which is, you know, a plus. For a bit there I was feeling a little picassoed. New word! New word! Instead of abstract... Picassoed! Well I think it is exciting.
I'm currently at the Coffeehouse in DOWNTOWN (any normalites will know why I put that in caps--"uptown" my ass) Normal, eating their vegan "coffeehouse hash." It's actually rather scrumptious. I love this place. It's so quaint, but in every good aspect. Not quaint like ignorant and negatively homespun... oh my. I think I just ate a rotten piece of watermelon. Well, phooey, Coffeehouse. (That's not in my hash, it's in my fruit cup.) Also, they're apparently *not* hiring, so my dreams of working at both the coolest place in Peoria and the coolest place in Normal have been violently dashed. On the upside, I'm serving at One World now, which has proven to be rather fulfilling, exhausting, and exciting. Hopefully it will also prove to be lucrative. I have a feeling there will definitely be days when I hate it, and I'm starting to fully understand how hard it is to NOT feel personally affronted when people either leave poor tips or stiff you COMPLETELY. For instance.
(Disclaimer: this is hardly a server horror story, it's benign. But it was my first head-on collision with bitter resentment and insult, so I'm sharing it.)
Three rather snooty girls came in, and they sat in my section. I was still in training, but they needed another server that day, so they just put me on as a server... cool, right? It was the small bar section (one worldians will understand) so it wasn't terribly stressful... and it was a Sunday night, so, I handled everything pretty damn well, I feel. It was slow. We'll see how I do this weekend when it's, you know, not. ANYWAY.
These three girls came in, and yes, it was my first table by myself, but I didn't do anything wrong. Really--I was friendly but not overbearing, their food came out on time, I got their drinks out etc, etc, etc. Two out of three girls tipped me 2 dollars each on their 17 dollar meals (that's not really that bad, not great, but whatever, I didn't care about that) but the other girl completely STIFFED me on a 23 dollar bill. What? What I hate the most is when people draw a line in the tip section on the bill, as if to say "Don't even think about it." Which of course, makes me do just that. You find yourself racking your brain, trying to discover what you could possibly have messed up, when in fact, you know (as does everyone else who works in food service) that it 99% chance was not you, and was in fact, her being a snotty cheap ass yuppie with too many facial piercings. (I'm all for piercings, but it didn't fit her look. And picking on her makes me feel better about myself, of course.)
So, the above PLUS the fact that Friday night I had an actual "server nightmare" where I couldn't seem to handle anything, my section was GINORMOUS, and all I could do was get drinks and even that didn't really happen (it was sort of funny. I couldn't even put the orders in for food. I kept mixing up my little pads of paper in my book, and people got really really angry with me. So at one point, I made all of my tables stand together near the back wall and I made an announcement to all of them. I said "LISTEN UP. I'm. In. TRAINING. That means I'M GOING TO SUCK." And that helped a little bit.) so when I woke up I thought... huh.
I think I'm officially initiated into being a server now. Being stiffed + a server nightmare (oh yeah I almost forgot!) + a lady who I SWEAR was on valium or something telling me how awesome I was in really slow druggie sounding speech.
So I'm back home. This is actually the FIRST summer I've lived at home entirelyl since... um, 7th grade. And I can't lie, I'm weirded. Picassoed. Topsy tipsy turvy. Not tipsy tipsy. I'm sober. Topsy sober turvy... eh, forget it.
It's good to be home for many reasons, but I feel like an air balloon just dropped me off dead center memory lane--but this memory lane is rather dark and cobwebby--it just feels like forever since I've even thought about this or that memory, this or that belonging, picture, etc. It's jolting. And it's a little lonely... but I'm not afraid to be lonely. I actually think that's my problem.
Am I some sort of anti-social freak? Don't answer that. I don't know if I actually want to answer it myself. I think I idealize solitude, singleness, the go it alone mentality. I always identify with those neurotic career driven women in television shows who are too busy and too used to isolation to let anyone in romantically, and then of course by the end of such and such they've fallen for so and so and ta dah! But I usually like them when they're edgy and lonely and sort of in love with their own bitterness.
Maybe that's it. Maybe I sort of love being jaded and bitter in a really twisted way. That's probably at least partially true. I guess I'm just trying to figure out why I graduated college without ever having a sustained functional romantic relationship. I know, I know, it's "peoria." I get that.
But maybe it's... me.
These are the thoughts...
On a brighter note. I biked today. I biked to the coffeehouse. And I am here to tell you THAT I AM OUT OF SHAPE. I was huffing and puffing like hurrican katrina. (too soon? I'm terrible.) But really, I looked ridiculous. Also, I wore a skirt because apparently I thought that was an appropriate thing to wear while biking.
It's not.
So that's was amusing. I also hit a curb at one point and a part of the handlebars jabbed my abdominen. Good thing I never actually wanted to have children.
Well this is getting kind of long. People don't read these anyway... Benassi, how do you get so many readers? Besides being amazing, I mean.
I remember my Xanga days, I was queen of the comments... okay, getting pathetic and embarrassing myself. Gotta go.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
On the Paradox of Sleep
When I don't get enough sleep, or too much sleep, I feel like crap. I become increasingly negative about myself, my life, and those around me. I feel heavy, self-conscious, and cranky. I feel unhealthy, and make unhealthy food choices and then feel guilty about them. I get zero accomplished, and I feel guilty about that, too. I usually get a headache, feel sluggish, and am much more likely to cry or have any form of breakdown or emotional outburst. I get sullen and quite. And I usually stay up much too late repeatedly, instead of going to sleep early and breaking the cycle.
I am currently experiencing the above.
I am currently experiencing the above.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Packing
would be a whole lot easier if I had less belongings. I know! Maybe I should have a... sale!
Oh wait.
My sale was very successful, but as far as "getting rid of everything"? Nope. I've still got a good chunk of things de every.
There was a guy who drove by the day of the sale (of the beer drinking buddy high fiving most likely frat boy --sorry--variety) who hollered, "Everything must go, eh? I'll give you... 100 bucks for the lot of it!" as his homeboys snickered in the seat next to him. Thinking back, I should have taken him up on that. It's not my problem he would have been stuck with a bunch of old (albeit awesome!) stuffed animals, paper back books written for a female audience, a bubble machine, some hippie clothes, Nearly A bras and women's size 6 shoes. Yep. I have small feet. And you know what that means. I have a small penis. Sigh.
I bet big truck guy could fit those shoes though, if you get my drift. I mean, come on, big truck? Overcompensate much? Not an original joke, but still, chuckle worthy. If you're confused, date a guy with a big SUV, you'll see...
Why am I talking about penises?
They are my least favorite thing, and I have no experience in that field, knock (oh brother) wood.
This entry has taken a bizarre turn.
Mom and Dad, don't read this one.
Oh wait.
My sale was very successful, but as far as "getting rid of everything"? Nope. I've still got a good chunk of things de every.
There was a guy who drove by the day of the sale (of the beer drinking buddy high fiving most likely frat boy --sorry--variety) who hollered, "Everything must go, eh? I'll give you... 100 bucks for the lot of it!" as his homeboys snickered in the seat next to him. Thinking back, I should have taken him up on that. It's not my problem he would have been stuck with a bunch of old (albeit awesome!) stuffed animals, paper back books written for a female audience, a bubble machine, some hippie clothes, Nearly A bras and women's size 6 shoes. Yep. I have small feet. And you know what that means. I have a small penis. Sigh.
I bet big truck guy could fit those shoes though, if you get my drift. I mean, come on, big truck? Overcompensate much? Not an original joke, but still, chuckle worthy. If you're confused, date a guy with a big SUV, you'll see...
Why am I talking about penises?
They are my least favorite thing, and I have no experience in that field, knock (oh brother) wood.
This entry has taken a bizarre turn.
Mom and Dad, don't read this one.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
love love love
way up north i took my day
all in all was a pretty nice day
and i put the hood
right back where
you could taste heaven
perfectly
feel out the summer breeze
didn't know when we'd be back
and i, i don't
didn't think
we'd end up like
like this
--tori amos
***
all in all,it was a pretty nice day. great friends, great food, great family... it was a lonely day because of the sort of afterthought quality of my birthday... but those who cared, cared :) and also, I was trained as a server, and it went very well, if I do say so myself. So ta-dah!
I spent my first day as a 22 year old with people I cared about and then learned how to make more money.
And I ended it laying on Elizabeth's floor giggling like two nine year olds about everything and anything.
It's good to know that when and where it counts, I'll never grow up.
Night.
all in all was a pretty nice day
and i put the hood
right back where
you could taste heaven
perfectly
feel out the summer breeze
didn't know when we'd be back
and i, i don't
didn't think
we'd end up like
like this
--tori amos
***
all in all,it was a pretty nice day. great friends, great food, great family... it was a lonely day because of the sort of afterthought quality of my birthday... but those who cared, cared :) and also, I was trained as a server, and it went very well, if I do say so myself. So ta-dah!
I spent my first day as a 22 year old with people I cared about and then learned how to make more money.
And I ended it laying on Elizabeth's floor giggling like two nine year olds about everything and anything.
It's good to know that when and where it counts, I'll never grow up.
Night.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
How To: My To Do List for Now and Next Week
- Clean House
- Pack
- Finish Sixth Season
- Finish 2nd and 3rd season of Buffy w/ Kyla
- Freeze that turkey. Steel resolve. Ready go.
- Get a job in Bloomington.
- Clean my festering kitchen.
- Actively avoid feeling sad about graduation by investing sadness in something much more trivial. Or at least, tell yourself it's trivial.
- Fail at the last part of the above. Succeed at the first half.
- Feel like a moron for not being able to control your feelings.
- Miss Asha and Ben and not be able to process it, so ignore those feelings for now.
- Attempt to rent the movie "Waiting."
- Fail at the above.
- Return wedding invitations. Muse about the idea of love and relationships and how deep down you really think you won't end up with someone for long term.
- Wonder what that says about you.
- Look for that car every time you walk down main street.
- Berate yourself for the above.
- Attempt to stop yourself.
- Fail.
- Miss your teachers, but not really? Feel guilty about ambiguity.
- Listen to Barenaked Ladies "Break Your Heart," "The Old Apartment" and "I Can I Will I Do" and a bunch of Ani Difranco and The Weepies. Also, that one song by Bjork.
- Write overly obvious cryptic blog posts.
- Remind yourself at least you have an interesting life, which is a plus. Secretly fear becoming a townie somewhere and *not* having an interesting life.
- Remember that you're scared shitless of dying young, and briefly get anxious when this thought crosses your path.
- Remind yourself that 99% of what you worry about never happens.
- Purposefully worry about dying young in order to employ the above logic.
- Wonder if you'll ever be a sensation, or a legend, or part of history. Feel pangs about the possibility "no." Feel shame for caring about fame.
- Regret never "going to the circus" with Ben.
- Feel the urge to punch his ex in the face.
- Wonder about theatre.
- Think about New Zealand.
- Think you're crazy.
- Be secretly proud of yourself for being so awesome and gutsy. Smirk to yourself, thinking how cool and nuts and quirky you are. Then laugh, tell yourself out loud in your empty house that you're a narcisstic bastard. Feel pleased regardless.
- Wish all of your friends weren't so spread far away.
- Wonder if you really are going to exist in a pattern, unrequited feelings throughout your life, never falling for what's right in front of you but always the unattainable.
- Try and comfort yourself and say, "no, that won't happen, you're just human, you'll find someone."
- Fail at the above.
- Make a lot more of this list and then have your internet crap out and lose all of it.
- Debate rewriting it, including feelings of missing friends, self-confidence, etc, etc.
- Eat some dark chocolate Kyla gave you.
- Decide the list is pretty much done anyway.
- Finish blog.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
I graduated from Bradley University today.
I don't feel much about it. I feel pleased and content, because I've been waiting for graduation for a long time. I feel sort of sad, not about graduation, but about specific water under the proverbial certain bridge. I feel sort of pulled, but that's because I know I should make good use of my time today by packing and the like, even though I'd rather just lay (lie? frick) around all day. Even though I should really fill out job applications and clean my festering kitchen. And I need to sell that desk! That futon! And I feel tired, but that's simply because I just ate a huge meal at flat top grill and now I'm sleepy.
Asha says the graduating seniors before us said it didn't hit them until winter of the following year... so I guess I'll wait till then, and perhaps I'll have more of an appropriate reaction. I will miss a handful of people, yes. And I will miss the lifestyle of college, my friends, my work friends, and my apartment, and Elizabeth, and certain professors and buildings... but the overall feeling I have right now isn't sadness, or nostalgia, or anything in between.
Instead, I just find myself with a big, wide smile on my face, (albeit with sleepy eyes.)
I don't feel much about it. I feel pleased and content, because I've been waiting for graduation for a long time. I feel sort of sad, not about graduation, but about specific water under the proverbial certain bridge. I feel sort of pulled, but that's because I know I should make good use of my time today by packing and the like, even though I'd rather just lay (lie? frick) around all day. Even though I should really fill out job applications and clean my festering kitchen. And I need to sell that desk! That futon! And I feel tired, but that's simply because I just ate a huge meal at flat top grill and now I'm sleepy.
Asha says the graduating seniors before us said it didn't hit them until winter of the following year... so I guess I'll wait till then, and perhaps I'll have more of an appropriate reaction. I will miss a handful of people, yes. And I will miss the lifestyle of college, my friends, my work friends, and my apartment, and Elizabeth, and certain professors and buildings... but the overall feeling I have right now isn't sadness, or nostalgia, or anything in between.
Instead, I just find myself with a big, wide smile on my face, (albeit with sleepy eyes.)
Thursday, May 14, 2009
My First Time... At Stand Up Comedy
I'm sure you are all curious.
I KILLED.
Which means, in "comic slang" that I did incredibly, incredibly well. By the time it was my turn to go, I wasn't even nervous--(the bananas, perhaps?)--I just got on the stage, dealt with the douchebag MC (story later in blog--sorry Trey, I know he's your friend and all, but yikes) and did my set. The audience, though small, really liked it. I felt confident--not nervous at all! How weird is that? And I even thought of a few quips on the spot that went over really well. For instance--my opening line was:
"How many closeted homosexuals do we have in the audience tonight?" And if anyone makes a noise, I simply say "Liar." But before it was time for my set, I had gone to the bathroom and observed some really interesting bathroom stall graffiti--"I Love You" and "My husband has a horse dick." So I started my set saying that I had a secret admirer, because the bathroom stall told me so. And then I mentioned the husband comment, and said: "... centaur?"
It was a small audience, but good--it was great to have both Kyla and Trey there--good job Trey! :) They served RC products there, not coke or pepsi. How 90s, right? I loved it.
So, the MC was a bit of a homophobe. I have a joke or two that elude to me being a lesbian (because I refuse to hide who I am, stand-up comedy is about sharing your life perspective and being yourself honestly, so I'm not going to pretend) and after I finished my set, he told me that I did a nice job and that it's important to find my voice, and that he thinks my voice would be better "with a cock in my mouth."
Yeah.... he also had LOTS of "faggot" jokes in his act, and he also rubbed the mic on his crotch before giving it to me for my set. I have my theories as to why he treated me as he did (involving feeling threatened by a confident funny attractive young lesbian woman) but regardless, I won't be performing there again--sorry Trey! I loved performing and I think you're great, but it's not worth it for me to deal with those kind of remarks. Nope :) Oh well, though. I can't really take ignorance personally--I don't really feel terribly offended, just sort of put-off. And, seriously, other than that blatant homophobia masked in comedy, I felt amazing about my performance, I feel in love with the whole act of stand-up comedy, and I can't wait to do it again. I better go refine my act and create some new material...
I should be competing in a stand-up contest in early June--I'll keep you posted. Because to be honest, since I'm taking some time off of theatre, I'm going to really pursue this. I better look up stand-up clubs in New Zealand! And Bloomington, for that matter.
The next performance I give, you're all invited!
Off to go eat some snacks and watch le Buffy. I really am walking on Cloud Nine--I feel so capable right now. The feeling of making people laugh drowns out ALL other emotions and cancels out the slander I encountered entirely.
A toast to Stand-Up and my new journey!
I KILLED.
Which means, in "comic slang" that I did incredibly, incredibly well. By the time it was my turn to go, I wasn't even nervous--(the bananas, perhaps?)--I just got on the stage, dealt with the douchebag MC (story later in blog--sorry Trey, I know he's your friend and all, but yikes) and did my set. The audience, though small, really liked it. I felt confident--not nervous at all! How weird is that? And I even thought of a few quips on the spot that went over really well. For instance--my opening line was:
"How many closeted homosexuals do we have in the audience tonight?" And if anyone makes a noise, I simply say "Liar." But before it was time for my set, I had gone to the bathroom and observed some really interesting bathroom stall graffiti--"I Love You" and "My husband has a horse dick." So I started my set saying that I had a secret admirer, because the bathroom stall told me so. And then I mentioned the husband comment, and said: "... centaur?"
It was a small audience, but good--it was great to have both Kyla and Trey there--good job Trey! :) They served RC products there, not coke or pepsi. How 90s, right? I loved it.
So, the MC was a bit of a homophobe. I have a joke or two that elude to me being a lesbian (because I refuse to hide who I am, stand-up comedy is about sharing your life perspective and being yourself honestly, so I'm not going to pretend) and after I finished my set, he told me that I did a nice job and that it's important to find my voice, and that he thinks my voice would be better "with a cock in my mouth."
Yeah.... he also had LOTS of "faggot" jokes in his act, and he also rubbed the mic on his crotch before giving it to me for my set. I have my theories as to why he treated me as he did (involving feeling threatened by a confident funny attractive young lesbian woman) but regardless, I won't be performing there again--sorry Trey! I loved performing and I think you're great, but it's not worth it for me to deal with those kind of remarks. Nope :) Oh well, though. I can't really take ignorance personally--I don't really feel terribly offended, just sort of put-off. And, seriously, other than that blatant homophobia masked in comedy, I felt amazing about my performance, I feel in love with the whole act of stand-up comedy, and I can't wait to do it again. I better go refine my act and create some new material...
I should be competing in a stand-up contest in early June--I'll keep you posted. Because to be honest, since I'm taking some time off of theatre, I'm going to really pursue this. I better look up stand-up clubs in New Zealand! And Bloomington, for that matter.
The next performance I give, you're all invited!
Off to go eat some snacks and watch le Buffy. I really am walking on Cloud Nine--I feel so capable right now. The feeling of making people laugh drowns out ALL other emotions and cancels out the slander I encountered entirely.
A toast to Stand-Up and my new journey!
Tonight
So I really am doing this.
The stand-up comedy thing.
Tonight. Last thursday didn't work because I had a monstrous paper due. But tonight... I have a ride, I have my trusty friend who said she'd still be proud of me even if I ran screaming from the stage, and I have... me.
I'm not really nervous yet.
I think I will be, though, very soon.
I also need to practice.
When?
Pretty much now.
The stand-up comedy thing.
Tonight. Last thursday didn't work because I had a monstrous paper due. But tonight... I have a ride, I have my trusty friend who said she'd still be proud of me even if I ran screaming from the stage, and I have... me.
I'm not really nervous yet.
I think I will be, though, very soon.
I also need to practice.
When?
Pretty much now.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
...
A few thoughts before bed...
Star Trek was okay. It wasn't that great. Perhaps I need to be a Star Trek fan to appreciate it. It was just a bunch of guys and the token female on a starship. Live long and prosper, whoop-dee-doo.
Sometimes, I wake up in the morning and I look in the mirror and I think "I'm the bees knees." And other times, like today, I go to bed thinking I'm a fool who keeps putting her foot in her mouth and is flakier, more insensitive, more impulsive, more catty and needy and juvenile than I like to think.
Also, sometimes I wonder if we, as human beings, don't simply exist just to hurt each other. I include myself in this--because today I hurt some people I cared about purely by selfish accident. Is it just one big cycle? Someone hurt, someone spared, someone made to feel special, and the day begins over again? Is it just a matter of avoiding being the one hurt? Is that why so many people lash out--make sure they're the one spared by default? I'm guilty of this too. What a complicated and sort of unstoppable cycle. It makes my head want to explode.
I hate not being able to be perfect. To analyze what's right and make the wrong decisions and judgements anyway. Perhaps I'm seeing things too much in black and white. I should put my life on the gray scale. It is, after all, the braver thing to do.
I never mean to be a jerk, but it's humbling and depressing when I realize that I can and do in fact, hurt other people despite my best efforts.
In short, today was a low self-esteem day. I just felt so lackluster--sub par, incapable, naive and small, apologetic and angry, self-centered and cruel and dismissive... so utterly human.
I need to brush my teeth.
I could also use a good cry.
A friend of mine brought up today that perhaps we focus on our relationships with others as a way to block out the rest of our problems--this makes sense. Even when I'm single (which is always) I'm always harboring feelings for some unlucky (sorry, low-self-esteem day seeping out) individual.
It reminds me of Eve Ensler's quote--Freedom is scary; Pain is familiar.
But how does one go about putting that sentiment in practice?
Perhaps leaving behind everything and everyone I know when I leave for NZ in September. That's freedom, right? And that sure is scary.
Sometimes I actually think it's easier to be alone, and other times I think it's the opposite.
Nothing is simple. What an original thought, Sarah D.
I'm done.
Hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow.
Star Trek was okay. It wasn't that great. Perhaps I need to be a Star Trek fan to appreciate it. It was just a bunch of guys and the token female on a starship. Live long and prosper, whoop-dee-doo.
Sometimes, I wake up in the morning and I look in the mirror and I think "I'm the bees knees." And other times, like today, I go to bed thinking I'm a fool who keeps putting her foot in her mouth and is flakier, more insensitive, more impulsive, more catty and needy and juvenile than I like to think.
Also, sometimes I wonder if we, as human beings, don't simply exist just to hurt each other. I include myself in this--because today I hurt some people I cared about purely by selfish accident. Is it just one big cycle? Someone hurt, someone spared, someone made to feel special, and the day begins over again? Is it just a matter of avoiding being the one hurt? Is that why so many people lash out--make sure they're the one spared by default? I'm guilty of this too. What a complicated and sort of unstoppable cycle. It makes my head want to explode.
I hate not being able to be perfect. To analyze what's right and make the wrong decisions and judgements anyway. Perhaps I'm seeing things too much in black and white. I should put my life on the gray scale. It is, after all, the braver thing to do.
I never mean to be a jerk, but it's humbling and depressing when I realize that I can and do in fact, hurt other people despite my best efforts.
In short, today was a low self-esteem day. I just felt so lackluster--sub par, incapable, naive and small, apologetic and angry, self-centered and cruel and dismissive... so utterly human.
I need to brush my teeth.
I could also use a good cry.
A friend of mine brought up today that perhaps we focus on our relationships with others as a way to block out the rest of our problems--this makes sense. Even when I'm single (which is always) I'm always harboring feelings for some unlucky (sorry, low-self-esteem day seeping out) individual.
It reminds me of Eve Ensler's quote--Freedom is scary; Pain is familiar.
But how does one go about putting that sentiment in practice?
Perhaps leaving behind everything and everyone I know when I leave for NZ in September. That's freedom, right? And that sure is scary.
Sometimes I actually think it's easier to be alone, and other times I think it's the opposite.
Nothing is simple. What an original thought, Sarah D.
I'm done.
Hopefully I'll feel better tomorrow.
Monday, May 11, 2009
oh heaven help me
It's 1:41 am.
I'm exhausted.
I've got four pages on my 15 page paper due tomm--today at 9am.
I'm insane.
Why on earth do I do this to myself? I don't really do it on purpose, though perhaps I do, because I clearly am never worried enough to start at a reasonable time.
I hate this part of all nighters.
The fuck-I-really-just-want-to-sleep-screw-this-paper-what's-40%-of-my-grade?-no-big-I'll-just-get-a-D-I-just-need-to-graduate part of the night.
The I'm--out-of-of-coffee-but-too-lazy-to-walk-to-the-library-to-get-their-free-crap-coffee-and-join-the-rest-of-those-in-my-same-rowboat-part-of-the-night.
The listen-to-my-pure-pop-music-station-on-pandora-radio-because-at-least-nsync-is-upbeat-tell-me-why-ain't-nothing-but-a-heartache.
The-I'm-hungry-so-I-just-ate-a-non-vegan-brownie-that-wasn't-mine-sorry-Elizabeth-part-of-the-night.
The-blog-instead-of-face-my-fate-part-of-the-night.
I need to go for a walk or something... but it's night time, and I don't want to go out walking in this town at 2am when all the sexual predators come out to play. I'll stay in my sleepy house, please and thank you.
Or I might just risk it. I may or may not desperately need a red bull or something. I hate those drinks, they're pure poison. But this paper is worth 40% of my grade. I researched ahead of time! But work happened, and poetry paper came first. I am not a right brained person. I cannot schedule to save my life. Or yours, for that matter, so look out! I'm kidding, you're fine. (No, really, look out.)
I don't have a lot of sources either. I have three books, two websites, and a shit ton of people I interviewed. I'm sort of banking on those thirty survey takers being the majority of my research. Oh goll-eee, what if I fail this paper? I want to get an A +++, but right now I think I'd settle for a C. C +.
Fuck that I want an A.
This is my LAST school thing ever ever ever--(Well, Sarah, not if you go to grad school...) EVER.
I wish I had a car. I want to go to taco bell or something.
:::knocks on Dana's door:::
Me: Dana, you busy?
Dana: Yep.
Me: Oh. (Pause.) Cool. (Pause.) Do you want to take a taco bell break?
Dana: Sorry, already went.
:::comes back and finishes this blog:::
Or possibly Holland.
Who wants to go Holland? I do.
"I don't."
What? Why not? Tell me why!
"Ain't nothing but a heartache. Also, I hate Holland. Asha says the Dutch are conceited."
I'm sure that's a generalization.
"Nope."
Sarah, don't be a spoiled brat. Listen--I'm sick of this. I never want to hear you say... 'I want it that way.'"
"I want it that way."
We're breaking up.
I'm exhausted.
I've got four pages on my 15 page paper due tomm--today at 9am.
I'm insane.
Why on earth do I do this to myself? I don't really do it on purpose, though perhaps I do, because I clearly am never worried enough to start at a reasonable time.
I hate this part of all nighters.
The fuck-I-really-just-want-to-sleep-screw-this-paper-what's-40%-of-my-grade?-no-big-I'll-just-get-a-D-I-just-need-to-graduate part of the night.
The I'm--out-of-of-coffee-but-too-lazy-to-walk-to-the-library-to-get-their-free-crap-coffee-and-join-the-rest-of-those-in-my-same-rowboat-part-of-the-night.
The listen-to-my-pure-pop-music-station-on-pandora-radio-because-at-least-nsync-is-upbeat-tell-me-why-ain't-nothing-but-a-heartache.
The-I'm-hungry-so-I-just-ate-a-non-vegan-brownie-that-wasn't-mine-sorry-Elizabeth-part-of-the-night.
The-blog-instead-of-face-my-fate-part-of-the-night.
I need to go for a walk or something... but it's night time, and I don't want to go out walking in this town at 2am when all the sexual predators come out to play. I'll stay in my sleepy house, please and thank you.
Or I might just risk it. I may or may not desperately need a red bull or something. I hate those drinks, they're pure poison. But this paper is worth 40% of my grade. I researched ahead of time! But work happened, and poetry paper came first. I am not a right brained person. I cannot schedule to save my life. Or yours, for that matter, so look out! I'm kidding, you're fine. (No, really, look out.)
I don't have a lot of sources either. I have three books, two websites, and a shit ton of people I interviewed. I'm sort of banking on those thirty survey takers being the majority of my research. Oh goll-eee, what if I fail this paper? I want to get an A +++, but right now I think I'd settle for a C. C +.
Fuck that I want an A.
This is my LAST school thing ever ever ever--(Well, Sarah, not if you go to grad school...) EVER.
I wish I had a car. I want to go to taco bell or something.
:::knocks on Dana's door:::
Me: Dana, you busy?
Dana: Yep.
Me: Oh. (Pause.) Cool. (Pause.) Do you want to take a taco bell break?
Dana: Sorry, already went.
:::comes back and finishes this blog:::
Or possibly Holland.
Who wants to go Holland? I do.
"I don't."
What? Why not? Tell me why!
"Ain't nothing but a heartache. Also, I hate Holland. Asha says the Dutch are conceited."
I'm sure that's a generalization.
"Nope."
Sarah, don't be a spoiled brat. Listen--I'm sick of this. I never want to hear you say... 'I want it that way.'"
"I want it that way."
We're breaking up.
--both hands--
I really need to stop writing my 15 page term papers in one day.
I start my paper on bisexuality tomorrow morning, it's due Tuesday at 9am. This is going to be such an undertaking. I LOVE the topic, I LOVE the class, and I LOVE my professor... but I wish this could be like a phd thesis or something--I need a year for this topic.
And I know I'm arguing for the legitimacy of bisexuality, but that's been done. I need to argue it from a different angle. The why, the what--I've narrowed it down to female bisexuality because bisexuality itself is a gi-normous topic. I really want to write about the lesbians vs. bisexual women bias, which may be the next narrowed down step. I got so many good surveys from straight women, and the male population, and it's a shame not to be able to use them. Ya know, I really want to write a book about bisexuality in the form of Ariel Levy's Female Chauvinist Pigs--approachable, New York Times Bestseller-able, funny, sharp, and really fucking smart and poignant. That's what I aspire to be. Fucking smart and poignant. Razor sharp. Zing!
Yawn.
I graduate this Saturday.
Hmm.
It hits me about once every three days. Right now I'm in the nonchalant completely shrug shoulders mood portion of the three days.
There are bradley folk and profs I want to say a big ole mushy goodbye to.... but a part of me feels it'd be better just to not bother. Not because they're not worth it, but I mean...life is a big revolving door. It might be better to just not say goodbye, because, it's not really goodbye, everything's circular, they'll be in my life again in some form, regardless. I don't know. Maybe I'm just telling myself that in order to avoid feeling empty and shitty and sad and confused, because I'm not sad--I've wanted to graduate since Sophomore year-so where is all this complicated emotion coming from, hmm? I hate that sadness pit of your stomach feeling. I avoid it at all costs. That's actually not true at all. I succumb to it whenever it comes to visit. Mais oui! I still loathe it.
Okay, I need to read more on bisexuality, sketch out a thesis/outline and call it a night. None of that will happen--I bet myself 5 dollars I'll fall asleep.
I swear, I would be much more productive if the good Lord had made me a robot.
bon nuit.
***
in each other's shadows
we grew less and less tall
and eventually our theories
couldn't explain it all
and I'm recording our history
now on the bedroom wall
and when we leave the landlord will come
and paint over it all
and I am walking
out in the rain
and I am listening
to the low moan
of the dial tone again
and I am getting nowhere with you
and I can't let it go
and I can't get through...
so now use both hands
please use both hands
oh, no don't close your eyes
I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
how hard we tried
how hard we tried
-both hands-
(ani difranco)
I start my paper on bisexuality tomorrow morning, it's due Tuesday at 9am. This is going to be such an undertaking. I LOVE the topic, I LOVE the class, and I LOVE my professor... but I wish this could be like a phd thesis or something--I need a year for this topic.
And I know I'm arguing for the legitimacy of bisexuality, but that's been done. I need to argue it from a different angle. The why, the what--I've narrowed it down to female bisexuality because bisexuality itself is a gi-normous topic. I really want to write about the lesbians vs. bisexual women bias, which may be the next narrowed down step. I got so many good surveys from straight women, and the male population, and it's a shame not to be able to use them. Ya know, I really want to write a book about bisexuality in the form of Ariel Levy's Female Chauvinist Pigs--approachable, New York Times Bestseller-able, funny, sharp, and really fucking smart and poignant. That's what I aspire to be. Fucking smart and poignant. Razor sharp. Zing!
Yawn.
I graduate this Saturday.
Hmm.
It hits me about once every three days. Right now I'm in the nonchalant completely shrug shoulders mood portion of the three days.
There are bradley folk and profs I want to say a big ole mushy goodbye to.... but a part of me feels it'd be better just to not bother. Not because they're not worth it, but I mean...life is a big revolving door. It might be better to just not say goodbye, because, it's not really goodbye, everything's circular, they'll be in my life again in some form, regardless. I don't know. Maybe I'm just telling myself that in order to avoid feeling empty and shitty and sad and confused, because I'm not sad--I've wanted to graduate since Sophomore year-so where is all this complicated emotion coming from, hmm? I hate that sadness pit of your stomach feeling. I avoid it at all costs. That's actually not true at all. I succumb to it whenever it comes to visit. Mais oui! I still loathe it.
Okay, I need to read more on bisexuality, sketch out a thesis/outline and call it a night. None of that will happen--I bet myself 5 dollars I'll fall asleep.
I swear, I would be much more productive if the good Lord had made me a robot.
bon nuit.
***
in each other's shadows
we grew less and less tall
and eventually our theories
couldn't explain it all
and I'm recording our history
now on the bedroom wall
and when we leave the landlord will come
and paint over it all
and I am walking
out in the rain
and I am listening
to the low moan
of the dial tone again
and I am getting nowhere with you
and I can't let it go
and I can't get through...
so now use both hands
please use both hands
oh, no don't close your eyes
I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
how hard we tried
how hard we tried
-both hands-
(ani difranco)
Monday, May 4, 2009
the moment of truth...
has arrived, unpacked it's bags (the moment of truth is androgynous) and will not be leaving anytime soon, it has informed me.
in other words.
I'm doing the stand-up thing. I'm going to an open mic this thursday. No, you cannot come. I'm not letting anyone come with me this time because I want to fall on my face in front of strangers, not friends. But if I survive said fall, then the next time I perform, y'all can come.
ALSO I have entered (well, if they let me in) a stand-up contest for June 8th. Yeah. I know. But hey, I've just got to DO this. I know I'm going to suck because I've a total novice. But if I don't get up off my ass and just do it... then I'll be lame. Literally and figuratively. And these boots are made for walking.
So keep me in your thoughts this Thursday. Pray that I get at least one good laugh--enough to rope me in so that I keep going towards this goal. I wholeheartedly expect to crash burn and bomb, but I hope I get at least one good chuckle.
Wish me chuckles.
in other words.
I'm doing the stand-up thing. I'm going to an open mic this thursday. No, you cannot come. I'm not letting anyone come with me this time because I want to fall on my face in front of strangers, not friends. But if I survive said fall, then the next time I perform, y'all can come.
ALSO I have entered (well, if they let me in) a stand-up contest for June 8th. Yeah. I know. But hey, I've just got to DO this. I know I'm going to suck because I've a total novice. But if I don't get up off my ass and just do it... then I'll be lame. Literally and figuratively. And these boots are made for walking.
So keep me in your thoughts this Thursday. Pray that I get at least one good laugh--enough to rope me in so that I keep going towards this goal. I wholeheartedly expect to crash burn and bomb, but I hope I get at least one good chuckle.
Wish me chuckles.
Friday, May 1, 2009
I love this song.
hour follows hour
like water follows water
everything is governed
by the rule of one thing leads to another
you can't really place blame
cuz blame is much to messy
some was bound to get on you
while you were tryin' to put it on me
and don't fool yourself into thinking things are simple
nobody's lying
still the stories don't line up
why do you try to hold on to what you'll never get a hold on?
you wouldn't try to put the ocean
in a paper cup
cuz i have had something to prove
as long as i know there's something
that needs improvment
and you know that every time i move
i make a woman's movement
and first you decide what you've gotta do
then you go out and do it
and maybe the most we can do
is just to see each other through it
hour follows hour like water in a river
and from one to the next
we don't know what each hour will deliver
we just call it like we see it
call it out loud as we can
and then afterwards
we call it all water over the dam
maybe the moral higher ground
ain't as high as it seems
maybe we are both good people
done some bad things
i just hope it was okay
i know it wasn't perfect
i hope in the end we can laugh
and say it was all worth it
cuz i have had something to prove
as long as i know something
that needs improvement
and you know that everytime i move
i make a woman's movement
and first you decide what you've gotta do
then you go out and do it
and maybe the most that we can do
is just to see each other through it
we make our own gravity to give weight to things
then things fall and they break and gravity sings
we can only hold so much is what i figure
try and keep our eye on the big picture
picture keeps getting bigger
and too much is how i like you
but too well is how i know you
and i've got nothing to prove this time
just something to show you
i guess i just wanted you to see
that it was all worth it to me
"Hour Follows Hour," Ani Difranco
like water follows water
everything is governed
by the rule of one thing leads to another
you can't really place blame
cuz blame is much to messy
some was bound to get on you
while you were tryin' to put it on me
and don't fool yourself into thinking things are simple
nobody's lying
still the stories don't line up
why do you try to hold on to what you'll never get a hold on?
you wouldn't try to put the ocean
in a paper cup
cuz i have had something to prove
as long as i know there's something
that needs improvment
and you know that every time i move
i make a woman's movement
and first you decide what you've gotta do
then you go out and do it
and maybe the most we can do
is just to see each other through it
hour follows hour like water in a river
and from one to the next
we don't know what each hour will deliver
we just call it like we see it
call it out loud as we can
and then afterwards
we call it all water over the dam
maybe the moral higher ground
ain't as high as it seems
maybe we are both good people
done some bad things
i just hope it was okay
i know it wasn't perfect
i hope in the end we can laugh
and say it was all worth it
cuz i have had something to prove
as long as i know something
that needs improvement
and you know that everytime i move
i make a woman's movement
and first you decide what you've gotta do
then you go out and do it
and maybe the most that we can do
is just to see each other through it
we make our own gravity to give weight to things
then things fall and they break and gravity sings
we can only hold so much is what i figure
try and keep our eye on the big picture
picture keeps getting bigger
and too much is how i like you
but too well is how i know you
and i've got nothing to prove this time
just something to show you
i guess i just wanted you to see
that it was all worth it to me
"Hour Follows Hour," Ani Difranco
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