Wanna know what's been on repeat on my iTunes for the past week? I bet you would.
It's a little group called "Safe Inside," and I know many of you have heard of them, but they are worth a look. The group is made up of two guys, Mike and Alex, from Roch-town (my hometown, so obviously they rock the shit).
Hold on, you haven't heard the best yet (<- Where have I heard that before?). Their EP is only five bucks! If you feel the need to hear some more, which you do, check out their myspace page at http://www.myspace.com/safeinside and click on the paypal link.
You won't regret a cent or second spent.
--- --- --- ---
So, that was my plug for the music scene, now back to your scheduled, angst programming.
I went through my past blogs earlier this morning, and I read them all. It is so interesting what you remember, and what you forget about yourself. I've only had this one since last July, and there is so much here. Those of you hailing from facebook, you only have the newer ones, to view the whole truth, you've gotta head on over to http://letsheatitup.blogspot.com!
"Like Halloween or Madri Gras,
We dress to sell our lies.
There's gotta be something more
than the air over my head.
I'm sick and I'm tired
of those who don't care."
Though you may have guessed it, you probably didn't expect it. I am hailing Caribou again as a place of refuge. My boss told me today that I can keep coming to work, but he literally doesn't have anything that I can really do. I guess that means free money to blow on coffee and start saving for laSpringBreak in Cali.
Honestly, I've got birds in my ears that tell me California is material paradise. Is it sad that I view California as the cliche? The devil on my shoulder is telling me to hate perfection, just to spite the millions that love it.
I realized it earlier this morning that I can't tell my own motives for action. Am I growing my hair out because of the who people tell me to, the people who tell me not to, or do I actually want longer hair for once in my life? Does it matter? Maybe not...
Okay, so in more outstanding news, I've decided I'm taking twenty-three credits next semester. By summer, I will literally be finished with my Liberal Education Requirements, which is rather ridiculous. My schedule consists of Chem2, Phys2, Psych, Sociology, World History, and a Rhetoric class on ideologies and the media. Prepare for a John with literally no social life. Everyone knows I'm in over my head. I just need to make up for the fact that I will be in Korea for an entire semester, unable to do anything that will transfer back to school.
--- --- --- ---
This is the colored chalk
designed on your sidewalk
winding from nostril[to]navel,
traversing, like a desert.
I offered you love like a bottle of water
to make the trip,
but you snickered and placed
phone on receiver.
And I told the dial tone
that you were a journey in progress.
I could make the trip
if you faxed me the map.
--- --- --- ---
Unlock her lips so I can breathe.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Thursday, December 28, 2006
The Consonants and Vowels.
I am a breath of fresh air.
This lack of crabbiness may have something to do with my current location. I am getting paid to sit in Caribou, drink coffee, and write haikus. There may be no better way to spend a quality Thursday afternoon in December (besides sledding with my nearest and dearest neighbor! Shoutout).
I really don't understand the point of asking for things for Christmas when I don't get them. This is the part in the blog where I complain about my life and you skip this paragraph. I didn't get that book to learn Korean, and Barnes and Noble apparantly is against the country of Korea and all pre-med students. Their alphabetical listing of languages skips from Japanese to Latin. Even Latvian has a book, but Korean is nowhere to be found. There are two books on cracking the MCAT. Two. At the university book store, there are no short of five-hundred different books on getting into medical school. So, not only did I not get what I want, I can't go buy it myself (until January 13th).
I saw Holiday (the movie) yesterday, and I have decided that I am moving to England to start my life over. Obviously, I am living on the wrong side of the Atlantic, because my life (as of now) is not exactly a romantic-comedy. Millions of years from now, sociologists will suspect that divorce rates are so high in the "00s" because there were not enough clones of Jude Law ('s character. I guess we can do without all of the cheating-on-the-wife-with-the-nanny). I shall be forever forced to recognize the inadequacies in my personality and ther personalities of others. I am not a bubbly, movie-trailer-making blonde from L.A. who can't bring himself to cry, or a widower with two adorable girls that reviews books for a living. I don't have an english accent. I can't compose music. I don't live in an adorable cottage in Cary Grant's hometown or in an extravagant mansion in the city of angels. I, in the world of Holiday, am closer to the screw-up exes.
So, like I said, I am in Caribou. Of the four tables surrounding me, there is exactly one laptop per person and one laptop per four chairs. Of the ones I can see the screen (three including mine), there are none doing anything remotely productive. I am blogging. The girl immediately to my left is on myspace, and the girl directly behind me is checking facebook. The only one who remains a mystery is the man in front of me. I would say that it's safe to say he's not doing anything, either, because he's on a MacBook (and I'm not sure if I've ever seen anything productive happen on those. They're just too pretty to work on.)
Four people. Four laptops. Eight tables. Sixteen chairs. (Eighteen if you count the two comfy chairs behind me).
This makes me assume that most of the world's population has a laptop, though I am quite sure the children in Ethiopia would disagree. When I was little I used to tell my parents that if the starving children wanted my food, we should package it up and send it to them. Let's just say that thought didn't go over so well. I've always been rather ungrateful, but we'll just say that this was apparantly an unacceptable threshold to cross.
Wait. Another woman has joined the madness. She has taken a seat in one of the large, cushy chairs. She too, with her long, NorthFace jacket and choppy, business-woman, brown hair, has a laptop. She may be doing work, though. I am genuinely impressed. Not everyone in Rochester is living the fabulous life of leisure. (I find this hard to believe). Though I guess seeing is believing.
The truth is that I'm writing so much because I am alone. In Caribou. And I wish someone was here with me, but no one is. And I don't have headphones to listen to music. And I am not a starring character in Holiday! Obviously, I am lacking some form of gumption. (I had to look up that spelling).
A few things that I have decided:
If I could sing, I would write you a Emmy-winning where I dueted with Christina A. to let seventy-five million people know exactly how I feel.
If I could dance, you had better bet that I'd be Ginger-Rogering my ass off for you.
(I bet you didn't even know Ginger Rogers could be used as a verb).
If I was a munchkin, I would setup a guild just for you.
If I was the creator of South Park, I would write an offensive, uncut script where you saved Jude Law from a burning building, but managed to piss off at least one person from each ethnic background in existence.
If I was an ice sculptor, I would not set my chainsaw down for a second while I carved you awakening from a giant clam shell.
If I had a million dollars, I would buy you a green dress
(but not a real green dress, that's cruel).
All because you're the Merideth to my McDreams,
The fries to my happy meal,
The whipped cream to my mocha latte,
The laptop to my life of leisure,
The wordplay to my clever blogging poetry.
Love.
This lack of crabbiness may have something to do with my current location. I am getting paid to sit in Caribou, drink coffee, and write haikus. There may be no better way to spend a quality Thursday afternoon in December (besides sledding with my nearest and dearest neighbor! Shoutout).
I really don't understand the point of asking for things for Christmas when I don't get them. This is the part in the blog where I complain about my life and you skip this paragraph. I didn't get that book to learn Korean, and Barnes and Noble apparantly is against the country of Korea and all pre-med students. Their alphabetical listing of languages skips from Japanese to Latin. Even Latvian has a book, but Korean is nowhere to be found. There are two books on cracking the MCAT. Two. At the university book store, there are no short of five-hundred different books on getting into medical school. So, not only did I not get what I want, I can't go buy it myself (until January 13th).
I saw Holiday (the movie) yesterday, and I have decided that I am moving to England to start my life over. Obviously, I am living on the wrong side of the Atlantic, because my life (as of now) is not exactly a romantic-comedy. Millions of years from now, sociologists will suspect that divorce rates are so high in the "00s" because there were not enough clones of Jude Law ('s character. I guess we can do without all of the cheating-on-the-wife-with-the-nanny). I shall be forever forced to recognize the inadequacies in my personality and ther personalities of others. I am not a bubbly, movie-trailer-making blonde from L.A. who can't bring himself to cry, or a widower with two adorable girls that reviews books for a living. I don't have an english accent. I can't compose music. I don't live in an adorable cottage in Cary Grant's hometown or in an extravagant mansion in the city of angels. I, in the world of Holiday, am closer to the screw-up exes.
So, like I said, I am in Caribou. Of the four tables surrounding me, there is exactly one laptop per person and one laptop per four chairs. Of the ones I can see the screen (three including mine), there are none doing anything remotely productive. I am blogging. The girl immediately to my left is on myspace, and the girl directly behind me is checking facebook. The only one who remains a mystery is the man in front of me. I would say that it's safe to say he's not doing anything, either, because he's on a MacBook (and I'm not sure if I've ever seen anything productive happen on those. They're just too pretty to work on.)
Four people. Four laptops. Eight tables. Sixteen chairs. (Eighteen if you count the two comfy chairs behind me).
This makes me assume that most of the world's population has a laptop, though I am quite sure the children in Ethiopia would disagree. When I was little I used to tell my parents that if the starving children wanted my food, we should package it up and send it to them. Let's just say that thought didn't go over so well. I've always been rather ungrateful, but we'll just say that this was apparantly an unacceptable threshold to cross.
Wait. Another woman has joined the madness. She has taken a seat in one of the large, cushy chairs. She too, with her long, NorthFace jacket and choppy, business-woman, brown hair, has a laptop. She may be doing work, though. I am genuinely impressed. Not everyone in Rochester is living the fabulous life of leisure. (I find this hard to believe). Though I guess seeing is believing.
The truth is that I'm writing so much because I am alone. In Caribou. And I wish someone was here with me, but no one is. And I don't have headphones to listen to music. And I am not a starring character in Holiday! Obviously, I am lacking some form of gumption. (I had to look up that spelling).
A few things that I have decided:
If I could sing, I would write you a Emmy-winning where I dueted with Christina A. to let seventy-five million people know exactly how I feel.
If I could dance, you had better bet that I'd be Ginger-Rogering my ass off for you.
(I bet you didn't even know Ginger Rogers could be used as a verb).
If I was a munchkin, I would setup a guild just for you.
If I was the creator of South Park, I would write an offensive, uncut script where you saved Jude Law from a burning building, but managed to piss off at least one person from each ethnic background in existence.
If I was an ice sculptor, I would not set my chainsaw down for a second while I carved you awakening from a giant clam shell.
If I had a million dollars, I would buy you a green dress
(but not a real green dress, that's cruel).
All because you're the Merideth to my McDreams,
The fries to my happy meal,
The whipped cream to my mocha latte,
The laptop to my life of leisure,
The wordplay to my clever blogging poetry.
Love.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Yes, I'll Be Just Fine
I would rather do physics than sit at home alone today.
My brain has been acting so oddly lately. Yesterday, I cleaned (against the will of my parents) for several hours while my sisters went to some faux-Christmas rave. Then, I watched Will and Grace for two hours, and a Christmas movie that I'm sure I missed the point of. Of course I couldn't fall asleep because I fed my stupid caffiene addiction that isn't going away.
I feel vicious, tired, and indifferent. Like I could kill something because I am bored. The problem is that you're in my way, and I actually like you. I wish I didn't, because fighting you would be so much easier. Motion City is writing my life, and I'm starting to hate that anyone else has ever heard of them. They should sing for only me, because I'm so emo. If I had my way, I would be an evil-doctor-rocket-science-monster with capabilities to destroy the entire universe.
Today is Christmas Eve, the first day that I've wished Christmas had passed weeks ago. I would give anything for it to be January 13th. I would give anything to be back at school. I would give anything to be wisdomtoothless already. I would give anything to be hated on by the pretty boys that won't say hi. I would give anything to be bothered by things that shouldn't bother me (instead of things that should).
The least you could do is take it back (all the vicious remarks and verbal attacks).
This is how I get when I get like this. Disjointed. Harmful. Volatile.
I spent a 1/2 hour yesterday reading an astology book on the floor of Barnes and Noble, because I couldn't bear to tear myself away to do something worthwhile, because I have nothing worthwhile to do (except clean, watch TV, and pick fights). My dad just made breakfast for five when there are only three people here. He told me he hopes I'm hungry (I'm not).
I don't know if you are listening, because I would've given up already. I just hope my parents bought me something to teach me Korean so I can focus on something else after we open these presents I haven't deserved for the past fifteen years.
I was nervous from the start that our muscles might tear us apart.
One day I'll fail to breathe, and all you'll have are memories.
I am tired and hungry and totally useless
(in this deparment).
My brain has been acting so oddly lately. Yesterday, I cleaned (against the will of my parents) for several hours while my sisters went to some faux-Christmas rave. Then, I watched Will and Grace for two hours, and a Christmas movie that I'm sure I missed the point of. Of course I couldn't fall asleep because I fed my stupid caffiene addiction that isn't going away.
I feel vicious, tired, and indifferent. Like I could kill something because I am bored. The problem is that you're in my way, and I actually like you. I wish I didn't, because fighting you would be so much easier. Motion City is writing my life, and I'm starting to hate that anyone else has ever heard of them. They should sing for only me, because I'm so emo. If I had my way, I would be an evil-doctor-rocket-science-monster with capabilities to destroy the entire universe.
Today is Christmas Eve, the first day that I've wished Christmas had passed weeks ago. I would give anything for it to be January 13th. I would give anything to be back at school. I would give anything to be wisdomtoothless already. I would give anything to be hated on by the pretty boys that won't say hi. I would give anything to be bothered by things that shouldn't bother me (instead of things that should).
The least you could do is take it back (all the vicious remarks and verbal attacks).
This is how I get when I get like this. Disjointed. Harmful. Volatile.
I spent a 1/2 hour yesterday reading an astology book on the floor of Barnes and Noble, because I couldn't bear to tear myself away to do something worthwhile, because I have nothing worthwhile to do (except clean, watch TV, and pick fights). My dad just made breakfast for five when there are only three people here. He told me he hopes I'm hungry (I'm not).
I don't know if you are listening, because I would've given up already. I just hope my parents bought me something to teach me Korean so I can focus on something else after we open these presents I haven't deserved for the past fifteen years.
I was nervous from the start that our muscles might tear us apart.
One day I'll fail to breathe, and all you'll have are memories.
I am tired and hungry and totally useless
(in this deparment).
Sunday, December 10, 2006
It's Just My Luck To End Up Getting Stuck
To everything you are.
All Hail The Heartbreaker, I am in love with you all over again. I cannot believe the songs that I occasionally forget.
...
I cannot weave my arms into the sky
and hold the sun from slipping underneath her sheets.
The seasons are drifting into winter,
and the narcoleptic sun hardly mounts her navy throne
before she falls asleep once more,
and the servant stars guide her to rest in the mountains.
Staring toward the horizon,
I frowned because it was only four o'clock,
and you just sighed.
"It seems like all I'm seeing lately sunsets"
...
"I can honestly say that I have never (ever ever) felt this way. Your lips, your eyelashes, your skin (these are the parts of your body that cause my comatose to begin)."
Seriously, though, it is four o'clock and the depressing sun is retreating already. I need some caffiene, but I feel like I should never have coffee after dark (it kinda reminds me of Meet Virginia, the timing is not right). I've only had one meal today and I really want to order pizza. My favorite kinda is Hawaiian from Domino's (or Venice, Italy if you can manage). It will be like an early Christmas gift.
I've wasted another weekend in worship of school. It's like I've become more and more studious lately, staying up until physics is done (it's never done) and english is typed up (writing is harder when someone encourages it) and i can pretend like I am satisfied with the amount of work I have done (I'm never satisfied). Ten days until freedom and Christmas and stress about being home instead of stress about being at school and opening presents and counting to the new year when we can all pretend that we are starting new. We aren't.
Anyway, I'm sending all my love to you through a keyboard and a blue-and-white-web-site. (You better catch it safe and sound).
Incidentally, I have reached 1000 walls posts today. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you set your mind to it (wait, what?).
PS: We're not twenty-one, but the sooner we are, the sooner the fun will begin.
All Hail The Heartbreaker, I am in love with you all over again. I cannot believe the songs that I occasionally forget.
...
I cannot weave my arms into the sky
and hold the sun from slipping underneath her sheets.
The seasons are drifting into winter,
and the narcoleptic sun hardly mounts her navy throne
before she falls asleep once more,
and the servant stars guide her to rest in the mountains.
Staring toward the horizon,
I frowned because it was only four o'clock,
and you just sighed.
"It seems like all I'm seeing lately sunsets"
...
"I can honestly say that I have never (ever ever) felt this way. Your lips, your eyelashes, your skin (these are the parts of your body that cause my comatose to begin)."
Seriously, though, it is four o'clock and the depressing sun is retreating already. I need some caffiene, but I feel like I should never have coffee after dark (it kinda reminds me of Meet Virginia, the timing is not right). I've only had one meal today and I really want to order pizza. My favorite kinda is Hawaiian from Domino's (or Venice, Italy if you can manage). It will be like an early Christmas gift.
I've wasted another weekend in worship of school. It's like I've become more and more studious lately, staying up until physics is done (it's never done) and english is typed up (writing is harder when someone encourages it) and i can pretend like I am satisfied with the amount of work I have done (I'm never satisfied). Ten days until freedom and Christmas and stress about being home instead of stress about being at school and opening presents and counting to the new year when we can all pretend that we are starting new. We aren't.
Anyway, I'm sending all my love to you through a keyboard and a blue-and-white-web-site. (You better catch it safe and sound).
Incidentally, I have reached 1000 walls posts today. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you set your mind to it (wait, what?).
PS: We're not twenty-one, but the sooner we are, the sooner the fun will begin.
Monday, December 04, 2006
I'm Talented At Breathing
Reasons why you should invest in me:
I am
raging, spinning, yelling, smiling, dancing, kissing, telling, breathing, laughing, walking, stopping, kicking, screaming, singing, wishing, fighting, lying, whispering, living.
I have green eyes. I have blue eyes. I have grey eyes. I can fly. I like to clean, and do your dishes, and give backrubs, and make you smile. I love to make you smile. I do cheesy things like write poems and blog.
Reasons why I'm not worth the stress:
I am not therapuetic. I don't have wings. I can be trite. I am too thin. I am too fat. I love being a fashion victim. I have color changing eyes. I can't sing. I will forget your middle name, and your birthday, and your favorite color, and your phone number. I am over-the-top. I am addicted to caffiene. I write things like these. I shouldn't be let loose on a keyboard.
I have so much to say and nothing to say it with and no one to say it to and no time to say it.
I am
raging, spinning, yelling, smiling, dancing, kissing, telling, breathing, laughing, walking, stopping, kicking, screaming, singing, wishing, fighting, lying, whispering, living.
I have green eyes. I have blue eyes. I have grey eyes. I can fly. I like to clean, and do your dishes, and give backrubs, and make you smile. I love to make you smile. I do cheesy things like write poems and blog.
Reasons why I'm not worth the stress:
I am not therapuetic. I don't have wings. I can be trite. I am too thin. I am too fat. I love being a fashion victim. I have color changing eyes. I can't sing. I will forget your middle name, and your birthday, and your favorite color, and your phone number. I am over-the-top. I am addicted to caffiene. I write things like these. I shouldn't be let loose on a keyboard.
I have so much to say and nothing to say it with and no one to say it to and no time to say it.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
New Shoes Stuck to Aging Feet
Thanksgiving has passed, and so has the thanking. I am back to wanting again.
I continually assure myself that I need nothing, but I haven't recently been able to tell myself that I don't want anything. I want everything.
I want to be a doctor and a novelist. I want to run a marathon. I want the new volume of Nylon magazine. I want to be chased through the streets of Los Angeles by the paparazzi. I want a loft apartment in Manhattan and a villa in Naples. I want to be free. I want to just be happy for five minutes. I want to finally not want. I want to put on a fake moustache, rob a bank for kicks, and give the large, tan bags of money to the some charity that I will select at random. I want to dance in the middle of Washington Avenue. I want a really long scarf that keeps my neck warm and almost drags on the ground. I want coffee from a different coffee shop every day. I want speak Korean and travel to Japan. I want to move to Paris and become an ex-patriot.
...I cannot tell if you are reading, because your eyes are no longer dotting my [I]s...
I will not worry about people staring at my calves when I roll my pants up in December. I will not settle for anything, and I will not demand that anyone settles for me. I will not sing under my breath. I will not ache. I will not take pain killers because my mattress sucks. I will not kiss and tell. I will not starve myself. I will not eat ice cream (unless I want ice cream), and I will not eat carbs (unless I want fettuccini and garlic bread). I will not devote my life to making myself miserable. I will not be forgotten like a Wednesday evening. I will not be gone before you know I'm here.
And all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.
I continually assure myself that I need nothing, but I haven't recently been able to tell myself that I don't want anything. I want everything.
I want to be a doctor and a novelist. I want to run a marathon. I want the new volume of Nylon magazine. I want to be chased through the streets of Los Angeles by the paparazzi. I want a loft apartment in Manhattan and a villa in Naples. I want to be free. I want to just be happy for five minutes. I want to finally not want. I want to put on a fake moustache, rob a bank for kicks, and give the large, tan bags of money to the some charity that I will select at random. I want to dance in the middle of Washington Avenue. I want a really long scarf that keeps my neck warm and almost drags on the ground. I want coffee from a different coffee shop every day. I want speak Korean and travel to Japan. I want to move to Paris and become an ex-patriot.
...I cannot tell if you are reading, because your eyes are no longer dotting my [I]s...
I will not worry about people staring at my calves when I roll my pants up in December. I will not settle for anything, and I will not demand that anyone settles for me. I will not sing under my breath. I will not ache. I will not take pain killers because my mattress sucks. I will not kiss and tell. I will not starve myself. I will not eat ice cream (unless I want ice cream), and I will not eat carbs (unless I want fettuccini and garlic bread). I will not devote my life to making myself miserable. I will not be forgotten like a Wednesday evening. I will not be gone before you know I'm here.
And all I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
I Can't Imagine All The Places That You Go
I registered today. 9:05. I have always been one for spur-the-moment decisions. So, I decided to pick up a sociology class. It is always so interesting how the classes I am most excited for have nothing to do with my major. Why should I be excited for the subjects that will soon be embodied in my monotonous future?
I ate less on Thanksgiving than I had for several days before.
Right now, I am so fragmented. (I'm sure you can tell.) I haven't been sleeping much lately. I've just been drilling holes in my head to relieve a little pressure now and then. Don't tell me it's bad for my health. You're bad for my health.
In your bed,
We are restless.
The air around you is warm, and it smells like your skin or your hair. W][e linger for hours or seconds (I cannot tell the difference). Finally, though, we split when you pull yourself from the sheets, forced, like velcro from a wool sweater.
And I guess I find it entertaining that you can tell when I'm lying. It gives me no reason to tell the truth.
I ate less on Thanksgiving than I had for several days before.
Right now, I am so fragmented. (I'm sure you can tell.) I haven't been sleeping much lately. I've just been drilling holes in my head to relieve a little pressure now and then. Don't tell me it's bad for my health. You're bad for my health.
In your bed,
We are restless.
The air around you is warm, and it smells like your skin or your hair. W][e linger for hours or seconds (I cannot tell the difference). Finally, though, we split when you pull yourself from the sheets, forced, like velcro from a wool sweater.
And I guess I find it entertaining that you can tell when I'm lying. It gives me no reason to tell the truth.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
I've Got Soul, But I'm Not A Soldier
So, I saw one of those heinous quiz/survey things on facebook and decided I had to fill it out. It's really simple: I just went though iTunes on shuffle and recorded the songs in order on the "Soundtrack of My Life." Exciting. I know.
Opening Credits: "All These Things That I Have Done"- The Killers
Waking Up: "What Da Hook Gun' Be?" - Murphy Lee
First Day At School: "Redemption" - Switchfoot
Falling In Love: "Breathing Deep" - 504 Plan
Breaking Up: "Time Turned Fragile" - Motion City Soundtrack
1st date: "Thumbelina" - Nightmare of You
Prom: "You Make Me Sick" - Pink
Life's OK: "Story of a Lonely Guy" - Blink182
Driving: "Absolutely (Story of a Girl)" - Nine Days
Flashback: "Maintain Conciousness" - Relient K
Getting Back Together: "Crazy Bitch" - BuckCherry
Wedding: "No Sleep Tonight" - The Faders <--- Haha, holy awkward.
Birth of Child: "The Things We Go Through" - Hawk Nelson
Final Battle: "Show Me Love" - T.a.T.u
Death Scene: "Brighter" - Paramore
Funeral Song: "Saying Goodbye" - Sugarcult
End Credits: "A Movie Script Ending" - Death Cab For Cutie
I'm going to be honest, though. I didn't exactly do this for your reading pleasure. That part is coming up very soon, I promise. I just thought it would be interesting to get reaquainted with my massive 13-day iTunes music. Literally. 13 days of music. Holy shit, son.
Thanksgiving is four days away. Four. That just seems crazy to me. It seems like I moved in a few hours ago, because I am definitely in the awkward "what-major-are-you-looking-at?" stage in so many friendships. However, I feel like I have breached that barrier with some friends. You know who you are. I guess it just comes to the point where everyone just stops putting up so many fronts. It stops being awkward. You tell eachother why you can't stand the weird guy who follows you or that one girl who has a walk-of-shame every day day.
I have also realized that if I put as much energy into study physics as I do into fighting it, I would probably be pulling a solid B.
In conclusion, college is one of those things that works itself out. If you can't let it be, might as well make it bleed, right?
Home Sweet Home in T minus three days.
The excitement is questionable.
The bed will be more comfortable, obviously
...a little colder, though.
XOXO. The Sizz.
Opening Credits: "All These Things That I Have Done"- The Killers
Waking Up: "What Da Hook Gun' Be?" - Murphy Lee
First Day At School: "Redemption" - Switchfoot
Falling In Love: "Breathing Deep" - 504 Plan
Breaking Up: "Time Turned Fragile" - Motion City Soundtrack
1st date: "Thumbelina" - Nightmare of You
Prom: "You Make Me Sick" - Pink
Life's OK: "Story of a Lonely Guy" - Blink182
Driving: "Absolutely (Story of a Girl)" - Nine Days
Flashback: "Maintain Conciousness" - Relient K
Getting Back Together: "Crazy Bitch" - BuckCherry
Wedding: "No Sleep Tonight" - The Faders <--- Haha, holy awkward.
Birth of Child: "The Things We Go Through" - Hawk Nelson
Final Battle: "Show Me Love" - T.a.T.u
Death Scene: "Brighter" - Paramore
Funeral Song: "Saying Goodbye" - Sugarcult
End Credits: "A Movie Script Ending" - Death Cab For Cutie
I'm going to be honest, though. I didn't exactly do this for your reading pleasure. That part is coming up very soon, I promise. I just thought it would be interesting to get reaquainted with my massive 13-day iTunes music. Literally. 13 days of music. Holy shit, son.
Thanksgiving is four days away. Four. That just seems crazy to me. It seems like I moved in a few hours ago, because I am definitely in the awkward "what-major-are-you-looking-at?" stage in so many friendships. However, I feel like I have breached that barrier with some friends. You know who you are. I guess it just comes to the point where everyone just stops putting up so many fronts. It stops being awkward. You tell eachother why you can't stand the weird guy who follows you or that one girl who has a walk-of-shame every day day.
I have also realized that if I put as much energy into study physics as I do into fighting it, I would probably be pulling a solid B.
In conclusion, college is one of those things that works itself out. If you can't let it be, might as well make it bleed, right?
Home Sweet Home in T minus three days.
The excitement is questionable.
The bed will be more comfortable, obviously
...a little colder, though.
XOXO. The Sizz.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Hump-Day Realizations.
* Home is portable like a plastic red suitcase.
* Willard Miller is left-handed.
* Procrastination is not profitable.
* Prioritization is probably necessary.
* The better you become at self-expression, the harder it is to say what you mean without some semblance of rythym and form.
* I am not as profound as I pretend to be (I promise).
* "If you don't know, honey, then, you don't."
* Willard Miller is left-handed.
* Procrastination is not profitable.
* Prioritization is probably necessary.
* The better you become at self-expression, the harder it is to say what you mean without some semblance of rythym and form.
* I am not as profound as I pretend to be (I promise).
* "If you don't know, honey, then, you don't."
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Shoot Yourself in the Face with a Christmas Firehose
Today, I exercised my civil right and duty. I visited the small church one and a half blocks away, got a sticker, and went for free Chipotle. Oh, did I forget to mention I voted?
That's right. With a wait time of twenty minutes, voting on campus was not the hassle everyone claims it to be. Plus, how can you possibly pass up free Chipots? I literally believe that over fifty percent of the people voting voted only because of the promised free food. What can I say? College kids are fatties and willing to go through pretty much everything for free stuff... even *audible gasp* decide the fate of our country.
Generally speaking, my week of intense hell is over. I must rejoice. However, I am now responsible for actually keeping up with everything, including (but not limited to) homework, friendship revival and re-establishment, being nice to people I don't like, staying in shape, and doing my laundry. Geez, I hate having free time.
The project I am currently focusing on is the formation of a creative nonfiction story. As Cassie pointed out, the term "creative nonfiction" seems inherently self-contradictory. However, this form of literature is apparently flourishing and "all the rage in Paris." (Note to reader: I completely made that last part up. Okay, love ya.)
In other news, my Christmas season has officially started. What does this mean to you? It simply means that if you ever stop by Territorial Hall 456, and I am present, you have a very large array of Christmas music and cheer to choose from.
Apparently, though, Steve has just informed me some rubbish about how "Christmas season isn't until after Thanksgiving." Whatever that means. For me, it is difficult to last through Halloween without Christmas cheer and decorations. He did, though, encourage me to decorate our room with Christmas stuff, which is always in an abundance at my house. I can ensure you that if you ever make it to my dorm room during the few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, you will feel right at home.
You won't be, though. Don't think this entitles you to sleep on our futon. Go home, you hobo.
That's right. With a wait time of twenty minutes, voting on campus was not the hassle everyone claims it to be. Plus, how can you possibly pass up free Chipots? I literally believe that over fifty percent of the people voting voted only because of the promised free food. What can I say? College kids are fatties and willing to go through pretty much everything for free stuff... even *audible gasp* decide the fate of our country.
Generally speaking, my week of intense hell is over. I must rejoice. However, I am now responsible for actually keeping up with everything, including (but not limited to) homework, friendship revival and re-establishment, being nice to people I don't like, staying in shape, and doing my laundry. Geez, I hate having free time.
The project I am currently focusing on is the formation of a creative nonfiction story. As Cassie pointed out, the term "creative nonfiction" seems inherently self-contradictory. However, this form of literature is apparently flourishing and "all the rage in Paris." (Note to reader: I completely made that last part up. Okay, love ya.)
In other news, my Christmas season has officially started. What does this mean to you? It simply means that if you ever stop by Territorial Hall 456, and I am present, you have a very large array of Christmas music and cheer to choose from.
Apparently, though, Steve has just informed me some rubbish about how "Christmas season isn't until after Thanksgiving." Whatever that means. For me, it is difficult to last through Halloween without Christmas cheer and decorations. He did, though, encourage me to decorate our room with Christmas stuff, which is always in an abundance at my house. I can ensure you that if you ever make it to my dorm room during the few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas, you will feel right at home.
You won't be, though. Don't think this entitles you to sleep on our futon. Go home, you hobo.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Our Hell Ends Every Weekend
(but it's all I have to believe in).
So. My life is a large, angry spasm of tests and homework.
Tuesday - Physics Lab Report and Presentation
Wednesday - Calc Test
Thursday - Derivative Test (Ugh)
Friday - Physics Test, Chem Paper/Lab Due
Weekend -- I have assloads to catch up on already
Monday - Chem Test
Wednesday - Fiction Portfolio Due
But then I'm off free until the day before Thanksgiving! So, I'm giving thanks until then.
Generally, I sh/could be adding to the insane amount of time i've spent studying for this bitch of a physics test, but I decided to take a minute to reacquaint myself with the fabulous world of the internet. Oh how I have missed you so.
I have taken to basically living at Coffman (the U's student union, for those of you less acquainted with my surroundings) with a coffee and my homework. People probably think I sleep there in the abnormally comfortable chairs. The study lounge three rooms away is finally open after the people in extended housing moved out, but at Coffman I can sit by large windows and get distracted by cars and people with cool shoes.
Besides, homework for the sake of homework is definitely overrated. I would only do that if I wished to actually know physics. Instead, I am literally working on memorizing the problems, because most of the tests so far has consisted of questions straight from the homework. 10 per 3 chapters. Call me crazy. I am. Actually, I've been quite impressed with my determination lately. If I was this hardcore about everyday situations, I probably would have taken over the world by now.
I have only one bit of news. Yesterday I was greeted by some brand new friends with a banana-nut "diversity muffin." The poem on the piece of paper was brilliant (though probably had anthrax on it or something, don't take muffins from strangers).
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Beth is a Lutheran,
and Becca's a Jew.
Embrace diversity!
Love,
John
(Ps: I'm just a guy that never tried. I'm just a stupid fuck with brilliant luck, and sometimes a bright idea.)
So. My life is a large, angry spasm of tests and homework.
Tuesday - Physics Lab Report and Presentation
Wednesday - Calc Test
Thursday - Derivative Test (Ugh)
Friday - Physics Test, Chem Paper/Lab Due
Weekend -- I have assloads to catch up on already
Monday - Chem Test
Wednesday - Fiction Portfolio Due
But then I'm off free until the day before Thanksgiving! So, I'm giving thanks until then.
Generally, I sh/could be adding to the insane amount of time i've spent studying for this bitch of a physics test, but I decided to take a minute to reacquaint myself with the fabulous world of the internet. Oh how I have missed you so.
I have taken to basically living at Coffman (the U's student union, for those of you less acquainted with my surroundings) with a coffee and my homework. People probably think I sleep there in the abnormally comfortable chairs. The study lounge three rooms away is finally open after the people in extended housing moved out, but at Coffman I can sit by large windows and get distracted by cars and people with cool shoes.
Besides, homework for the sake of homework is definitely overrated. I would only do that if I wished to actually know physics. Instead, I am literally working on memorizing the problems, because most of the tests so far has consisted of questions straight from the homework. 10 per 3 chapters. Call me crazy. I am. Actually, I've been quite impressed with my determination lately. If I was this hardcore about everyday situations, I probably would have taken over the world by now.
I have only one bit of news. Yesterday I was greeted by some brand new friends with a banana-nut "diversity muffin." The poem on the piece of paper was brilliant (though probably had anthrax on it or something, don't take muffins from strangers).
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Beth is a Lutheran,
and Becca's a Jew.
Embrace diversity!
Love,
John
(Ps: I'm just a guy that never tried. I'm just a stupid fuck with brilliant luck, and sometimes a bright idea.)
Saturday, October 28, 2006
But I Am Le Tired...
No, I am not up extremely early. I have not gone to sleep yet, because of the worst invention ever: No Doze.
Everyone in this apartment has been asleep since around one, meaning that I have been awake almost six hours longer than anyone else here. Nothing good can come of being alone and wide awake that early in the morning. I can bet that this ruins my Saturday, because I haven't slept yet this weekend. Not a wink.
Instead, I have wasted my life surfing the internet. During this time, I realized that there is simply nothing worth reading, except wikipedia. However, I read wiki all summer when I was bored and trapped at work, so I was at a loss for subjects to read up on.
That said, this post is a shoutout. That's right, I'm actually tagging people if I can figure that bitch out. This post is an ode to those who have ever made a mixed CD for me. I have appreciated and loved them all one thousand times over again. They have opened my eyes, helped my self-expression, and just plain entertained me.
There is truly something magical about a CD mixed especially for you. Not only do I get an idea of the generous giver's musical taste, it may also help me to understand how I am percieved as well.
CDs are a cheap way of letting someone know that they are worth the time you are spending on them. The music and emotion behind every note carries something specifically brilliant. The words in each song of the CD do matter, because themed CDs are, in my opinion, the strongest, and filled with the most consistent emotion.
The order of the tracks MATTERS.
The art on the CD MATTERS.
The occasion MATTERS.
So, to all of you, I am sending this incoherent message of glorification, because I have been up for twenty three and a half hours without a wink of sleep. I just wanted to let you know that I care. You rock my world.
Everyone in this apartment has been asleep since around one, meaning that I have been awake almost six hours longer than anyone else here. Nothing good can come of being alone and wide awake that early in the morning. I can bet that this ruins my Saturday, because I haven't slept yet this weekend. Not a wink.
Instead, I have wasted my life surfing the internet. During this time, I realized that there is simply nothing worth reading, except wikipedia. However, I read wiki all summer when I was bored and trapped at work, so I was at a loss for subjects to read up on.
That said, this post is a shoutout. That's right, I'm actually tagging people if I can figure that bitch out. This post is an ode to those who have ever made a mixed CD for me. I have appreciated and loved them all one thousand times over again. They have opened my eyes, helped my self-expression, and just plain entertained me.
There is truly something magical about a CD mixed especially for you. Not only do I get an idea of the generous giver's musical taste, it may also help me to understand how I am percieved as well.
CDs are a cheap way of letting someone know that they are worth the time you are spending on them. The music and emotion behind every note carries something specifically brilliant. The words in each song of the CD do matter, because themed CDs are, in my opinion, the strongest, and filled with the most consistent emotion.
The order of the tracks MATTERS.
The art on the CD MATTERS.
The occasion MATTERS.
So, to all of you, I am sending this incoherent message of glorification, because I have been up for twenty three and a half hours without a wink of sleep. I just wanted to let you know that I care. You rock my world.
Monday, October 23, 2006
And You Want To Be Dressed In Poetry
Alas. I insist on attempting to transcribe my soul into a word document once more.
Today, everything I'm wearing is grey. I really hope that's not a metaphor, but it kinda seems like it might be. School seems hardly bearable... but once the caffiene kicks in, I bet I'll feel better and change into some color.
Venti white mocha nonfat no whip? You bet your four bucks I went there.
I never have much to say, but it doesn't seem to stop me from writing a lot. Most people tell me that's the reason that they can't write. They don't have anything to say. The real issue is that they might not want everyone to know their thought process. I think that might be all writing is: revealing your complex thought process through chains of meaningless sentences that more or less give meaning to your life. I guess that's my trade. Quantity over quality, and that's how we gain the freshman fifteen. No one tells us when to stop. We need to stop ourselves.
So, I guess it's my turn to figure out how to limit the words I type. Not only do I want to limit the number, I would really appreciate an increase in their quality, as well.
Ugh. I can literally feel the caffiene surging through my veins. I know that sounds a little off, but my face flushes for a bit while it's kicking in and I'm smiley for the few hours the kick lasts, kinda like alcohol or skipping physics.
and i am weaving dreams,
and you are singing hymns,
and we, as a pair,
could not very well care
less about something outside these sheets.
Today, everything I'm wearing is grey. I really hope that's not a metaphor, but it kinda seems like it might be. School seems hardly bearable... but once the caffiene kicks in, I bet I'll feel better and change into some color.
Venti white mocha nonfat no whip? You bet your four bucks I went there.
I never have much to say, but it doesn't seem to stop me from writing a lot. Most people tell me that's the reason that they can't write. They don't have anything to say. The real issue is that they might not want everyone to know their thought process. I think that might be all writing is: revealing your complex thought process through chains of meaningless sentences that more or less give meaning to your life. I guess that's my trade. Quantity over quality, and that's how we gain the freshman fifteen. No one tells us when to stop. We need to stop ourselves.
So, I guess it's my turn to figure out how to limit the words I type. Not only do I want to limit the number, I would really appreciate an increase in their quality, as well.
Ugh. I can literally feel the caffiene surging through my veins. I know that sounds a little off, but my face flushes for a bit while it's kicking in and I'm smiley for the few hours the kick lasts, kinda like alcohol or skipping physics.
and i am weaving dreams,
and you are singing hymns,
and we, as a pair,
could not very well care
less about something outside these sheets.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Every Inch of Me is Bruised
I've got my things. I'm good to go.
(Sometimes perfection can be perfect hell).
...I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this...
Prepare for some really severe angst headed straight your way.
I
can only hold together
my life (and sometimes not even).
Please, don't rely on some sinking ship help you float,
because, baby, I'm just a ship-turned-anchor and I'll only drag
you
down.
Roping;Reeling;
I guess you're not missing much
of this sinking:feeling.
Hours pass,
and we [youandi]
are some light at the end of the tunnel,
and the end of the sand
in your tight-wound hourglass.
and she smiles
and he frowns
and we are still indifferent
to the rushing waves that can't begin to write anything like this
and the sun rises
and sets
and i never noticed how it lit washington avenue
(until you pointed it out).
and i [me myself(ish)]
am still teenage down deep
and so, entitled,
to some broken free-verse.
you know, you know:
"too many pronouns."
and the lushes and lovers are calling
and i'm watching this chickflickfade
to whiteout.
black!
black;
grey...
grey:
grey?
white.
...and now every word of every song...
(Sometimes perfection can be perfect hell).
...I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this...
Prepare for some really severe angst headed straight your way.
I
can only hold together
my life (and sometimes not even).
Please, don't rely on some sinking ship help you float,
because, baby, I'm just a ship-turned-anchor and I'll only drag
you
down.
Roping;Reeling;
I guess you're not missing much
of this sinking:feeling.
Hours pass,
and we [youandi]
are some light at the end of the tunnel,
and the end of the sand
in your tight-wound hourglass.
and she smiles
and he frowns
and we are still indifferent
to the rushing waves that can't begin to write anything like this
and the sun rises
and sets
and i never noticed how it lit washington avenue
(until you pointed it out).
and i [me myself(ish)]
am still teenage down deep
and so, entitled,
to some broken free-verse.
you know, you know:
"too many pronouns."
and the lushes and lovers are calling
and i'm watching this chickflickfade
to whiteout.
black!
black;
grey...
grey:
grey?
white.
...and now every word of every song...
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Half the Night I Waste In Sighs
I went to the city of my birth earlier this weekend. It's very weird, because I haven't been gone long, and everything has continued in its pace. There was no period of grieving. No one's life stopped. It was actually rather disappointing to see things that are different.
I realized a few major things.
1. I've grown up a lot in the few months since I graduated. I'm taller, weaker, more straightforward, healthier, and, surprisingly enough, more dedicated to school. I've recently affirmed the well-known fact that you really can have fun without drinking, and it might not be as good of a release as everyone assumes it is. It goes without saying that I really feel like toning everything down a little. Everything.
2. I actually miss very few people or things from home. Dorm life isn't luxury, but it's mine, and that's all I've really wanted my life to be. Here, I can be genuinely nice to people I like, and only mildly polite to those I don't really enjoy.
3. I never sleep. At home I slept for a total of 18 hours in two nights. That is literally more than three nights of sleep here. I can't decide if that's necessarily a good or bad thing. I still don't really feel rested. Maybe I just slept too long.
4. Class sucks a lot less than I keep saying.
5. My parents are not pushing me into anything, at least not directly. This is only really a recently discovered fact, but it should've been apparant long ago. Though I realize they would be a little disappointed if I suddenly dropped out to become a carnie (but I guess my hands are too big anyway...), they just want me to be happy. I'm pushing myself into this major and this classload, and as much as I complain, I really do like being a nerd.
6. I miss the worthless TV shows like "20 Skinniest Celebs" and "Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Duel." I refuse to pay $50 a month just to engorge my brain in such things, but the shows make me realize that our society really has too much free time, and I kinda like it.
7. My life could be a lot worse. And I mean a Lot.
8. I'll probably disagree with most of the above statements by the time Thanksgiving rolls around, but they are just things I feel like I should acknowlege, like global warming, Japan, and the JFK assassination.
None of those three things are really related.
Love, John.
I realized a few major things.
1. I've grown up a lot in the few months since I graduated. I'm taller, weaker, more straightforward, healthier, and, surprisingly enough, more dedicated to school. I've recently affirmed the well-known fact that you really can have fun without drinking, and it might not be as good of a release as everyone assumes it is. It goes without saying that I really feel like toning everything down a little. Everything.
2. I actually miss very few people or things from home. Dorm life isn't luxury, but it's mine, and that's all I've really wanted my life to be. Here, I can be genuinely nice to people I like, and only mildly polite to those I don't really enjoy.
3. I never sleep. At home I slept for a total of 18 hours in two nights. That is literally more than three nights of sleep here. I can't decide if that's necessarily a good or bad thing. I still don't really feel rested. Maybe I just slept too long.
4. Class sucks a lot less than I keep saying.
5. My parents are not pushing me into anything, at least not directly. This is only really a recently discovered fact, but it should've been apparant long ago. Though I realize they would be a little disappointed if I suddenly dropped out to become a carnie (but I guess my hands are too big anyway...), they just want me to be happy. I'm pushing myself into this major and this classload, and as much as I complain, I really do like being a nerd.
6. I miss the worthless TV shows like "20 Skinniest Celebs" and "Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Duel." I refuse to pay $50 a month just to engorge my brain in such things, but the shows make me realize that our society really has too much free time, and I kinda like it.
7. My life could be a lot worse. And I mean a Lot.
8. I'll probably disagree with most of the above statements by the time Thanksgiving rolls around, but they are just things I feel like I should acknowlege, like global warming, Japan, and the JFK assassination.
None of those three things are really related.
Love, John.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
I Swear.
I will write in my blog.
I want to write in my blog.
I can write in my blog unless I feel like I have nothing to say.
Procrastination will be the death of John Ervin Thomas Sand as he is known. Friday, I have my next physics test, and the studying is going over like a lead balloon housing rusty knives. That's right. It's killing me.
Generally speaking this has been a quality week so far. I'm starting to get the hang of this college thing. I can officially balance work with fun, however, I seem to consistently prioritize incorrectly. For instance, I am currently working on English, due Monday, rather than studying the physics I so desperately need assistance with. Both will be completed, but why put my self through more agony than is necessary? Simple answer. I want to pass.
I will not fail physics.
I can not fail physics.
I refuse to fail physics even though my teacher is an angry nazi.
Late night meals are so so good and so so bad. The residence hall I am in is the only one with special 'late night' dining from 7 to midnight. Two words: taco tuesday. I am in amor americano.
I will not gain fifteen pounds.
I will try not to gain fifteen pounds.
I will probably not gain fifteen pounds if i stop eating more than three meals a day.
I want to write in my blog.
I can write in my blog unless I feel like I have nothing to say.
Procrastination will be the death of John Ervin Thomas Sand as he is known. Friday, I have my next physics test, and the studying is going over like a lead balloon housing rusty knives. That's right. It's killing me.
Generally speaking this has been a quality week so far. I'm starting to get the hang of this college thing. I can officially balance work with fun, however, I seem to consistently prioritize incorrectly. For instance, I am currently working on English, due Monday, rather than studying the physics I so desperately need assistance with. Both will be completed, but why put my self through more agony than is necessary? Simple answer. I want to pass.
I will not fail physics.
I can not fail physics.
I refuse to fail physics even though my teacher is an angry nazi.
Late night meals are so so good and so so bad. The residence hall I am in is the only one with special 'late night' dining from 7 to midnight. Two words: taco tuesday. I am in amor americano.
I will not gain fifteen pounds.
I will try not to gain fifteen pounds.
I will probably not gain fifteen pounds if i stop eating more than three meals a day.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Some Things In College Just Kick
College. Yes.
I realize that I am neglecting the true loves of my life by not writing on here. I've wanted to write for forever, but I was afraid to let you all down. Besides, I was much too busy failing a physics exam and writing my first book of haikus. Seriously.
The University is amazing. I mean you've gotta love the freedom, and great shoes, and no parents anywhere telling you what to do (thanks, meredith). There's just that whole thing that gets in my way... class. I will talk more extensively in this later, but for now I'd like to take a minute to reflect on 18 years.
Eighteen has literally come and gone. It feels so weird, like I no longer have an excuse to be reckless, I'm not going to be a teenager in a year. ...In one year, I will actually be required to be mature and responsible and rational. It's just that whole toothache that is putting a damper on my chipper mood. Reality. When did it become so real?
Well I guess I'm still making bad decisions. I'm still singing out loud. I'm still walking to and from the shower in my towel making the awkward kids blush. I'm still wearing those tight jeans and too-short shirts. I'm still angry and joyous and spontaneous and young. I'm still John and I'm still allowed to be awkward and free. I have a feeling that I'll always be eighteen on the inside. It was my favorite year so far, and it's tough to let it go. Who thought I'd be having a mid-life crisis at nineteen?
You know what they never tell you when you're off to college? It's going to be hard work. Everyone in college seems to leave that out when describing their experience, and I always put a damper on the mood when I bring it up. I guess I'll just let everyone out there live the lie that they can head off to college with as much vodka as they want... and a great job and lover will just fall into their hands.
People are breaking. Stress stress stress, and all I can do is turn nineteen and try to deny that I'm being tested. How powerful can I become? How bad do I want the life I'm choosing?
I realize that I am neglecting the true loves of my life by not writing on here. I've wanted to write for forever, but I was afraid to let you all down. Besides, I was much too busy failing a physics exam and writing my first book of haikus. Seriously.
The University is amazing. I mean you've gotta love the freedom, and great shoes, and no parents anywhere telling you what to do (thanks, meredith). There's just that whole thing that gets in my way... class. I will talk more extensively in this later, but for now I'd like to take a minute to reflect on 18 years.
Eighteen has literally come and gone. It feels so weird, like I no longer have an excuse to be reckless, I'm not going to be a teenager in a year. ...In one year, I will actually be required to be mature and responsible and rational. It's just that whole toothache that is putting a damper on my chipper mood. Reality. When did it become so real?
Well I guess I'm still making bad decisions. I'm still singing out loud. I'm still walking to and from the shower in my towel making the awkward kids blush. I'm still wearing those tight jeans and too-short shirts. I'm still angry and joyous and spontaneous and young. I'm still John and I'm still allowed to be awkward and free. I have a feeling that I'll always be eighteen on the inside. It was my favorite year so far, and it's tough to let it go. Who thought I'd be having a mid-life crisis at nineteen?
You know what they never tell you when you're off to college? It's going to be hard work. Everyone in college seems to leave that out when describing their experience, and I always put a damper on the mood when I bring it up. I guess I'll just let everyone out there live the lie that they can head off to college with as much vodka as they want... and a great job and lover will just fall into their hands.
People are breaking. Stress stress stress, and all I can do is turn nineteen and try to deny that I'm being tested. How powerful can I become? How bad do I want the life I'm choosing?
Thursday, August 31, 2006
We Are Invisible/Desirable/Invincible
I'm an advocate of finding personal freedom in everyday life. It keeps me strong and sane.
Find your five seconds of freedom every day. That means releasing yourself from some unwritten (or written) rule. Clip one chain each day, because freedom isn't free: it's gotta be stolen.
Break the mold.
Walk barefoot.
Listen to the music that no one else appreciates.
Cry when you shouldn't.
Laugh when it's inappropriate.
Say hi to a stranger.
Hang out with your siblings.
Sing out loud in a parking lot.
Skip to your next class.
Smile.
Scream.
Kiss.
Love.
Live.
Find your five seconds of freedom every day. That means releasing yourself from some unwritten (or written) rule. Clip one chain each day, because freedom isn't free: it's gotta be stolen.
Break the mold.
Walk barefoot.
Listen to the music that no one else appreciates.
Cry when you shouldn't.
Laugh when it's inappropriate.
Say hi to a stranger.
Hang out with your siblings.
Sing out loud in a parking lot.
Skip to your next class.
Smile.
Scream.
Kiss.
Love.
Live.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
I Laugh More Than I Cry
So I went in to work wayyy to early today only to realize that I left my wallet at home. Meaning that I can't get into my lab, because I don't have my access card. So, I went to Caribou for an hour and then I walk on over to Nick's. Good story, I know. Tomorrow is my last day.
I'm ready for college to start, because, frankly, Rochester has so very little to offer me this last week. All of my really close friends have departed, and I have no job to complain about. Basically, I'll be bored as hell every day of the week. I'll probably be going down to visit Sam, Allie, Kim, and Heather in Winona for a night, and so that will rock some bitches yo.
To sum up, Minneapolis is looking better and better.
I'm ready for college to start, because, frankly, Rochester has so very little to offer me this last week. All of my really close friends have departed, and I have no job to complain about. Basically, I'll be bored as hell every day of the week. I'll probably be going down to visit Sam, Allie, Kim, and Heather in Winona for a night, and so that will rock some bitches yo.
To sum up, Minneapolis is looking better and better.
Friday, August 18, 2006
So Many Ways To Begin
01. Publish an anthology of poetry
02. Be cited on wikipedia
03. Become fluent in a foriegn language and have a meaningful conversation with someone who doesn't speak any English
04. Learn how to play "Rough Draft" by Yellowcard on the guitar
05. Leave the house wearing an entire outfit, head to toe, designed and created by me
06. Live in an apartment in Chicago for one full year
07. Live on a beach in California for one full year
08. Design, or co-design, the floorplan to my own house
09. Write a semi-autobiographical novel
10. For an entire year, make every gift I give with my own two hands
11. Watch a World Cup game live
12. Be someone's mentor
13. Be vegetarian for one year to gain a different perspective
14. Fall in love
15. Develop a steady workout plan1
6. Eat at Movenpick, and ride on a paddleboat in Lake Lucerne, Switzerland, again
17. Paint something that I can be proud of years later
18. Graduate from college with honors
19. Only eat greasy fast food twice a month for five years straight
20. Give up all pop for good
21. Cook an entire dinner for friends from scratch
22. Visit Asia for an extended period of time
23. Take an indefinite vacation
24. Find a job that I love
25. Leave anonymous presents for five friends: Things they want but would never buy themselves
26. Kiss in the pouring rain
27. Study abroad in an English-speaking country
28. Surprise someone I hardly know with flowers
29. Re-visit the Louvre and walk through every room
30. Take a spontaneous road-trip to God-knows-where, just up & go with no destination
31. Collect 10 lists just like this and help each person cross off at least one goal
32. Start and maintain a website that begins an online community
33. Participate in a book club
34. Read 200 novels, cover to cover.
35. Find a form of meditation that actually de-stresses me
36. Wing tattoos
37. Have a role in a Shakespearean play
38. Learn PHP coding
39. Paint my own house (outside and inside)
40. Own/Maintain a flower garden
41. Invent something that is useful
42. Swim with dolphins
43. Go on a Safari in Africa
44. Attend a ComicCon dressed as a character from a video game/comic book
45. Have my palm read by a "professional"
46. Be an extra in a movie
47. Spend at least one full 24 hour period in all fifty states
48. Take a dance class
49. Adopt a little Asian girl and see her graduate from high school
50. Complete EVERY item on this list before death
02. Be cited on wikipedia
03. Become fluent in a foriegn language and have a meaningful conversation with someone who doesn't speak any English
04. Learn how to play "Rough Draft" by Yellowcard on the guitar
05. Leave the house wearing an entire outfit, head to toe, designed and created by me
06. Live in an apartment in Chicago for one full year
07. Live on a beach in California for one full year
08. Design, or co-design, the floorplan to my own house
09. Write a semi-autobiographical novel
10. For an entire year, make every gift I give with my own two hands
11. Watch a World Cup game live
12. Be someone's mentor
13. Be vegetarian for one year to gain a different perspective
14. Fall in love
15. Develop a steady workout plan1
6. Eat at Movenpick, and ride on a paddleboat in Lake Lucerne, Switzerland, again
17. Paint something that I can be proud of years later
18. Graduate from college with honors
19. Only eat greasy fast food twice a month for five years straight
20. Give up all pop for good
21. Cook an entire dinner for friends from scratch
22. Visit Asia for an extended period of time
23. Take an indefinite vacation
24. Find a job that I love
25. Leave anonymous presents for five friends: Things they want but would never buy themselves
26. Kiss in the pouring rain
27. Study abroad in an English-speaking country
28. Surprise someone I hardly know with flowers
29. Re-visit the Louvre and walk through every room
30. Take a spontaneous road-trip to God-knows-where, just up & go with no destination
31. Collect 10 lists just like this and help each person cross off at least one goal
32. Start and maintain a website that begins an online community
33. Participate in a book club
34. Read 200 novels, cover to cover.
35. Find a form of meditation that actually de-stresses me
36. Wing tattoos
37. Have a role in a Shakespearean play
38. Learn PHP coding
39. Paint my own house (outside and inside)
40. Own/Maintain a flower garden
41. Invent something that is useful
42. Swim with dolphins
43. Go on a Safari in Africa
44. Attend a ComicCon dressed as a character from a video game/comic book
45. Have my palm read by a "professional"
46. Be an extra in a movie
47. Spend at least one full 24 hour period in all fifty states
48. Take a dance class
49. Adopt a little Asian girl and see her graduate from high school
50. Complete EVERY item on this list before death
Thursday, August 17, 2006
I Saw The Look In Your Eye
I've decided.
I need to be rescued.
…except I'm not entirely sure what I mean when I say that. Minds rush to EMTs in ambulances (the hospice is…) or knights in shining armor with swords to strike down dragons. It's completely ambiguous, but so fully meaningful at the same time. I need to try and health-up my life and I need to work out and be motivated to write and be strong… and I need to motivate someone else to do the same…
I think…
To let you save me, I need to save you.
It's a most inconvenient paradox.
I would be heavenly,
if, baby, you'd just rescue me now.
I'm ready to leave, but I need someone to push me out the door. I'm throwing pebbles on love's window and all I need is for the light to come on and the shades to open. My mind just soaks in the rain, and I need someone to wring it out with a kiss. It's always hard to tell if you're simply wading in love… or if love is drowning you. My head is spinning.
Sometimes things just get you. Like how Matt Nathanson and Ben Folds in the rain can break my heart. Now that I have found someone… I'm feeling more alone,
…then I ever have before.
I need to be rescued.
…except I'm not entirely sure what I mean when I say that. Minds rush to EMTs in ambulances (the hospice is…) or knights in shining armor with swords to strike down dragons. It's completely ambiguous, but so fully meaningful at the same time. I need to try and health-up my life and I need to work out and be motivated to write and be strong… and I need to motivate someone else to do the same…
I think…
To let you save me, I need to save you.
It's a most inconvenient paradox.
I would be heavenly,
if, baby, you'd just rescue me now.
I'm ready to leave, but I need someone to push me out the door. I'm throwing pebbles on love's window and all I need is for the light to come on and the shades to open. My mind just soaks in the rain, and I need someone to wring it out with a kiss. It's always hard to tell if you're simply wading in love… or if love is drowning you. My head is spinning.
Sometimes things just get you. Like how Matt Nathanson and Ben Folds in the rain can break my heart. Now that I have found someone… I'm feeling more alone,
…then I ever have before.
Monday, August 14, 2006
We Can Wait For The Wind To Blow
Sad to say, I have no universal truth to reveal today. I just feel like it's been a little too long since the last time I wrote. Life recap:
I saw Step Up and John Tucker Must Die. Step Up was a cliche dance-movie and no matter how hot the lead male is, it just couldn't make up for the terrible acting. The dancing wasn't as cool as other movies with similar plotlines (aka Take the Lead, which I would watch again over Step Up any day). Other people loved it, but I'd say that Channing is not exactly what I'm looking for in terms of redeeming movie qualities.
John Tucker Must Die. Quality. Not the best, but I would consider buying it to watch. It was clever, but the ending was a little bit of a drag. The lead girl was my favorite. She was like a cute cross between semi-normal-pant-sized olsen twins and kate hudson. I love all three of those people, so meshed into one was pretty lady.
Let's see. My friends are dropping like flies and I'm too tired to feel bad or nervous about school. I stay out until one or two and then get up at nine because my body is incapable of letting me sleep in. Or yesterday I was asleep by eleven, but got up at two to go to Cassie's going-away-thing at Perkin's. I didn't get home until three and had to be dressed and at work by seven. Let's just say my eyes have the darkest circles they have had in months. I feel like I could seriously use something to make them go away. I could go all Ashlee Simpson and get plastic surgery.
Anyway, I'm off to do some interesting science research on facebook!
I saw Step Up and John Tucker Must Die. Step Up was a cliche dance-movie and no matter how hot the lead male is, it just couldn't make up for the terrible acting. The dancing wasn't as cool as other movies with similar plotlines (aka Take the Lead, which I would watch again over Step Up any day). Other people loved it, but I'd say that Channing is not exactly what I'm looking for in terms of redeeming movie qualities.
John Tucker Must Die. Quality. Not the best, but I would consider buying it to watch. It was clever, but the ending was a little bit of a drag. The lead girl was my favorite. She was like a cute cross between semi-normal-pant-sized olsen twins and kate hudson. I love all three of those people, so meshed into one was pretty lady.
Let's see. My friends are dropping like flies and I'm too tired to feel bad or nervous about school. I stay out until one or two and then get up at nine because my body is incapable of letting me sleep in. Or yesterday I was asleep by eleven, but got up at two to go to Cassie's going-away-thing at Perkin's. I didn't get home until three and had to be dressed and at work by seven. Let's just say my eyes have the darkest circles they have had in months. I feel like I could seriously use something to make them go away. I could go all Ashlee Simpson and get plastic surgery.
Anyway, I'm off to do some interesting science research on facebook!
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
This Is The End Of You And Me
1st Issue:
I'm not a fan of Gee Dubs, but I honestly don't believe he is trying to undermine our democracy. Let's be serious for like fifty seconds, people. He is just going about solving American problems in the way that he feels is right… or the way his puppeteers feel is right. If he is honestly trying to undermine our democracy and control the country, he's doing a pretty shitty job. It seems like if he wanted to, he could use a few lessons from Hitler or Stalin.
I think a major issue facing us, as Americans today, is pseudo-anarchy. Okay, so we don't support the current president. I don’t. There is no need to slash constantly. I realize that trying to talk through problems never actually works in politics, but can we please try to ride this out? The bush-bashing is almost as bad as Bush himself. I could do without it.
If you didn't vote, you have no right to complain. And if you don't vote again next time, I'll put a boot where the sun don't shine.
2nd Issue:
I work in a lab that contains radioactive materials, which means I can't drink my coffee in here, and I have a whole mug out in my locker. Unnecessary.
I'm not a fan of Gee Dubs, but I honestly don't believe he is trying to undermine our democracy. Let's be serious for like fifty seconds, people. He is just going about solving American problems in the way that he feels is right… or the way his puppeteers feel is right. If he is honestly trying to undermine our democracy and control the country, he's doing a pretty shitty job. It seems like if he wanted to, he could use a few lessons from Hitler or Stalin.
I think a major issue facing us, as Americans today, is pseudo-anarchy. Okay, so we don't support the current president. I don’t. There is no need to slash constantly. I realize that trying to talk through problems never actually works in politics, but can we please try to ride this out? The bush-bashing is almost as bad as Bush himself. I could do without it.
If you didn't vote, you have no right to complain. And if you don't vote again next time, I'll put a boot where the sun don't shine.
2nd Issue:
I work in a lab that contains radioactive materials, which means I can't drink my coffee in here, and I have a whole mug out in my locker. Unnecessary.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
...For The Moment That I've Been Anticipating...
It's over. We're goners.
If there's one thing that I know, it's that it's best to let it roll.
If there's one thing that I know, it's that it's best to let it roll.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Just For The Record...
When Justin T tells you to get your sexyback. He doesn't mean rub your sweatyback on the nearest person.
Black and White mixer? Check
Twelve year old hoochies? Check
Awkward sweaty grinds with random drunks? Check
...all the makings of a great night. I just hope the pictures turned out as well as they looked on the cameras.
Black and White mixer? Check
Twelve year old hoochies? Check
Awkward sweaty grinds with random drunks? Check
...all the makings of a great night. I just hope the pictures turned out as well as they looked on the cameras.
Run Away Faster Than Ever Before
Slowly, slowly, slowly… I am realizing the goals I set for myself are a little too high, and possibly impossible. Let's outline the big ones.
School: I plan on graduating in four years with a double major in Biomedical Engineering and English (apparantly the U doesn't have a creative writing program, so I might have to create it for myself), while, at the same time take the three extra classes that qualify me for pre-med. I want to learn a language, which won't possibly fit into my schedule. I would like to learn to dance (breakdance, actually, as lame as that sounds) and give real massages and cook italian and chinese and maybe take a class on giving other people something to start smiling about. Really smiling. Not for photographs.
I want to sing, and not just in my car.
Writing: I want to complete my first novel and be satisfied in a little less than 13 months. Sounds like a cakewalk, but I'm no novelist, just a perfectionist with a severe problem with procrastination. My goal was to publish before 20 and I lowered it to having a complete manuscript by twenty. How this is balancing with school? No idea.
Travel: I want to visit about 50 different countries, literally, and somehow stay in them for more than a week each (that's like a year and a half of traveling and only spending money. Among the top countries on my list: Spain, England, New Zealand, Korea, China, Japan, Costa Rica, Nicaragua.
Travel2: I want to go on a year long mission trip to a place of poverty. Peace Corps, or something along those lines. Oddly enough, I would also like to start a non-profit organization if I ever get on my feet enough to have any one of my dream houses.
Life: I want to somehow manage to own at least 3 houses. (One in Italy, Chicago, and California). I say at least, because there are about 7 different places that I want to live.
Life2: I want to find someone that I can handle who can handle me for the rest of my life. For some people, that is their ONLY goal, and they may never achieve it. Not to mention, I want two cute children. Seriously cute. I'm picky. :P
Life3: I want to speak different languages to connect with people that I meet.
Life4: I want to somehow write and save lives or make some medical discovery. Those are two very opposite goals… unless I write self-help books, but I don't consider that real writing. Real as in this-book-may-or-may-not-hold-some-universal-truth-that-isn't-just-given-to-you-outright. It is my weirdly strong belief that no one ever learned anything vital by having it told to them.
An the list literally goes on for miles. "Shoot for the moon, and even if you miss, you'll land among the stars." I hate that saying. What is among the stars? Literally empty space. Nothing.
I want the damn moon, and I won't settle.
School: I plan on graduating in four years with a double major in Biomedical Engineering and English (apparantly the U doesn't have a creative writing program, so I might have to create it for myself), while, at the same time take the three extra classes that qualify me for pre-med. I want to learn a language, which won't possibly fit into my schedule. I would like to learn to dance (breakdance, actually, as lame as that sounds) and give real massages and cook italian and chinese and maybe take a class on giving other people something to start smiling about. Really smiling. Not for photographs.
I want to sing, and not just in my car.
Writing: I want to complete my first novel and be satisfied in a little less than 13 months. Sounds like a cakewalk, but I'm no novelist, just a perfectionist with a severe problem with procrastination. My goal was to publish before 20 and I lowered it to having a complete manuscript by twenty. How this is balancing with school? No idea.
Travel: I want to visit about 50 different countries, literally, and somehow stay in them for more than a week each (that's like a year and a half of traveling and only spending money. Among the top countries on my list: Spain, England, New Zealand, Korea, China, Japan, Costa Rica, Nicaragua.
Travel2: I want to go on a year long mission trip to a place of poverty. Peace Corps, or something along those lines. Oddly enough, I would also like to start a non-profit organization if I ever get on my feet enough to have any one of my dream houses.
Life: I want to somehow manage to own at least 3 houses. (One in Italy, Chicago, and California). I say at least, because there are about 7 different places that I want to live.
Life2: I want to find someone that I can handle who can handle me for the rest of my life. For some people, that is their ONLY goal, and they may never achieve it. Not to mention, I want two cute children. Seriously cute. I'm picky. :P
Life3: I want to speak different languages to connect with people that I meet.
Life4: I want to somehow write and save lives or make some medical discovery. Those are two very opposite goals… unless I write self-help books, but I don't consider that real writing. Real as in this-book-may-or-may-not-hold-some-universal-truth-that-isn't-just-given-to-you-outright. It is my weirdly strong belief that no one ever learned anything vital by having it told to them.
An the list literally goes on for miles. "Shoot for the moon, and even if you miss, you'll land among the stars." I hate that saying. What is among the stars? Literally empty space. Nothing.
I want the damn moon, and I won't settle.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
All Tied Up, Wrapped Around, Useless
Tomorrow, I'm heading up to the Mall of America to spend an unnecessary amount of money. I'm limiting myself to only necessary things for college, though. At this rate, I'm seriously doubting that I'll be able to pay for Korea at all. Let's be serious. I have one month to make $1600 (because I have to save half for my college tuition) and not spend any money. I mean, I think my parents are willing to pay a small portion as my only Christmas present, but I still won't have any money to buy Xmas presents with (or buy things over there, either).
The deal was that we would go if Kate could find us round-trip tickets for $800 or less. But traveling during Christmas time is always more expensive, and right now, the cheapest I can find is $1200. I'm actually hoping that we can't. I really REALLY want to go, but I doubt that I can pay for it at this point, and at the rate I'm going. I won't push for anything from my parents, and I'll just ask them to put however much they can toward a travel fund for me or something. I was actually planning on going to Serbia/Croatia/Greece with Maja and Elli next summer, and that would be equally fantastic. Before I graduate, I am determined to find my way into an asian country for a week or more. Korean or Japan would be optimal.
Maybe I'll start some random website online and try to make money through ads. That won't work, because last time I tried that I got $70 for an entire year of work. Not really worth all the time and effort that went in. I realize schemes like this never actually work, so I'll have to find some way to try and get published when I'm at the U to get a chunk of money.
I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I'd rather travel and spend money I don't have when I'm in college and pay it back when I get a job than missing out on my youth. You're only young once, and traveling as a middle-aged man is a little less exciting in my eyes.
Well, wish me luck. I'm off to get rich or die trying. Thanks, Fitty.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Perspective Pries Her Once-Weighty Eyes
This is me. Killing time.
I slept for 10 hours last night. 8pm - 6am. Good choices are rarely made, and I can safely say that this may be one of them. Granted, I'm still pretty bored and waiting another half hour before I get coffee. I'm not really tired. I may even opt for decaf. Just kidding, that's crazies talk.
I was up at Nick's aunt's cabin all weekend. Eventful, and I'm really sunburned. The aforementioned weekend is the reason for the excessive sleep. Two nights in a row with Me, Nick's cousin Johnnie (5 years old), and Amanda, Nick's sister (19 years old) squished on a fold out couch. That is not even mentioning the fact that we all like to sprawl out in awkward positions… but I'm the only light sleeper who yields to resistance. At one point on Saturday night, I had Amanda kicking me and Johnnie's head on my chest and fist pushed against my windpipe. It really is no wonder I could barely squeeze sleep in.
The lake was fun, and I'm pretty sunburned. Skin cancer, here I come. The worst part was the drive home when we were all crabby and wanted to kill eachother just for somewhere to sleep without putting too much stress on any of our muscles.
In other news, Maja is finally back and she totes brought me fake LV wallet and Prada sunglasses. Try Frauda. Totally fake.
I slept for 10 hours last night. 8pm - 6am. Good choices are rarely made, and I can safely say that this may be one of them. Granted, I'm still pretty bored and waiting another half hour before I get coffee. I'm not really tired. I may even opt for decaf. Just kidding, that's crazies talk.
I was up at Nick's aunt's cabin all weekend. Eventful, and I'm really sunburned. The aforementioned weekend is the reason for the excessive sleep. Two nights in a row with Me, Nick's cousin Johnnie (5 years old), and Amanda, Nick's sister (19 years old) squished on a fold out couch. That is not even mentioning the fact that we all like to sprawl out in awkward positions… but I'm the only light sleeper who yields to resistance. At one point on Saturday night, I had Amanda kicking me and Johnnie's head on my chest and fist pushed against my windpipe. It really is no wonder I could barely squeeze sleep in.
The lake was fun, and I'm pretty sunburned. Skin cancer, here I come. The worst part was the drive home when we were all crabby and wanted to kill eachother just for somewhere to sleep without putting too much stress on any of our muscles.
In other news, Maja is finally back and she totes brought me fake LV wallet and Prada sunglasses. Try Frauda. Totally fake.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
My new lover...
sleek and white. her name is lajita.
she's got the hottest body, but her attitude is naughty.
and, dude, she's a Dell...
this is our first date of what I can feel is a long, meaningful relationship.
she's got the hottest body, but her attitude is naughty.
and, dude, she's a Dell...
this is our first date of what I can feel is a long, meaningful relationship.
Building Houses Out Of Match Sticks...
...and when it gets too hot, you've got me to blame.
So, my weekend was littered with let-downs and nothing-fights with my parents. I feel so angsty, and I use that word too much… so when I actually feel angsty, it looses it's meaning. I need to have fun sometime soon. 'Nuff said.
So, my weekend was littered with let-downs and nothing-fights with my parents. I feel so angsty, and I use that word too much… so when I actually feel angsty, it looses it's meaning. I need to have fun sometime soon. 'Nuff said.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Writer's Block-ing
Listen:
The city sleeps with her eyes hung open like shudders on her four-star homes and doors in the shanty towns that line her undersides. Eyes of shadow well-water and of windows gaping open. The city has eyes in every corner and all are open. All.
Her lights line the abandoned streets, as if searching for something; someone. Searching, searching, like lyricists in vain through thesauruses and dictionaries and lovers’ eyes for the perfect word.
She breathes sighs of loneliness through the smoky boulevard, and the wind that escapes her cancerous lungs is grey and thick.
Each one of her nimble fingers shadows the alleyways to hide her children: the children of the city. Each child embracing their short skirts and eye makeup… only venturing from the shadows to accompany those in slowing cars: the men with rough skin and tight-knuckled lust. The love has long since been washed from their fingernails, and their faces haven’t stretched to smiles in years. They have come to get what they are looking for.
And even though I’ve been awake all night, I feel as though the city has wrapped a free leg around me and pulled me tight under her, where we could fall through dreamless slumber for days.
...and so begins my finally realized dream of a short novel. That's right. Since I half-announced my goal of publishing something before I exit my teenage years, I feel compelled to actually try. When my six-thousand page novel is not accepted by any publisher, I'll drop my head in shame and retreat to medical research.
However, I feel that editors will see my exuberant, passionate youth and look upon me with pity. "Give the kid a chance," they'll say, and they'll be so right when I'm rocketed to fame. You know what will be on the front page of every newspaper? John Sand is the new J. K. Rowling: Millions Line up for Brilliant Sequel. and then, all I'll say is "I told you so."
Actually, I'd rather be regarded as the new Fitzgerald, but I'll settle for any semi-well-known author. Let's be serious, when it comes to fame, I'm easy to please. I've been thinking of psuedonyms (not that I can spell that). J. Thomas Montgomery or something like that. <3
The city sleeps with her eyes hung open like shudders on her four-star homes and doors in the shanty towns that line her undersides. Eyes of shadow well-water and of windows gaping open. The city has eyes in every corner and all are open. All.
Her lights line the abandoned streets, as if searching for something; someone. Searching, searching, like lyricists in vain through thesauruses and dictionaries and lovers’ eyes for the perfect word.
She breathes sighs of loneliness through the smoky boulevard, and the wind that escapes her cancerous lungs is grey and thick.
Each one of her nimble fingers shadows the alleyways to hide her children: the children of the city. Each child embracing their short skirts and eye makeup… only venturing from the shadows to accompany those in slowing cars: the men with rough skin and tight-knuckled lust. The love has long since been washed from their fingernails, and their faces haven’t stretched to smiles in years. They have come to get what they are looking for.
And even though I’ve been awake all night, I feel as though the city has wrapped a free leg around me and pulled me tight under her, where we could fall through dreamless slumber for days.
...and so begins my finally realized dream of a short novel. That's right. Since I half-announced my goal of publishing something before I exit my teenage years, I feel compelled to actually try. When my six-thousand page novel is not accepted by any publisher, I'll drop my head in shame and retreat to medical research.
However, I feel that editors will see my exuberant, passionate youth and look upon me with pity. "Give the kid a chance," they'll say, and they'll be so right when I'm rocketed to fame. You know what will be on the front page of every newspaper? John Sand is the new J. K. Rowling: Millions Line up for Brilliant Sequel. and then, all I'll say is "I told you so."
Actually, I'd rather be regarded as the new Fitzgerald, but I'll settle for any semi-well-known author. Let's be serious, when it comes to fame, I'm easy to please. I've been thinking of psuedonyms (not that I can spell that). J. Thomas Montgomery or something like that. <3
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Here's To The Fast Times.
Work. Work? Work!
I found another amazing band that I will ask to be my lover. Obviously, they will accept and I will travel around the world and become famous when they are surely discovered. Their name? All Time Low. Check them out at http://purevolume.com/alltimelow.
It's weird, because I went dorm room shopping yesterday and the fact that I'm leaving hasn't even hit me yet. I keep praying for it to hit... but it might not be until I've been up there for a month. I'd rather have it hit than sink in. Sinking doesn't exactly have a hasty connotation.
I know my roommate, Steve Huck is his name. Sports are his game... and that's literally it, according to his facebook. Eat, sleep, breathe sports... and the only sport I enjoy, aka soccer, (running/swimming don't count) isn't even listed in his profile. Political views? Conservative. I'm hoping he's one of those kids who is actually way moderate/liberal, but says they're conservative, because that's what they're parents say to be. Even if he's not, I'm good at avoiding certain subjects.
Upsides? (<-- I don't think that can be one word). His musical taste is quality... and that's pretty much the only criteria I have for friends... and since I listen to everything... it's pretty easy to be considered my friend. He hates Kelly Clarkson, though... which may be an issue, haha. I'll avoid the subject entirely. It comes up more often in everyday conversation than one would expect.
I hope he doesn't already have a microwave, because I bought one yesterday. Good times. My room colors are red, black, white, and sliver. I'm excited, because I'm going to try to stick with those colors in everything. Pretty sure I dropped an unnecessary amount of money at Target yesterday, and it was glorious. I just wish he would message me back already! I'm impatient.
"I can keep a secret,
if you can keep me guessing.
The flavor of your lips
is enough to keep me pressing
for more than just a moment
of truth between the lies."
I found another amazing band that I will ask to be my lover. Obviously, they will accept and I will travel around the world and become famous when they are surely discovered. Their name? All Time Low. Check them out at http://purevolume.com/alltimelow.
It's weird, because I went dorm room shopping yesterday and the fact that I'm leaving hasn't even hit me yet. I keep praying for it to hit... but it might not be until I've been up there for a month. I'd rather have it hit than sink in. Sinking doesn't exactly have a hasty connotation.
I know my roommate, Steve Huck is his name. Sports are his game... and that's literally it, according to his facebook. Eat, sleep, breathe sports... and the only sport I enjoy, aka soccer, (running/swimming don't count) isn't even listed in his profile. Political views? Conservative. I'm hoping he's one of those kids who is actually way moderate/liberal, but says they're conservative, because that's what they're parents say to be. Even if he's not, I'm good at avoiding certain subjects.
Upsides? (<-- I don't think that can be one word). His musical taste is quality... and that's pretty much the only criteria I have for friends... and since I listen to everything... it's pretty easy to be considered my friend. He hates Kelly Clarkson, though... which may be an issue, haha. I'll avoid the subject entirely. It comes up more often in everyday conversation than one would expect.
I hope he doesn't already have a microwave, because I bought one yesterday. Good times. My room colors are red, black, white, and sliver. I'm excited, because I'm going to try to stick with those colors in everything. Pretty sure I dropped an unnecessary amount of money at Target yesterday, and it was glorious. I just wish he would message me back already! I'm impatient.
"I can keep a secret,
if you can keep me guessing.
The flavor of your lips
is enough to keep me pressing
for more than just a moment
of truth between the lies."
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Equilibrium Inebriated
I'm just on here killing fifteen minutes before going off to reenact the breaking of Kristina's arm exactly one year ago today.
I was at the Mall of America today, and it's like I refuse to believe I need to save money. I feel guilty about buying new things until my parents tell me that i shouldn't buy them, or that they're too small. Then, I'm just bitter that they're telling me what to do.
I did become a severe hypocrite today when I gave in at H&M and bought man-pris. They're mildly awesome, and I feel bad about dissing all of them. I don't think that I consider them actual capris, because they're baggy and short enough to be considered shorts... at least that's what I'm telling myself.
The best part of be[lie]ve is the lie.
I was at the Mall of America today, and it's like I refuse to believe I need to save money. I feel guilty about buying new things until my parents tell me that i shouldn't buy them, or that they're too small. Then, I'm just bitter that they're telling me what to do.
I did become a severe hypocrite today when I gave in at H&M and bought man-pris. They're mildly awesome, and I feel bad about dissing all of them. I don't think that I consider them actual capris, because they're baggy and short enough to be considered shorts... at least that's what I'm telling myself.
The best part of be[lie]ve is the lie.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Love is Just a Click Away
I'm pretty sure that I literally sent around 30 Facebook wall messages in the last hour. That's how fun work is right now! I've been here for about two hours, and so I've got a little over six left. Good times. Honestly, how many of those messages were meaningful dialogue worthy of attention? Not many, and even fewer were actually amusing. They're mostly littered with "I miss you"s and "I haven't seen you in like forever"s and even a few "call me so we can get together"s. The sad truth is that I just don't make time.
Main issue that I need to focus on today: I can't be best friends with everyone. I'm spreading my relationships much too thin. I literally have about 10 people that I consider myself really close friends with. That's unnatural, and it frustrates all of them when they learn that I don't have time for lunch/dinner with them more than once a week. There are only 14 meals in a week that I can share with someone, and I eat with someone different at most of them. My time is wearing thin, and so is my wallet, but my waist isn't. I need to find ways to keep in touch without giving up money and gaining weight. My freshmen 15 is here a year early, and any more weight, I'll look like a fat version of my eighth grade self.
"OMG, I haven't seen you in forever. I miss my favorite lunch date! Call me sometime this weekend so we can get together." The problem is that sometimes I mean it, and sometimes I say it because I don't have anything to say. I also feel like more and more people have been calling me since I came out. Everyone wants a gay friend, because it's so hip.
Well, I guess that means I'm the newest accessory. …rock on...
Main issue that I need to focus on today: I can't be best friends with everyone. I'm spreading my relationships much too thin. I literally have about 10 people that I consider myself really close friends with. That's unnatural, and it frustrates all of them when they learn that I don't have time for lunch/dinner with them more than once a week. There are only 14 meals in a week that I can share with someone, and I eat with someone different at most of them. My time is wearing thin, and so is my wallet, but my waist isn't. I need to find ways to keep in touch without giving up money and gaining weight. My freshmen 15 is here a year early, and any more weight, I'll look like a fat version of my eighth grade self.
"OMG, I haven't seen you in forever. I miss my favorite lunch date! Call me sometime this weekend so we can get together." The problem is that sometimes I mean it, and sometimes I say it because I don't have anything to say. I also feel like more and more people have been calling me since I came out. Everyone wants a gay friend, because it's so hip.
Well, I guess that means I'm the newest accessory. …rock on...
Monday, July 10, 2006
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Oh, Baby, I'm Addicted.
When Enrique sang the song Addicted, I never knew what he meant until I watched the first season of Grey's Anatomy.
"I love you, in a really, really big pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window, unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me, choose me, love me."
-- Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy
So hit me over the head for cursing the show, because I have watched the first season 1 and a half times in two days. And something tells me that I'll have watched it four times before the next season even comes out on DVD.
"It's like candy, but with blood, which is so much better!"
"I love you, in a really, really big pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window, unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me, choose me, love me."
-- Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy
So hit me over the head for cursing the show, because I have watched the first season 1 and a half times in two days. And something tells me that I'll have watched it four times before the next season even comes out on DVD.
"It's like candy, but with blood, which is so much better!"
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Cinderelly, Cinderelly
Parental units? MIA.
Party? Not so much. Whenever the rents go to watch my sisters' athletic abilities (yet another one of my glorious inadequacies), I'm offered two choices:
1) Attend the events, while being awkwardly crushed on by teenies. Not interested.
2) Stay home and recieve an excellently long list of chores, most of which will go unnoticed once completed.
Numero dos it is. The issue is that when I clean, I clean. I go all out and clean the house from top to bottommus, and to what end? It's just the way I am: do something and do it right the first time. So, I waste my entire day completing tasks that will be negated around one hour after everyone else returns from their escapade. Poor me, a middle-class white boy in Suburbia actually has to work? What the hell?
Today's List?
- Horribly belated Thank-You notes. I'm so grateful (only 22 left!)
- Mow the lawn
- Water the flowers
- Vaccum
- Laundry
- Dishes
...make the fire, fix the breakfast, wash the dishes, do the mopping...
Party? Not so much. Whenever the rents go to watch my sisters' athletic abilities (yet another one of my glorious inadequacies), I'm offered two choices:
1) Attend the events, while being awkwardly crushed on by teenies. Not interested.
2) Stay home and recieve an excellently long list of chores, most of which will go unnoticed once completed.
Numero dos it is. The issue is that when I clean, I clean. I go all out and clean the house from top to bottommus, and to what end? It's just the way I am: do something and do it right the first time. So, I waste my entire day completing tasks that will be negated around one hour after everyone else returns from their escapade. Poor me, a middle-class white boy in Suburbia actually has to work? What the hell?
Today's List?
- Horribly belated Thank-You notes. I'm so grateful (only 22 left!)
- Mow the lawn
- Water the flowers
- Vaccum
- Laundry
- Dishes
...make the fire, fix the breakfast, wash the dishes, do the mopping...
Friday, July 07, 2006
Time for Summer
The first entry in a blog is always the hardest to write.
I would actually assume that this entry is what turns millions would-be bloggers away, because they just don't know what to write. Or, they write their first blog and no one reads or comments. Why should they care what I have to say?
Well, this blog is the new outlet for emotional stress and frustration, and not written to impress anyone (or anything!). I swear that the following blogs contain most of the anger that drives me, and I am generally a happy person.
Well, until tomorrow, readers!
I would actually assume that this entry is what turns millions would-be bloggers away, because they just don't know what to write. Or, they write their first blog and no one reads or comments. Why should they care what I have to say?
Well, this blog is the new outlet for emotional stress and frustration, and not written to impress anyone (or anything!). I swear that the following blogs contain most of the anger that drives me, and I am generally a happy person.
Well, until tomorrow, readers!
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