The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Fourth Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Very Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Low
Level 2 (Lustful)	High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Very High
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Moderate
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	High
Level 7 (Violent)	Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	High

Take the Dante's Inferno Test

Good thing Dante was a crackpot, otherwise I'd be in for some serious trouble on the other side. On the plus side, I am neither gluttonous nor violent...nor DISHONEST when I take online quizzes, *ahem*

The Dante's Inferno Test has sent you to Purgatory!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:

Level	Score
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)	Extreme
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)	Very High
Level 2 (Lustful)	Low
Level 3 (Gluttonous)	Low
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)	Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)	Very Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)	Very Low
Level 7 (Violent)	Very Low
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)	Low
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)	Very Low

Take the Dante's Inferno Test

I went to SuperSportif to listen to some of Steven's old recordings. They were totally insane spoken word pieces, often in German with spatterings of Latin, but the tone and pronunciation are amazing. He was telling me today of some of SuperSportif's old shows. In one, Steven wanted to test the boundaries of "what is text?" so he read the side of a container of basil. In another one, he dressed up like a priest and passed out wafer-looking tabs of Vitamin C. Or as my precious teacher Naeem would say, VIT-tah-mins, not vite-A-mins. The British are so darling with their verbal quirks.

Today the sky outside the library window was green and drippling like a well-wrung sponge and I thought I heard the call of me and the other across time, red leaves, and all those brown Septembers.

Russ and I went out for a drink last night. It was trivia night at 1800 Club, so they were asking all sorts of questions Russ and I thought we knew the answer to but really didn't. I said Norman Mailer painted "American Gothic," and Russ swore there were 36 colored squares on a Rubics Cube. Rubix. Rubick's. hmmmmmm.

I don't know if I can be at all of the Keg festivities tonight, but I know I want to be there long enough to see/take photos of the Burn the Whore triumph.

My poetry class has been really supportive about my long poem. Even if they don't mean it, by seeing what I'm doing and placing well timed critiques between kind phrases, they've helped restore a lot of my confidence in my writing. Even if my teachers don't get it, there's something about my writing that my peers seem to understand, and I find that very encouraging. I feel bad for a few of the boys in class--one in particular is floundering horribly. I wince when he reads. No one wants to tell him. I think, in many ways, we all fear that we are that boy, not just in art, but everything we do.

I know that Nickd already linked to this, but it could be the cutest thing ever. Go!

Well well well, little Thomas Sherman. I thought you didn't like to put people on block because of how immature it was. Oh how the tables have turned. Talk about you? I didn't even know I was on block until someone told me. And what could you possibly have on me that I wouldn't/haven't shared with everyone already? I have heavy clotting during my period? I have a high sex drive? My breasts aren't as shapely as I'd like? Please. You have nothing.

Anne wants us to bridge the social divide and pretend to get along. I rarely pick fights, tom, but I’m not going to put up with you being horrendous simply because 'that's tom.' You act like a child, and I'm not always up for babysitting. Sure, that makes me a brat. Go cry to my friends behind my back about it. That isn't going to change the fact that you have made it so I don't enjoy your company, the way you talk about others and me. It's unkind, and frankly it's stressful, and I don't want my weekends ruined with stress. Go ahead and point fingers, it's all in my head. But making little cutting comments a la "why do you have to act like your 4 when you plan activities" is just so unnecessarily childish that i don't really want any part. It's not like I'm mad at you--I don't really think of you, outside of this post, or when other people mention you. I'm indifferently annoyed, I guess you could say. So bring on the gossip and the barrage, just like the U S of A and I'll sit here like Iraq and take it. I don't really care.

And another thing--my relationship with Mark is unhealthy? Sick? What do you know about it? Anything? I don't recall you asking me what's going on. By route of Anne and Adele--they don't really know that much either. They respect my privacy in the matter, which isn't much, since there's nothing to hide. He's a marvelous, wonderful human being, and I love him more than any other person I've known, with maybe the exception of my immediate family. He's a joy to be with, and knows me better than anyone. Yes, we hold hands, yes we spend a few nights a week out together, and yes, from time to time we kiss.

No, I am not always with him—at most we spend one weeknight together. I have other friends in poetry and classics whom I spend time with, and believe it or not, I do homework and go to class and work. So no, he isn’t ‘keeping me from seeing the group.’ Your ability to create group contention did that just fine. You think feeling Anne up while we’re trying to watch Ali G is going to make me WANT to hang out with you?
Why would I want to listen to you make fun of Tony? Sick? Mark and I are amazingly, brilliantly, perfectly happy. We know that a year from now, I will move away and Mark will stay in Chicago: there are no illusions. We will always love each other, and no doubt spend our entire lives exchanging ideas and stories. Are we dating? No. Sick and wrong? No. Who are you to make that moral judgment? Maybe I should avoid Russ too since we’re no longer dating…Come on, Tom. It’d be nice if you could stay out of corners of my life you know less than nothing about.

As for me spending time with you other posse people, it’s not that I’m upset or even annoyed with you. I have simply been depressed, and you guys are apathetic about spending time together, so it’s been difficult for me to get the motivation to arrange things or suggest evenings out. With spring coming, I’m definitely happy, and would love to see you guys. Preferably without contention.

oh dear heavens part 1.
part 2

While claiming not to be militant atheist – "It would be paying religion a compliment it does not deserve" – [Rand] denounced conservatives for their devotion to religion and tradition, dismissing them as "moth-eaten mystics."

Other favorite part of Adele's exceedingly funny play:

CARSON (turning to KEITH): Keith, would you like a cigarette? Here, this is a particularly rational brand.

KEITH (a bit bemused): "Rational...?" (A slight pause) Oh, I'm sorry, thank you. I don't smoke.

(Exclamations of disapproval from JONATHAN and GRETA.)

GRETA (lashing out): You don't smoke! Why not?

KEITH (taken back): Well, uh... because I don't like to.

CARSON (in scarcely-controlled fury): You don't like to! You permit your mere subjective whims, your feelings (this word said with utmost contempt) to stand in the way of reason and reality?

A giggle for the randroids (disaffected or otherwise).

Oh, and one piece of advice: Mary Jones, I think we all know that it'd be best for you to keep the ol' yapper shut. Ask Anne: I have a bit of material on you. Baby, it'd just be like the U.S. and Iraq.

Dude, what are you talking about?

For the purposes of this essay, "harmony of interests" is defined in loose accordance with the standardized liberal economic definition of harmony of interests, that is one dominated by laissez-faire principles and considering the hypothetical economic interest of the world economic unit as a whole (valuing absolute gains over relative gains) and assuming that this hypothetical ideal world economic unit's interest mirrors the economic interest of all individual nations contained within the world economic unit.

Yeah. I wrote that ^^^. And you wish you were in a class that let you write shit like that. :-/ I swear I know what I mean to say, though. If pressed, I could use my definition to form and defend a logical argument in favor of the liberal economic definition of "harmony of interests" (and the base validity of the term) over the respective definitions and value judgments of the nationalist, Marxist and sociological paradigms.

oh, fuck. That appears to be the assignment. At least I'm not a poetry major...or in tech.

Sometimes, we take the class because we find the topic hopelessly engaging, despite the fact that we will not emerge from the quarter unscathed by some tenant of the international trade system. In my case, I fully expect to emerge from the quarter harshly scathed by pretty much every tenant. And yet - - there's no pressing need for me to give an outstanding performance. This isn't a relationship, it's a class. And one of my last. Therefore, the only requirement is "don't embarass yourself". Shoot for a B+. Let yourself get a B on the midterm. It only counts for 25% of your final grade. If you convince yourself now that today's mediocre performance is easily offset by tomorrow's stellar efforts, then you may be able to justify an hour or two of sleep.

The whole "unconditional offer" to graduate school has blown what little drive I had to bits. Plus, I think I got an A/A- on my statistics midterm. And I would MUCH rather study numbers & equations and learn to do fun little problems than spend weeks with my head buried in the world's thickest course packet ($53.00). I could conceivably get an A- in statistics. Combined with an A- in my independent study...leaves room for a B(+) in globalization, because it is hard. And I am tired.

And I just got my period. So I'm worthless for today, tonight, tomorrow, tomorrow night, and probably the day after that. I do realize "but - - - I came down with my period at the worst possible time!" has never gotten anyone an extension, or a few extra points, or even an empathetic pat on the back. But I really am quite ill. For two to four days every month. Like clockwork. For the first two days, I get insomnia, and can't sleep or stay asleep, but am exhausted. I have a headache, a stomachache, and several backaches. And I am bleeding. Sometimes, when I'm extra lucky, I get the young-persons' derivative of hot flashes, as well, which tend to make me faint.

So right now I can exercise and slouch dejectedly...and, on occasion - when it really, really hurts - whimper. But that is all. I cannot concentrate on anything to save my life right now. Not even on kazaa, which is, in itself, proof of serious illness. Can't work, can't sleep, don't react to pain medication. Who doesn't react to vicodin?!? me. This is really a problem...I don't know if I'm going to get this done tonight. Usually, I ponder prompts for a couple of days, then bang something out the night before it's due. And it's fine. Because I've been putting together an argument in my head and because, when it gets uncomfortably close to the deadline, I'm suddenly capable of decent academic prose and Cambridge-worthy focus.

But tonight I'm really fucking sick. *moment taken to stretch, groan* Hence posting pointless crap. Blogging is good for hyperactivity. I think I'm going to throw-up. Or pass out. Maybe pass out. Give me three or four more hours... Certain of my female organs have never done a single positive thing for me. What a stupid fucking design for a human being! I didn't eat the apple; why punish me? I don't even like apples; they upset my stomach. Not that it makes a difference right now.

If I turn this ^^^ in tomorrow afternoon, do you think he'll understand and let me try again once I cease to feel like I've been hit by a truck? I'm sure he's never gotten an essay like this before.

If you would like to hear the extent of my obsession, you can go here and listen to me sing "Nude as the News." Tim is an enabler in my obsessive behavior. He suggested that we do this-- and he plays the guitar.

Anyway, it's the first finished recording by Tim and Adele's special new band-- Eager Hothead. All done in under 10 minutes. The guitar is plugged directly into the fourtrack input, no amp used. Somehow this worked. The best thing about the recording is that all the audio is panned to the left because I don't have an RCA cable, just an 1/8" to 1/8". So ghetto.

word.

The neighbors will think I'm crazy.
So what? They're boring.

WHAT is WRONG with me?! I just visited the Freie Universität Berlin Summer University site to retrieve some information for a scholarship application due Thursday, and they've just posted the syllabi for the classes. So I find the syllabus for "Europe's Economic Future...blahblahblah etc." and read through the topics covered and I realize I'm getting all pumped up about it..."whoa - yeah! a unit focusing on the initial market integration following BrettonWoods...fantastic! Germany as the sick man of Europe...the EMU and EU eastern expansion!!!"

so ! very ! unsettling ! and watch me not even GO to class once I get there.

Hola, mes enfants.

I have had a very busy weekend, which was nice. The sun has been out for little over two weeks, so every day I get better and less upset with everyone and everything. Pretty soon I'll stop picking on the fiction kids--then who knows what the world will come to.

Friday night Nick, Anne, Mark, Lakshmi, and I went downtown. 5 additional people were all set to go and didn't show up at the last minute, which entirely fits in with my conception of CM get-togethers. But it was all good, because everyone had a good excuse--especially Tony, who cut himself so badly shaving that he couldn't come.

The first place we hit was this Ethiopian restuarant called the Diamond Palace or some such foolishness. It was much too cold for April and as a result we were gritting our teeth all the way down Broadway. The restraunt itself had a neon sign (which is never good) and looked vaguely Mexican with colorful wall paintings and bizarre artifacts. The place was eerily spacious, and we were placed at a round table right by the door near nothing at all. I felt very unprotected and exposed. The food itself was terrible--I'm not going to lie. Good terrible, but still ick! Never again. I tried the gored gored rare. When they say rare, they mean raw, because the meet was a) cold b) bloody and c) bright red. All the food was brought to the table in a large assortment, and we were encouraged to pick and choose from everyone else's dinner. You're supposed to pick up the meats and vegetables with this fluffy flat bread that looks like a foam blanket. Everything was very spicy, but in this understated way, so you wouldn't know that you're mouth was hot until all of a sudden it was burning. Afterwards I think everyone's stomach was a kiln.

The surpising thing about Ethiopian cusine is how much it fills you up. There were many jokes about Ethiopian food all night, such as: "Ethiopian food? Isn't that a contradiction in terms?" and "Man, no wonder Ethiopians are so thin." These cracks were obviously insenstive and we are all very sorry for laughing at them. Afterwards we listened to some African harp music, which was sort of cool and definitly unlike any other harp playing I've heard before.

From the restaurant we walked a few blooks to "Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind," while Mark and Lakshmi trailed behind on a desperate search for chocolate. We had to wait in line for line 20 minutes. It was so cold. We are all so weak.

The show itself was suprisingly funny--they even had a sketch on "Mormons and other Human Phenomona" which I found exciting. They made fun of indie movies and "The Melanies," audience members and gay people. Mark, anne, nickd, and lakshmi all got up and danced on stage. I took photos. Mostly, it was just clever little improv sketches, but it was $8 well spent.

Saturday I did a lot of homework and saw "Identity" with Russell. We had dinner and totally forgot about the time, so we showed up at like 1040 when the movie started at 1015. The theatre was so crowded poor Russ had to sit on the floor. I had to watch most of the movie with my eyes covered. Suprising ending two times, but a little gimmicky. Still, I thought it was cool. I had to watch Black Adder when I got home though because I was so scared. It was nice to hang out with Russ again--he's so busy most of the time, that when we get together we end up taking way too much about ourselves in an effort to make up lost time. Still, it's always fun and I always end up laughing at things I shouldn't be laughing at.

I'm not doing gios monday, but I am going to be at the sherm from 7-9 tonight if any of you want to drop by for a little tete-a-tete. Do let me know.

I feel very well right now. I shouldn't, because I slept the day away instead of working on my Globalization take-home midterm. But I am. Because about half an hour ago it came to my attention that Ryanair has begun operating out of Berlin's Schoenefeld airport, which is apporximately fifteen minutes by bus from my apartment. This discovery means that I will save about $400 on plane tickets between July and December 2003. These $400 + Schoenefeld's becoming a Ryanair hub mean that I can afford to jet about frivilously this summer. Or, at least, slightly less infrequently than I would have jetted about otherwise.

Saving $4 makes me pleased. Saving $400 - - - for at least the rest of tonight, I don't care what I get on my midterm. :-D This is so brilliant. Now I can fly Aer Lingus cheap into Dublin. Dublin --> London Stansted --> Berlin Schoenefeld (good, since Tegel is in Northwest Berlin, far, far, FAR from where I live there) --> my apartment. Less than $400. My apartment --> Berlin Schoenefeld --> London Stansted --> Glasgow Prestwick --> Scotrail --> Edinburgh Waverly --> my dorm. Less than $400.

I'm so excited I could soil myself. But I won't. Instead, I will continue not to do my work and listen to theStrokes. This was going to cost me $1000-$1200 before. STA's quote was $1289. BA's cheapest offer was $1076. UnitedAirlines wanted both kidneys and half my liver. How boring has one's life become when finding cheaper airfare is the most exciting thing to happen in almost a year?

Things that make life sparkle:
1) Donald Barthleme stories with children
2) googly eyes
3) reality based tv comedy shows a la jackass and trigger happy tv
4) going out for the evening without fighting or contention
5) Things made out of cheese

"She just did it so badly. Her own diary was typically teenage -- maudlin, filled with 'profound' lines from popular songs, bits of her own dreadful poetry."

"Triggers are for pulling"

--The Boy by Naeem Murr

I'm a sucker for cornrows and manicured toes, Fendi capri pants and Parasucos-High saddity and city, with one or two clothes. I'm drafting them out of high school straight into the pros. Who knows? I know! And I love it when you make your knees touch your elbows and break it down low to the floor.

Was I absent when they announced that applying mid-90s hip-hop dynamics to the resurrection of Manchester's trip-hop ghost was a surefire formula for post-pinnacle glory?

I read 450 pages of Ulysses yesterday--all but the last 20 pages. It was one of the more painful days i've had in some time. At one point I wasn't even analyzing anymore-I was absorbing. Then I got up today and did 5 hours of Greek Sexuality and I still did poorly. And I'm not thrilled with my Ulysses performance, either--too much to say. I did however manage to pull from some unknown section of my cortex the interpretation of 'Penelope' as being a watery style because Molly the narrator was associated with urination and water, which is in direct correspondance with her husbands role as Ireland: if he is Ireland, then she is the sea that surrounds Ireland, at once fufilling the epic female's role as the moulder of male self-identity, as well as both a comforting, loving source, and the means by which Ireland becomes isolated, even alienated from the mainland, i.e. England. I hope he is so impressed he ignores my dismal other sections.

The one suprising effect of joycean babtism is an increase in fluidity and elevated timbre of my writing as a result of the immersion by fire, so to speak. It feels as though writing has once more become mellifluous: fewer rocks. I am doing babtism by Klima this weekend, as I must return that book to the library.

I'm glad some of you got to meet Allie Monday. She decided to go here next year. Tres agreable, elle dit. Do stay away from "Malibu's Most Wanted", however. Spend the money on "Bend It Like Beckham" Then cook full Indian dinner, vegetarian and meat dishes.

I love the way you make you knees touch your elbows.

I get jealous of pretty girls, and avant guarde shows. I get tired of working in 4 hour rows and it hits me right back, hos

I imagined I'd see a lot more of this in college.

Around 11a.m. today, two girls were hanging around the rock. One was prostrate on the ground with a broken television "crushing" her head. She read off statistics about how much TV Americans watch. The other was a tiny, cute girl with a flippy haircut. She had the cord from a TV tied around her ankle, and she dragged the television around behind her. She screamed at passersby, "This is National TV Turn-Off Week! Turn of your television and turn on your life!"

It made my day.

yeah. that one's definitely retracted.

I tend towards obsession. Usually those of the healthy variety, sometimes not (ahem).

Since I'm basically over my sick desire for all things Avril, someone needs to join me in my newfound obsession with Cat Power. Watch the "Nude as The News" video here, and then tell me that you are not totally crazy about this person and every song she writes or performs.

My life is a digression. Back to work.

Easter was lovely. I saw lots of movies (Holes thenewguy waitingforguffman amightywind anightattheroxbury bluebeard) and eating a lot. these are normal things. I wore white and brushed my hair and wet to church for a very nice choir presentation which had the entire congregation singing St. Francis of Assis's "All Creatures of Our God and King" which is one of my favorite hymns ever. I spent most of my time moping around the house. Margaret was in a much better mood, though.

I'm still not quite right. I overcompensate and talk too much and conversation is awkward. I am under the impression that I am a very bad person, lazy and ungrateful. All I want to do is sleep.

Mary South is the most darling creature in the world. I saw her in class today, and I imagine she will have a gentle life with children and marmalade, green tea, cats and shawls. Her husband will love her very much. She will write quiet, timeless poetry like Orlando's "Oak Tree" and she will dance in her kitchen when no one is looking.

where is fancy bred? In the heart or in the head? where is fancy bread? in The Heart or in The Head? clickityclackityclick James Joyce joysea makes heads sickitysick. Big fish in a little pond--wanted to be a fran with my own staplegun and armed to the teeth with irony tsktsk arms folded heads bobbying bobbing bobbobing to tubthumping one string guitars cutsprinklebecspecled rockstars. Allie talked shop 'bout them movies i made that never left the shop. shoppinghophophopping from one to the next, hoping, hopping. if i mentioned god and the greeks, would that make me deep? make me like joysea of intellectual elite? cryptic cyclic dizzy sick lines twist vines through hair like kelis caught out there not home, never home, pickup pickup pick up the phone pickup the phone truck. sick of being sick and sad or sick and guilty sick and lonely or sick sick, sick and sick, leaking and waiting for slough off the inside.

i'm caught out there.

good stuff I have heard/ read over the past few days.

"maybe I didn't know what I was doing, but that didn't mean it was wrong." -- Chan Marshall in R.S.

"Do me here." --nickd, explaining why a girl at Norris has a star on the butt of her sweat pants.

"Normally, I would be afraid to walk home alone, but fortunately we took back the night." --Tonatale

huh. So I was trying to work out/watch AboutABoy, and M_____ from the second floor comes knocking at my door asking to see pictures of Mark.

"Mark - what? *thinking...* ahhhh. right. Why?!"
"Because - S_______ told me you had pictures. Is this a bad time - I can come back."
"um...no? I was just working out...come in? It's a bit messy - I'll try to find them for you."

Many months after the fact, someone randomly fancies a look at my summer photos. I don't even look at my summer photos. what an odd request. The subsequent explanations/making of small talk really detracted from my exercise hour, and now I may not get to bed at a decent hour - - international trade negotiatons to read about. *hurrah* :-/ Next year, I'm not taking any political science courses. And I certainly will do everything in my power to avoid courses requiring biweekly mathematics problem sets and/or biweekly financial times article evaluations. My head must have been up my ass when I registered for this quarter's courses.

My early resumes are hilariously bad. I can't imagine how I obtained a job with my first attempt. It's pathetic. My name can't be bigger than 14pt across the top. I'm only looking back over the old drafts now because a scholarship application committee wants lists & dates of my activites - despite the fact the activities have no bearing on academic merit, achievement or qualification - they want activities. Time to embellish...

Adele! You'll never believe what happened to me and Margaret.

We were waiting in line for the payphone, and the guy using it...This guy turns around, tips his hat like this...And you know who that person was? Emilio Estevez! The Mighty Duck Man! I swear to God, I was there. I was like "Emilio!"

This is a note my sister Jordan wrote my mom this morning. Found outside my mom's door:

Dear mom,
I am outside to play. I'm not going in the back alley or to anyone's house. Don't yell at me when you see me after we are plaing, becuase if you do I will run updtairs and stay there and I would lock the door so I wouldn't have to go to school on a school day. I would only come out if there is company or I'm hungry. Go come outside when you need us.

wow. I made it to almost 1:30pm before getting disgruntled. And then everything's suddenly closed because of the Easter weekend, and I can't get a hold of anyone to find out my PWD scores (which, it should be noted, I was told would be relayed to me by last Monday evening). So "Easter weekend" = too lazy to work the whole fucking day?! Can I take May 6-8 off then, too, to celebrate my birthday? Offices closed...what a fucking joke.

I'm going to eat Starbursts now and watch MTV, since no one else is doing anything this weekend, either? Might as well join the crowd and waste time in the name of "religion".

A story:
I am in the library, shelving books, wardrobe doing its best impression of a migrant farm hand. Penny comes in to punch out for the night. I see Penny around campus a lot. She is old, quiet, and pressed with wrinkles. Slightly too thin. I see her bent over admiring crocuses and leaves. She comes over to the table to put her timecard in her wallet.
"You have a wonderful evening, dear." She says to me with soft-spoken warmth. She zips up her bag and turns around. We make eye contact, and I smile. Then she comes over to me (I am on the floor. I like to shelve trucks this way when no one is looking) and, peers down. Her eyes are like black rocks swimming in the low tide. "My goodness, dear. You are so beautiful." I started getting sort of flustered, because she sounded like she meant it--and she had no ulterior motive for saying so.
I replied with probably too much feeling, "Oh gosh. Thank you so much. You have made my day. Thank you." Something in my tone caused her to look at me with wide, wet eyes.
"Oh my darling. I am so sorry. But you are. I really mean it. You are a beautiful creature." Then she made me hug her skeletal little frame, and she held me for a few moments, then disappeared.

My poetry class has been treating me slightly differently since I made a much-too-revealing post on our class weblog. They seem to get nervous when I speak to them after/before class, and they laugh a bit too awkwardly at my self-depricating humor. My fiction class is awkward too, but I think that's because I fully admit when I don't understand something, so they think I'm very stupid, since the writer never admits his ignorance in front of his peers. Also, my comments are often funny, and since the class is filled mostly with prickly, too-indie-for-thou boys, I get a lot of weird looks. For once at NU I'm in a class where I like the girls more than the guys. With the exception of perhaps 300-level Classics courses. But then, we DO have Dave Kieley.

I could be the first in the universe who's glad I'm watered down. And that's why I get that shallow feeling that you lie, that my hurt won't change a thing.This could be our time

When you are critically dehydrated, your body stops producing tears, making you unable to cry.

My weakness is none of your business. That's why I get that shallow feeling that you like--I`ll never learn that I can`t win. I don`t want to make a row; you do and it's your loss: I`m around.

This could be our time.

Some small points on Jason Konik's otherwise stellar article

Now that the United States has gone behind the back of the very institution it has always claimed to champion, the UN, and attacked Iraq anyway, we must begin to see the reality that Iraq is now in the hands of America.

Now Jason, dis sounds kind hof dig somethin a hippie would say. me know wot me Uncle Jamal're insinuatin in da house, hand me don't dig it.

However, if American and European companies monopolize this opportunity, they are dooming Iraq to be a third world nation for a long time to come.

me take objection to dis 'coz fereign investment, dig me Uncle Jamal said in your second paragraph, is da drivin ferce behind most hof da economic growf hof a country. Havin fereeign investment, particularly US companies, in Iraqi is a good thin hand should not be discounted. wot Iraq needs, however, is moderation: da set up hof propa local economic opportunities as well as a stable government.

This whole "I work more hours a week than I sleep" thing is taking its toll on my skin. And those who've seen my skin know that it can't afford more than about a nickel toll - when it's doing WELL. I'm one more sleep-deprived week away from being declared a human oilwell. Venture capital funds, here I come...

While tidying up my harddrive, I stumbled across JohnMayer's "No Such Thing" which I hadn't listened to in awhile. The musical nectar of the yuppies, he writes. Johnny & that South African guy. I've forgotten his name...damnit. Every soul I went to high school with adored him...and Creed. DaveMatthews! right.

No one listened to "alternative" music in my high school. because. Illinois High School District 214 has six primary institutions - for "normal" children who follow the rules, academic AND social - and a seventh "alternative learning institution" for those who refused to play nicely. There was this little goth girl named Julie who went to my junior high, and was decently smart in some things, if I remember right. But she disappeared about a month into high school. probably more as a result of the goth than of anything academic. Her hair had turned a remarkable shade of gray when she turned up at graduation four years later.

But the alternative school for alternative people...explains why the proverbial loop and I have never crossed paths. "Alternative" doesn't go over well in all places. Certain Chicago suburban areas in particular. "Flagrant rebellion" = pierced tongue.

Also, come May 1st, if I have yet to post "rented graduation robe & stupid square cap", please kick me in the ass. And make sure I do it before I go to bed on the 2nd. Otherwise, I get to tromp across the stage naked.

Speaking of graduation, I let my father know that there's no fucking way I'm going to that Friday night commencement celebration of boredom. The idea didn't go over so well. But what can they do? I'm leaving. Plus, since I'd only be a dot on the field from the seats they'd have in the bleachers, it isn't like I'm robbing them of a super photo op. I'm not getting any honors or awards at graduation - why does he give a damn? I really don't understand. Graduation is expected - a requirement, not an accomplishment. I haven't done anything worthy of note. I've done what was expected of me. Why do people want to treat it like it's something that matters?

I wanna live in the Mylne'sCourt flats in central Edinburgh next year. The building lies literally in the shadow of Edinburgh Castle, and overlooks the Prince's Street Gardens, with a view out to the firth. brilliant. I find it all slightly overwhelming. So I'm not going to think hard about it until I'm there, in October, and it's too late for me to back out. But if I let myself think about it, just for a moment, I realize that I'm terrified. And still kinda young for it all. The bulk of my lunch was a daub of vanilla softserve covered in a mountain of crushed oreo. I am not as mature in the cynical mind as I may appear in the 70%-high-fructose-corn-syrup body.

I lost a how many Peep chicks can you stuff into your mouth at one time and not choke to death contest last night. My friend Marissa won. Five. And she could still speak. Doesn't have much of a gag-reflex, that girl. And yet shockingly single... Someone took a picture of me choking on neon blue and bright purple Peep-parts. Bright red, drooling, crying because I was laughing so hard but choking at the same time. I'd better never make anything of myself, because there are some RIDICULOUS, horribly embarassing photos of me that would suddenly surface if I did.

If I didn't have back before, I've got it now. *stupid exercise...shape me up into a pink A.Ho* I don't think I'm gonna prance about in a g-string & one-ply skirt again for a long damn time. Too much ass back there.

My family's Easter bash is going to suck this year. I'm making a brief Saturday appearance, then running for my sanity. The ill uncle & his family won't be there. I won't miss his bratty kids, but I'll miss him & his wife. They're my favorites. This uncle was like a big brother when I was little. I used to be closer to him than to my dad. And everyone else will be there, but - somber. Dad said they're planning to have a "holding room" for my grandma, should things get too heavy. Said she's taking it all very badly. And I will just sit in the corner with my "I got into a graduate school that doesn't suck and I'll get to study something that I like and live in a new country and I'm graduating from NU early and - - - " news that no one in my extended family has ever given a shit about anyway. I'll probably work on applications. Don't get me wrong - I like them all a lot. But I'm the "behind the ears" of the family. No matter how squeaky clean I am, I get ignored or overlooked. And the older you get, the less often people remind you to clean behind them. So I'll be there on Saturday, but only my brother and sister will notice.

My father has directed me to come prepared to "present my case" on Saturday. *sigh* He thinks my job at the business publications case is "not serious" and thinks I need to work for a senator. or something. to pad my resume. and get "relevant" experience. because "it has to stand out or no company will have [me]". :-D Yes. I do go abroad to escape my problems. And it works. Some people drink. I leave. It's a much more sensible means of escapism - leaving the problematic situation.

I fell asleep in Globalization AGAIN today. That's three Thursday's in a row. I feel so guilty. The professor is so good and animated. but. so tired. And the room is always so warm...

cause I'm young & I'm hopeless
lost and I know this...

I'm having a bit of trouble finding that song to download. I know it's lame, Adele, but - - so catchy!! I can't help myself. And my right wrist smells like pizza oil right now. odd. I haven't had pizza in a week. And why would the proof be on the back of the wrist of the hand I don't use?

oops. have to go now. "B" just came knocking to collect me for dinner. ciao!

Today I am sporting what could only be called my Caesar Chavez look.

A little about class today: Greek Sexuality taught me the archaic Greeks valued small chested, hairless woman and small-penised men. I mention this ribaldry (of sorts) because I know that the first item will make the Dancing girls (leesie and co) feel vindicated, while the second item will give the Wesley Boys hope.

I'm never too depressed to pick on the Wesley Boys.

Last night was Lauren's birthday. Mike Aktipis, Mark, and I took her to Chili's. It was fun. The waitress was a bit annoyed, however, that we kept asking for stuff and never leaving. There were a lot of babies there for some reason. Mark and I gave her an anime art book, which I think she liked.

I tried the Cheesy Crunchy Gordita thing at Taco Bell. Suprisingly zesty.

Poets have vision. Proseians, apparently, do not. I will expand on this when I am not at work.

My mom saw Guster and Ozma in concert this week. I am jealous.

It's a change of style. I want to be eccentric when I smile. I want to look good together with someone. I want to be a dancer. I want to be seductive. I want to be someone people think about when I'm not around. I want to be a modern guy who doesn't care much for the go-go or the retro image I see so often. I want to be rose cheeked like Mandy Moore. I want to be better. I want to be smarter. I want to be slicker. I want to be healthy. I want to drive down the road with the headlights off and pick up pieces of America on Route 66.

I want to tell you how it was.

Dear PSP Participants:

You have been enrolled in the workshop taught by Stuart Dybek and Mary Morris for the Prague Summer Program. The Teaching Assistant for this workshop is Arlie Dorsch, who will be contacting you within the coming weeks regarding workshop schedule, pieces to be workshopped, etc.

Hope to see you all soon!

Best,
Kim

Dybek. Oh my gosh.

PS Anne--Congratulations!

I got in. :-) Goodbye, Chicago.

Extrapolate me. This statistics class is so fundamental, I struggled to resist the urge to cast myself through a third story window of Annenberg this afternoon. That's what I get for taking a "math" class endorsed by the School of Education & Social Policy. What did I think we were going to do - learn?!? ahhhh sesp. I've been away for too long.

Today, we spent more time getting acquainted with the z-score table. And a good number of little girls remained confused. Then we talked about correlation. And more little girls were confused. I always sit in the furthest back corner, so I can stare out the window at the Lakefill. It was very pretty today. And I saw some lovely clouds. I'd forgotten how gosh awful MUCH-too-easy classes are. Hasn't happened to this extreme since high school non-tracked economics and sociology.

But, on the plus side, I don't think I need to worry about next week's midterm. "Given 'm' and 'r' for a specified population, determine the score necessary to achieve the 95th percentile. Yes, this is incredibly, unbelievably easy, but if you laugh, the little blond freshman sitting next to you will claw your eyes out. 20 points." or something like that. The point is, I'm not going to accomplish a thing this weekend, and that's okay! :-D

In fact, I didn't accomplish a thing yesterday, either. But it was a good day. Had some more good times. Still waiting to hear from Edinburgh, and my PWD scores are now several days tardy. But had good times nonetheless.

AND. Speaking of the CM. Mary Jones, you need a fucking lecture. No one else will give it to you, so I will. Listen the fuck up.

It's a change of style.
How come in all of your magazines people always look so mean? I know I throw them down.
I say it because it's true. It's a change of style--you're eccentric when you smile. When I laugh it's because I'm laughing with you. Rolling laughter, rolling over

You do not own Monday night, thus you cannot capriciously "cancel" it. Get a fucking clue. Do not reply that you always organize it, because you don't. You screw up all the time. You get "tired." You reneg on commitments so you can go do things with Mark. Case in point: LAST FUCKING NIGHT. If you hadn't fucked it up, Adele and Nick wouldn't have been stuck at Gio's alone, so grow up.

That's the punchline. That's the way it should be. That's the last time you'll ever hear it from me.
We could catch you but you're always changing. Yes, I'm rolling over--
I'm sick of that cynical kind of humor.

Remember this world is not so bad--it's coming off of you. It's been years, but I hope you change your mind. Man, it's hard to stand up straight all of the time.

You are not the center of attention. You are not the collective godmother of this social group. If you are, we should all be turned over to DCFS because you're doing a horrible goddamn job. Stop your passive-aggressive bullshit. Stop whining about how no one calls you to do things when you consistently make it difficult to do things with you by (1) devoting all your time to M. Roberts, (2) getting "tired" and other lame excuses like that, or (3) flat-out rejecting people's social invitations (ahem).

You know that I'm super
stitious, that I follow glamour--I'm so caught up, you push me around, and up and down.

When we,
(not you, but he and I)
were introduced, we both smiled because we'd been friends since long before we met. I never thought of you a single day. Yesterday I remember driving with no headlights on--we'd tiptoe out into the evening, never done such things before. But i have never frowned on it, thinking of you since. And all I ever do is think of yesterday. Yes, but I'm rolling over, sick of that cynical kind of humor. He drove me home for goodness sake, he could barely stand up straight. Oh there's a memory calling--calling way too loud and way too strong, twisting all the bad things into good. You're a lucky guy now--but you never know it until it's gone.

Man, it's hard to stand up straight all of the time

Life Ist Rad.

Cat Power's new album "You Are Free" is fantastic. And I am totally taken with Chan Marshall for all the reasons she would absolutely despise. But guess what? She gets my money when I buy her albums, so she'll just have to deal with it.

Let's face it folks: she's frickin adorable.

I did a lot today, but I don't think it would make a very exciting blog entry. I went a lot of places and saw a lot of people. It was good. I am very happy.

I can feel it too, Anne. the hint of sunburn creeping up on my flimsy skin.

Jeez, I love summer. Bring on the heat-- fo eva.

spend your lazy endless crazy days inside my head

I got a raise today. Initiated a "performance review" with my boss, and got a raise in return. A fifty cent raise. To $9 an hour. To do not a lot of not too hard work. This is a good. :-) And he's going back & retroactively applying the raise to last week & the week before, too. Which is very good. I've come to like my job. So much more than school. I have never liked school much. It isn't my thing. I'm not motivated. I've never been academically motivated. Interested. But not motivated. I'd sooner work 40 hours a work at the business publications firm for free & get class credits than get paid to go to class. Which brings into question why the hell I think going back to school next year hardcore is a good idea.

Also, I have a statistics midterm next Wednesday. This does not please me particularly, but, statistics - basic statistics - is so elementary that I won't need to crack a book or my class notes to get a decent score. This does please me. On the globalization front, I am one and a half weeks behind on my foreign affairs journal. I will catch up on it this weekend...hahahahahaha. Or do it all the night before it's due, more like.

It's just that I'm leaving soon. And - I'm having a good time here. And the "A's" v. "good times" tradeoff is skewed heavily in favor of good times. Because the difference between a 3.66 and a 3.62 will cease to matter on the 22nd of June.

Turns out my UnclePaul has cancer. They found a malignant tumor(s). The cancer is slow moving, but - - well. Cancer is never good, is it. And he has two very young children. And a wife who isn't prepared to make a living for the family. He's well-educated (engineer), but she majored in physical education as a cardinal-direction university. And my mom is the closest to him of her three siblings. I don't think she will take this very well. He's the only of her siblings she connects with. So I'm not whipped into a frenzy about the family Easter thing this Saturday. Because it isn't going to be very festive. And I think there will be a lot of tears. And long faces.

I'm already sunburned. Right across the face. I hate the sun when it's overly hot & bright like this. That's a primary motivation for my moving to Scotland. The sun can't get me there. Neither can the heat. I have to go buy sunblock tomorrow after work. To try to prevent further damage...my face burns like hell. *ouch!* And just from walking about in the late afternoon. ridiculous. I don't think my skin qualifies as such it's so ineffective. It doesn't keep me warm, or cool, or protected from the sun. It's clear. clear skin . SPF -30. Guaranteed to crisp at the first hint of direct sunlight. And I was wearing full makeup, too. Which has a decent SPF. But not enough to protect one of the pink people. My face really hurts a lot. I got a good burning today.

And I haven't started tomorrow's statistics homework yet. Fortunately, z-scores are elementary. I can handle it. I'll grumble all along the way, but I can handle it. I also have to exercise & put together a syllabus for that independent study. Or else, I won't be graduating in June. Which would really, REALLY suck. Not so much the principle, but the certain reaction of my father should such a situation arise.

In conclusion, I need to get more sleep M-F. because. I spend more hours M-F at work than I do sleeping. 25-20. Which explains the persistant exhaustion and my occasionally passing out.

motivate me - i wanna get myself out of this bed...no, wait. don't motivate me. that's the problem. Too much motivation = never in the bed at all.

http://welovetheiraqiinformationminister.com/

So yeah. I didn't make giordano's last night, and after i didn't make it Nick and I sort of decided we're not gonna do giordano's anymore. Not that any of you (with the exception of perhaps Adele and Anne) really care, but fyi.

thanks for coming. i always appreciated the effort.

slink33pie: i can't condone suicidal away messages. so watch it, missy.

Auto response from AlexiaIscariot: i really do want to die

slink33pie: maybe if you were 27 and on your third or fourth spoken-word album
slink33pie: give it time.

An Oddity

Cigarette smoke has never made me wheeze and cough like running does.

I decided today was a good day to start jogging. It was a fairly horrid experience, but at least it was over quickly. I am profoundly unathletic. I truly believe that my "has been working out regularly for three months" ability is most normal people's "haven't worked out in six months" starting point.

So the plan is to just go it alone, and try not to think about how utterly lame I am in comparison to other people. I have special needs, and I am against inclusion. What good will it do me to compare myself to people who are simply better equipped than I for physical activity?

Mary suggested last night that maybe contracting a disease was really the best way to stay thin. Maybe she is right.

hahaha! Bottom left. Could this be a product of SethP's presence on The Onion's staff? (thanks, Tom).

I have returned from Cleveland.

The primary purpose for the trip was to see Yo La Tengo. But moreover, the concert was a good excuse to just get in a car and take a random road trip--- away from school and chicago and worry and other people.

I enjoyed going to a show in Cleveland. The Beachland Ballroom looked like my middle school's Gymnasium/Auditorium. The fans were very sweet and friendly. Yo La Tengo played a very cool set. I liked their cover of Sun Ra's "Nuclear War" and "Blue Line Swinger" the most. Yo La Tengo wring intensity and excitement out of soft and pretty songs like no other band.

We met Mac from Superchunk at the merch table. "We liked your set a lot," Tim said. Mac said, "Thanks very much," and shook Tim's hand.

Tim's friends, Jack and Tom, were charming the whole weekend. Tom's self-depreciating sense of humor ("I would be insulted if I knew what that word meant.") and Jack's flagrant pretension ("I hate college kids; all they talk about is how much they like Dave Eggers!") balanced each other nicely. Sing-a-longs to the music from Jack's i-pod were a definite plus.

When it comes down to it, we spent most of the weekend in the car. But it doesn't matter at all. We ran away, like only college-aged people are really allowed to do, and we smiled and laughed and spent too much money, and I really couldn't be happier right now.

Last week I was in Lake Geneva with Conci and her friends. It was a wonderful, brilliant time, and I'm sort of depressed to be back here. Some boys down my hall went to Windsor, Canada to go gambling and drinking. I really wanted to invite myself along, but sadly I did not. I'm too responsible, I guess.

Saw the Notwist on Thursday. I've got some photos I'm too lazy to download. They were very pretty and very german--and the opening band was Styrofoam, which was a one man dj who's set sounded a lot like "Kid A." The only problem is that Notwist were old. And the audience was as excited as one could expect--but I didn't think the show was brilliant. It was just good. After 7 years of concerts, I think I may finally be too old now. After the emotional Zwan fiasco and the anticlimactic Notwist show, it's become apparent that it's time for me to move on. A watershed has passed.

I saw "Anger Managment" Friday night--it was cute. Was supposed to go out with tom last night, but it didn't work out. I slept 12 hours both friday and saturday night. I'm hoping its just sleep debt and not something more serious.

"Ulysses" is boring me to death. It's like getting flayed with a rubber hose.

http://www.rpi.edu/~harmsj/RUPEE/

"i could tell people what they want to hear; when someone says, hey... look at that guy, he's totally checking out my rack!" i could respond with and giggle, "oh my gosh your right! he's soo checking out your rack, how sick, but wow, 20 year old guys are checking you out!" but i wouldn't say that because its illogical, i would respond with my opinion, "dude, just let it go, he's not checking out your freaking rack." but that's not what people want to hear, now is it? so should i become a fake barbie telling everyone everything they want to hear? society is so stupid."

--My sister Julia, going through the throes of adolescence. Godspeed navigating those waters, grasshopper. Godspeed.

Did some major war development just occur? I live in a time vacuum, so I don't follow current events, outside of reading countless business journals at work...but I get the feeling I need someone to fill me in at this point.

Fell asleep in Globalization AGAIN. I feel so bad, because I really like the professor, and really like the class, and the professor knows me. But I'm too damn tired by 2pm to stay awake, especially in a Swift sauna classroom. We had three fans going that day it suddenly ice stormed.

what else...saw Tom. Or he saw me. While waiting at the light on Sheridan by Kellogg. Hung his head out of his car & shouted at me. Startled the hell out of me, since I hadn't planned on fully awaking myself after class, but instead sleep-walking home & sinking into my bed. So now that I'm awake again, I turn to Discovery Channel's excellent Thursday afternoon lineup: Storm Warning, Bear Attacks 2 - Grizzly Bears, and Stinkers! The 10 Smelliest Animals in the World.

no. I'm too tired for the animal-based excitement. better just go to sleep. :-)

Mark asked me to list the 5 things that I cared most about in the whole world yesterday. They are as follows:
1) scotch tape
2) Back to the Future Part 2
3) Velcro
4) quasadillas
5) protection from libyan terrorists.

I had a nightmare when I was 15 that I was pregnant. It was the worst thing in the entire world, because it was one of those dreams where I thought I was awake.

I thought poetry started at 1230 instead of 11 Wednesday. That was bad. especially since my first draft of my poem was embarassingly terrible and I ruined my oral report because I forgot there were 2 additional pages. My confidence in everything has been shakey recently. I'm nervous and edgy and jumpy, I hate everything I write, I forget to go places and skip work and space out when people are talking to me. I will never be James Joyce, nor am I meant to be. I should have been a pair of ragged claws scuttling along the bottom of the sea.

Saw a Latino movie Monday night called "Urban Poet"--a misnomer, since it was a glorified love letter to the urban labor union and tejano rap, but hey, whatever. It was filmed on regular video instead of film, so it looked like some kind of cheap Mexican daytime soap, which it kind of was. I felt bad, because the director was in the back row, and people were laughing at times that were not altogether appropriate. I did, however, get free jam pasteries and chesscake squares out of the deal, so it wasn't a complete loss.

I want to go to church again. It's been like 2 months--not because I don't want to go, but because traveling keeps getting in the way. I don't like it. Without church I get worn down by influences and negative moods very easily. It's an infestation.

I sadly, after 3 years of school, have discovered the boundries of my mind and my talent. I don't think those are things people are meant to discover, do you?

whoa. So now I'm the well-adjusted member of the CM?! that ain't right.

In keeping with the general topic of interest/discussion, I also have hair problems. But of the too-long-getting-ratty kind. For as long as I can remember, a part of me has wanted to cut my hair short, dye bits of it red, and spike it. But the rest of me has never had the balls to do it. Plus, if I'd actually done it while I still lived at home, my father would have disposed of me. Mormons + "extremes of appearance/dress" = STRONGLY discouraged. Which is a shame, because I was appreciably more psychotic in high school (and generally miserable in junior high) than I ever have been at NU and would have done it in a moment if it wouldn't have resulted in my immediately being carted off to 1) military school or 2) a shrink.

And now that I have the freedom to do it...it isn't plausible.

Still, the haircut I've always wanted being implausible aside, some haircut is in order. Because what I'm working with right now is abhorrent. Not on the same scale of abhorrency as the hair of my ex-roommate (the infamous, tar-based shampoo using, gaseous, disease-riddled, put used kleenexes in my laundry bag, left food out so we got roaches, curry power loving, "good music is Tibetan monks chanting" KarinK.), but pretty bad.

Studies have shown that - at least when females are concerned - an appreciable level of emotional trial is a contributing factor in many radical alterations in personal appearance, particularly with regard to the hair.

But I'm not being trialed emotionally anymore. Alles ist im Ordnung. No males/relationships in sight, enjoyable+challenging courses, plenty of girls around the dorm to chat with, plenty of things to do, decent job to keep me busy, graduating soon...*shrug* I broke a nail in statistics today - a pretty, well-shaped nail - does that count as an emotional trial? This week's emotional trial is everyone's going to see Pinass Thursday night (or is "just too busyyyyyyyyy") when I want to go see GoodCharlotte...a trial hardly of note, as my tastes in males & music are and always have been guiltlessly fickle.

Speaking of statistics, I was forced by the stupidity of a good dozen of my freshmen, female classmates to contribute during class today..."standard deviation" was confusing them. good gracious. And the teacher's explanation was just confusing them more. So I had to raise my hand & explain to them the *SO BASIC* relationship between the standard deviation of a sample and the mean of a sample.

What's truly embarassing about the situation is the fact that it's the fourth day of class and we JUST GOT to standard deviations. It's Northwestern for fuck's sake! If you're taking BASIC statistics HERE and you can't figure out standard deviations, how the hell did you pass the math section of the SAT? In retrospect, I ought to have taken SESP 210 BEFORE taking STAT 210. Of four class meetings, we have covered the following material: (1) what is statistics. (2) no - really - what is statistics - i'm confused. (3) central tendancies - what's that "x" with bar over it??? and (4) standard deviation - so easy it's hard!!!

WTF?!?!?!?!? And in globalization we're devoting the week to mastering liberal economic theory and comparative advantage. Also more than a bit irking for me. Basic liberal economic theory is something to grasp the first time - - when one takes economics in high school. By the time we're "learning" it for the fourth time - - in a 300-level Poli-Sci course listing basic economics and international relations courses as prerequisites - - the "Brazil and the USA make computers and shoes" example shouldn't illicit questions. And yet -

But such things aren't emotionally trying. They make me mad, and sometimes illicit anger headaches. But they don't foster in me a gripping urge to butcher my hair. Seriously though - this stuff is literally elementary. Positively, for once in my NU academic career, I really know my shit! Which, I suppose, is a nice way to go out. Perhaps I've picked up some knowledge along the $120,000 way. That, or the general population of NU is getting duller at a blistering pace.

Also, I love male professors. From my experience, a bad male professor is hard to find. Bad female professors, however, are a Yen a dozen. yes. a Yen. not a USD, or a Kroner, a franc, or even a Canadian dollar. A YEN. The only bad male professor I had at NU was a semi-senile professor of Chinese literature, who may well have enjoyed the StoryoftheStone upon its initial release. Otherwise, good men! I'm pleased that the distribution of European Law staff at the University of Edinburgh is heavily male-skewed.

Also also, after wasting a lot of time watching music videos this week (when I should have been studying for the PWD Business German Exam), I propose that Joel & Benji of GoodCharlotte have perfect pitch, an extremely rare ability! really. I'm not exaggerating either point. I think 4% of human beings have perfect (or close to it) pitch. And that's a generous estimation. So, two twin punk rockers, both possessing near-perfect pitch is something. Makes me jealous. I can play instruments in perfect pitch, and can assess pitch accurately, but I sing like I'm tone deaf. Just like my mother and sister. *alas*

I am taking an 11am train home this Friday, my sole purpose being to go shopping. for clothing. because. Then I'm getting a ride back to Evanston in the late afternoon, so I can get some sleep before the test Saturday. all of these boys and all of these girls - they're losing their souls in a material world I need some Spring skirts. And new flip-flops.

And a serious hair CUT. I had about a foot cut off after I graduated from high school. unfortunate choice. Spent the next two years growing out an unflattering, unstyleable bob. Look really nice in my graduation pictures, and really shitty in all of my Australia/Hilton Head photos. Fortunately/Unfortauntely, I do not have any of these shitty bob pictures with me, so I cannot post them. but it was a really homely phase. like most of the rest of my youth. Before I leave, I'll have to document the progression of my homeliness over time via photo-blog-entry. Fifth grade was the worst. But seventh was a damn close second.

Why am I still blogging? I have an inch of course packet to read for class tomorrow. And economics/fiscal policy isn't the week to get behind. Neither is next week...finance. And it's MTV, Jones, it'll be on again tonight, and tomorrow morning, Friday midday, several times on Saturday, Sunday midafternoon, etc. My business German professor said that my second practice German business letter was good. And yet - - B+ in the course. Because I didn't use overheads in my final presentation, I got a B+ in the course. Til the end of my days I will be wary of whatever industry produces those overpriced, eraseable plastic sheets. I write a damn fine business letter, though! as if that's a satisfying consolation for a deflated GPA...

Also, my DAAD proposal was rejected. Because the Undergraduate Chair of the German Department filled out my language evaluation and rated my German as being of the highest level in all four evaluation categories. And to get the basic DAAD summer grants, one must prove failings in one's German mandating German language instruction in Germany. But not getting it is good, because now I only have to take one course at FUBiS - European Monetary Union. *:-D*

I really wish I knew whether or not Edinburgh has accepted me. It would be nice to know which nation I have to relocate to in six months. If Steven were big & burly, I'd ask him to rough-up the postgraduate admissions people for me. Then again, I don't know one way or the other. Steven could be a body-builder for all I know. Then again, how many ripped poetry majors do you know? ;-)

The only time I've ever actually beheld the elusive StevenR. in person, it was from the back, as he charged into an El car. He had cropped, neon-blue hair. And now he is in Scotland studying something artsy. Consequently, my mental image of Steven is a composite of "cropped, neon-blue hair" pasted onto the face/body of AlanM., the cute young International Officer at the University of Edinburgh. If ever I meet Steven in person, I'm probably in for quite a shock.

"but...you were supposed to look like Alan! now my mind's eye is all confused. don't all males in scotland look exactly alike?"

I want to go wig shopping downtown sometime. Mary, Adele - pleaseeeeee. It'll be fun! and since stores are open during the day, it's guaranteed not to interfere *gasp* with Pinass.

today was terrible terrible terrible grey and cold and paranoid terrible cry yourself sick in the bathroom terrible.

And frick--real world finale was at 9. I missed it.

"what we need to do is develop bombs that can kill ideas"--Daily Show

Last weekend, Mary ran away to Lake Geneva. This coming weekend, I am running away. To Cleveland. Why? You know, I don't feel like telling you. It's my turn to be shrouded in a bit of mystery.

I am oh-so-happy to be going away. Because I really want to forget about NU for a while.

The only thing she ever asked
Was to live her life unharassed

Here's the essential conflict: I hate people, yet I am starved for human interaction.

I know that hell is other people
And I'm an essentially relational creature

I feel bothered by almost everyone I encounter. Is it just me, or have people really become more obnoxious lately?

At least the phone company loves me enough
To send me a letter every month

That's right. It's proximate rhyme!

So anyway, I got the worst haircut ever today. That shit is hideous. Don't let me get the $12 haircut anymore. Please? This chick made me look like I had been institutionalized. The top was fluffy and bowl-cut like, the back was all awkward-- the ends these kind of long mullety scragglers, and the rest a kind of short, but not uniform, weird length. But the sides were the worst. I told her that she could just leave them alone, but she insisted that she would just "shape" them a little. She made these freaking square blocks of hair that hang half-way over my ears. It looks like she made one single hack, much shorter than she intended.

I have never freaking cared so much about my hair before today. So I came home and subjected my hair to the kind of drastic treatment it hasn't seen since high school. It's a good thing Theron still has my clippers, because there's no telling what I might have done with those. As it is, I have a trash can full of fluffy black hair. My hair looks much better now. A bit shorter than I wanted, but it'll grow. I could have achieved this amatureish punk rock look without spending 15 bucks.

Do not go to the crazy red-haired glasses-wearing lady at hair cuttery! I will cut your hair for you for free and I promise it will be much better than what she will do to you.

I can't believe that my longest post in weeks has been about my hair. Although I guess I'm not the only one =)

Peace out and stuff.

I could be better at blogging, but really, what's the point when you're depressed? People just laugh at you for being self absorbed man. That ain't fly.

Some photos. i will explain them later tonight, in between commercials for sorority/fraternity life:

There's a memory calling--calling way too loud and way too strong. I'm a lucky guy now, but I never know it 'til it's gone.

I'll drive you home for goodness sake. I could barely stand up straight

porque?

Is the whole of Scotland "out drinkin'" all the time?!? Or just the Postgraduate Faculty of Law at the University of Edinburgh? I am quickly losing what little patience I have. It's 3:30am - I stayed up this late specifically to call the Postgraduate Faculty of Law and inquire regarding the application for admission I filed two months ago. I have work at 7am tomorrow morning. Then a Business German review session. Then statistics. Then a shitload of homework for Tuesday and applications to fill out and petitions to file and a syllabus to turn in. I didn't have sleep to lose over this.

Called the university's main number. The university's main postgraduate office was staffed. I was forwarded. The Postgraduate Law Offices - not staffed. Tried the two direct-line numbers to the Postgraduate Faculty of Law several times each. "There is no one available to take your call." fine. But, if Monday & Thursday from 10am-2pm are the office's walk-in hours, WHERE THE BLOODY FUCK ARE YOU?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? I do realize it's Scotland I'm dealing with, and not a well-organized, productive nation - but who's out drinking at 10:30am on a Monday morning? WHERE ARE THEY?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

I'm starting an application to the Freie Universität Berlin's Euro-Master's program tomorrow after statistics. I doubt one can learn much about law in an understaffed, whiskey-soaked environment. And I've waited long enough for a response. You'd think they'd have gotten back to me quickly, what with Americans having to pay double what Europeans pay to attend. All they had to do was write me a letter with the word "YES" typed across the center, and they'd have been guaranteed to make a profit of at least $10,000. Doesn't seem like a two month task to me...

shit. I'm getting a migraine.

at slow speed, we all seem focused
in motion we seem wrong

Bad taste runs in the family. Turns out my little sister has been harboring a crush on the same Billy for months now. my poor parents...

I need $1,200 to study the European Monetary Union in Berlin this summer. Two days a week. And to spend the other five days a week enjoying having an apartment entirely to myself. *beautiful* Now, to procure a scholarship to defray the costs of this...work. Not because I don't have it, because technically I do. But because I have it and want to spend it on other things. I work hard at the business publications firm. And get even worse grades as a result. I'd prefer to have someone else pay for me to study in Berlin. As I've paid for so many people to study at NU. Yes. I like the sound of that. Someone else paying for ME for once. *lovely*

Anyone read JeannieVanasco's shameful column in Friday's Daily? Poor thing...NU almost accidentally charged her family an outrageous DOLLAR for her education. Was I supposed to feel sorry for her free-loading ass? I don't know her, but apparently she knows my money. If that girl isn't using her free-ride to get a 4.0 every fucking quarter, may the NU drunk bus run her down. The fact that I work at a harder job than she does, significantly more hours a week than she does, and that SHE'S the one going to school for free almost gave me an anger migraine. I have a couple of waking hours left tonight. She may give me a migraine yet. I can never be a true liberal, because this welfare state stuff is full of shit! I will never support it. Perhaps if there were even a 2% chance I'd someday benefit from the system. But I never will. So fuck it. Welfare for roads - not people. Her going to school for free, thus not having to work, thus having more time to devote to classes and studying = my getting worse grades because I don't have that sort of time to devote & can't hope to compete academically with someone who has significantly more time to devote to academics than I do.

I am listening to 3LW right now.

Sign #2,346,981 that it's time for me to leave: The boys of PhiMuAlpha are trying to mack the girls in my dorm. Yesterday, they called the dorm president and invited us all to their barbeque/picnic. They try to coerse us into attending ClubAlpha. I was once invited to join several of the them on their roof becase they've "got sword" there (and there's no sword to be gotten in Hobart). *ugh* I've got myself - what can marching band sword do that I can't do better by myself? And then I only have to worry about me. It's time & effort effective and goal oriented.

I am ridiculously attracted to Billy from GoodCharlotte. He looks a lot like BrianMolko did before he grew up and started losing his hair & grating edge. At least one of my parents certainly will disown me if the next person I date is an androgenous rocker, alcoholic, tatooed, strangely pierced, infrequently bathed, uneducated, possessing of unnaturally hued/cut/spiked hair, etc. But...I don't find Mormon men attractive. Or most "normal" men. My father may end up terribly disappointed in me someday. Because I may end up marrying "below" myself. Or never bothering to get married at all. I'd rather sometimes be marginally treated/not able to introduce my boyfriend to my family/frequent dives or his skeezy friends' apartments/slightly embarassed in public - or be alone - than always be bored/unfulfilled/rolling my eyes/limited.

huh. no idea where that came from. Just as I can't account for my liking GoodCharlotte's TheAnthem so damn much. It's the white trash anthem for fuck's sake! I grew up in a comfortable Chicago suburb, did well in high school, went to a top university & can't wait to jump into a suit & grab myself a place in line. The song was written to lampoon people like me. But it's so damn catchy...I just can't help myself.

I made $60 babysitting last night. Had fun with the (young) boys. Pizza/movies/chatting squeaky-clean fun. Nice family. Smelly, stupid dog. But a nice family.

I want to graduate tomorrow. I'm sick of all this "college" shit. It isn't fun. It isn't amusing. And it accomplishes nothing. I want everyone to grow up and quit acting like fools. As soon as I leave my dorm, I'm surrounded by the RealWorld - NU "I'm socially awkward so I'll just pretend I never wanted to fit in anyway and do anything I can to stand out and validate my uneventful existance that way" style. When you're all finished being "alternative", good luck incorporating that shit into your resume. "Drank away my troubles" isn't community service. And the taxes you pay on that alcohol go straight to the government. That said, I do appreciate a well-maintained highway...drink me a fresh layer of pavement on the I-90, boys!

I'm in a pretty good mood today. But stuck in alienation mode. oh well. Time to learn about the economics of international trade.

Um. Theron? I think that Anne's point was that you were referring to an "Ann," but the conversation talked about an "Anne."

But that's not my point. My point is that you're an asshole.

Have any of you seen the ads plastered about campus asking for volunteers for the Niteskool music video?

There are three pictures across the top:
1. Sum 41
2. Weezer
3. Planet of the Planets

Why?

huh. Until a brilliant bit of witticism by Adele, the reasoning behind "loose" hadn't registered. duh. I suppose that makes me an academic? miss the forest for the tree...

The Pianist: first film I have ever been to after which the crowd remained seated - and silent. reverent. Even after the screen went black and people began to collect their things & file out of the theater, silence -

with the exception of a single, blond college-student type, who joked loudly with her companion as they moved toward the door. Utterly inappropriate. I assume she's a Tri-Delt.

Reverence. Priviledged youth shocked - for an evening - into a heightened sense of awareness. This sort of film really bothers me. That such terrible things have happened. did happen. not so long ago. Means we all have it in us, the potential to swing either way. Like sexual orientation. 5% or so at either end of the spectrum are entirely polarized. Everyone else falls somewhere in the gray matter.

Also, I have a star crush on AdrienBrody. lean & lanky, personified. That man can wear a suit. ! And, as Jones pointed out, any lesser man would be crushed under the weight of such a gigantic nose. The mark of true beauty: dead sexiness in the face of a generously proportioned sniffer. Also, AdrienBrody's German accent is better than mine.

Mark my grammatically incorrect words: Eines Tages wird Deutsch mein!

I'm going to begin keeping a Kleenex or three in my glasses case. Because. I am a softy when it comes to films (and most everything else?), and I cried all over myself tonight. What was I thinking, going to a film about the Holocaust without bringing along something to blot away the tears... Several times my eyes started crying without my mind telling them too. But alas, if I spent most of the two and half hours that is ThePianist in tears, did I hit AdrienBrody like smack, or like an emo loner at a DashboardConfessional concert-therapy session?

Conclusion: I am tired & should go to bed now. You should see ThePianist on the big screen before it's yanked from theaters. For once, I don't feel I was overcharged for my ticket - - I was undercharged. But it all works out in the end. I paid full price to see TheTimeMachine, Crossroads and DareDevil. CenturyTheaters still will have robbed me in the end.

I'm superbored, and supertired, but before anne and i go and hit adrien brody like smack, I'd figure it'd be fun to do something lame and self-indulgent. Forgive me. Questions lifted from leesie's website:

sign: Virgo
height: 5' 10"
color: pale green
movies: Pride and Prejudice, Moonstruck, Gladiator
books: Atlas Shrugged, The Passion, Jane Eyre
city: London
charity: Doctors without Borders
candy: Butterfinger
food: Cheap and Fast, Chinese, Mexican, French
-------not: seafood, vegetables
restaurant I've never been to: Nyla (Britney's restaurant)
dream car: Lexus SC430
actually drives: '98 Toyota Sienna Minivan (red rider)
holiday: Halloween
perfume: Boss, LaCoste (men), Acqua di Positano (women)
deadly sin: lust
can't resist: Pepsi, tall guitar players, pretty teeth, SPIN, self-fabulization
can't stand: burping, porn, animals, bad conversationalists, socialist writers, Michael Moore
afraid of: phones, the future, help
piercings: ear lobes, one now-closed cartilidge piercing
hidden talents: cross-stiching, ironing, cracking my thumb joints, geology, organizing fridges/pantries
quirks: shyness in large gatherings, talking while asleep, elaborate journal keeping
cannot: let go

MormonIceQueen: they're overcompensating for something -
MormonIceQueen: that's the only plausible explanation
AlexiaIscariot: sort of like Tom
AlexiaIscariot: but for funner

Why is everyone I know getting married or becoming a stripper?

I am posting from the shiny new McCormick Tribune Building. Ooohhh. Special.

I need a haircut. I just keep making it worse everytime I take the scissors to it. Does anyone know of a person who will make me look cool and punk rock for >$25?

class time!

I'm so tired right now, I've half forgotten who I am. Why did I sign up for the International Business German Examination?!? Worst idea of the new year! If I hadn't blown $95.00 to take this stupid test, I'd be in bed right now, instead of typing up a practice business letter due tomorrow in the review session - - to open contact with a firm looking for a business partner. I hate to have a bad attitude about this, but...

no I don't. I enjoy my bad attitude. What kind of dellusional fucker would think is fun? Maybe if it didn't have to be in German. Yeah. Then it wouldn't be so bad. I took German for 8 years and now that I'm finally finished, all I have to show for those 8 years are a 500-word vocabulary, an arsenal of B+'s and a life's worth of embarassing moments. And a video project and a website.

Then again, to pass the International Business German Examination, all you need to get is a 50%. Even I should be able to muster an F+ caliber performance.

Also, my taste in music, mere weeks ago showing signs of major improvement, has digressed hopelessly after a week at home listening to the stuff my little sister likes. Good Charlotte, Lifehouse & Robbie Williams...even she won't listen to Robbie Williams! But Feel...it's so - - mellow. And nothing like me. I think I heard it in the mall; that's how I got it into my head that I should download it & listen to it incessantly.

If one wants to be respected and taken seriously in indie rock and roll, he should write lyrics about things no one can question. People can question your pain and frailties and confusion. No one can question that child abuse is bad. I should write songs about how bad child abuse is. People kind of have to listen to that-- it's rude and insensitive to dismiss a rocker who has something important to say (like, "child abuse is really bad").

Then, I'll flesh out my album with a few songs that nobody understands (a smart suggestion from The Crotty Kid and Nate). Maybe round it out with some shit about peace or nature.

I will make no attempts to play guitar any better than I play right now. It doesn't matter how elementary my songs are: I am artsy, and I have something important to say, and I say it in a way that might make you cry, and people need to hear my message, gosh darnit!

I'll be signed to matador and on tour with Bettie Seevert in no time.

Some things need to be said about the show.

First of all, Queens of the Stone Age were fun. I think that can be agreed on by everyone but Mark. They brough shlock rock, they brought it hard, with droopy weed eyes and primal screams and bouncing sex-me dancing. The lead singer was big on the tongue action--lots of lip licking. I dug that. But then, I've dug Josh ever since I've seen the "No one knows" video. Bonnie turned me on to him. Like Russell Crowe and Raine Maida. Bonnie has helped me cope through many lonely nights that way.

The problem with shows at NU is the lack of crowd etiquette. As Tom put it, the guys become jerks and the girls become sluts. All of these huge, meaty men kept crowd surfing and breaking my neck. Aaron Berg (sp?) and I tried to rip off shoes to prevent them from continuing. In one case, we were successful. The girls in front of me refused to move to let poor little Lauren see, because they were "together" against the barrier. I told them they could move now, or I could move them when the music starts, their pick. They gave me the look of revulsion and contempt that can only be bestowed by the thin on the ugly. Frickin' sorority whores. And no water was passed out. And the attendees heckled the bands. This school makes me cringe sometimes.

The girl next to me kept trying to steal my spot. I feel down once and she was successful, so for revenge I stepped backwards, and Aaron gave her a push to the side. The lack of resistance caused her to fall back from the front, and I reclaimed my spot. The problem was she got angry, and spent the rest of the QSTA set pushing against me sharply, so my entire force went into keeping my space. As the result, by the time Zwan came on (after the hour long set change) I was exhausted. It also didn't help that I had been on my feet (literally) without pause since 12:30. The life of the librarian is arduous.

Zwan was amazing, and I wish I had the stamina to stay up in the front. But hunger (no food in 36 hours) plus dehydration plus standing fatigue made me lightheaded, so I left the crowd 4 songs in, right before "Honestly." Paz had a beautiful smile and a short skirt. The other two--Pajo and former-NU-writing-major Matt Sweeney looked like white trash, and Jimmy continues to bulk up on undefined muscle in his post-heroin state, giving him a thick mechanic feel. Billy was wearing a shirt that must have been 20 years old, and hideous cargo pants that were probably $12.99 at Marshall's. But they were good, and fun, and dreamy, and pretty. I wish I could have stayed. But i left--wasn't feeling good, and other complications.

The complications are too numerous to mention without looking delusional, pyschotic, or pathetic. But I think an excellent summary of emotion can be distilled from a conversation I had with the charming former-NU-student-and-Pumpkins-fan Jason. Jason was invited in with some other fans to give the Pumpkins feedback on the "Machina" demos. After that, he got free tickets to shows, he met Billy a few times, and he was even at the last Metro show. He had seen Zwan in concert several times, ad he said "I have to buy tickets like everyone else now. I'm nobody special anymore." Of course he said it very lightly and with humor, but that comment stuck with me. I went to so many SP signings, hung out at backdoors, went to so many small clubs, front row for every arena show, that by the time the Machina tour/ final show came around, I was recognized by the band. And I'm not anymore. I'm just another fan; I was part of something that's dead. I don't have the energy or the lack of dignity anymore to follow a band around and try and make myself someone special. The reasons why this bothers me are pathetic; but there we are all the same.

After the show Billy was walking off stage, and he did a double take and stared in my direction. There was no one around me, and I wanted so much for him to recognize me. But you know what? for the first time in my life I can walk away from a live experience with Billy corgan and know he didn't look at me. I don't really exist, do I?

But at the same time, he is amazingly charasmatic, and he is amazingly happy, and he is intelligent and funny and bratty. So I'll keep going to shows, and keep regretting it.

Other new developments in my life:
1) I am going away to Lake Geneva this weekend with a group of actors and poets, if all goes according to plan. This will be weird.
2) I am spending June 28-August 1 in Prague studying Conversational Czech, Prague culture, and Fiction Writing
3) I am now a member of Naeem Murr's fiction class. Everyone in that class is razor sharp and brilliant. I am intimidated. For now
4) Dave Kieley (how is that spelled?) Has become my favorite person in a classroom setting. He sits their in silence whilee veryone pontificates and makes these lofty, grandiloquent pompous remarks, and then shoot off with something so obvious, so common sense, yet so utterly brilliant that I just sit it utter admiration. Arguing with this boy over literature is like fencing. I adore him. He's one of the smartest kids I know. I get so little common sense in the English department that Dave has become sort of a jewel.
5) Got blown off by Dave Choate in the elevator today. I guess he figured out that he finally offended me enough to get me to dislike him. The question is, will this affect our relationship? I don't think so. I'm often able to have relationships and interactions with people for long periods of time that resemble friendship, only I do not like the person, and that person often (though not always) despises me. This hatred/dislike/annoyance is never manifest, but rather is an unspoken understanding. I think this is the best way to go through life--it keeps from messy confrontations.

AlexiaIscariot: i took 2.5 pages of notes for you today
Credonemo: good lord, you're good.
AlexiaIscariot: how was MCAT cramming?
Credonemo: it seems to be going fine. that's not why i wasn't in class today though.
Credonemo: i got hit in the face and eye with a potential neurotoxin in bio lab and had to go see a toxicologist today.

One Saturday when I was in early high school, I was dragged along with my family to the church cornfest (yes - the cornfest - it's an annual event). When we got there, a set of Mormon missionaries had been armed with "Hello: My Name Is" name tags & magic markers, instructed to tag everyone before letting them in. When I got to the front of the line & told the missionary closest to me "my name is Anne", he looked up (down...he was kinda tall) and asked - in complete seriousness - "how many n's?"

Which brings me to my point:

The, otherperson - let's mind our e's, shall we? I am annE; I belong to the CM. You meant to write about anN. annE & anN are not the same girl.

The wesley blog has turned into a The forum. But, you can't really annex it, The. Even if its owners are neglecting it...because - you already have a blog. Then again, I guess I have two.

My gauge for determining when I've been in one place for two long is based upon people sightings. This afternoon was the strongest evidence yet that I need to graduate and leave asap. Not because I don't like people, or NU or Evanston. But because I do so like annonimity. I want to wake up in the morning - late - neglect to shower, throw on a high school honors assembly T-shirts and pants I haven't washed in a month, splash a handful of water over my face and charge off into my day, secure in the comfort of knowing that, however awful I look/smell, no one I know will see/smell me, so it doesn't matter.

And I can't do that here anymore.

Example: people sightings between leaving Globalization 348 in Swift Hall and arriving at Professor Dreyer's office Scott Hall (with a stopover for Sour Patch Kids at Norris).

1) KimK in the lobby of Swift. Not too notable, as she's in the class, but still - she was loitering in the lobby as I walked by = people sighting.

2) Neha walking North past Swift.

3) Alex S. walking North along the lakefill.

4) Danya from my dorm purchasing a carton of cookie dough ice cream at Norris.

5) Dave Choate strolling down the steps from the library toward Norris. Didn't notice me half-trip up the library steps in the other direction, as his clean-shaven(!) face was buried in a newspaper. Clean-shaven...hmm. Perhaps is wasn't Dave; I wasn't wearing my glasses at the time. But he was no further than a yard from me...80% chance it was --> notable people sighting.

6) Danya, again, walking East toward Sheridan.

7) Jeff E. ala the Business German program leaving Professor Dreyer's office in Scott Hall. As we chatted, who should burst forth from a corridor & charge down the hall past us, but...

8) a massive NU basketball player from Globalization 348 who happened to be sitting next to me in class today.

And the people sightings come full circle: Globalization 348 to Globalization 348.

But I doubt going somewhere new will mean an end to the people sightings. There was a day in Edinburgh last December when I passed several random people (one of them a Scottish girl shoe-horned into the most horrendous pair of gaudily striped stretch jeans) multiple times in different areas of the city, twice nearly ran into a group of uncouth Americans ($100 they were state-schoolers from somewhere in the rural Southwest) who spent three days and a night at the same hostel I was staying in, and a couple of times chanced upon my Canadian roommate Valerie on her way home from work.

Is there nowhere a young woman can feel safe in the neglect of her appearance?!?

I updated my pictures from spring break with some captions and explanations, plus 2 spring break stories. See April 1st entry.

I wonder what it feels like to be adored. I wonder what it feels like to be Billy Corgan.

"But wherever you go in France, you will find that their three chief occupations are making love, backbiting, and talking nonsense."--Voltaire

My impressions of Zwan tonight:
Imagine you absolutly adore your wife, and one day you find out she has cheated on you. You love her so much in fact that when she confesses she has had an affair and is leaving you, you allow her to go, because you want her to be happy. And let's say many years later your now ex-wife calls you up and wants to go out for coffee, and when you see her, she is as beautiful as ever, her laugh lines are more prominent maybe, but the changes are charming. She talks about the weather, her new life, her kids, and you can see her happiness is genuine. She thanks you for all that you did to contribute to her present happiness. And as she talks, you stare, with a mixture of love and nostalgia, but also hurt and emptiness and somehow, you still feel betrayed. After all this time, you still love her just as much--even more. She hasn't changed, but somehow, you have.

Maybe it would have been better for me if I hadn't gone to this show.

1. My family and I frequent Joe's--a New York style pizza place near the movie theater. Girl with the black hair is Allie. She is Margaret's friend. She doesn't like meat.

2. Joe's interior. Unlike Campizi's pizza, Joe's is not run by the mafia

3. This is allie. Some bi-otch said she was ugly. I disagree

4. Margaret has pretty hair. She doesn't like this photo. She says it makes her look fat

5.This is my sister Jordan's friend. Her face and eyes remind me of the little girls on victorian postcards

6. This is the George Bush freeway. Wheeeeee!

7. Julia wanted to straighten my hair over break so I could look like Avril Lavigne. Don't I look deep, yet slightly crazy but internally cute? Neither do I.

8.Julia likes to pretend she is a model

9. This is zach playing block castles with his friend Rachel. They are supercute

10. Rachel looking devilish. She's madly in love with Zach--she tries to kiss him all the time. Zach, however, is interested in older girls--specifically the ones in catalogues and VH1's "Rock Bodies." We ccan no longer watch certain shows with my brother in the room.

11. We watch Fox News on "the bed" in my parents room--the hubbub of all activity in the home

12. This is the sell-out crowd opening night at the core.. ooooooohhhh, its gonna be a smash!

13. Dad and Julia, ready for some hot sci-fi action

14. Ryan and Allie at "The Core." Can you believe I had to drag everyone to see that movie? No one wanted to go! What has the earth come to? Apparently, killer microwaves.

15. Story: We have our feet propped up against the backs of the chairs when baseball cap comes in front of us and knocks our shoes off, cursing under his breath. We were looking at my digital camera, so we (all 4 of us with propped feet) hadn't noticed the couple entering the row. They hadn't even bothered to clear their throats, or even wait a moment for us to move our feet. No, they waltzed in, hit our feet, sat down, and started whispering about "frickin' kids." The problem was, they were white trash, and kept saying "I done told you" and "daggummit" so of course we start saying "daggummit Margaret, why you done do that for?" and talking about how rude some people were. Then Ryan spits a Sour patch kid and instead of landing on the rail like it was supposed to it landed in the empty seat in front of him, on baseball caps jacket. And my dad told me to stop it because the guy kept sighing and turning around and my dad was sure he had a gun and was going to kill us. Luckily, after some moments of very tense silence, the couple stormed out of the theater. Score one for the kids.

16.Julia eats popcorn, despite the fact she has braces

17. Another reason why my mom is cooler than your mom:

18. Zach took this photo of me on the way to the airport. Story 2: I ended up getting dropped off at the wrong terminal 25 minutes before my flight. In DFW, you are screwed if you do that. I had no money for a taxi, and you can't walk to terminal C in less than an hour, the tram takes 35 minutes. So I run outside and see, like a vision, the American Airlines shuttle. I ask the man if it was going to C and he said yes. He took me early so I wouldn't miss my flight. He was from a Pourugese speaking African island in the Atlantic, and was a 7th day Adventist (sp?) He gave me a copy of a book of numerology and the end of the world as a present. I had 5 minutes before my plan took off when I arrived at the terminal. Wicked scary.