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Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Track 03

I have been listening to an unknown song on my ipod this week on repeat. I have no idea how it got to be on my ipod; no idea who's or what mix it was on, but i've been listening to this song merely titled Track 03 for days. Today I googled one of the lines that I could remember and found it listed under two artists that I already like, The Knife and Jose Gonzalez. I had an inkling that it was Gonzalez, but like the anonmnity of Track 03. The version I have is Gonzalez covering The Knife's 'Heartbeats', he mumbles, so I also wanted to know what he was saying:

Heartbeats
One night to be confused
One night to speed up truth
We had a promise made
Four hands and then away

Both under influence
We had divine scent
To know what to say
Mind is a razor blade

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

One night of magic rush
The start a simple touch
One night to push and scream
And then relief

Ten days of perfect tunes
The colors red and blue
We had a promise made
We were in love

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough

And you, you knew the hands of the devil
And you, kept us awake with wolf teeth
Sharing different heartbeats
In one night

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no

To call for hands of above
To lean on
Wouldn't be good enough
For me, no


If you haven't seen the Gonzalez video before, they got that whole video on one try. Awesome, and very American Beauty beautiful.

Monday, November 17, 2008

What the Cool Kids Drive


I have had my car for about two weeks. The first day having it I got two flat tires. Not one, but TWO! I still have no idea how this happened.

It was a Sunday morning and I was on my way to Millie's to have brunch with April and Steven. I had parked on the street the night before and nothing was wrong then. And then Sunday morning I didn't notice the front passenger side until I was turning up twelfth street and noticed a funny sound. It was a nice day, so I had my windows down. I pulled over, emptied the trunk, only to find that I didn't have a jack. I then flagged down some dude to see if he had a jack, he did, but we couldn't figure out how to remove it from his trunk.

I then proceeded to call April, over and over again, she didn't answer, so I called Steven, thankfully he did answer.

By the time they arrived I was done crying. And Steven took care of everything, and then we all hopped in their car and drove to the gas station to fill the tire with air and check for any leaks. We couldn't find any leaks, but we put the spare on anyway just in case. Well, then the spare went flat. So I pulled into an empty parking lot and we all drove back to their house to get some tools that Steven needed and then he and I drove back to try and fix it yet again.

One of the bolts (I think that's what they're called) was almost impossible to remove, even with the electric wrench (?) that Steven had brought. He eventually got it off, but we found that it had skipped a thread and part of it and the screw had been stripped. So, adding to the adventure, we drove to three car part stores, finally found one that was open and were able to get all the parts we needed, and eventually were able to get the original tire put back on and drive safely back to April and Steven's house.

I am a Pittman, and should have anticipated something to go wrong, because it always does.

And not a week later, I got a huge semi-circle shaped crack on my windshield from a rock hitting it on 95.

And now my car is always hot because the heat doesn't turn off. I would expect the opposite to happen, but no, even when the switch is turned all the way to the off position, heat is definitely still being blown from the air vents. I should probably be more worried about this, but as it happens, it is winter and there are worse things that could happen; and with my luck, I'll take what I can get.

On the upside, it gets tremendous mileage, I go to DC and back on about half a tank of gas. That is awesome. And it is cleaner than all of my friends' cars, though it could use a vacuuming. I'm kind of a freak about not having junk in my car. I'm not an exceptionally tidy person, but I am very OCD about odd things (thank you, Dad), and clean cars is one of them.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

girls suck

Boys suck. A lot. And so do their gal pals.

I had a recent encounter with a girl that is friends with guy-friend of mine. She thought it would be appropriate to go on about how "he's not worth (my) time" and "he will always belong to (this other chick who was a rebound to begin with)" and on about that sort of stuff. I explained to her that we're just friends, and retained my left hook.

I do not understand where girls get off being so overly protective of their guy-friends. I mean, this is not the first time this has happened to me and I haven't told him about it.

I played nice that evening and even went home and added her on facebook, she of course declined and well, that's just petty.

I have plenty of guy friends and while I'll tell them what I think of the other people they hang out with, I would never in my life dream of being as rude as this chick.

For example, I have a friend I'll call Mark, and he's liked this chick for most of this semester. But she is boring and unmotivated and doesn't have an opinion about anything, she is a follower, and they are annoying. It has taken weeks for him to realize this. I got it from the first time I met her, but I am cordial and polite, and make friendly conversation. I would never have told her, "Hey, Mark prefers girls that have ambition and opinions and enjoy being out and about as much as he does. He's also not over his ex, so you should really stop wasting your time." That would have been rude, and while I'm known for being very outspoken, I know where to draw the line.

I understand that people want what is best for their friends, I certainly do, but one can encourage what they believe is best without imposing, no? Of course we are attracted to all our friends, so maybe what she meant to say was "I am in love with him and am moving farfar away to try and get over him, he knows this and is encouraging me to do so." Yeah, I think that's what she meant. And that's what is happening at least as far as I understand.

I would like to say more, because I am just so angry, but I will restrain myself and hope that in the future she will as well.

The end.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Dance Dance Dance

On Friday I had made plans to meet some friends in The City (DC, never Richmond) for lunch. Well that didn't happen. Instead I got stuck in Richmond for and extra hour because my dad sent tickets to my sister's priority mail - meaning because they weren't there when the "package" came and my sister and her husband both work, and I got out of class at eleven, I had to go pick up the "package."

I'm calling it a "package" because really it was a series of envelopes. Five to be exact. Five freaking envelopes for three measly tickets to Celtic Thunder, a show that my dad has supposedly picked out for my birthday.

My dad is incapable of making things convenient. He had sealed the ticketmaster envelope, put it inside a white letter envelope and put tape over all the seals, put that inside an orange padded (???) envelope and again put tape over all the seals and edges and corners but this time it was that horrible tape with the strings in it that makes anything impossible to open, then all of that into a cardboard envelope, and then into a large bag-like envelope. It took me about ten minutes to get through it all with the help of my keys. Then I had to drop two of them off at my sister's house.

I could go on about all the different ways my dad could have distributed the tickets to us in a more convenient way (a single envelope, for example, willcall...).

Then I texted my friends and told them I would be late, at which point they had to cancel because they were using their lunch breaks and had to be back at work. So I was pissed. And I got lost. Somehow, upon leaving April's house I got onto 295 South instead of North. So I took an hour long detour around Richmond. And on my way back through RIchmond a huge rock hit my windshield. It came from a bulldozer that was on a flatbed in the next lane about three cars in front of me.

This was not what I had planned for an enjoyable weekend.

I finally made it to DC around four. Ridiculous. And since everyone was at work, I went shopping. At Coup de Foudre, a lingerie shop across from E Street Cinema. I've known about this place for awhile and thought about going there before, but hadn't, mostly because it is very expensive. But, since I was feeling somewhat irrational, I figured why not. A good bra is an investment, right?

I spent approximately three hundred dollars in an hour. I bought two sets. And got refitted. And for someone who has sworn by Victoria's Secret since the seventh grade, I have changed my mind completely. Apparently lace can be supportive. AND! And they had pretty bras in my size (enormous). After wearing one for the past two days, I can tell you that it's already made a huge difference. They just feel better and if you're currently wearing a shitty, stretched out elastic band of a bra, reconsider.

Afterwards I decided that I needed something cute to wear to Sorted that night after Celtic Thunder, so I went to H&M. And surprisingly didn't find nearly as many things as I usually do. I only tried on three things. I ended up buying shiney, blue, shirt-dress. I'll admit, it came up kind of high on the sides, and I probably should have worn it with leggings (real leggings) or my black skinny pants, but instead I wore it with black hose and heels. I'm not really sure if I was wearing hose as pants, or a shirt as a dress, probably both, but whatever, I looked fabulous.

At this point I had not had anthing solid to eat all day, so I grabbed a smoothie from Maggie Moo's and headed to Baltimore. I got there at about a quarter to eight. I was feeling very irritable from having driven for about five hours that day and not having eaten anything. And I snapped ay my parents, mostly my dad for picking the most horrible birthday present earlier. I mean my parents have always been bad at birthdays. And every year, if I wanted anything to happen I had to plan it, except last year, when my mom decided to have a failed surprise party that turned into a roast. Anyway, no one has ever thrown me a birthday party and I resent that because I'm pretty good about birthdays. Anyone that knows me knows what a huge fucking deal they are.

I've digressed. When I told my dad all this, he said that it wasn't even for my birthday, which would mean that my parents didn't do shit for my big day. I didn't even get a fucking card. Or a cake, or candles. And aside from the movies that my roommate got me and the most beautiful roses you've ever seen from another friend, I didn't get any presents. My mom tried to say that the car was my present, but I reminded her that I would have gotten that anyway. My dad agreed and asked what I wanted. I had told them that I wanted accupuncture over a month ago, several times and each time I brought it up my mom said that our insurance wouldn't cover it. DUH! That's why it's a gift.

So after crying and being a total brat, April and Steven arrived and we took in the audience, a sea of sixty-five to seventy year olds, and waited for the show to start.

Celtic Thunder is like Disney on Ice for the elderly, but without the ice. The stage was set up to look like a rocky shore in a storm. The preformers were five men, and all the songs were chauvenist and trite. "...life is an ocean, love is a boat...I'm the captain, you're my first mate...we have our own crew..." Really, those were lyrics in one of the songs.

One of the guys was like fourteen and sang a song about pupply love, during which he waved around a shirt. Some girl, who was probably like twelve ran up to try and catch it when he threw it and completely missed. So sad, she's lucky no one knows who she is.

April, Steven and I spent the entire show laughing. It was so ridiculous. My mom kept nudging us to be quiet because we were "making a scene." I almost feel bad for possibly ruining the show for the people around us, but it was just so bad, so I don't. There wasn't anything "celtic" about it except for the fact that the guys were Irish and they sang Danny Boy, but that was it.

I left for DC as soon as soon as it was over. And after parking I changed into the aforementioned dress and hose in my car and was ready to dancedancedance. And I did, for at least three hours.

For those that aren't aware of my awful stage fright, dancing on the stage at a backstage dance night at The Cat is about as close to preforming as I will ever get. And I don't grind, I simply dance the way I would in my room, and since most of the people there don't know me and those that do, think I'm adorable (because I am), I am somehow able to completely let go. And that for me is very difficult. So I danced and danced. And at one point was offered a double shot of bourbon which I had to decline because you know, I was at the Cat and I'm underage (but bourbon is so good). Later when I was in towards the back of the stage, some girl grabbed my hand pulled me to the front of the stage. I had seen her grinding with another girl earlier and told her I didn't do that, she laughed and told me to "give them what they want." At this point I was very confused. She made me look out at the room. People were watching me. I mean, people that I didn't know. And for probably the first time in my life, I didn't care.

So I danced and danced and danced. And David wanted to dance with me. He was a very awkward twenty-eight year old who had no rythm. I danced with him, I danced with a lot of people. But Idanced with him for three songs. He was drunk and told me that I beautiful and that he wanted to kiss me. I explained to him that that would be inappropriate and that we could just dance. By the third song I was sick of him and told him that that was the last dance. He didn't like that and tried to continue dancing with me, so I pushed him away and explained that this was my song* and I didn't want to dance with anyone else.

Eventually it was over. I got asked for drugs, also a first. Apparently is was difficult for people to believe that I was sober.

What a crazy day.


* I am a much better dancer than that girl in the video, and I wish there was a better video for that song. This and this are both equally dancable and all are sad.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

America is Awake this Morning


Yesterday my roommate and I drove down to the train station to cast our ballots. For us, this was our "First Election" (it says so on my calendar) and luckily there wasn't a line; apparently they had all dissipated after the morning rush.

It was only a minute, but during that time I felt incredibly awake. Seeing Barack Obama and Joe Biden at the top of the ballot felt incredibly surreal. The time was finally there to vote!

Afterward, Jessica and I soaked in it. There was truly a sense of elation that came from that experience.

I have always thought that voting was important, but because I was previously underage and therefore not allowed to, I didn't quite understand how important. I do now.

Last night we started keeping watch on everything via the internet. Then I had to go do some radio station (www.wvcw.org) stuff and I ended up at Empire watching MSNBC on a projector above a bar. I cannot tell you how nervous I was. My body would not stop moving and Landis (who was with me) kept going on about what was "bothering me." Nothing was bothering me except the thought of the possiblity of McCain being president.

Unfortuneately around ten I had to head to Bagel Czar to some metal show to promote WVCW, but I really didn't do that and no one came anyway. Everyone was at a viewing party of some sort, of course! We were all checking CNN.com every five seconds. And at eleven I got a text from AJ, the first of exchanges between me and everyone over the Obama/Biden win!

At this poinst I was hysterical. I literally jumped up and down for about fifteen minutes. Everyone poured into the streets around campus. There were fireworks, carhorns, screaming, hugging, kissing, high fives, every form of introduction and affection could be seen. People expanded down Broad Street for about six to eight blocks. Intersections were closed down. Cops were everywhere (though, not really doing anything exceptin directing traffic).

Last night the only feelings present were those of love, beauty and unity. Never before have I experienced those feelings to that degree and with so many people.

America is forever changed by this election, and if last night was any indeication of the direction it's going, these next four years are going to be some of the most influential in histroy - not just for our government and country, but for our csociety and culture. Obama has sparked a tiny flame in us all to be better people, and that's change we can believe in.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

On being tolerant

It is 1:02 AM. I am staying up in an attempt to get some of the work I would otherwise have to do tomorrow, like writing a paper and applying for internships, and of course watching Conan O'Brien.



I finished my State Department application, but on the last page it has two options, "Activate Resume" and "Save for Later." Well, I'm done, I'm finished and I have hit "Activate Resume" about twenty times. Nothing has happened. I feel like it should take me to another page, but it doesn't, it just keeps refreshing. I'm not freaking out - I am frustrated. And since my dad works for the State Department I thought I'd give him a call to see if he knew what was up, but of course he didn't answer (since when does he go to sleep before one?).

While all of this is happening a bunch of girls from my floor come into the commons room/kitchen/tv room to make dinner? Or is it breakfast at this hour? Whatever, they were loud and cooking frozen meals in the microwave. Really. I mean, isn't it obvious that I'm busy, that I am working on something? Isn't it courteous to be quiet at night? Or at least try to? What the hell! AND THEN! And then, the fat one started to change the channel! WTF! I thought I had claimed my space. She noticed my look of terror and asked if I was watching this and after telling her that I was she proceeded to complain about late night comedy - all the while talking loudly to her miniature roommate.

This girl (I should probably know the names of the girls on my floor by now, but I don't, because they are like this) is one of those people that puts items in the microwave for much longer than they need to be microwaved and checks on them every thirty seconds. Do you know how annoying that is? Microwave doors, when combined with loud girls, are increasingly loud. While waiting for her meal, she discussed how healthy pasta is, despite the huge calorie count on the label. I really wanted to explain to her that that was the reason she, and everyone who has gained the "freshman fifteen" are fat, but I didn't, and it was hard. Because she was annoying. And fat. And loud. And obviously clueless. Dude! She didn't even press the "clear/cancel" button when the food was done. Because that is what those people that put food in the microwave much longer than they need to be microwaved do! They don't clear it! And then it beeps! And then it says "Press Start" across the little screen until someone presses clear! AGH!

Anyway, she is gone now. And I am watching Conan in peace.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

on the radio

VCU's radio station is WVCW. It's only online, and at first I was kind of bummed about this, but today I am so glad. With it being online there are fewer people listening, or so I'm guessing. Today is my first day formatting. Basically I'm just sitting in the studio by myself for the first time.

I've only talked once, and I'm pretty sure that I sounded ridiculous. "I hope you enjoy it" - ??? I said that. In reference to a Minus the Bear song.

This is going to take time. I have to do a few more of these and write a proposal before I can have my own show. And since I don't have my own show, I don't really have a whole lot of choice when it comes to what I get to play. It's a computer with iTunes, on shuffle. It's very similar to my dad's iPod being on shuffle in that it may currently be playing Johhny Cash, and will abruptly change to The Irish Tenors, except the radio station has a better selection. I may not like all of it, but most of it is pretty good.

Other perks include free music. Well not to keep, at least not initially. We get CD's from labels and then someone here reviews them and then based on the reviews the "music director" decides what gets added to the infinite iTunes list. After that happens he'll clean out the closet and we'll be allowed to have certain albums. I went through last week and got all the good ones. Tom said that I "should share," but I have no intentions of doing that.

I've only spoken with one other girl on the staff, she's into metal, I also spoke to a girl that was being trained and we had similar tastes, but I don't know if she's stuck it out. But all these boys don't really know what to do with me. Some are attempting to put me in my place. Isn't that cute?

Oh this is going to be fun.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

travelling booze

In Richmond, in addition to the bums, ho-bos and homeless, we have "travellers". These people are typically white-would-be-middle-class-kids, that probably dropped out of school, did a lot of drugs and decided to bum around the country. They have backpacks and smell bad and are generally dirtier than homeless people.

Today I was on my bike (of course) and I was stopped at a corner next to a group of about five travellers. I didn't pay them much attention, but did hear that they were talking about food and beer. I made the mistake of glancing in their direction, and one had the nerve to ask me outright - "Could you spare some change so we can buy beer?"

You read right. He asked. For money. So that he could buy beer. I mean, really? It took me a second to realize what had just happened. I mean I'm used to ignoring homeless people with bottles in paper bags and twitches, but this was something that I would never expect. I mean, you can typically assume that they would spend your money on booze or drugs, but they would ask for money to "buy food."

At the same time, though, I admire the honesty. I mean, I don't know why anyone would give anyone who was homeless money for booze, but he didn't beat around the bush, and he didn't get my money. I'm not encouraging lying, but maybe creativity?

Thursday, October 9, 2008

if i have to

Penny's is my favorite part of Richmond. That, and my bike. Isn't that sad?

Today I went with a couple of other guys from the radio station to Bagel Czar. It used to be a venue called Nancy Raygun, and they're trying to maintain it as a venue. WVCW, the radio station, is working with them to book some gigs and promote it as much as possible. And after talking with Landis, the guy in charge of booking at Bagel Czar, I got to thinking about how perfect it would be if I could do that all the time. I could be an agent, manager, publicist, whatever, I think I might be alright at it. But then again, I don't know if I'd really fit into that world.

I'm not really sure if writer's are supposed to fit into any sort of world. I've been think about that a lot lately. I've been thinking about a lot of things lately. Salinger is a recluse. He could be dead, and we probably wouldn't know about it for a year. He has an estranged daughter, I hope if I have children that that won't happen. I will live in the city and when I die my neighbors will at least complain about the smell. And hopefully my kids will like me, even if they think I'm a kook.

But really, I know writers, and I guess they have friends, but if they're at all serious about they're craft they don't keep hours that allow them to socialize the way other people do. We don't sleep when we write, and sometimes passion overtakes us and hours go by and it's dawn. Writers like that are hard to find. And they're even harder to know.

I think being lonely is an important part of writing. It feeds any feelings you might have, and it allows for little distraction. If I end up a spinster I think I'll be okay, so long as it's in a city and I can write about my lonely life and all the grownup boys that may have been part of it.

Or, I could just give up on all the writin bullshit and be equally troubled pretending that I don't know what I'm meant to do with my life. Unfortunately that's not an option. I have to write, and I'm going to be poor, and I'll probably always feel lonely, but I suppose it's better than feeling nothing at all.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

stupid sleeves

Last night I was looking at pictures that one of my old roommates from mormon-camp (EFY) had posted. They were of her sister's wedding.

My current roommate, Jessica, was also raised in the Mormon Church, and we both hate typical Mormon fashion. In the pictures were dresses that looked just how they always look, boring. They all had the exact same shape, despite different body types, and the same horrible sleeves* and of course dreadful neckline.

If you h
ave ever been to any sort of formal event where you are surrounded mostly by mormons you will notice that they are all dressed in a very similar way. I mean, guys are typically required to wear a suit of some kind for a formal situation, and girls, a dress. But dresses typically have more personality, I'm not saying that they can't be modest, I just don't understand why they all have to use the exact same pattern.

Looking at these you will see what I'm talking about. I mean really, couldn't they at least make some with long sleeves? or three-quarter length (though, one would have to be very careful with those because they are very easy to screw up in formal wear). **

I'm not even going to get into prom dresses, except the colors are horrible.

*Sleeves are required to cover the shoulders at all times. That's fine, whatever. But when I see girls wearing a shirt under a sundress, I really wonder why they didn't choose the cuter option of wearing a cardigan. Not to mention that capped sleeves really get old after awhile, and because of the way they are situated on any garment they usually aren't flattering because most people don't have toned upper-arms.

**As Ben pointed out that site does. But you will notice that their version of long sleeves is very similar to that of a wizard, and are overall hideous. My point in that specific link was to point out how similar all of the dresses are. Of course someone could argue that all wedding dresses look similar because they are formal and white, but these just don't have any personality.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

skinny-fat people

You all know that I hate fat people, and I know I probably shouldn't, but I do.

I just had dinner for the first time at the dining hall on the Monroe Park campus. I've eaten there before, but always for lunch. Dinner is incredibly different, and by different I mean that's when everyone comes out of hiding and gorges themselves on tasteless mush. This would be fine, but tonight I've discovered (not really, but noticed more than usual) skinny-fat people. These are usually girls that are very small, but when you get closer you realized that they lack any sort of tone on their body. That is to say, they lack muscle. And despite their small size many have bellies, like pot-bellies, and muffin tops; though the muffin tops are typically covered by a cardigan.

I've decided I'm not going to stand for it anymore. No more will these tiny people be allowed to get away with being fat by being disguised in a small package.

In all seriousness though, I wish that people would realize that despite the size zero on their jeans that it is still possible to be unhealthy. And not in an anorexic/bulimic way, but in the "I'm naturally skinny, why do I need to exercise" type of way. I mean regular fat people suck, but tiny-fat people suck even more.

Some may say that I'm simply jealous - they obviously do not know how vain I am. I simply find it annoying that people don't think they need to take care of their bodies because of their small body.

Monday, October 6, 2008

modern masochist

Today I have eaten two pieces of toast with butter and strawberry jam, about twenty gummy bears (the green ones, I'm eating my least favorite first, you know, saving the best for last) and one kinder egg. My stomach is probably hungry but at this point I feel like I would throw up anything I consume.

I have a headache, and have tried napping. It didn't work, so I watched last weeks episode of Gossip Girl, too many SNL sketches and wrote some shitty poetry with my new Cerruti pen. It works quite well, and has a two year warranty. I hope I don't lose it. I always lose things that I really like. I'm usually a ball-point bic type of chick, but I think I might be changing.

In addition to all of this BYT has posted "The Big Empty" as their (Vintage) Video of the Day. It is a very depressing short film that really has sent my lethargy for the day over the edge. I like it though, I like sad things. I hope no one ever discovers an artic landscape in my vagina and then dies in it. I can imagine that would be really awful. I like not being empty.

I'm also rediscovering writing. I mean I write almost every day, usually I don't think it's very good, and the past few weeks I've felt like it's just gotten worse. But maybe it's getting better and I'm becoming more critical of my own work. That's not so bad, I guess. And I have a great new pen, and even if my computer doesn't always like to play music, it still let's me write, usually without interruption.

And in addition to all of this the sweater weather that I usually enjoy this time of year is getting me down. My fore-arms and shins have been achey for about a week now, and I'm almost positive that it's the change in weather.

I've been listening to Frightened Rabbit too much, that's probably detrimental to my emotional well being. But here are the lyrics to the song that I cannot get out of my head (well this one more than the others, but they all sound about like this).

The Modern Leper

A cripple walks amongst you all you tired human beings

He's got all the things a cripple has not working arms and legs
And vital parts fall from his system and dissolve in Scottish rain
Vitally he doesn't miss them he's too fucked up to care
Well is that you in front of me?
Coming back for even more of exactly the same
You must be a masochist to love a modern leper on his last leg
On his last leg
Well I crippled your heart a hundred times
And still can't work out why
You see I've got this disease I can't shake
And I'm just rattling through life
Well this is how we do things now
Yeah this is how the modern stay scared
So I cut out all the good stuff
Yeah I cut off my foot to spite my leg
Well is that you in front of me?
Coming back for even more of exactly the same
You must be a masochist to love a modern leper on his last leg
Well I am ill
But I'm not dead
And I don't know which of those I prefer
Because that limb which I have lost
Well it was the only thing holding me up
Holding me up
Well I'm lying on the ground now
Walking through the only door
Well I have lost my eye sight
Like I said I would
But I still know
And that is you in front of me
And you are back for even more of exactly the same
Well are you a masochist to love a modern leper on his last leg
And you are not ill
And I'm not dead
Doesn't that make us the perfect pair
Just you and me
We'll start again
And you can tell me all about what you did today
What you did today

Thursday, September 25, 2008

so many things to do

I need to get in touch with the dental school here. My left wisdom teeth are coming in, and I now know what it feels like to be a baby, those poor, poor babies, cutting their teeth. No wonder they cry all the time, this sucks! So, I need to get them removed. Icky.

I also need to call the doctors, again, because my throat is an explosion of red and goo. Mmmm... I told them to give me something stronger, but no, they just had to no better. And they were wrong. So, I'll probably go by today or tomorrow and make them give me something stronger.

I should probably re-write a paper, but I really don't feel like it. But I probably will tonight, because I'm incapable of getting anything done unless I'm down to the wire.

I also need to do a write up from the Built to Spill show. That was amazing. I saw them for free because I'm on the radio/magazine/soon-to-be-newspaper staff, basically I'm on my way to taking over VCU's student media center.

I dropped my Energy! class (that wretched combination of physics and chemistry, which I wouldn't have minded if there wasn't to much of the conversion crap, who cares how many time you multiply or divide watts to find joules? not me) I'm going to take biology next semester.

After I get that immunization form turned in. Apparently I didn't ever send it in and won't be able to register for classes for next semester until I do.

I also need to make an appointment with my academic adviser, but I don't like her. And she did recommend Energy! But I have to see her before November in order to register for next semester.

I could be doing all of this, but instead I'm listening to
Frightened Rabbit and writing this, and it's raining outside, and I'm bloated, and I really just do not feel like doing anything constructive. I will probably call my dad so he can help me get my itunes set up (I finally got my ipod in the mail, in the jenga game my parents sent me with scrabble, yesterday) and then take a nap. I love naps.

Monday, September 22, 2008

I love Sarah Palin almost as much as I love Strawberry Mentos


I was running late to Focused Inquiry today, and about halfway there when Emily (from class) texted me to let me know that our professor never showed. Huzzah! I hate that class. Afterwards Lessa called and we ended up chatting about politics among other things for almost an hour when I realized I was late for an interview.

I ran by Rite-Aid to pick up some cassettes, to record the interview, and was distracted at the checkout by Mentos. More specifically, Strawberry Mentos. STRAWBERRY MENTOS! I've had them before, but they don't carry them everywhere, and Mentos are the best candy, so making them strawberry flavored just gets me giddy! I bought a box, and a box of sugarfree mixed berry. Mentos aren't particularly fattening, but they are unhealthy, so making them berry flavored and getting rid of the sugar..Whoa! It just keeps getting better.

After suffering from a short sugar overdose, I hopped on my bike and headed to the Republican Headquarters of Richmond...to interview a Republican for Ink (the school magazine). I was worried about being late, but he wasn't there. So I sat, and waited for them to give me some information about how to reach him later. While I was waiting a woman came in, in a very large, very red shirt. Across the front it said SARAH!

I had some "promotional" bags from Images and thought I'd give her one, I really need to build my clientele. She wouldn't take it but said, "I get my hair done in my neighborhood, AND I HAVE SOMETHING FOR YOU!" And she tossed me an identical red shirt, in an extra-large.

I wasn't going to pass that up! A free shirt! That supports Sarah Palin! What more could a woman want? Nothing, that is the correct answer.

So, now I have a giant, red, tent that says SARAH! on it. I haven't yet decided what I'm going to do with it. Maybe a halloween costume? Maybe a "gift" for my mom? I don't know, but it's pretty sweet.

*Guys, look what I found, they should not be allowed to sell such large quantities to the general public.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

I Like to Ride My Bicycle

I love my bike. It takes me everywhere. Literally. I spend at least an hour on it every day, sometimes two, and on average bike at least six miles. It takes me twenty to thirty minutes to get to work and that's about three miles, so I figure I'm going about a mile every nine minutes. That's slightly faster than I'm sure my running a mile time would be. But I'm excited because I hate running and I'm still getting cardio.

On my way to work on Friday, about halfway there, I got a flat tire. Now I've had flat tires before and not realized it, but because this one happened so suddenly, it was hard to miss. A piece of glass punctured the back tire. Lame. I was initially just going though a "of course this happened to me" phase before calling work and telling them that I would be late, which was fine because I didn't have an appointment for another hour anyway. But as I was walking, and hitting my right shin on my left peddle every few steps and then progressively tripping, I started thinking about how much I hate litter. I hate litter. It is disgusting. And in my complete self-righteousness I will tell you, I do not litter, ever.

I really do not understand why or how people can. Really? Are you really going to throw your McDonald's on the ground? In front of me? When there is a trash can not twenty feet away? Really? You are? Well, I just want you to know that God hates you and you are going to hell. Yes, please look at me while I flip you the bird and pick up your trash and walk to the nearest trash can. The other day I did that. I was locking my bike up in front of the student media center and a girl and what looked like her mother got in their car, which was right in front of where I was locking my bike. There was a trash can a few yards away, but the girl threw her fast food garbage on the ground, next to the car, as she got in. I picked it up and threw it away, all before they pulled out. She started yelling at me as her mother rolled up the window.

I am blaming everyone who has littered for my flat tire. If people would "have fun" recycling instead of throwing glass bottles around, this wouldn't have happened. But people don't think about that, and they don't think about their environment and how gross and dirty it is because of what they do. But it's not their fault... it's always their fault.

After I finally got to work I was able to run my bike over to Re-Cycle, a bike repair shop that is not quite two blocks from where I work, and get my bike fixed in time to go home. Then yesterday my back brakes weren't working. So, after I got to work I took it there again and once again they were able to have it done in time for me to go home. And while it's been irritating the past couple days, my bike is now in almost tip-top shape. And it was all done for twenty bucks, Richmond is so cheap.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

So much for Harmony

I have done absolutely nothing productive today. I did however cut Garrett's hair, which looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. I ate some fruit snacks and watched Gossip Girl, after spending way too much time looking for the third episode and then waiting for it to load. And now I'm listening to Mates of State and watching an argument unfold via BYT. I did not mean for that to go where it has. Yikes!


Anyway, Mates of State are probably one of the least talked about indie bands right now, despite having just released a sixth album. I'm pretty sure it's their sixth anyway. They are a married couple that has a couple of kids and live in Connecticut. She, previously a teacher, and he, previously a cancer researcher. Overall, they're adorable. She plays the organ/keys while he bangs on the drums, and they harmonize perfectly. Can you imagine what a wonderful world we would live in if we all could harmonize like that with our loved ones? Arguments would sound so much nicer.

If you have an Imeem account listen to them here. Or you can always check them out on MySpace and YouTube.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Left-wing Limbaugh

I talked to my professor today. He thinks that I am too negative. He doesn't like my "generalizations." Our discussion regarding my "problem" led to my admitting to not going out of my way to be nice because I don't care about offending people. I have yet to meet a journalist that is "nice" i.e. boring. Nice people suck. They lack substance. They aim to please and are easily trampled. I'm not saying I'm mean, I'm just honest.

In my papers it's been revealed that I worship Anna Wintour and Graydon Carter, and he asked me how I would feel if he told me that he hated what I was wearing. I am sick, and I was wearing my jim-jams. And I typically don't care because I'm not trying to impress anyone. If I look nice, it's because I felt like looking better than usual that day. I typically wear jeans, a band-tee, and vans, but if I had more money I would probably dress better all the time.

Anyway, I don't think he believed me when I told him that it wouldn't bother me.

We went on to discuss my hatred for the majority of my peers. Apparently I shouldn't call them stupid, even if it is true. And despite giving examples, he said that is wasn't enough.

He went to Yale for his undergrad, that's pretty impressive, even if it was for acting. He agrees with me about the overall Richmond attitude, but came here because VCU has one of the best acting programs in the country.

He also said that if he were to present my papers to anyone in the journalism department that they would be offended. I doubt it unless they're broadcast, I called broadcast-journalism majors people that have the "I-want-to-be-on-TV-but-have-never-acted-and-have-no-real-talent-but-have-a-huge-ego-and-want-to-be-famous" mentality. Which is true. He also called me cynical. I have never denied this, and I don't see anything wrong with it. As a journalist I want the truth, I shouldn't have to be tactful about it. If someone is screwing up, I'll say so and present evidence. I'm not going to try and paint a pretty picture in the name of tact. That's just silly.

After class the other students in my group wanted to know what we talked about. I told them. We had all discussed my opinionated nature before. Karl compared me to Rush Limbaugh, who, I disagree with on almost all accounts, I do respect. This wasn't the first time I've been compared to Limbaugh, I had a couple teacher in high school who also had that opinion. But, Limbaugh is a college drop-out who just wanted to be on the radio. His opinions are heard everywhere and influence thousands of people in the States. I'm not going to discredit that, that's amazing. I don't plan on dropping out, but I'll certainly be doing something similar.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

HACK!

I am sick. My body couldn't even make through a whole month of college before it decided to get sick. I have sinusitis, yeah, that's a real illness. It's the best kind because it takes all of the most lovely ailments having to do with your head and puts them all together. So, right now my tonsils are huge, and I mean huge because while they're abnormally large and no one will take them out, they manage to become the size of golfballs when I'm sick. I also have a headache, as in my entire head is throbbing. My ears and neck are sore. I can feel the mucus running down my throat, but when I go to blow my nose or gargle, nothing comes. Instead I get to cough phlegmballs at my bodies request, i.e. whenever it wants to.

I can breath through my nose, that's nice. But the only way I can relieve any of the sinus pressure is by using nose spray. FUN! FUN! FUN!

I've had this three times in the last year. Last October, last November and this past February. It wasn't until that third time that they got the diagnosis right. And they gave me an IV and I almost died. Man, that was scary. I mean having a needle in my arm is scary. And all these times I had my blood drawn. The first two times I was treated by military doctors, and let me tell you, they suck. Not because they're in the military, but because they didn't run enough tests or believe me when I told them that I didn't have mono or strep, but ran those tests, and when they came out negative told me to take IB profen for the fever.

You know, I understand that doctors are supposed to be the ones "in charge" of making the diagnosis. But I'll tell you what, I am someone that has had strep throat enough times in my life to know when I have it. I've never had mono, but I've done my research just to make sure I don't have it. And all these people always wanted to test for those two instead of just taking my word for it. Guess who was right. I was! And guess what else, they like to waste my time by running those tests anyway.

I really hope I can just go tomorrow to the student health clinic, tell them what I have, have them write me a prescription for augmentin, and be on my way.

I am currently at my sister's and completely broke, well not completely but I don't want to spend my savings. Yesterday I was excited that she came to pick me up. I had been anticipating at least one cash tip yesterday, but nothing came. So i had three of those fruit cups of mandarin oranges and three mini candy bars prior to her picking me up. Once we got back to her place, her brother-in-law and his galpal made dinner, it was goodish, but t hey put bacon in the pasta and didn't use very much sauce. But who cares, because I ate food, the real kind. With nutrients. The kind that fills you up instead of giving you a headache or makes you crave more - the candy bars. And what's even nicer is that I'm staying here all day, so I get to have more read food. HURRAY! I get paid on Tuesday, I'm excited.

As I write this I'm listening to the soundtrack to "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist." I'm very excited about this movie. I have a feeling I will be able to relate to it in a lot of ways. The soundtrack is wonderful, I've seen a few of those bands live, and Brightest Young Things has interviewed most of them. While I love this music, I don't love sharing it. And I'm not excited about all the high school girls who will see this movie and then show up at all these shows in the future. Guys, I'm really worried about this. I don't know how much more I can take of the lowlier human forms taking notice of my favorite bands. I should probably be excited for all the bands that are having their songs used in this movie, I mean it's huge for them. And I'm all for supporting musicians, I spend hundreds of dollars each year doing just that, but I think good music is like buying a great pair of jeans at Marshall's, you have to dig for it. Once you know where to dig, you continue to discover great finds. I hate seeing them just handed over when people haven't worked for it a little bit.

I'll just go over here and pout by myself.

Friday, September 12, 2008

I think you're Fat


Today at lunch Garrett and I started talking about this past weekend and the rediculousness that ensued (that was his ex that we ran into). And then of course we talked about Richmond and I gave him yet more reasons as to why it sucks, today it was mostly the overabundance of Fat People.

"Do you hate fat people?" (Isn't Garrett cute?) Of course I hate Fat People. They take up too much space. They are often angry and overall unpleasant.
Now, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Do not confuse Fat People with being overweight. Being overweight describes most people at some point in their lives. I have plenty of friends that are overweight, I am probably a little bit (but losing weight could cause damage, i.e. the loss of my wonderful breasts and ass. You've seen them, they are amazing! I believe that if I were to ever lose them it would be detrimental to society.) but my friends and I aren't fat. Not at all.
Fat people are typically obese, dress horribly (they wear sweatpants from Wal-Mart and oversized t-shirts with some cartoon on them, you know what I'm saying) and are overall painful to be with. The later is the most important. Fat People just do not understand how to get along with other people.

There are some Fat People that dress well, you may even mistake them for an overweight person. Do not let this throw you off. Stay on track. Their fatness will soon manifest itself as soon as they open their mouths. For example, I was at the Ting-Tings show this summer and there were these two fat girls in front of me. They were not dancing, they were not having a good time, they were complaining about all the people (at a sold-out show), they were upset that people were touching them, and the were especially upset when me and Zak (intern) shoved past them to the front. Now, I could go on a rant about how annoying it is when people in front don't dance, but that's another post. These girls tried to tell us that they were there first, blahblahblah... They were dressed well, but were breaking all club-show rules. They suck, right? Exactly! Character flaw.

Well what about those that can't help being overweight? I already explained this by differinciating between Overweight People and Fat People. Now, if you are a fat person and have health issues, well, I just don't have any sympathy. Like people with Diabetes. Man, that sucks, but were they taking care of themselves before they were diagnosed? Did they eat healthy food and excercise? Or did they sit on the couch and eat Doritos while watching Lifetime?
If it's the former then I can sympathize. I certianly don't have bean-pole-body, or a high metabolism. In fact I have a thyroid disorder that's under control, but if I didn't take care of myself I would certainly gain weight, and that could lead to Diabetes and Heart Disese, both of which run in my family.

If it's the later, well then they deserve it. Nothing good comes from Doritos, they just make me bloated. And even less good comes from Lifetime;I swear that channel was developed for overweight women just to turn them into vapid Fat People by encouraging them to relate to depressing stories.

*Mom, I'm talking to you! Watch it, I mean, don't watch Lifetime, I know you do!

Last year Trevor and I agreed that Fat People shouldn't be allowed to wear athletic shorts and sweatshirts.Isn't it ironic that they can be cuaght in athletic gear when they never take part in physical activities? And isn't it a shame that that's one of the few things that fits them?



In other news, my Focused Inquiry teacher wants to meet me before class on Monday to discuss something that will take about twnety minutes. He wouldn't say what. I'm pretty sure that it's going to be about my negative attitude in his class, or the questionaire that we had to fill out at the beginning of the class, on which I encouraged him to stop parting his hair down the middle and to grow some facial hair. He is one of those people that is happy all the time, in a creepy way; like my eighth grade french teacher Mme. Rustan who smiled all the time except for the times she would look down to relax her mouth before continuing what she was saying with a smile. She didn't like me either, expecially when I wrote "busy work" in the heading of my paper where the name of the assignment was supposed to go (it was on a day we had a sub). I had to show my parents and get it signed and she gave the entire class a lecture about busy work and how if you were to use that term you had better have an A - I did not have an A. My FI teacher and I have a similar repoire. This year will be interesting, to say the least. Who knows, maybe we'll be best friends by the end of the year. Probably not, but he will probably say something about how he wants to be my friend on Monday. Oh, dear.

Good Question(s)

My roommate is a polysci/history major. I appreciate this because she is not stupid in the slightest, and I'm pretty sure I would cut off my ears if I had to deal with someone stupid.

Anyway, she was reading The Nation last night and gave me the link to this article on Sarah Palin. After reading that one I found this one by the same person.

Sure it's "liberal media" but hell, she is right.

Now the last article I'll touch on a bit. I don't agree with it 100%, more like 95%. I don't think that girls/boys are being forced to have babies against "their judgment" because they already had bad judgment when they chose to have unprotected sex and I believe in contraception and wish that she had talked about that more. I understand that Palin was in a group that supported contraception, but she's stated over and over again that she will not support sex education that includes the teaching of contraception. If everyone would take care of that tiny detail we wouldn't have all the fuss about teen-pregnancy and abortions, now would we?

Thursday, September 11, 2008

ho-hum

I wish that there was some way I could get past not loving Richmond. But, considering my life and what it typically revolves around - being out and about as much as possible - this is not happening. It would be wonderful if I could be so busy with schoolwork that I could completely shut out the rest of the world, but that's not happening. I'm not happy and quite possibly falling into some sort of ridiculous depression.

Depression runs in my family, so that wouldn't be at all surprising, but I've been so good at taking care of myself in the past that maybe I've forgotten to the past couple of weeks. At home, I was seeing my "crazy doctor" every three weeks. When I left I thought everything was great, but I guess I really underestimated how much that helped me.

Today is gray and very quiet outside. Looking at the Post it says that its sunny in DC, I can't help but be jealous.

I know you guys are probably tired of reading my pity-parties, I'm sorry. I just really wish that I could pull myself out of this. I'm usually really good at the whole "fake it 'til you make it" ideology. I guess I need to try a bit harder. If this were someone else I'd be the one that was telling them to get out more, meet more people, put yourself on the line, but right now none of that is resonating with me.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

My eyes! My eyes!

I have yet to have what Garrett calls an "encounter" with a homeless person. I have not ever had one yell at me, or come intimidatingly close. Sure they ask me for change all the time, sometimes when I'm on my bike they'll yell - I kid you no- "Ay, Yo Girl!" I'm very good at ignoring all of this, and homeless people in general.

So, on my way to school tonight I saw a man relieving himself in some flowers.

Last year when I was visiting friends in Charlottesville I saw a man with a walker, walking, with his pants down and urinating as he walked, while he supported himself on the walker. This was completely different because were close to an old folk's home and a hospital and I figured he could he either do that or wet himself. If I were him I would have chosen the former also.

I'm also familiar with guys peeing anywhere, but not usually out in the open. Really, why couldn't he have least faced a building or something? Instead of standing next to a tree, and not a large tree, though I suppose he was trying to hide behind it? I don't know. I just really wish I had not seen it. And now I would like very much for that picture to stop running through my head.

everyone loves a debate


You all know who Christopher Hitchens is. He is a complete arse. He is an atheist. he is an anti-theist. He Is also, most importantly a journalist/author/critic. He is probably the most important intellectual on the placnet currently and if not, he's definitely in the top ten.

Last night he spoke at VCU and debated some guy named Turec, Turek? Turreck? I don't know, nor does it matter. The debate was whether or not there is a God. Obviously Hitchens was against and the other guy (who I will now simply refer to as T) was for.

I myself believe in God, I also reject organized religion. So, I agreed and disagree with them both. Now, we all know that Hitchens likes to go on and on about how horrible religious people are and all that, and he did last night, it has become apparent (as he's gotten older) that he does have morals. Which raises the question, and was proposed by T last night how can one have morals if one does not believe in a God, or at least a higher being?

I don't know, I believe in God. But I don't think that one must have religion to know right from wrong,but I do think that we all as humans are born with that knowledge, from a higher being. It's all interconnected, and I am entirely to inarticulate to explain it, so I won't.

Anyway, I have great admiration for Hitchens and his peers in the journalistic world. If I am half as successful as he is I'll be happy. I luckily got to speak with him last night.

We've met a couple times before because he lives next to a friend of mine and while he didn't remember my name he did recognize me (gush!). I was able to speak with him after - it's common knowledge that he is a heavy drinker, it's also typical that alcohol is forbidden on all college campuses - I noticed/smelled his drink and asked what it was (i thought they were doing product placment with the pepsi cups, because it was recorded, vcu doesn't have money blahblahblah...) when he replied, ever so casually, "scotch! do you want some?" I declined and sat behind him as he spoke with hundreds of fans before leaving. My favorites were the Christians who stood in line to tell him how much they loved him and how they're praying for him and how they hope that one day he'll "find God." Oh dear! they were so cute! Anyway, I asked him if he wanted to go to Penny's, but he couldn't because he had to go out with the crazies that invited him to speak, and it just so happened that that is where they took him. Though, I didn't go, I did get a raincheck.

Prior to the debate I met a man whose name I won't post, but he works for a large PR firm in Reston and chatted with me for awhile. Anyway, I got his information and if an internship at the Post doesn't work out this summer I may have this to fall back on. Maybe I should go into PR, this networking thing is just too easy.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Election 2008

In an effort to find this quote:

"
Men always want to be a woman's first love - women like to be a man's last romance."

I found this one, and I do believe that is sums up my complete feelings about the political world this year:

"Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes."


Both are by Oscar Wilde.

blahblahblahsobsobsobsniffsniffsniff

I've been at school for about a month. My classes are fine. I'm taking sixteen credits and managing fairly well. The only classes I'm having a hard time in are Energy! (on my transcript that exclaimation point will be included) which is a physics, chemistry combo. It's not horrible, I just really hate doing math and this class requires all sorts of conversions; economics is similar, but more theory, so not as difficult and at least I find it interesting and it'll be helpful in journalism; and last, Focused Inquiry - it's the required freshman course, it's very similar to what English was like my first two years of high school, except my teacher is horrible and I want to punch him in the face and he's always "encouraging" us to be "creative" and to "step out of the 5-paragraph box" but when I do he tells me that I'm doing everything wrong.

Focused Inquiry is the worst replacement for an English 101 class. I understand that kids don't know how to write upon their arrival to college. I get that, but at least in high school I wasn't clumped with them in English (I was in advanced and AP English courses). So now he, an acting major (this class is taught by professors from all concentrations) is trying to teach me how to write.

This includes giving us "worksheets" aka busywork, that we have to fill out instead of writing comments and making corrections directly on each others' papers. I find assignments like this exhausting. Nothing is benefited from them. I can write, fairly well, I'm not Vanity Fair material...yet.

Anyway, I started doing homework yesterday and then I couldn't concentrate, so I wrote a blog. That kind of got everything out of system. Not really. I miss DC. A lot. People should not be this attached to cities. I know I've been very negative about Richmond, and it not having anything to offer, but it's true. It is unbelievable true. I can only imagine how much unhappier I would be at somewhere like JMU or even UVA.

I'm really trying to like Richmond. I went out Friday and Saturday. Friday we (my roommate Jessica, Garrett from econ and his friend Bryan) were going to go to that toga/underwear themed party, but none of felt like dressing up, and they wouldn't let us in unless we took our clothes off. Then we made it to a frat-party Jessica knew about. We were let in, and stayed for maybe ten minutes, because we all weren't invited (just Jessica) we were kicked out. It was disgusting. So after calling the cops and reporting underage drinking, we headed to Garrett's friend's house. That, while being a little awkward when his ex showed up, was far better than the previous two attempts to have a good time.

Luckily Saturday was my first day at work - Images Salon. It was a slight distraction from all the craziness that is my life, but of course there was salon drama. My first day was another girl's last. She was very bitter, not at me, just in general. I had two clients, and made at least a hundred bucks, plus tips, so I think I'll be making pretty decent money in no time.

By the time work was over the rain was gone and I was looking forward to exploing the city a bit more. Jessica keeps being added by these random guys on facebook who see her in the VCu network. She talks to them via facebook and they asked if she wanted to meet in the commons for dinner. I of course accompanied her. It was awkward and they were not fabulously good looking, I don't know what she was thinking.

Anyway we ended up inviting them to go see Cartel at the Canal Club with us. They came. We went. We saw the most horrible "venue" in the world. It is a combination "venue" and sports bar. Like Jaxx, but about four times the size.Ick! And to make it worse it was all ages, which is fine in DC, but in Richmond that meanst that the shows have to be done by ten thirty, on a saturday night. Really. I'm not even a fan of Cartel, and the crowd was full of fourteen-year-old scensters wearing the band shirts their parents bought for them that night. AWFUL!

And then of course yesterday I started crying, for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because I miss DC and Richmond is not close to coming up anytime soon.

I eventually got in touch with April and she came and picked me up. We went to Chop Suey (a used bookstore, awesome) and got ice cream. It was what I needed. Afterwards I met up with friends at Panda Veg (vegan chinese restaurant that is surprisingly good) and then went to the Ink (magazine) meeting.

I think Ink will probably be the defining factor as far as my college experience goes. I hope it works out. Wish me luck!

Sunday, September 7, 2008

How to use a Telephone


Everyone I know is incapable of using the telephone, more spceifically, their cell phones. I believe that I am one-hundred percent correct in thinking that the reason we have telephones is so that we can be reached virtually any time.

I'll admit, I'm needy, and am very much a phone person because I like to be in constant contact with the rest of the world. Unfortunately all the people that I'm closest with are idiots in the telephone realm and never pick up. This becomes a large problem when I'm having a shitty day and need someone to vent to, am having computer problems, have made plans with them, etc.

Now I understand that sometimes people need time to themselves or whatever, but this isn't an occasional thing; this happens to me all the time. Literally.

The only acceptable reasons for not answering the phone are as follows:

1. You are using the bathroom - Now, I know people that use that phone while they're taking a dump. I personally find this repulsive.

2. You are in the shower - I also know people talk on the phone in the shower (I hear them here at school) but I don't see how combining electronics and water is ever a good idea.

3. You don't have service/are on the metro/bus - Alright, so these could all be separate, but they're very similar. If you don't have service, that's fine, or if you lose it while we're talking, have the decency to call me back. If you're on the metro/bus, everyone knows you should never talk on the phone because you will annoy everyone around you.

4. You are having sex - Actually, I hope that for all the times I call people and they don't answer that they are having sex because that would mean that they have an exceptionally healthy sex life. And everyone knows that they more you have the happier you are. So when you're done, you should be in a really good mood and therefore even more pleasant to talk to, so call me back.

5. You're at work - So, this isn't really an excuse unless you have a government job and aren't allowed to take your phone to work. At every other job, you most likely have your phone at work and will be fired if you're talking on it excessively, I understand that, I really do, but that's why you have a plan with texting, so you can tell me that. Duh.
If you don't have texting then we will probably never be in contact again.

If I'm calling I obviously have something to say, and when you don't answer or call back you just make me mad.

Yesterday my sister and I made plans to hang out today. She told me to call her at any time today so that she could come pick me up. It's been two hours since I first called. Her husband also didn't answer, so by God they better be having sex.

Friday, September 5, 2008

So goes it

I have been in Richmond for about three weeks. I am missing The District quite horribly and everone who is aware of this assures me that I'm writing Richmond off far too quickly and that I should give it a chance. They are right, I know they are. It's just far more difficult to find something to do in the evenings than it is in DC.

Of course I'm not including parties, well, because that's not really my thing. I'm fine with everyone having a gay old time, but once the cocaine is out, I'm gone. People in this city are much more laid back than I am. I don't understand their lack-luster qualities. They like to consider themselves artists and work waiting tables. And afterward go to a house party. A house party? Really? I understand that people have them at all ages, but when you grow up their referred to as an "open house," a "get together," "a cookout," etc. They are not, however, referred to as "house parties."

House parties usually incorporate lots of underage kids getting smashed and then having irresponsible sex with each other, or going home alone wishing they were having irresponsible sex, though they refer to it as just sex.

I'm being too analytical. I know. I should probably be immersing myself in the college culture, but how many times have I said that I was born five years too late? Really people, I know I'm a snob, but I am so above this.

I'm not going to lie and say that I don't drink, because I do, occasionally, but never in excess, because I'm a control freak. I've had lots of people in my lifetime tell me to "loosen up." It has not happened. I have remained this very tight, judgmental person. It suits me very well thank you.

Drinking should be enjoyed, the end result isn't to get drunk as everyone on any campus would have you believe, it is to be tasted, not chugged. Though chugging is the only way anyone would be able to drink the cheap stuff they've got. It's gross. Natural Ice, or "Natty's" is probably the absolute worst thing I have ever tasted; how I would imagine piss tasting. And yet, they drink it, and it's siblings Budlight, Corona, etc.

Sex. We all know that college boys only care about getting laid, which is fine, whatever, it's expected, and that would be all fine and dandy if girls were programmed the same way. Some are, some aren't. Most aren't. And most are stupid. They dress up in their trashiest attire wanting to look "hot" - they set out wanting to attract these overly-hormonal boys and expect to be respected? That's idiotic, but because they are idiots, they will have sex with these guys and almost immediately regret it. Luckily my roommate isn't one of these idiots.

So, what will I be doing tonight? I've been invited to a couple parties, one of which is "lingerie/boxers/toga" themed. It does not sound exceptionally entertaining, and I'm going to go ahead an guess that the music will be horrendous. If this were going on in DC, at The Hotel, which it does, annually, except it's just "underwear" themed it would be full of somewhat responsible, despite being intoxicated adults.

I hate my peers. It's a problem I have, I'm well aware of it, and I should appreciate that they're "growing up" but I'd really much rather just skip that part. But since I'm going to be here for four years, I suppose I'll just have to dig deeper to find something worthwhile.

Like friends. I should make some. It's not that I haven't been trying. I've been pleasant to everyone I've met, but I haven't met anyone that has really struck my fancy. My roommate is cool, the RD in my building is cool -he's also thirty-two, this kid that sits next to me in economics is pretty cool (despite being a townie). So I'm trying, I really am, kind of, when I'm not wondering around on my bike or studying at Penny Lane's.

Despite my quasi-anti-social appearance the past few weeks. I have made an effort. I have been to information meetings regarding the school paper, magazine (non-literary, those people were weirder than they were in high school, of course I was ed-in-chief, so I'm biased, but still) and the radio-station. And for the first time ever I'm actually doing homework/studying, even if it interrupted by videos of Christopher Hitchens on YouTube.

In addition to all of this craziness I've managed to erase my entire music library from my Ipod. So now, I'm stuck listening to a bunch of mixed CD's (though the best mixes ever made) a friend made for me, the two CD's I've bought since coming here - Lykke Li, and Wolf Parade - the albums I have, but I need to get a preamp, and of course the internet. I've been listening to this song a lot and listening to Imeem.

I'm going to take a nap. SCHWING!



Monday, September 1, 2008

Trash, the good kind

Let it be known that I love horrible television. Not the Jerry Springer type of trash but the dramatic type of horror.

Since coming to school my roommate and I have made a habit of catching 'Project Runway' each way. And after the first week an very sad kind of doofy girl on our floor has started to join us. She talks throughout the whole show. And not just comments like "That's cute" or "What were they thinking!" Comments like "I really like this show, which season is this?" and she'll go on. And it's not just during the commercials, it's during the actual show. We just deal because we don't want to be mean. Crazy, I know.

So currently I"m watching 'Gossip Girl' and she has walked by several times, each of which she feels the need to comment on how much she likes this show. Luckily she's not actually watching it with me. Thank God.

Monday, August 4, 2008

We Are Scientists




The interview, my first - ever, I did with them is up at Brightest Young Things.

You should go read it. It's pretty awesome. As all (five) of you expect of me anyways.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Learning to ride a bike

Since the accident my only mode of transportation has been my beach cruiser that I've had since I was eleven. It is hunter green, and if I wasn't so lazy I would find a picture of it, or take one, to post.

I quite like riding my bike. I mean, I'm getting exercise, I'm going where I want to (for the most part), I'm not spending all my tips on gas, etc. The only part I don't love it the sweat. I'm okay with being sweaty, but not when I get to Borders or my chiropractic appointment, or work. Thankfully there are these things called "deodorant" and "body spray" that are small enough to carry with me everywhere. So, smelliness can generally be avoided.

Last week I rode from my house to Moe's on Hoadly Rd. I have no idea what that amounts to in miles. I didn't plan on going there, I was just in a bad mood and needed to clear my head (something I've needed to do a lot lately) and where I would usually go for a drive, I went for a ride. It was refreshing and wonderful. Yeah, it took about three times as long to get there as it usually would via car, but I felt awesome afterwards.

My biggest problem with not having a car at my constant disposal was the sense of freedom I thought I'd lost. But there's a completely different sense of independence that comes with riding a bike. It's all about you. You and the machine, but not a machine that your externally operating, a machine that you become a part of. You also become much more aware of your surroundings. I think I've developed a greater appreciation for my body. It's not something that I often think about. But, I have this awesome machine and when it's used, it can do anything. And then when you combine it with another machine, it's literally awe-some.

I wish we had bike lanes or more sidewalks, or wider shoulders, something. Lake Ridge is not very bike friendly. I've had quite a few people yell out of the SUV's for me to get off the road. But I'm not "in" the road. I'm on the shoulder, usually. I'm only in the right lane if there aren't any other options, and it's not like they can't see me. I mean, I'm not in their way, I'm not slowing them down. Perhaps if they knew what I know, they wouldn't be so quick to make an ass of themselves.

Today after my chiropractic appointment I dropped off some movies, went to the bank, and made a stop at our local bike shop. They are all in the same shopping center, how convenient! (so much more so than Manassas) And all within a ten minute bike ride away! I bought myself one of those obnoxious flashing lights, some lube and a rear-view mirror (to attach to my handlebar). I also ordered a basket for the back of my bike. I'm most excited about this. Hopefully it will mean less hauling junk in my backpack, or at least a lighter load.

Dude, if you don't have a bike, you should get one.

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Up Against the Wall

I am in desperate need of a new journal, but I haven't found the right one yet and I'm poor and so I will write something not quite as personal here.

This week, most notably the past two days, has been a complete and utter mess. So what's a girl to do?

She calls the boy of her affection 2348394827 times, texts him just as much and listens as his friends ask her where he is. Only, she doesn't know, well she has an idea, but not one that she likes, and so she sulks - attempting to go unnoticed, but that is impossible. So she calls some more and no one picks up. Then said boy's friend asks for a ride. She obliges. She drops him off. She can't go home because she's not supposed to be here, but because her plans fell through she's desperate for a couch to crash on. On her way to said couch some idiot hits her in Adam's Morgan, but she can't help thinking that if she had been with said boy she wouldn't have been there or even have dropped off his friend, because she would have been with him. And then when she didn't go knock on his door she ended up at 18 and T in an SUV's way. She's not blaming said boy at all, she's simply thinking of all the ways, reasons, why that night went wrong. And she comes up with this - his complete incapability for using a telephone properly, the fact that he was drunk...and she knows she's over analyzing everything, each detail to the umpteenth degree, but at this point she's leaning against her car in a frequented intersection flipping the bird to each prick that drives by yelling out their window - And so she calls Couch to come pick her because that motherfucking idiot of a Georgia Peach didn't have sense to learn how to drive properly in the District and so her car is not drivable. So the tow-truck comes, she writes down all sorts of information, and thankfully has all the contact information of the wonderful witness - who saw the whole thing, but wasn't being obnoxious about it like that other dude who kept bugging the cops to let him write down what he saw. The car is towed away and she is all shaky and quiet, and completely calm when most people's reaction would be to flip out. She didn't. She didn't even tell that Georgia Peach how stupid she is, because by God, that Peach is a fucking twat. So Girl texts Affection and is further upset, and gives up, but knows that if he weren't passed out in bed (two blocks away) he would hold her and let her get mascara all over his Thomas Cook shirt, that he most undoubtedly would be wearing. So Couch takes her home - their home anyway - and she attempts to fall asleep. unfortunately prior to the smooshsmash she had begun to get a knot in her stomach, the kind that develops as a result of combining hunger, stress, and the ever-present ability to appear forlorn. This doesn't come completely on purpose, but it's not an accident either. She's going out of her way to rethink, and hope, and pray, that this most surreal of evenings was just a nightmare that she'll wake up from in the morning, and he will make her toast, and hand her a glass of cranberry juice, and everything else he does that for some reason despite his idiocracy make sher smile. But that doesn't happen. She shits and crys, on and off for the next five hours. How is it that most people, when they get sick to their stomach, they expel their anxiety through their mouth and she through her ass? And eventually her eyes hurt to much to keep them open, but not enough to close, and she calls that insurance agent and tells the Nice Lady what a horrible evening she had. And that Nice Lady, notes the quivering of her voice and takes a pause and asks if she's okay. And of course they both know she isn't but she says yeah, I'm fine anyway. Couch is still asleep and Affection is not going to respond to her text because he has no idea where his phone is. Eventually Couch wakes up and they get breakfast, a slow, tasteless one served by newly immigrated Ethiopians. And then they drive around in search of the lot with her car in it hoping to have it towed to a garage, but that doesn't happen and won't until Monday. So they go back to Couch's house and she gets her stuff and is dropped off at the Metro, and her parents will come to pick her up in Springfield. But she doesn't go straight there, she gets off at Dupont and walks the four or five blocks uphill to Affection's building. The lady at the desk is unable to reach him to let her up, but lets her anyway because she recognizes her. And when she reaches his door, there's a long pause between the elevator doors closing and her knuckles beating the old door. He answers, uses the bathroom and then joins her on his couch. They don't touch. Or sit next to each other. The silence infiltrates the tired morning walls, until finally they speak. Very little is to be said. He knows exactly what he did, there is no need for her to explain what an arse he is, he knows, and he knows well. And she still wants to be the girl on his arm, if only one uninterrupted, one unshared night a week. They agree that she is not being unreasonable, but she can't stay, she has to get back to the train. And he offers to drive her instead. Do you want to? Yes. And so he does. And little is said, and they attempt to be cheery, it works, slightly. They are both still walking on wobbly legs, but with time will stand up and this will all be behind them. This is one of those "bigger" things that he had told her would come up. He knows it's much bigger than he had anticipated. And he's thinking of how stupid he is, and what if she hadn't been able to reach anyone? What if it had been more serious? They keep these thoughts to themselves. Do you love me? Yes. Really? Yes. And he drops her off. Now give me a kiss. (she turns her cheek) You know, I love you, you make me mad, but I love you. And with that she shuts the door and walks down the stairwell to where her parents are waiting. They don't know any of this, just that Couch doesn't live with girls and that people should be in bed early in the morning. And when she gets home, still shaken and not quite awake to reality, she changes out of the previous night's clothes and goes for a ride to clear her head, and she listens to this
song on repeat. Somehow it suits perfectly, maybe a bit uncannily so.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

If you don't get it, you just don't get it



As you all know, I work at the Haircuttery. It's not so bad, I'm used to being around people with different views than I have, but I never bargained for what I've found there. I also know I'm a snob and consider my opinions and ways of doing things quite a bit higher than other's; but sometimes there is no reasoning with people (aka convincing them that they are wrong).

At work last week on a particularly slow day three of us were in the back "reading" Elle and Glamour magazines. In them there is an add for Skechers with Tori Spelling in it. She looks weird, especially in those adds. This began a discussion that led to me telling the other girls of my hatred for Sketchers. Usually I'm around fellow haters (with the exception of my mother who thinks they're wonderful looking shoes but bad on her back), but unknown to me I was in the presence of people who actually like Everything about Skechers. I tried to explain that they are cheaply made (of plastic), have that horribly huge S on them, generally ugly, etc. but there was no reasoning. Then one girl started complaining about her back - this particular girl is cheap, very cheap, and overweight. If you wear cheap shoes with absolutely no support and carry a few extra pounds, in addition to being on your feet at work everyday, of course your back is going to hurt.


I've tried to explain to her several times that she needs to get inserts, to which she replys, "I have. I've bought those Doctor Scholl's ones." No, I tell her, you need to see a podiatrist and get custom ones made. She then complains about how much that would cost, but she's considering getting back surgery!?!?!?!?! Three hundred dollars on something that could help you a lot and avoid the surgery or thousands of dollars on an avoidable surgery. This is the same girl who tells me that she knows losing weight would help her but she's just so lazy. She has told me that she is lazy. AGH!

Moving on/going back, that conversation led to us discussing trailors, and me of course in my typical nature telling everyone that I hate trailors, too. Trailors are generally crappy, trailor parks are gross, and the people that live there aren't usually much better. I feel I can say this because I've spent plenty of time (not lately) around/in trailors growing up with family in the south where a double-wide is the standard of living. Ms. Cheapy apparently grew up in a trailor, and was now offended. I almost felt bad... almost.

The other girl with us could see where I was coming from but thought that I was being a bit harsh (haven't heard that before). I love this girl, she is one of the sanest people that I work with, exceptionally talented and should be doing so much better than the Haircuttery. And then she had to drop thie awful bomb on me a few days ago when we were discussing music. She knows that I go to shows fairly often, and asked what my favorite band was/is - that she's heard of. I told her the Killers. Her's is Nickelback. NICKELBACK! She thinks that his voice is one of the best of today, and that Brandon Flowers' voice is whiney! Whiney!?

I'm not going to waste my time explaining why Nickelback is the worst band of all time (and Creed, and Korn).

please watch this