerd

38%

Stoner

31%

Goth

13%

Ghetto gangsta

13%

Prep/Jock/Cheerleader

What's Your High School Stereotype?
created with QuizFarm.com

I doubt anyone is really that surprised by this. It's not that I'm antisocial, I just don't seem to fall under any one category. Sweet.

Mangos, anyone?

2005-01-19T23:20:00.000-07:00

Ok, I took this quiz...because the title was funny...and the results are funny. Here, go ahead...laugh...

Your boobs are Luscious Mangoes!

Just the right size and no sign of sagging.

With a bra you'll have a lotta cleavage and without it, you can still run around without experiencing too much or irritating bouncing.

Men are attracted to your boobs because they look nice, taste good and feel just right in their hands.

Be proud of what you got -- it's the only pair you're ever gonna have!

What Fruit Do Your Boobs Resemble?

More Great Quizzes from Quiz Diva

Redundancy...

2005-01-16T20:28:00.000-07:00

Out of sheer boredom, I have decided to compare my daily schedule from 3 months or so ago to one of today. Not that anyone else really cares.

Schedule- circa August to early October

7:00 am- Wake up, beat alarm clock, try to remember who I am and why I'm here
7:05 am- Check on sister to see if she's awake
7:06 am- Attempt to get dressed (the search for the pants begins)
7:13 am- Grab breakfast (can of diet coke)
7:15 am- Run out to car to drive sister to school, running late (as usual)
7:28 am- Arrive at lil' sister's high school, 2 minutes before her first bell...get verbal bashing
7:40 am- Arrive at my own school, sit in parking lot and finish waking up
8:21 am-1:51 pm- sit in half-conscious haze (school)
1:55 pm-2:35pm- Chat with Foster (kick ass history teacher)
3:00pm- arrive at lil' sister's high school to pick her up
3:20pm- arrive home, grab lunch (can of diet coke)
3:30-7:00 pm- contemplate existance, wonder why I am at home, procrasinate homework
7:00-8:30 pm- initiate dinner, usually go out because we're too lazy and tired to cook
8:45-11pm- procrastinate homework/various other duties
11:00pm-12:15am- homework
12:17am-12:30am- shower/various other hygiene-related activities
12:40am-3:30am- avoid sleep/insomnia
3:something- sleep.

Then, something mah-valous happened:O) The schedule went from that to this:

7:00am-7:40am- bash alarm clock, try to remember who I am and what I am doing here
7:40-7:57am- try to find my pants
8:00am- run out of the house in frantic panic, running late (as usual)
8:15 am- arrive at school, run towards building
8:21-1:51pm- sit in semi-conscious daze (school)
(here's where the change comes in)
1:52pm- sprint for parking lot to drive to beloved's house
2:20pm-5:30pm- something tantamount to nirvana
5:35pm-6:15pm- speed home like a mother...
6:30pm-7:00pm- eat dinner
7:00pm-7:15pm- dishes
7:30pm-9:00pm-homework
9:00pm- 11:pm- computer frolicking
11:00pm-11:30- shower
11:45pm- 3:something (varies)- telephone escapades
3:something-7am- happy dreams.

this is sort of an example...not everyday, but you get the idea. Lifestyle turnaround. Makes me happy. Course, now I have a job, so I don't have as MUCH time, but still, I enjoy what I do have.

Ramble on...

2005-01-11T13:17:00.000-07:00

Today was a half-day. I have always been of the mindset that these days are a waste of my time, and that I'd be spending a much more productive morning in bed, asleep with my cat. But did that happen? Of course not. Anyway...anyone want to hear about how I was caught being an idiot yesterday? Of course not, but I am going to tell you all because it amuses me.

Ok, yesterday, around 5:30PM, I am extremely bored. I don't feel like sleeping, I don't feel like sitting on my fat ass and I certainly don't feel like eating. So, I grab my portable music listening device, put it on full-blast, and begin pacing my house, trying to think of something. Suddenly, the song, "The Magnificent Seven" by the Clash comes on. For those who know this tune, you'll agree that it has an infectious beat and a kickass bass riff. I suddenly start...erm...dancing...we'll call it dancing. It really looked more like an elaborate funk seizure. Oh well. Anyway, my funk seizure begins, and I must have repeated the song several times, and made my way through every single room of the house. I was a vertiable dancing fool. So, it only seems appropriate that my mother would come home with 2 business associates to discuss whatever they planned on discussing. Why they came home, I'll never know, but they caught me in the middle of convulsing and jumping around. Here's the kicker, I rip the headphones out of my ears....which hurt like HELL, and stand rigidly as if nothing had happened. They laugh...I clumsily welcome mom home, and slink off to my bedroom. I'm a moron.

However, in the victory department, I finally got the DVD player my thoughtful bf got me for Christmas, and just a shade shy of a month, all right! Jenna- 2; Technology- 98,345,270,283,572,932,057,283,572,935,720,385,273,103,412,395,812,536

(bastards.)

VICTORY

2005-01-08T17:12:00.000-07:00

I am not going to go into depths. Those who know things are already informed, the rest can infer some sort of theory as to what I am talking about. I leave these lyrics for all to ingest:

Bruce Cockburn- Lovers in a Dangerous Time
(Off of Stealing Fire, circa 1984. Excellent album)

Don't the hours grow shorter as the days go by
You never get to stop and open your eyes
One day you're waiting for the sky to fall
The next you're dazzled by the beauty of it all
When you're lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time

These fragile bodies of touch and taste
This vibrant skin -- this hair like lace
Spirits open to the thrust of grace
Never a breath you can afford to waste
When you're lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time

When you're lovers in a dangerous time
Sometimes you're made to feel as if your love's a crime --
But NOTHING WORTH HAVING COMES WITHOUT SOME KIND OF FIGHT --
Got to kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight
When you're lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time
And we're lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time

Happy New(ish) Year (and other random assorted things)

2005-01-06T13:18:00.000-07:00

Well, it's 2005...and you all know what that means- the world hasn't ended, YET. Anything's possible, so I'm not ruling it out. Seriously though, it means that the date that I thought would never come, that seemed so unreachable, so far away, is only 4 months away. What am I talking about? Graduation, of course. I remember in third grade seeing on our group portrait an inscription that read "Meet The Future Class of 2005", and I thought to myself- "Jesus, I have to wait THAT LONG?", only to find it wasn't that long at all. However, unlike the majority of happy idiots graduating with me, I think I'm leaving with a different view. Instead of looking back with nostalgic and sentimental rememberance, I will glace at my past and think "Thank God it's over.". Because High School sucks. Living at home...sucks. Having to rely on someone when you're perfectly capable of doing things yourself....SUCKS! I have spent all this idle time letting my once vibrant mind and IQ be slowly killed by the school system.

Don't get me wrong...I believe strongly in education, I believe in knowing things of the world, opening yourself to new experiences of every creed. I guess I'm just wondering why I felt so much smarter Freshman year, and now I feel as if I know nothing, and the only thing I want to do is get away from everything (with a few exceptions).

My life would be much easier now if I had gotten a 100% guaranteed acceptance to college, but instead, all I hear from EVERYONE is "What are you going to do about YOUR FUTURE???". Meanwhile, I sit there dumbfounded because all I'VE EVER TALKED ABOUT IS MY GOD-DAMNED FUTURE. I give a look that basically states "What the fuck are you talking about? That's all I've been planning for since I was 11- my break from here. These questions lead me to believe that you haven't been listening to a fucking word I've been saying for the past however many years." I know what I have to do...you DON'T have to make it worse by piling on more stress on the already towering and swaying pile of worries and apprehensions I have put upon myself.

I guess I'm just a little pissed off right now...if you couldn't tell already. I'm not saying everything I've just written is completely fair, or rational...and frankly, I don't give a shit if any of it is. I don't even care if it's immature, because even I have license to be that way every now and again, despite popular belief. Point is, I'm a little on-edge today, and I feel better as a result of typing all this out. Now, if only I had the guts to say this outloud.

When's Graduation again?

What kind of Pirate am I?

2004-12-24T21:08:00.000-07:00

the only way I'll know is if I enter in this html code. *gulp*

What kind of pirate am I? You decide!
You can also view a breakdown of results or put one of these on your own page!
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

Tell me how bad it is! I can't look.

I'm bored.

2004-12-23T23:33:00.000-07:00

I'm using tiny font to torture those of you who need reading glasses...how- inconsiderate of me. I suck. Some people know a lot about that. Anywho...it's fairly obvious. I am bored out of my mind. I'm not tired, and if I had my way, I'd be in my car driving freely around town until dawn, but no, like the rest of the world, I have to work tomorrow. That's ok, with all the deliveries, I can drive around from dawn till dusk, which is almost the same, except more traffic and more assholes to deal with. I really can't find a point to this whole post, but is that going to stop me? NO! No amount of grammatical errors, misspellings, or lack of direction can stop me! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH *cough* ahhh...

I saw Phantom of the Opera last night. Before I go any further, you all must realize that I've been listening to the music since before I could talk. It came out when I was but a young youngin', and it was my Raffie equivalent. You know Raffie, the bald guy with the guitar...he sang about whales and dragons and llamas...and...erm...nevermind. Anyway, Phantom is a musical I know better than the back of my hand, and I know my hands pretty well. I stare at them enough (too much information). ANYWAY- I could do the production by myself if I were a soprano. I've memorized every vocal inflection, every single musical cue, timing, harmonies, orchestral idiosyncrasies- EVERYTHING having to do with the music. I was fairly indifferent to the costuming, filler dialogue, choreography- things of that sort, even though they did do a very impressive job with those things. My focus was the music- and here's what pissed me off. Firstly, almost all the characters (except the Vicount de Chagney) added their own twist to how the words were sung (which was to be expected) and destroyed the effect of certain parts. Christine tended to drag out her lines, and the Phantom sang lines that were better spoken, and spoke lines that required singing. That was a pattern throughout the movie- they really shouldn't have turned parts intended for singing into spoken-word. It was like they were reciting cheesy poetry on amateur night. That frustrated me. The voices for all the characters were acceptable to dead on, except for, again, Christine and the Phantom. Christine nailed certain parts, but I think, overall, her voice was far too weak and immature for the role. The Phantom's voice was far too clouded, too raspy- course, I am a purist, and in my mind, the only person who could ever play the Phantom was Michael Crawford. Crawford's voice is clear, bright, powerful, emotional...Just an absolutely beautiful voice. He was made for that role, and I just don't do well when I hear other versions. Well, actually, when I saw the stage production a few years ago, the guy playing Phantom there was amazing- but I just can't remember his name. That sounds like a research project.
Ok, I've hit the bad. Sort of. I'm easily distracted. No matter- I shall touch on the good. Everything else was good, aside from some cheesy camera effects that made the story too much like a made for television version of Cinderella or something (glitter everywhere!). What they really hit DEAD ON was the scene where the Phantom gives Christine the ultimatum, him or death to her fiance, Raul (the Vicount). They did that one so well it brought tears to my eyes. The one thing that I just couldn't argue with...it was...Beautiful *sniff*. The emotion was just there, and it was a beautiful piece of cinema. They also shot the "Point of No Return" perfectly. I was deeply impressed (and a little turned on).
In short, as much of an insufferable shmuck Andrew Lloyd Webber is, he didn't do what I feared he'd do, destroy the last good musical he ever wrote. And Joel Shumacker, well, he is a shmuck too, and he didn't destroy much. So, I suppose I'll allow him to live. Anyway...I'm done.

This ain't no Burl Ives tribute

2004-12-21T13:15:00.000-07:00

In ode to the holiday spirit, I have decided to grace you all with a holiday classic. No, it's not "White Christmas" by Bing Crosby, or Elvis Presley's "Blue Christmas"...no no no. It's not even Michael Crawford singing "O' Holy Night" or Mariah Carey's "All I Want For Christmas Is You". I have pulled a 180 on you this year and instead plan to grace your ears with one of my favorite seasonal songs known as "DING! Fries are done."

I work at burger king making flame broiled whoppers
I wear paper hats
Would you like an apple pie with that?
Would you like an apple pie with that?

Ding fries are done (x4)

I gotta run (x4)

Don't bob for fries in hot vat it really hurts bad and so do skin grafts
Would you like an apple pie with that?
Would you like an apple pie with that?

Where is the bell?
Wait for the bell
Can't hear the bell
Where is the bell?

Ding fries are done (x4)

I work at burger king making flame broiled whoppers
I wear paper hats
Would you like an apple pie with that?
Would you like an apple pie with that?

Ding fries are done (x4)
http://load.pquinn.com/binaries/fries/

To quote a good friend of mine, I am an "Equal Opportunity Offender". You have the link, sing along next time. You'll enjoy it. Oh, and Happy Holidays.

I'm not dead yet! I think I'll go for a walk! I feel happy!

2004-12-07T11:40:00.000-07:00

Freakin' computers! They suck. Mine, namely. I can't even get the thing to turn on anymore, after many failed attempts. It makes a noise, then does nothing. Piece of SHIT. For those of you whose communication with me is soley on the computer, I apologize for this and am basically sending this note to let you all know that I am fine, just frustrated. For those of you who know me in real time and read these moronic ramblings anyway, you know where I live. Do the math.

That will be 3 "our fathers" and 28,000 "hail grilled cheese Marys"!

2004-11-23T11:40:00.000-07:00

Every now and again, I hear about something that makes me stop and think "What the hell is wrong with the world?" This is one such occasion. Whilst hanging out in the newspaper room during lunch in an attempt to dodge any sort of contact with fresh air (kidding), I bore witness to a CNN report on a grilled cheese sandwich with an image of the Virgin Mary scorched into the bread. This woman tried and succeeded in selling it on Ebay. For 28,000. Yeah. My question is who in their right mind would spend 28,000 on a friggin' sandwich? Who HAS 28,000 to spend on a sandwich? I suppose now we can look for quesadillas with an image of jesus burned into the tortilla, or hamburgers with the last supper displayed right on the bun! Hell, I have a mole that looks like Edgar Allen Poe if you angle it right! Ok, that was a joke, but my point is...I don't know what my point is. If some higher power is trying to connect with us, I sincerely doubt that they'll use some woman's lunch as their means of communication. I'm done.

Pray For Salt.

2004-11-20T23:36:00.000-07:00

I was forced into going to a wedding today. It was a last-minute thing, and while I would have much rather been devoting my time to sleeping in a queen size bed in a dark room, completely enveloped in the arms of warmth and comfort, catching up on some much desired and required rest, I have to say, it was a beautiful wedding. The food could have been better, but overall, I think the turnout was pretty good. The couple seemed very much in love, and they both wiped away tears of emotion as they said their vows. At one point, it was all the bride could do to make her voice audible, despite the microphone hook-up.

Being female, this sort of thing gets to me. Granted, I didn't cry or anything, but it was definitely an event that played upon my heartstrings. The ceremony wasn't one of pretention; it was intimate, it was simple. Something that could be classified both as a wedding and a marriage. In fact, the only thing that bothered me was the music selection. There were lots of new christian rock selections played on the acoustic guitar by some kid trying to sound like every single alternative artist on the radio nowadays, and that sort of thing just doesn't appeal to me at all. I digress. As usual. Anywho- the wedding has made me somewhat introspective, and I am left with a question: what makes a marriage work?

Aside from the obvious factors of love and mutual respect, I think there are many shades of pale that contribute to a functional marriage. Personally, I've never been married (expect for that one time in Vegas, but that didn't count because it was annulled within 2 hours of the ceremony), so I speak from what most would call "limited insight". But insight, however limited, is still insight, and it's not like I'm selling a book on this or anything. Ok, with that, I shall reveal what I feel are key elements in making matrimony pleasant.

Firstly, I think that the two people should have moral beliefs that are similar to one another. I feel this will thwart any feelings of animosity or misunderstanding, and create a centered and balanced environment. I also believe that unconditional forgiveness is a must. It is inevitable that two people who love each other will cause one another some degree of pain. That's life...so what can you do? Forgive. It may feel like salt on a wound, but that salt is there only for your benefit. It's the acceptance of a person's imperfections, of their weaknesses and flaws. It's being able to see through them and still love them even after the glitter fades.

The preceding is surface stuff, and fairly obvious as well, but this next one is one I firmly believe in. I have seen many marriages disintegrate into nothingness because of their differences in the importance of a career. My father's first marriage did, and several family friends have suffered a similar fate. One wants to follow their job, the other wants to plant roots. Some can handle commuter marriages, others just lack the ability. I think I could do it- not forever, mind you, but I could handle it for a little while. Think of it as "dating" your spouse. In the event that I do marry, I sincerely hope that the relationship is as such that while I may want to be with them as much as possible, I don't need to be with them to feel closeness, passion, love, friendship...Various other positive things. Perhaps this is another form of idealism coming from me, but whatever.

Again, I have gotten to a point where I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. I'm going to entertain you now with a picture of a wedding cake I found on Google. It's pretty sweet...on more than one level.

.

Eureka!!!

2004-11-13T21:56:00.000-07:00

I think I have discovered how the hell I put pictures on this god-damned blog. Let's try, shall we?

.
*gasp* Oh my god! Oh my god omigod omigod!!!!! Finally, after months- literally, MONTHS of agony, and fighting against technology, I have beaten it! I have...created an image! It's...well, it's Joseph Stalin, but look for improvement. It will happen. Just give me time. I am going to post more pictures than anyone knows what to do with! Ok, maybe not, but still, I'm all giddy now. Anywho, I'm done.

Which Historical Lunatic was I?

2004-11-13T21:55:00.000-07:00

Survey Says

*DING*

Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

Foot in the door, the other in my mouth

2004-11-12T22:39:00.000-07:00

I can't do this anymore. I love my family...nothing means more to me in the entire world. Those who really know me that my family has always come first, and that we are tight-knit and, for the sake of redundancy, inseparable. However, it is time for me to go. I am ready to get a job, live in my own apartment, pay my own insurance, rent, random expenses etc. I just need to live alone. In my own space. I've been ready for this a LONNNNNGGGG TIIIIIMMMEE. Since I understood how to balance a checkbook, a light went off in my head that said "Hey, this won't be so bad. Actually, it could be kinda cool." That was 5th grade.

However, as much as I want to leave, I know that if I do, I'll be giving up a free college education and opportunity on a silver platter. So, I'm not going to leave. I just like romancing and occasionally ranting about the idea of it. I'm ancy, I suppose. I think my family underestimates me and my ability. When my education is complete and I finally have a REAL job, I shall prove them wrong. Not that they don't support me, but they don't invest a lot of faith in my intelligence, despite the fact that I've spent my whole life trying to be as perfect and flawless as possible. It's never enough. To quote myself, "It doesn't matter how spotless my record is, it doesn't matter how perfect I try to be, the effort is overlooked and they still find SOMETHING to BITCH ABOUT!". I could find a cure for cancer, and there'd still be something. It's always something.

I'm frustrated, can you tell? Obviously, I exaggerate, but it hurts when they can't see past a certain situation and have to give me the 3rd degree about something they really don't know much about. It's a situation that, from the exterior looks bad. Very bad. However, if I could only make them understand, they'd realize how truly wrong they are.

In other news, I've found the cure for cancer. It's in Lithuania, between some dude's couch cushions. Right next to the Lithuanian currency. Greedy bastard had it there the whole time.

*done*

Murphy's Law...

2004-11-10T14:58:00.000-07:00

Right. Ever have one of those situations where everything seems to go wrong at once? But then, deeper analysis shows that it was probably meant to happen exactly as it did, to prevent another thing from happening? I had one of those last night (this morning), and lets just say that it was quite a test from whomever is running this popsicle stand we call life. And...while I won't divulge too many details, lets just say that I think myself and the party involved passed it beautifully, and it will definitely be a story to relate at a later date, with amusement at the crack in the sidewalk that I got my stiletto stuck in. Not literally.

Why on earth would you...ugh! Why!!

2004-11-08T23:51:00.000-07:00

Ok, this is going to be somewhat short and sweet. I love the Moody Blues, and I love the song "Knights in White Satin", except for one thing. I love the instrumental swell in the music at the end, but why...WHY does there have to be spoken poetry at the end? If I didn't love the song so much, it would completely ruin it for me. I just can't stand that. Anyway...I feel better, I've gotten that out of my system.

What am I listening to now? Something I haven't listened to in a while...and I'm likin' it.

Emerson, Lake and Palmer- From the Beginning.

There might have been things I missed
But don’t be unkind
It don’t mean I’m blind
Perhaps there’s a thing or two

I think of lying in bed
I shouldn’t have said
But there it is

You see it’s all clear
You were meant to be here
From the beginning

Maybe I might have changed
And not been so cruel
Not been such a fool
Whatever was done is done
I just can’t recall
It doesn’t matter at all

You see it’s all clear
You were meant to be here
From the beginning

A "poetic" interlude.

2004-11-07T15:03:00.000-07:00

I suck at poetry. I can write it, but the only ones that ever turn out halfway decent are about death- and I wonder what that says about me. Perhaps that's my medium for channeling the melancholy. Personally, I find some, if not most poetry to be trite, self-appreciating and pretentious. However, in certain circumstances, it is a wonderful means of expression. There are certain excerpts from songs that have really hit hard lately, and I suppose I'll have to share them with you:

part of: (Harvest Moon) - Neil Young
When we were strangers I watched you from afar
When we were lovers
I loved you with all my heart.
But now it's gettin' late
And the moon is climbin' high
I want to celebrate
See it shinin' in your eye.

part of: (Tell Me Why) - Neil Young
Is it hard to make arrangements with yourself
When you're old enough to repay
But young enough to sell?

Yeah, I know, both Neil Young. The guy speaks to me, what can I say? Anywho- I've been listening to those two songs a bunch lately, and they've just really hit hard recently. Some of the lyrics are impertinent, but some are dead-on in relation to life's situations...at least my life. Oh well.

Ok, now I'm going to post the lyrics to Fleetwood Mac's "Future Games", which is probably one of my favorite Mac songs ever. It has relevance, what it is exactly cannot be expressed through words, it's just a feeling, really.

Bob Welch (Fleetwood Mac): Future Games
I did a thing last night
You know those future games
I turned off all the lights
Oh, the future came
You were by my side
Will you explain-oh yeah
Real rhyme or reason for those future games

Now you were there last night
And oh were you afraid
Of things we’d come upon
While playing future games
But baby it’s alright and so have faith
Oh yeah, you invent the future that you want to face

How many people sit home at night
Wondering if they will be here tonight
Wondering if children will he bring to the light
Inherit the world, or inherit the night
Wondering if neighbors are thinking the same
All of the wild things tomorrow will tame
Talking of journeys that happen in vain
Well I know I’m not the only one
To ever spend my life sitting playing future games

You better take your time
You know there’s no escape
The future sends a sign
Of things we will create
Baby it’s alright
And so have faith
Oh yeah, you invent the future that you want to face

I believe in fate to an extent, and I believe in human ability to choose one's destiny. It can't be just one or the other. Too often do things in the universe seem to fall into place for fate to not exist, however, human beings are still accountable for their actions on all fronts. Is this making any sense at all? I don't even remember the point of this whole post, but I'll continue. This song seems to encompass the idea of both predestination, fate and choice, which is what makes it so appealing and wonderful. Plus, it has a really mild '60s lucid sound...another thing I have a love of.
Fate has a funny way of working it's way into life, it hits when you least expect it. Out of nowhere, something just seems right- and that is a wonderful thing. It's amazing when one crosses paths with someone who they just met, but feel as though they've known their whole life. As if their existence had trained them for each other- and even if this feeling doesn't last forever, having that sensation at all in a lifetime is fortunate beyond compare, and unparalleled by anything else in the world.
Evidently, I've lost where I was going with this post, because I've become all introspective, and now it's time for me to stop, because I will keep rambling and rambling, and no one will read my blog again because on top of being pointless, it will also be really long. Anywho, next time, I think I'll write about something that isn't as easy to ramble for pages about- like, rice cakes or silly putty. Or Fraggle Rock. I leave someone specific with the following song:

Todd Rundgren- I Saw The Light

It was late last night
I was feeling something wasn't right
There was not another soul in sight
Only you, only you
So we walked along
Though I knew that there was
Something wrong
And a feeling hit me oh so strong about you
Then you gazed up at me and
The answer was plain to see
'Cause I saw the light in your eyes

Though we had our flingI just never would suspect a thing
Till that little bell began to ring in my head
In my head
But I tried to run
Though I knew it wouldn't help me none
'Cause I couldn't ever love no one
Or so I said
But my feelings for you were just somethingI never knew
Till I saw the light in your eyes
But I love you best
It's not something that I say in jest (ha ha)
'Cause you're different from all the rest
In my eyes
And I ran out before but I won't do it anymore
Can't you see the light in my eyes

Oh, the things I know!

2004-10-31T22:46:00.000-07:00

Or don't know, for that matter. Today marked the completion of my first college application, and while part of me is thrilled to death about finally making my escape from home and flying, the other part of me feels like when I leave, there will be far too many loose ends dangling. I moved a lot when I was a youngin', and it freaks me out that I now have relationships that are of substance- I have NEVER had that. I've never been close with many people, not many people know the real me because when you move all the time, you get into the "I'm only here temporarily, so why bother?" mentality. However, I've been here 8 years. That's almost half my life. And only now has it dawned on me that I do have some people here that mean the world to me, and it is going to be extremely difficult to leave them.

It's not that I'm having second thoughts, not in the least. There are certain things I must do because they are obligatory to achieve what I wish to achieve. This is my will and no one else's. While my plan seems to fall into the norm of birth-school-high school-college-work-marriage-kids-retirement-death cycle, there is so much more to it. My existance will be one filled with immense joy and sadness, love and dispair, good times and bad. What I accomplish from a work standpoint is not going to define me, it will be important, but it won't be my LIFE. I plan to have fulfilling relationships with people- I want to make a difference somehow, even if it means that I end up sending 10 dollars to some starving kid overseas. I don't know what the hell I'm talking about anymore, I'm writing in stream of conciousness right now. But, I think what I'm really saying is I know what I have to do, but I have a little bit of stage fright. I've become far too comfortable with being in one place and nesting, which is even more of a reason for me to leave...it's just hard.

Fresh Face

2004-10-28T23:10:00.000-07:00

I talked to someone the way I hadn't talked to them in a while tonight...not in that romantic re-kindled sort of way (I've already got someone else for that, but that's another entry for another time) But in the way two truly good friends talk. I am so thankful I didn't lose that friendship, and it was good to see his face again. Yay for civil tones in time of angst, yay for keeping a cool head, and yay for reconciliation!

In other news...it's cold outside. I am so friggin' happy about this that I can barely contain myself. Seriously, I am psyched beyond compare that I can actually wear a sweatshirt to sleep, and that I'm not waking up sweating because the a/c isn't working. I'm waking up shivering and in need of more covers. This pleases me. It sounds crazy, but after you've been living with the Arizona heat for so long, it's such a relief.

Loose Llama 'Terrorizes' Alaska

2004-10-25T13:19:00.000-07:00

Ok, again, in an attempt to waste as much time as possible in 7th hour, I was checking out weird headlines of the day. I stumbled across a story from the Associated Press entitled "Loose Llama Surprises Hikers In Alaska". Imagine a giant "WTF" bubble above my head. It was all I could do to not fall out of my chair laughing. Apparantly, some hikers found a llama and tried to catch it, but it was reportedly "very skittish". The last quote read "Yeah, somebody ought to claim it before it gets hit by a car, shot or eaten by a bear." I shit you not.

From this, I draw two conclusions: (1) being a neophyte reporter must suck, and (2) There isn't much happening in Alaska right now. This makes me consider my field of interest, which circles around journalism, and makes me ponder what idiotic stories I am going to be required to write before I cover something important, like *snicker* Ralph Nader's campaign *snicker*.

Serenity Now.

2004-10-24T22:49:00.000-07:00

It's amazing when you have a feeling of complete relaxation while your heart is beating a million times a minute. I really can't put it any other way...it's just something tantamount to nirvana...I'll figure it out later. Anywho- yes. My room is freezing cold, and I'm wearing a huge navy blue sweatshirt. End result, my body is really warm, but my legs are freakin' cold! But I'm really clean and tingly (hence heightened heart rate), so it gives me a really awesome and weird feeling. The one I was talking about just now. This must be love. I love you, navy blue sweatshirt.

Whippersnappers! shakes fist

2004-10-19T20:10:00.000-07:00

You know, for someone born in the age of technology, I have an acute distaste for it. Almost as if I were frightened of it...which is bizzare to me. I'm sure this strikes you all as such. I really can't explain why I hate it so, but I do...it's not like some killer robots came to my house, raped my cat and killed my plants- it's just something that makes me uncomfortable in some way.

Oh well, I'd be interested to hear anyone's anaylisis on this, in the meantime, I'm going to listen to some Rod Stewart on my speakers from 1968 (no joke).

In reference to previous post.

2004-10-16T16:58:00.000-07:00

Yeah...I was feeling EXTREMELY sorry for myself. Please disregard it, because it was a ridiculous venting process that I am well over now. I'm happy for the guy, and have focused my emotion in a more positive direction. It just took a little push in the right direction to change my attitude. The person responsible knows who they are...and I send my most sincere thanks to them for being who they are:-)

Does it hurt? Yeah- it really doesn't matter...

2004-10-14T18:55:00.000-07:00

You know that scenerio where the guys are out back playing around with a nailgun, and all of a sudden, one of the twits nails his hand to a 2x4? As his buddies are crowding around him, begging to know if he's alright- he, as calmly as possible, reassures them he's fine. Trying not to reveal on his face the overwhelming pain he feels inside, he nonchalantly walks back to his garage, ordering the others not to follow. As he strolls inside and shuts the door behind him...he double-checks that the guys have reassumed their activities in the backyard and are well out of the audible distance. Once he has determined this, he lets out a blood-curdling scream that could make even the deafest of musicians scream "GOD DAMN!".

It's kinda like that. Normally I don't delve into my personal life on this thing, but I have no other venue to get this out. I can't talk to him, and I can't make anyone else understand, so I'm relying on the lack of readership I get on this thing to allow me to just vent. I fell in love with someone not too long ago...I mean, I was just swallowed. I would have, and still would, sacrifice life and limb for this guy...and I know he doesn't realize that. Which is fine. That's how most of my relationships are anyway, and I'm well used to it by now.

Anywho, the relationship was as such that he wasn't getting what he needed- and before you jump to conclusions, just know that I gave him all I could give at the present time. It ended abruptly, and I foresaw it by a couple of months...I could just tell that there was something wrong, and like a scared child, I ignored it and allowed it to fester. He ignored it as well...which, to this day, pisses me off. I mean, he could have just TOLD me that it was wrong place, wrong time and saved me a lot of heartache.

I finally asked him what the hell was wrong, and I got my answer. Within a period of 6 seconds it was all over. But I've already shed tears for this, and plenty of them. I was in a poor state for about a month or so afterward, and I have finally started realizing that he's not the only one who could ever feel anything for me...however, I have recently also come to the reality of the fact that he could also feel just as much, if not more for someone other than me. Not like I wasn't aware of this fact from an intellectual standpoint, I'd have to be an idiot to overlook that. It's just...there's nothing more heartbreaking for me than knowing who that other person is. The icing on the cake is that he has the ability to do much better than me if my intuition is right in detecting that something is developing with them. This woman, though I barely know her, is amazing and sexy and smart and God knows what else. So that fact also hurts like hell...I've had a lump in my throat for the past 2 hours when I found out that he sent her flowers. I didn't start crying until I typed this god-damned entry.

However, he's not mine to keep, probably never was. It was an illusion, but I wish it could have just lasted a tad longer...because I have never felt that much for one person in my entire life. I've never trusted anyone like him, I've never known anyone like him. I'll probably never love like that again- the first love is always the most intense, and I don't ever want to feel the way I'm feeling right now. I feel as if the life has just been squeezed out of me and then shot back in, and my heart hasn't resumed a normal beating pattern yet. Perhaps one of my chambers has failed and will never be as strong as it was before. Perhaps I'm being too theatrical- actually, I know I am...but you know what? I don't give a flying fuck- because no one will read this, and those who do won't give a shit. I feel better now that I've put my emotions to words, and now I'm going to go water the plants.

In the meantime- does anyone have a tissue? *sniff*

House sitting...again

2004-10-11T16:19:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm back to the place that I began this whole thing. I'm house sitting again, and luckily, the whole thing hasn't been a huge fiasco like the first time. No cops, no missing cats, no fires (well, there weren't fires the first time, but whatever). Anyway, it's rather peaceful. I spent a better part of the day sleeping, then I watered the plants and fed the little felines. They haven't gotten used to me yet, they follow me around to see what I'm up to.

The only downside is that I am in school now, so I can't just root myself up in here for a week, I have obligations. I've got a 7AM dental appointment, I've got math tutoring, I've got training sessions. Also, I think this weekend is homecoming...I'm not entirely sure though. In any event, I'm on vacation from home, but not from life. Damn.

Baby come back...

2004-10-07T16:52:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make. It's not pretty, but it's just something I must get off my chest in a semi-public forum. A "coming out", if you will. I have a dirty little addiction. I LOVE cheesy, sappy 70s and 80s love songs. Not all of them, mind you, but there are certain songs that get me every time, songs that when they come on the radio, I sing my heart out despite the confused and worried stares I get in traffic. Why do I broach this subject now? Well...I heard Foreigner's "I Wanna Know What Love Is" while running errands, and began singing along, only to find I knew ALL of the words. In the same measure, I realized how awesome that song really is. I don't think anyone can honestly sit there and say that they haven't listened to that song through and sung along with the chorus. Don't think I don't see you, sitting there, arms crossed, shaking your head in denial. I hear you, "I never liked that song. It's so sappy, and girly, and cheesy", all of this you are saying is true, but you must admit, you love it too, despite its cheese-ridden lyrics, by God you love it.

Comma comma comma comma comma chameleon!

2004-09-22T23:34:00.000-07:00

Ok...this post has absolutely NOTHING to do with Boy George, but it happens to be later in the evening for me, and therefore my inhibitions have decreased substantially to a point where I think I'm pretty damn clever right about now. I'm sure when I read this at a later date, I'll slap my forehead and utter some self-depricating remark. But until that day arrives, the title stays. So let's let it go.

I mention commas only because recently, someone indirectly pointed out what a significant form of punctuation they actually are. Perhaps you are familiar with an '80s tune titled "Don't Dream It's Over" by Crowded House. If not, this entire post is lost on you, and I beg you to go out an educate yourself further in the rhelm of music...then return at a later date. Or, simply illegally download the song and let me know what you think. Anywho- I digress....again. The song..."Don't Dream It's Over", written by Neil Finn of Crowded house is a 3 minute and 52 second joy to listen to complete with haunting melodies, full bass, complex harmonies and borderline-genius guitar work (depending on which version you happen to get your hands on).

Now...the canumdrum: Don't Dream It's Over...OR...Don't Dream, It's Over. If there was ever any excuse to loose sleep over a comma, this is certainly it, folks. Both options are a possibility as far as I'm concerned. I will first address "Don't Dream It's Over":

Don't Dream It's Over: Comma or not, the song is clearly about a relationship. Sure, it's heavily skewed at first glance, and I'll be honest, I still don't understand what he implys with certain lyrics (i.e. 'Now I'm towing my car, there's a hole in the roof. My possessions are causing me suspicion but there's no proof', 'Try to catch the Deluge in a paper cup', etc). However, the general tone of the song conveys a longing and a desperation that one could only associate with love. It could be DDIO minus the comma, which basically makes the song a plea for a distant love to come back in and reconnect with their partner. "I love you, we've had some rough times, the outside world has tried and tried to tear us apart, don't let them alter your perception and condemn what we have". Personally, I love this take...it's romantic and idealistic. Of course this plays on my heart strings, being a hopeless romantic, and it's the the more preferred interpretation of the two I've created in my own bored little mind. Sort of a "Love Conquers All" motif.

Don't Dream, It's Over: The comma. It doesn't change the fact that the song is about a relationship, but it does give the interpretation a complete 180º switch in what he hopes to accomplish in the said 3 minutes and 52 seconds. Instead of desperate, it strikes me more as melancholy and distant. Like he's the disillusioned lover saying that there's really no hope and love is a losing battle. When viewing the song with the comma in place, this interpretation seems most legitimate with the following lyrics: "Only shadows ahead, barely clearing a roof, get to know the feeling of liberation and relief". This hits me hard because I interpret it as him saying "Hey, it's over, it's done...we're caught in a trap (instead, this guy can walk out). We may as well embrace the breaking of our emotional bond and view it as something that can set us free and allow us to be functional individuals again." Almost as if their love consumed them to a point that it was dangerous and destructive (There is freedom within, there is freedom without).

A love that consumes can allow for much freedom to let your inhibitions run amuck like a toddler who just downed a liter of Jolt Cola, but be unbearably restricting in the same measure. While it's a weak analogy, I liken it to that outfit that makes you look drop dead gorgeous. I mean, people stop as you walk into a room and gape as you saunter by. You KNOW you look mah-velous. Unfortunately, you've given up your ability to breathe normally or sit to achieve this level of beauty. By the end of the evening, although all the attention has been more than flattering and good for the self image and ego, all you can think about is that bottle of champagne in the fridge, those nasty boxer shorts with purple stripes you've had since college and the shirt with holes in odd places, and how good that feels. The drop-dead outfit gives you power, you can woo anyone who engages in conversation with you, but the boxers...that's freedom.

Ok, maybe I lost you on the analogy, but I think I was on the right track. Anywho...what have we learned today? I'll list it:
1) I have WWAAAYYY too much time on my hands
2) Nothing was really solved, just further scrutinized
3) I should refrain from any further comparison of wardrobe to tormented relationships
4) I have an idealistic view of romance...and I really hope the song was meant to not have that comma
5) I have WWAAYYYYYY too much time on my hands

But I want to know what you think, even if your comments refer to my obvious need for a social life. We can also get into a comma/no comma debate if anyone actually ends up reading this...which is unlikely. Ok, I'm done, I'm gonna take a shower. Goodnight.

Damn you, Rush Limbaugh!

2004-09-22T13:08:00.000-07:00

I am currently sitting here in my newspaper class, killing time were I should be learning how to use QuarkXPress. What this has to do with Rush Limbaugh? Abba-solutely nothing, but I'd be willing to bum some oxycotton off him right about now. What possessed me to mention him, I'll never know. But that's enirely irrelevant. Back to what's bothering me today.

So, my struggle with technology continues. I like Mac, I really do, they're terrific for design and what not, but still, PC is much more familiar- blue screen of death and all. And, now I'm sick of writing, so I'm going to stop and check my horoscope or something.

G-strings and fishnets and boas, oh my!

2004-09-12T22:48:00.000-07:00

I don't get out much. Really. I don't see movies with friends every weekend, I don't hang out at the mall, I don't call people (too often), none of that stuff. So, when I DO get out, I make sure I have a helluva good time. And that's just what I did last night, or this morning, if you want to be technical about the whole thing.

A friend of mine invited me to go see Rocky Horror Picture Show with a few friends. Being desperate to escape my womb (room), I willingly and almost pleadingly accepted her invitation. My mother seemed to understand my need for this, so she assisted in getting me all decked out. Adorned in very heavy lipstick, eye makeup, a zebra skirt, see-thru lace boatneck top, stilettos, and a lambs wool burgandy boa, I was ready to face the world.

The show began at midnight. I needed to be 18 to get in, so I lied. I'm close to being 18, it's not like it was a real stretch or anything. The second I stepped into the theater, I was felt up (by a security guard) with purple hair and questionable sexuality (as in, I wasn't sure if it was a man or a woman). We got really good seats near the front. We walked down, and in the front of the theater below the screen was this huge mess of people dancing their hearts out. This set the tone for the evening. The show began later, and if anyone's been to a Rocky Horror midnight viewing, they'll understand what that was like. For the rest of you "virgins", you'll just have to see for yourself because I am extrememly tired and want to go to bed. After the show, we went to a 24/7 pizza place where the rest of the cast was dining on some midnight wings. We were there until well after 4:30AM (although my parents think I was home by 3AM, but shhh...). Finally stumbled into the house around 5AM. Slept 'till 1:30PM. Plan to do it again as soon as possible.
http://images.movieeye.com/store/images/rockyhorrorsweet.jpg">.

...The Tao of Newton...

2004-09-01T18:53:00.000-07:00

I just got finished viewing this site...I don't quite recall the address, I think it was www.imdateless.com. The site features this guy who goes to college somewhere in Central Florida who can't seem to make it with the ladies. He plans to pass out business cards and flyers so some chick will call him and say "Yes, I'll date you!". Honestly, I don't think this will work. But, it got me to thinking- what would? What woos women? Makes them weak in the knees? I'll tell you, the charismatic, funny, exciting, chivalrous, intelligent and, of course, sensitive guy who can change a lustfully then play his woman like a harp or a guitar (that's a metaphor). I've thought of several men that define each desire a woman has. We'll start with Wayne Newton.

Corny, old, has hair with a purplish glint...yet for some reason, women LOVE him. Wayne Newton gives off the aire of a gentleman, who'll spend lots of money on his woman and won't neglect her needs. Granted, long term, this could get obnoxious, but for a short fling where you can get lots of stuff, Wayne Newton's your guy. He's polite, hoakey, and I doubt he takes himself seriously. But, be honest, the first time you heard him sing, did you think he was a girl? Moving on then...we look at Jack Nicholson.

What a dick. Seriously. I mean, he's insensitive, he's insulting, and he's a bad boy. Which is why we love him. I don't know what it is about women and bad boys, but even the most prudent and wise of us have longed to be swept away by a sensitive jerk with a Harley who'll ride us off into the sunset. I mean that in both senses...........*ahem*, anyway...now, let's look at Liam Neeson.

..........*sigh*.........Oh! Huh? Right...mmmkay. Neeson...frankly, what is there not to like? He's tall, he has an accent (and a good one at that) and...well...yah. He's the embodiment of charisma. That's what I'm talkin' about. *collects self*, ok. Now, Ralph Fiennes.

That smirk, that sardonic wit, and what a voice and vocabulary this guy has. He's mischevious but not annoying, he's sure of himself, but endearing in the same measure. There's a happy medium between overbearing asshold and pokey self-pitying loser...and he's it. Plus, he has an accent.

So, are women picky? Yes, we hold ourselves in high esteem whether we like to admit or not. We have our standards, and we tend to subconciously let potential boyfriends play on our fantasies by what we glean from a first impression. Some may fall into one of these categories, I was pretty lazy and didn't feel like writing a book, but I warn you, you'll meet more Newtons than anything. I often like to look for a balance between Wayne Newton and Ralph Fiennes...plus some extra idiosyncrasies that I appreciate. It's all based on the individual woman. This just sort of begins to sort them out. I'm bored.

P.M.S. (or, Pardon My Sobbing)

2004-08-31T18:54:00.000-07:00

Ok, I woke up today with a screaming headache and tears streaming down my face because I keep having this horrific dream where I am pursued by a man with an axe. No, not a guitar or deodorant body spray, an actual axe, and a big one. Anywho, that didn't start the day off on a good note at all. So, to make matters worse, I probably failed a spanish oral exam because when it was my turn to recite whatever it was I originally planned to say, every single little bit of information I've ever known about anything (including my own name) escaped me and I was rendered a stammering baffoon infront of the class. So, that almost brought me to tears in the middle of class, but I held it in.
I make it through the rest of the day at school, then I try to pick my little sister up early because she and I need to be at two different doctors appointments at the same exact time across town from each other. Well, that was ANOTHER ordeal, let me tell you. The attendance lady in the office is a HUGE BITCH. To quote her "You seem a bit agitated, and I don't feel comfortable allowing her to ride in a car with you." Oh...oh I'll show you agitated...you haven't even begun to see agitated you smug catholic school whore. At least, I wish I had said that. Instead, I stood and gaped at her. Then I ran out to my car to call my dad to get permission from him and he talked to her, and I don't know what she said to him, but he was all "Just calm down". I wasn't agitated until I got into that concrete room with that skinny bitch. So, I finally get my sister out, but it seemed rather pointless because it was already 3:pm by the whole thing was resolved, and school let out anyway.
She made it to her appointment on time, I was 15 minutes late. I was crying the better part of the afternoon. It's 7:05 PM now, and only now have I really started to feel the urge to cry start to dissapate.
I want some ice cream.

Damn PMS.

Can I go to the nurse? I think I have "senioritis"

2004-08-18T22:03:00.000-07:00

Well, it's not even the end of the first week of school, and already, I am itchin' for May to roll around so I can forever separate myself from the insane asylum known as "Pinnacle High School". It's been ridiculous. I have late arrival, so I don't have class until 8:26AM. However, I don't have a parking pass as of yet, and am therefore required to get to school at 6:15AM so I can fucking PARK within a 10-mile radius of the fucking school! Sorry, I was a little bit infuriated there, I'll just go pop some Perkiset...
...
...
*struggles to open pill container*
*POP*
...
...
*GULP*
...
ahhhh.....

Ok, anywho, let's go through the teachers, shall we? Ok, so before class, I hang out with Foster, who is the AP American History teacher. A kick ass guy, I must say. I discuss music and dubbed-over G.I. Joe cartoons with him. My theory; if someone I listened to while they lectured about the ecomonic effects of the Civil War on both the North and South can still interest me and even make me like them, then they're just all-around good people. So yes, from 7-7:25AM, I'm in his room just hanging out.

Then, I waste 51 minutes loitering in the hallway, alternating positions of lying down and sighing hopelessly as I sit listening to whatever CD I happen to have in my player. Finally, the bell rings and I am in 2nd period (which happens to be my first actual period) English with Pickering. I am not quite sure about my solid opinion of her/her methods. I have yet to see what her tests are like. But, in the interest of being fair and impartial, I'll say that she seems like she's a highly qualified teacher with a bizzare obsession with George Straight that is almost tantamount to my obsession with Morrissey, Neil Young, and Lindsey Buckingham.

3rd hour is Spanish 9-10. God knows how I've made it this far in spanish, because I can barely speak a word of it! Mrs. Llana, who is the BEST spanish teacher ever, is teaching this course. She's a funny and intelligent woman who speaks in broken english, but she's much better than she gives herself credit for.

4th hour is Economics taught by Lang. She seems nice. That's all I got so far, I haven't had a lot of insight into what the tone of the class will be. I kinda wish I was in AP Economics, but that's a long and frustrating tirade/story.

Then there's lunch, which is a tremendous waste of time, followed by Calculus, also a tremendous waste of time. Not to mention, a potential jeopardy to my GPA. I suck at math. Really, REALLY suck. Ms. Bates, the teacher, seems pleasant enough, however, I doubt her methods of relaying this material will be at all effective.

Finally, we have Newspaper 7th hour with Mrs. Boettcher. I had her sophomore year for the same class. This is the main saving grace of the day.

And this concludes the tour of Jenna's almost first week of school, and what the future will possibly entail. I bid you all adeiu. Until next time.

(end)

Midnight Snacking.

2004-08-13T02:00:00.000-07:00

About a half-hour ago, I was sitting here at my desk. I was bored, and I felt a little hungry. I went to my pantry to look for something decent to snack on, but all that was in there were stale grape cookies, special K bars, and Hostess muffins (a.k.a a bypass surgery waiting to happen). So, I decided to grab a special K bar. It was disgusting...really, really, just nasty. So, to cure both boredom and hunger, I decided to go on a short trip to the local circle K nearby for something reasonable yet satisfying. I didn't want the calorie content of the hostess muffins, but I sure as hell knew I didn't want another special K bar. I quitely snuck out of my house, climbed into my car, and off I went.

I was the only person in the circle K, naturally. I mean, who goes to a convieniance store at 1:45 in the morning unless they're planning to rob it, or they're stoned out of their mind (I actually was neither stoned, nor did I have intentions of robbing the place, but I'm sort of an exception). Anyway, there I was, amidst aisles of corn chips, snickers bars, trail mix and beef jerky. I only had 2 bucks, so my options were limited. I pondered just getting some diet cherry coke, which, looking back would have been the better option, but instead, I wound up getting two tiny protein bars (150 calories each) and a small pack of gum. What started out as being a small quest for something to munch on became a 310 (including 2 sticks of extra winterfresh whatever gum) calorie bust. I ended up eating both bars because I'm stupid.

To be fair, I haven't eaten anything but chicken broth and a small portion of strawberry sorbet today, but still, that doesn't justify my wasting gas only to end up consuming 310 calories, which wasn't the objective. The objective was to avoid the 300 calorie Hostess Muffins. Instead, I have less gas in my tank and more "junk in my trunk", as I have heard it phrased. Anywho, this brought me to a revalation, this is why America is fat. We do stupid shit like this with our food all the time. Normally, I'm pretty good about it, but I know people who constantly pull these stunts.

Obesity exists because we're bored. Most of us eat when we're bored...and don't deny it, you know we do! So, this has inspired me. The next time I'm bored, I'm going to go for a run or a bike ride...

Lesson learned.

Food Poisining....(i don't remember eating that)

2004-08-12T22:34:00.000-07:00

This is when my address (idontremembereatingthat.blogspot.com) is most appropriate. I don't if it was the taquitos or the hamburger from the other day, but christ, let me just say, I NEVER want to be that ill again.

Suspect number one. El Monterey Chicken Taquitos. Greasy, unhealthy, and frozen. I can't look at them without my stomach curling into a tight little knot. I basically ate them because I was lazy and hungry and didn't feel like cooking something. I now regret my decision.

Suspect number two. The hamburger. It cost me what I thought was only going to be .85 cents. It may have cost me much, much more. Shall I ever know? Sadly, I think not.

And there you have it. I lost liquid out of every single oriface (even my nose) of my body in a period of 5 hours. On the bright side, I did lose 8 pounds. That was pretty sweet.

A RaNT

2004-08-11T21:26:00.000-07:00

I just have one question. ONE...question. In todays fast-paced world of dishwashers, vaccums, flying cars, and- hold on; What? Can't you see I'm ranting here? What's that? No flying cars yet? Seriously? Wow, that's a shame. Ahem...anywho, in today's fast-paced world of dishwashers and vaccums, why is it that a site as prestegious as 'blogspot' wouldn't have direct image hosting? WHY? Do not forget your technologically inept users, BLOGGER. We, despite our heavy ignorance and stupidity, are still people! People who just want to share our thoughts, ideas, and vacation photos! Instead, I only have this:

">.

SEE WHAT YOU HAVE REDUCED ME TO? DO YOU? This damned 'x' thing! NOTHING. IT'S NOTHINGNESS for christ's sake! Curse you, Blogger, why do you torment me with the promise of free expression, but leave the technological strings attached? Oh! THE HUMANITY! The GALL! The TENACITY! The...the...erm...what was I talking about? Oh yes. Damned indirect image hosting. I hope you're happy, Blogger...there, I've gone and wasted what could have been a perfectly good post. Curse you! *Shakes fist at sky*

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

2004-08-11T17:44:00.000-07:00

...it's a helluva town.
I made it back alive from my month-long adventure in the big apple, where I was a student of Dramatic Writingat NYU. It was a very good experience (a), because I had a blast, and (b), it saved my parents the hassle of spending 40,000 dollars in tuition only to find that I didn't think the school was right. I'm far too practical,I think. I can't justify going to school for 4 years learning how to format a screenplay. It was fun while it lasted, though.
I wanted to post pictures of the trip, but unfortunately, this damned 'blog' site doesn't host images directlyfrom my hard drive. So, I am forced instead to show you all this photo of Morrissey molesting what looks to be a turkey of some sort.

.

Whew! That was fun. That just made my day...really. Anywho, back to the New York thing. It can basically be summed up in a quote from R.A. extrordinaire, Jeff, who so eloquently phrased the following:

"I HATE Helen Keller- she and Benedict Arnold. As we speak they're probably in Hell MAKING OUT"

Ahh....memories. Bear in mind that when that was said, the group, as a whole, had consumed an unhealthy levelof caffeine and sugar to combat the insatiable urge to sleep. I mean, who sleeps at 4:30 in the morning? What are we? SLOTHS?! I think not. That's basically how I spent most of the trip was staying awake at odd hours trying to crap out ideas and make them sound at least half-way decent. I wouldn't have made it were it not forthe good people at Spacemart. Now, the only way you can truely appreciate Spacemart is if you were THERE, man. Otherwise, the whole concept is lost on you, and you will forever sit in your puddle of ignorance. Now, what was I talking about? Ah yes, Spacemart. I love spacemart. And turkey. And Morrissey.
***END TRANSMISSION***

AFTERTHOUGHTS

2004-06-27T11:43:00.000-07:00

I never thought I'd say this, but there is no place like home. It's not so much my home I missed on my week-long hiatus from home, but my room, or rather, my "womb", as it has been aptly named. I spend hours upon hours in here, doing "God knows what" (the parents). I actually spend it here, on the computer, like a loser. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this, so I'm going to stop and save myself the grief of scratching my head thinkin' "What the hell am I talking about?" ***END TRANSMISSION***

House Sitting....(or, over the hills and through the woods...my life as a fugative from the law)

2004-06-20T13:26:00.000-07:00

Right. So, I was asked to house sit for a friend while she and her husband are away. Nothing too stressful, I have to feed the plants and water the cats...or was it the other way around? In any event, the whole thing is a non-event. Or, it should have been. Today, my first day on the job, I open the garage, pull the car in, and open the door. The alarm starts beeping...but since I am a master of recollection, I remembered the alarm code. What I didn't remember, however, was how to turn it off...which should have been fairly obvious now that I think about it, since there was a button that said "off" right on the key pad. Since I am a dumbass, I kept pressing "stay", because, well, I planned on staying there...at least for a little while.
Here I am, entering the code, and pressing stay, over and over and over again. Finally, the alarm says "you're a complete moron" and goes off. It was then that I realized I had to press "off" after entering the code. I was too late. The alarm company calls, asks if everything is alright. I explained the situation, and the woman, pleasant sounding, yet slightly worried again asks me, "Are you sure you're ok?". I just wanted to yell, "Noo, I'm not ok! *sob* Mom, come pick me up!!!", but I didn't, because I am a fully capable individual.
With the phone call over, I thought the whole ordeal was finished, and I could resume my responsibilities of feeding the cats and watering the plants. No such luck. Not 5 minutes later, I hear a *ring* and a *knock*. I think, "Oh great, it's the crazy neighbor guy they warned me about". No such luck, again. It was the Phoenix City Police. I invite her in, pushed the cocain under the floor boards while she wasn't looking (kidding), retrived some picture I.D., answered a couple questions ("Are you house sitting?" "What's the family's name?" "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"). I think the last one was rhetorical, so I didn't bother answering.
After concluding that there was nothing unkosher going on, the lady cop left. I fed the cats (finally), H2O'd the plants, and spent 5 minutes deliberating over whether I should reset the alarm or not. Thus ends my first day as a house sitter. May the rest of the time be significantly less...dramatic. ***THE END*** (For now)

So how long can I keep this going?

2004-06-20T00:28:00.000-07:00

Alrighty, out of sheer boredom, I have created this...erm...blog. What kind of name is blog anyway? It sounds like something you'd find up someone's nose...which is something I really don't want to think about right now. Alright then, for those who care, my name's Jenna. I am a senior who hopes to escape the grips of high school as soon as humanly possible. I plan to move onto bigger and brighter things, like..erm...college. Then, I have to get a real job and become an adult, but this isn't a new story, so I'll shut up. However, until that day arrives, I plan to remain under the impression that I can obtain a degree in dramatic writing/screenplay/script writing, and then have a fantastic intership at the Conan O'Brien show- and after I graduate, they'll hire me.
I'm actually spending a month in New York this summer at NYU in their dramatic writing workshop, so as to further my knowlege of what exactly I want to do. So, I'll keep anyone who visits and gives a damn in the loop on how that goes. If I had a digital camera, I'd post pictures. Unfortunately, my family is strictly Amish, and I have to sneak into a nearby town and go to their internet cafe. If they ever find out that I'm doing this, I shall be excommunicated from their society forever. (I'm so full of it)

(insert title here) *writers block*