Im looking over my stats trackers, and there are a LOT of people reading who are NOT leaving comments or signing my g-book. Bad people! Bad!

I still havent hung the Weird Al towel. I feel at a loss for how to do it. I have rearranged some furniture in my room. Its cozier now, to my mind.

I’m going through my funny albums right now. Stephen Lynch, Weird Al, Tom Lehrer, Arrogant Worms, Animaniacs, Corky and the Juice Pigs…yum. They’re feeding my spirit.

People have souls. Animals have spirits. Im an animal. Rawr. Fftt.

I found something…nNeptep.mpg. Its one frame of a chick’s hips for three minutes and twenty seconds. It’s…weird. I wonder if the guys know about it.

Dave and I went out last night. 56 was closed. Gotham Hall was full of married couples. Liquid Kitty was full of Law-Trojans. It was still fun. And excercise. Yay! I always miss dancing to hip-hop and techno and house.

Matt is an angel of the Lord.

Our Father, who art in Heaven
Hallowed be thy name
I could dress him up like the Pope and then I’d…
Oh dear God, the shame!
No, no lead us not into temptation
Deliver us from sin
We can pretend that he was Jesus Christ
And I was Mary Magdalane

Altar boy, altar boy
Confess your sins to me
You will find the grace of God
Inside my rectory

–Stephen Lynch, “Altar Boy”

Those songs would sound so much better with some drums behind them. Of course, Stephen Lynch can carry a show on his own…

smart player
2003-09-07-11:27 p.m.

my mp3 player knows me. Smug sunuvabitch player. It plays the right music for the moment. NP: Californication by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Earlier, the radio was playing I’m Addicted to You by…umm…Simple Plan? Sure, why not.

Went shopping with Erica for shorts. Went and met Dos for orange juice and banter. Went to Daddy’s studio for money and dinner. Mmm…garlic pizza. I have deep love for any pizza parlor that understands that garlic SHOULD be as popular as pepperoni. Hard Times in Los Feliz fulfills…so very many of my needs. Still, the drive is a bitch, and it would have been scarier if I had taken freeways. We stopped by nNep’s to show off Erica and utilize their facilities. Still haven’t told Kerry about the Weird Al concert. Whatever. I’m sure someone will. Despite and because of their communication systems.

Downloading pr0n. Because I feel like it, that’s why. Gonna give the pr0n Phil and Mike left here to nNeptep, because it’s trashy and the mothers eye it warily. Not that my mother has ever been in my apartment more than five minutes altogether. Gods but this takes a long time.

Started cartooning a little again. Been writing a couple of promising-feeling short stories. Now I just need to find my poetry muse and I’ll have my applications ready to go. And bass. Like the bassist from the John Eddie Experience, Weird Al’s bassist has inspired me to be a better person. And bassist.

My mp3 player just played “Crash and Burn” by Savage Garden. Now it’s on to Summertime. Now Im wondering if my mp3 player isnt just full of whiny bitch songs. Although I do have a healthy amount of rock and hiphop on there. What’s that quote?

What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

–Rob Gordon, High Fidelity

I want to see Runaway Jury in the worst way. Probably see it with my daddy. And The School of Rock with Jack Black.

You’re nobody ’til somebody loves you
You’re nobody ’til somebody cares
You may be king, you may possess
The world and its gold
But gold won’t bring you happiness
When you’re growin’ old
The world still is the same
You’ll never change it
As sure as the stars shine above
Oh you’re nobody ’til somebody loves you
So find yourself somebody to love.

Yeah.

Nobody loves me, Nobody cares,
Nobody picks me peaches and pears.
Nobody offers me candy and Cokes,
Nobody listens and laughs at my jokes.
Nobody helps when I get in a fight,
Nobody does all my homework at night.
Nobody misses me, Nobody cries,
Nobody thinks I’m a wonderful guy.

So if you ask me who’s my best friend, in a whiz,
I’ll stand up and tell you Nobody is.
But yesterday night I got quite a scare,
I woke up and Nobody just wasn’t there.
I called out and reached out for Nobody’s hand,
In the darkness where Nobody usually stands.
Then I poked through the house, in each cranny and nook,
But I found somebody each place that I looked.
I searched till I’m tired, and now with the dawn,
There’s no doubt about it- Nobody’s gone.

–Shel Silverstein

Oh, if you have Lime Wire or Morpheus, look up and download nNeptep songs! Shameless plug, I know, but it’s what you get for not posting here. As for the nNepteppians who aren’t posting here, there’s…uh…another…bad…comeuppance thing…

Things I need to talk to nNep about:

• the nNep mpeg
• pr0n
• Weird Al concert

I totally failed to tell them about any of it when I saw them today. Grr.

Wish Sin wasnt in Europe.

Just got a really fucked up headrush/dizzy feeling. Fuuuuck.

naughty naughty
2003-09-08-2:47 p.m.

Poppy is a book by Avi, who has written many young adult fantasty stories I used to love as a child. And I do mean child. I’ve been reading young adult books since I was eight and I think its bloody rude to characterize books by age-appropriateness and not by cleverness. Dr. Seuss and Click, Clack, Moo should be right alongside Discworld, while Is There Live After Boys? should be in a room with a brightly colored carpet and padded walls.

I’ve been all around campus today trying to put things together, trying to be able to graduate on time. And so much needs doing still. Need to call and claim Northwest. Need to take GRE’s. Need to finish apps. Need to accept that I’m not going to be promoted today, even though I SHOULD be, even though I can teach over half the classes and LIKE teaching. I always seem to get passed over for this stuff, even if it’s been promised to me. Which just solidifies my convictions that the world is out to screw me.

There needs to be a better way to search Amazon…a list of Authors with the name of Avi so you can choose the one you mean and not have to sort through hundreds of other books.

armatrading truths
2003-09-09-9:39 a.m.

Last night I picked up Jean and we got…absolutely nothing done. He, Erica, and I stayed up talking about horrible things. That was fun too. Driving Jean back he delicately said the same stuff everyone has said. Its getting funny. Everyone uses the exact same words. Yes. I get it. I’m a tool. I messed up. Thank you.

I’m not the sort of person who falls
In and quickly out of love
But to you I gave my affection

…

You make me stare, when I should not
Are you so strong or is all the weakness in me?
Why do you come here
And pretend to be just passing by?
But I need to see you,
And I mean to hold you
Tightly.

–Joan Armatrading, the Weakness in Me

Look, Im happy for everyone and everything, but WHY doesnt anyone ever have a crush on me? Ever? In the history of the universe? Well, ok, that’s not fair. Lisa, I guess. Jacoa. Maybe Morranne, but I’m still not sure what’s happened there. Still.

The etymology of names. Fun in a handbasket. No no. Really. Go play.

Queen of Wands updated today! Yay!! FWIW, I want Kestrel to get a boyfriend. Too many plots thrive off of the fact that their impossibly hot lead cant hold onto a love interest. Davan in Something Positive is like that. Even if he’s not supposed to be physically cute, he’s a-door-bell because of his mind.

My name is derived from Hecate. I knowed, I knowed it! Actually, no one knows for sure. It could also derive from “pure”. AHAHAHAHAHAHA. *sigh* *wipes away a tear* That’s good funny.

blind hatred
2003-09-10-3:49 a.m.

So this guy messaged me on Refs and was NOT amused at my profile. He was actually really angry. It ended “How about this…YOU fuck off, cunt!”

*blink blink*

*evil grin spreading*

First of all, I don’t get offended at being called a cunt. I think its a lovely word. I’ve not-hated that word since…well…since I learned it. It’s never really offended me the way people always tell me it should. No words really do. I wrote a paper on it. I can’t cite myself enough. I love that paper. Cussing is good and here’s why…

Secondly, this guy is gay. In Los Angeles. He’s…censuring me…for…something he voluntarily looked at…and he’s…gay…wow. That’s some deep shit when you think about it. I don’t GET people who get offensively pissed off for really NO reason, ESPECIALLY people who are among the more persecuted groups in the world. It’s like…all that pain and suffering is special to you and doesnt translate to other corners of the universe. I also am kind of amused that a homosexual chose to end with a derogative. I mean…there’s so many names I could return if I were of a mind to, why on earth would a semi-intelligent person open that door?

NP: So Much for the Afterglow by Everclear.

WHY do women on sitcoms/cartoon shows keep their worthless, idiotic, albeit devoted husbands? Why did they marry them in the first place? And why are the men so bloody insufferable?

freeze-dried love
2003-09-11-9:32 a.m.

mmmm…Cheerios Triple Berry Burst. I bought two boxes the other day because they were on mad sale. The first box I went through in a day (I dont have a WHOLE lot of other options at this point). It had many sparkly freeze-dried berries of goodness. The blueberries still trip me out, but mmm…damn the raspberries are nice. This second box isnt a Berry Burst though. Its more of a Berry Pffft. There’s hardly any berries, and absolutely NO raspberries, so I’m sad inside, and I munch away aimlessly in the futile hopes that a raspberry will surface.

Last night I got Daddy and Miss Karen to take me to Izzy’s Deli on Wilshire and 17th. That place is HARDCORE, but the waitress was bad. Bad waitress! My daddy had a happy over the pickle. And another because of the mustard. Its even good on onion rings!! Yum yum yum *munch snarf snorck* I had a Pastrami-and-corned-beef sammich and I still have some left over. Mmmm. Protein. Leftovers.

Mmm…just found two big raspberries.

Doselle wants me to come over today, so I need to print out the birthday cards I made. Kinko’s or CLICC? Kinko’s would be better quality, but CLICC is free…*sigh* if I didn’t have Kerry’s card on their as well I would just hand Doselle the disc. No I wouldnt. Ooh…Im getting so proud of my photoshop skills, even if they are all basically the same thing. I need Jean to teach me some things, maybe. He’s taught me a lot already. Should meet Jean a little after three, maybe? If it can happen, it should happen. *nods*

Wanna spend some quality time at Sunset Rec pool.

Let’s get it on
Til the early morn
Girl, its all good
Just turn me on.

–Sean Paul, Get Busy

Hee! Kestrel had a good time on her date. I want to see more of this thing they call Adam. Yay! I wish S*P would do a massive update, like five or six strips.

I like that Candice Bergen had done a couple Family Guy episode. I love her. I want to be her when I grow up. And Adam Carolla is the Family Guy Death. Yay.

nagasaki nightmare
2003-09-12-10:24 a.m.

Saw nNeptep last night with Dave at the Joint. Yay! Whole…Anti-War, Pro-America theme. Very nifty. They did Nagasaki Nightmare (a Crass cover), which I dont know if I remember them doing from Black Box days. I know the song, cause its on one of my CDs…*smug*

I FUCKING FORGOT TO PRINT OUT THE GRAPHIC! Im a bad, bad person. They’re playing Saturday, so if I can get out of the album signing on time, I can go to the Sagebrush and give it to him. Because its funny and evil, although less funny since I’ve learned that he’s the only one who’s looked at Matt’s present. I NEED to print out the CD today because Dos’ thing is tonight. And then Jacaranda tonight with Dave. Wheee!

Need to go to CLICC…should probably just do it there, because I DO need to print out my reg status anyway…hmm. Who wants to walk with me? No one? Feh.

To the tool on Refs: Firstly, using “not-clever” instead of “unclever” is not a GRAMMATICAL error. Secondly, Grammar is a prescriptionist, obsolete discipline. Thirdly, SYNTACTICALLY, “not-clever” is fine. Morphologically, it may be a little suspect, but its NOT that bad. Fourthly, it’s not my fault YOU’RE uneducated. Likewise, Evo-Psych is not bullshit. It’s a philosophy I heartily prescribe to. All it means is NO ONE IS SPECIAL. Everyone can be categorized, because all behaviors are evolutionarily pre-disposed. So go away and don’t come back until you can argue without dismissing my philosophies. You can’t even make a decent criticism. It’s not that I can do no wrong, its that you haven’t done anything RIGHT yet.

Mmm…college. The final frontier.

And, no, I won’t pretend to respect the feelings of people I don’t give a good goddamn about. If you get offended by a PROFILE telling shallow, stupid, lazy, or morally antagonistic people to fuck off, then…well, you’re being morally antagonistic, arent you? Fuck off!

Dave was HIGHLY amused by “Rebecca Mecca”. HIGHLY. Ohhh! ANNND they played Orgazmo on the screen behind the band, and Kerry forgot, and he turned around during Red Dress (which Dave finally explained ot me and now its all downloaded and stuff), and he started laughing and fell on his knees. It was creepy though cause Orgazmo is to nNeptep, apparently, what Wizard of Oz is to Pink Floyd. That was some Dark Side of the Moon shit, to paraphrase Kerry. Bigger Titties coincided with T-Rex scene. Red Dress matched up rhythmically with this scene with a porn actress mounting on a bed and falling over.

Matt kissed the back of my hand and called me “Kat, my love.” heee. Happy squirmy puppy dance. Its like being kissed on the forehead. It just feels good. Just so.

NP: Handle…this CD of the band that was on before nNeptep last night. They’re a little downtempo for me, but they had awesome crowd/support. This chick, K- was handing out CD’s and getting email addies and just being cute in general. We talked a bit. She seemed to like nNeptep. nNep needs a banner, and to come up with a more structured answer to “what kind of music do they play?”

sounds good, mister the kid
2003-09-14-2:37 a.m.

I feel like everyone is trying not to laugh at me. Like this has gone even farther than I thought. I felt taunted. I felt like jumping off the roof to get away from the taunters. I hate being mocked when Im getting over something. Its like, you’re doing your best to heal from something, and people come along and pick at it so the scar it leaves is uglier and longer-coming.

hang me in rags
2003-09-14-2:13 p.m.

Toby, Erica, and I went to Eric Anders’ album release party for a while last night. It was neat. Then we went to nNeptep’s outdoor accoustic show. That was neater. They did Parents Just Dont Understand in something like 28/4 time. They got TWO complaints. Someone said they were too offensive and a group of girls said they were just plain horrible. Punk rock.

Mom came to the show and said it was fun. My mother has no outward affectation at entertainment stuff. Its kind of hard to be near. Anyway, she took Toby home and I took Erica home and went to this party in Venice. I dont think I was there for more than an hour or so. Talked with Matt and Yolanda. Talked with the Zen Zoo crew. Kinda felt ignored by other people.

Last night, both my daddy and then this gay guy Jason at the party said I was pretty. Daddies have to say that. I felt a bit fuzzier for Jason’s comment though.

You were my angel.
Now, you are real.
So like a stranger,
Colder than steel.
The morning after,
You know what you bring.
If love is a red dress,
Well, hang me in rags.

–Maria McKee, If Love is a Red Dress

This morning I woke up EARLY and saw Joey was here and unpacking some kitchen stuff. We talked a little, but I was too tired to be entertaining, I think. Sigh.

My sister’s taken ill since last night, so she and momma are at the hospital now. Im sitting here trying to write and failing miserably.

My dad doesn’t get to be triumphant about me running sound. He has this awful approach to everything where he ONLY EVER highlights the horrible parts of everything. It was always “Come clean toilets at the studio.” It was never “and then if you’re doing a good job after a week, I’ll let you set up mics or teach you to tune guitars.” He never added “but if you get through that, it’ll be worth it.” My mom does that too. Everything. Sound engineering, dance, singing, acting, modelling…anything I ever wanted to take they did their damndest to discourage me. Maybe its why I dont let myself love anything too much, because I’m always looking for the bad now, or waiting for someone to point it out. I used to really like watching Seinfeld until my parents undertook a campaign to complain long and hard during each episode, pointing out how stupid or pointless each joke was. I still can’t sit through a Seinfeld episode anymore.

If I were to be reincarnated, would it truly be a second chance? Would I know anything about what I know now? Would I have a fighting chance in my next life? Or is my soul doomed to be fucked with for the rest of eternity? Is there something in my aura that attracts bad things? Not bad like starvation. Bad like millions of small mindfucks since the day I was born.

out, out, out!
2003-09-14-10:02 p.m.

out of me, onto you. out of me, onto you. out of me onto you. outofmeontoyou. outofmeontoyououtofmeontoyououtofmeontoyou
outofmeontoyououtofmeontoyououtofmeontoyououtofmeontoyououtofme…

Toby’s in the hospital. Has been all day. On morphine and shit. She asked for morphine. I gotta stay here and watch the dogs. She’s gonna have surgery. Cuts in her flesh and organs taken out. Neat little plastic stiches all up her sides. Funny ol’ way to lose weight. She went to sleep happy and woke up sick and went to the hospital and she’s been there ever since. No cell phones allowed in the hospital and no one called me for four hours and then mom came and packed and went back.

I had to tell her friends. They cared. They were worried. They love her.

So who’s sleeping tonight? Where’s John? Why isnt he calling yet? Call me. I can’t be in this house alone with only stupid movies on telly and a Crank Yankers marathon. I wish I had someone who loved me. Someone could come and hold me.

I looked online and I think maybe the weight loss from her stomach virus 2 weeks ago may have triggered today’s issue.

boiling the blood
2003-09-16-9:34 a.m.

Toby went into surgery last night. They removed her gallbladder and said it looked like that of an 80-year-old woman. And it was completely gangrenous. Whee. Why does Toby keep DOING this shit? She’s still in the hospital, and she has a fever which was going up during surgery.

I guess I’m headed back to the hospital in a few hours. I was fielding questions all last night from the concerned and unconcerned.

Daddy joked about bringing Aimee Mann to Toby’s hospital room. I should bring Toby her camera :-p

Actually, I think it would be neat as hell if Mel recorded a couple of Toby’s favorite songs for her. I can just imagine rolling in and flourishing that. I can also picture the nursing staffs face as Toby listened to “I Made a Mistake” and “If Love Was A Red Dress” followed by “Charles in Charge” and “Mama’s Sandwich”. Hee.

Everyone’s doing their damndest not to fight. Toby’s the one who can’t really deal with the stress of seeing Mom and Dad fight. Ive been dealing with it since before she was born, so I guess I have more practice. No one’s making jokes at anyone’s expense, or criticizing anyone for being IN-FUCKING-SANE about lodging complaints. It’s all very cozy and very fake, but for a good cause, I guess.

google
2003-09-16-10:52 a.m.

STOP, OK? I can see you. Fucking bookmark my blog or sign it or post a comment or SOMETHING, but stop coming to me through Google or Yahoo or whatever search engines are trendy at the moment. I can -see- you. I can -see- the search terms you use. I can see how many pages you looked at and how long you were on this site. At least capitalize nN’s name right.

God I hate you, Kenny.

Met her on the CB
Said her name was Mimi
Sounded like an angel
Come to earth (Earth!)
But when I went to meet her,
Boy, you should have seen her
Twice as tall as me,
Three times the girl (Gi-irl!)

Oh my fat baby loves to eat (Loves to eat!)
Big ol’ Buddah belly
And her breasts swing past her feet (Feet!)
Oh my fat baby loves to ea-a-at!
My big ol’ fatass baby loves to eat!

–Stewie and the Cowtones, Family Guy

I’ve got blisters on me fingers! Hehe.

good funny
2003-09-17-12:23 p.m.

Toby’s like me. She’s been cracking jokes the whole time. In the E.R., one of the intake guys told her that usually gallbladder problems are associated with obese people, and the obesity makes it hard to operate, too, but it shouldn’t be hard to operate on Toby because she’s not fat. Toby turned to mom and went “You hear that? He says I’m not fat!”

Right now, she’s eating lunch and I let Israi in and my puppy was running between Toby and I, just ecstatic to be in the house. Toby looked at Israi and says:

“I think Kerry and Israi are soulmates.”
I bend down to pet the puppy and keep her from jumping on Toby. “Oh, you mean, like, the ADD and the permanently happy thing?”
I start scratching Israi’s hindquarters and her back and legs start twitching happily.
Toby goes: “Yeah, and the butt thing? They both do that butt thing.”

Yay. She can talk normally today and mostly get along by herself, but I still gotta keep her doped up. And laughing still sucks for her.

In Toby’s words: “This is kind of an unbelievable month. Weird Al sat on your lap, and I got gangrene.”

denny’s asylum
2003-09-18-5:18 p.m.

Kerry came over really late last night to drop off some fliers since I dont know when I’ll be able to pick them up, if ever. I’m never going to breathe again. He met the puppies. Yay. HE has a puppy now. Yay. Puppy-love, puppy-love, lalalalala…

Anyway, Mum and he started talking about New York, leaving me with my nose pressed to the frozen window pane. She issued me commands like I was four. Worst of all, she started taking shots at my dog, because she thinks its funny. Lay OFF my fucking dog. Its MY dog. MINE. NO touching. NO teasing. She doesn’t like you because you’re mean to her.

At last she went to bed, and Kerry and I went to Denny’s for hot chocolate and nachos. The waiter used to work at Hollywoood Denny’s and Kerry recognized him and he was a sweeeetie. It’s good to talk to Kerry one on one. He doesnt pay attention otherwise. For instance, he didn’t know I want to move to San Diego next summer. I tried to mention I rarely have the chance to talk to him one on one when no one else is around, but he just looked blank. OK…

I wanna see his doggy! Doggy doggy doggy doggy…

as the bishop said to the nun
2003-09-23-10:02 a.m.

it just makes everything sound dirty.

Im in the second day of CLICC training. Dave took me to see Matchstick Men last night, but I actually got in at a decent hour. Doesnt mean I wont be yawning through the last part of the day.

Sunday, Jean took Erica and I to see Underworld. I said BOOOOOOM. Then I went home for a while. Then Erica and I went to a 10:30 pm showing of Italian Job in Ackerman. Dave says the University is trying to keep the freshmen away from the frats during Zero Week. Hehehe.

Whee. Movies-a-plenty. In my mouth, even.

MY DOG. NO TOUCHING. She attacked Maggie badly Saturday night or something and now Mom is determined to get rid of her. Daddy said he was going to beat her. Over his dead body.

dum-de-dum
2003-09-25-4:49 p.m.

I think this is one of the first times Ive blogged without really knowing what I’m going to say. Yeah. It’s kinda like that.

I spent the last three days at CLICC training. My team won. Finally. Because I r0xx0r on the PowerPoint Presentation. Some of the newbies seem cool. Maybe Im just mellowing out.

I always feel warm and squishy after talking to him, but it only lasts until I hear someone else’s voice. A happy memory, easily shattered.

The pomeranian and Katie’s Pet Depot got sold last night while I was walking home. The dachsund puppy that’s been living with it the last month went MENTAL and started barking and crying once she sussed out what was happening. I picked her up and held her and she cuddled my neck and chest until the Pomeranian was out of the store. Poor baby. I wish I had time to stop by and say hi today.

Luke and I are going to the Derby tonight…provided I can find cash because I just realized Im a big big big big big big idiot. I can’t get cash. FUUUUUCK. Anyone wanna float me a tenner?

I never got the idea of brainstorming until high school when one teacher told me that brainstorming opens up part of your brain to finding new ideas. Blogging does the same kind of thing to me, for better or worse. Of course, because of the linear nature, I never get out EVERYTHING I want to say.

I hate my life. Hate, hate, hate. I hate when someone says “You dont have to do this, you know” after I try to do something good that they need done. I mean, OBVIOUSLY I dont have to do it. Im a bloody world-class procrastination champion. I do it because I want to. Yes, I feel a bit more responsible about the website because I helped create it, and yes, I partly keep the calendar up to date because none of them will. But it also gives me a happy. So just say thank you and move on. Or don’t say thank you. Buy me a drink or something. Mmm.

After training last night, I went to BrewCo for 5.6 seconds. It was happy hour so I splurged on a gin-less gin and tonic (wankers). Then I left, because if there’s anything I hate, its a party that doesnt involve people I know or like. I like the anonymity of clubs, because anything can happen. I hate parties where I half-know everyone cause no one is trying to introduce themselves, and I end up realizing how little I have in common with them.

I think Im British today. No ‘fense, Enola.

I had Hebrew class today. I couldnt gather everything that was being said but I transalated as much of the reading as I could. So call it a yay. I wish I had someone to help me transalate the sticky bits. How is it a world full of Jews, and not a damn one speaks Hebrew? OK, theres not a single part of that statement that isnt erroneous, but still.

It bothers me that I’m not talking to Moranne. On the other hand, it that cute little series of 180’s irks me. Not like she’s IM’d me either.

I got a lot done today. I failed to get some other stuff done, but it will be accomplished soon. I slept last night, but I have a sneaking suspicion it wont happen again for a very long time.

I wanna sleep. No. Im working from 6 and then I have a show at 10, so I just gotta go home, shower, bring Luke, and take off to the wild purple Derby.

the pleasure’s all on this side of the folio
2003-09-25-6:32 p.m.

How did I never read All’s Well That Ends Well before?!!

Then I confess,
Here on my knee, before high heaven and you,
That before you, and next unto high heaven,
I love your son:—
My friends were poor, but honest; so’s my love:
Be not offended; for it hurts not him
That he is lov’d of me: I follow him not
By any token of presumptuous suit;
Nor would I have him till I do deserve him;
Yet never know how that desert should be.
I know I love in vain, strive against hope;
Yet in this captious and intenible sieve
I still pour in the waters of my love,
And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like,
Religious in mine error, I adore
The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,
But knows of him no more. My dearest madam,
Let not your hate encounter with my love,
For loving where you do; but if yourself,
Whose aged honour cites a virtuous youth,
Did ever, in so true a flame of liking,
Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian
Was both herself and love; O, then, give pity
To her whose state is such that cannot choose
But lend and give where she is sure to lose;
That seeks not to find that her search implies,
But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies!

–Helena, All’s Well That Ends Well, Act I scene iii

I said, GOD DAMN. And the whole virginity riff in the first scene? Mwah. Perfect.

goin’ nowhere fast
2003-09-26-4:18 p.m.

At work. In YRL.

Last night, I went to the Derby alone. Here are some notes I wrote for Kerry and gave him after the set:

• Don’t break guitar on stage.
• Turn off voice FX during “Bribe”, except for “…to be FUCKED for the…”
• Turn down guitar, turn off guitar FX during “Red Dress”.
• Don’t make feedback.

There were a couple more, but I can’t remember. Kerry said he found the first one very helpful.

I like Mel’s friend, Tirzah. She gives me pen and paper to make notes with. I like Brian as well. He uses the pen and paper for evil. Maybe I should go by the Zen Zoo one of these days to entertain the boys. I’ll go on a weekend so Kerry isn’t fussed.

I need to do laundry. I need to get to my bank and get cash-money from them, whores that they are. What kind of bank isnt open on Saturday?! I need to pay off car insurance. I need to transalate the next couple chapters from HaDerech HaArucha Habayitah, so I can be ahead. There’s homework, too. And I have a couple books to buy.

OOOOH! I got into the Poetry Workshop!! Go me! It’s my birthday! With Yenser! Heheheheehe. OK, but there’s a catch and I dont know if Ill actually be able to enroll in the class. There’s enforced requisites which I technically bypassed, but it shouldn’t matter. Plus it conflicts with the Public Health class that I really really wanna take too. Not that Public Health can hold a torch to Poetry Workshop, but it would be nice to NOT be pooch-screwed for once.

I already feel the summer fading away. So much for the afterglow.

Tonight there’s free Salsa, but I forgot to bring my shoes and dont know if I have time/inclination to go home, get them, and come back. It would be fun though. Maybe I shall. I could use it. Even if I havent got anything pretty to wear.

I REALLY need to do laundry.

Tonight is the start of Rosh Hashannah, the Jewish New Year, which we celebrate by locking ourselves in Synagogue for eight hours straight each of two days. Do those Jews know how to party or WHAT? WOO! TESTIFY!

Damn Jews.

Saturday night, Im going to BrewCo to see Jacaranda. Because it’s free. Sunday night I’m preparing for auditions…and possibly going to see Freddy vs. Jason with BY. Monday and Tuesday nights, we have auditions. AHAHAHAHAHA. *hangs self*

damn hippies
2003-09-27-2:59 a.m.

Am I hippy-ish? I sure as FUCK never hung on him. Well…on the other hand…the day Im thinking of, he wasnt really paying attention to anyone. I think I was sitting with Jean…so maybe Im in the clear. Probably.

I seem to give off vibes. I can’t help it. Maybe its why everyone dislikes me so. I am Charles Morgan, with a double-barrelled, nasty stare that I don’t mean to give, only I look at someone a certian way when Im thinking about them.

Martin, Juliet, Dave, and I went to see the midnight showing of Reservoir Dogs just now. We also had Yoshinoya, Bacardi 03, and Ben and Jerry’s. I shall be horribly remorseful in the morning.

There’s millions of blogs in the world. What are the chances she’s talking about mine?

Sleep? What’s that? It’s Rosh Hashannah…tomorrow I may have to go to fucking SIMI VALLEY…or not. I prefer not. Ah, Luke Perry…were you ever so misunderstood?

Nothing in that movie is so funny as listening to Tim Roth choke on his own accent. Neither of us do the other as well as we think we do, with the exception of a very very few.

Some good monologues in RD, yo. Ugh, I need to sleep. Sleeeeep….

checklist
2003-09-27-12:19 p.m.

Things I’d have to get done first:

• Give nNep the EQ charts for Sagebrush
• Find replacement roommate
• Make a list of passwords for Toby
• Get Northwestern or a decent performance space
• Pay off Mike/insurance/Jenny He
• Find something quick, sure, and not-messy/painful.

Not too much really…

it was good
2003-09-28-1:57 p.m.

Went with David and Juliet to see Jacaranda at the Brew Co last night. Oh yeah, THATS why I liked them. Jason was a hppy boy on the skins. And some of their songs I hadnt heard before or dont remember hearing but they were awesome and there was much dancing and drinking and general carousing. Some guy kept looking at me furtively and being generally casual like. Theyre playing the Black Box next Saturday. nNep is playing the Joint this Thursday. Whee. Sleep? Wassat? Ew…I might be working Thursday night…but probably not that late, right? Aw, kidneys…well…lets see what I can do about that…

observe
2003-09-28-4:56 p.m.

So I’m listening and reading and watching and filtering and ciphering and organizing and I’ve come to this conclusion: The boy has mutant powers. I don’t know another guy in the world that could not only carelessly fuck up GIRL AFTER GIRL but then has them begging to still be friends with him. No one who has so much resentment built up about him in even his guy friends, but still is the unchallenged leader in every situation. I DEARLY want to see he and Lou at a party together. I wonder if its not like the triplets in Blood and Chocolate…scrambling to see which can sit on top of the others longest.

Aiden, dear Aiden. I will make you a better ending. I will make you remorseful and then you will be worthy of your Vivian.

I despise men who cling to women who are above them, and I despise women who cling to men who deserve more. I mean those wenches who don’t dance and dress prissy and carry khaki-leather pocketbooks, and cling to the arms of artists who ought to have an artist girl, someone who loves everything creative, who has energy and fun. Who doesnt sit at a table sipping bloody cosmopolitans during rock concerts. Jesus fucking Christ, what’s WRONG with you bitches? Find a fucking frat boy and move on.

But maybe that’s the secret. Maybe you have to wear inch-high Nine West slingbacks and pastel sweaters and skirts that are reminiscent of 1960’s high school ordinances. Maybe you have to have blonde hair in loose curls and makeup that merely accents your features.

But why the ARTISTS? Why the writers and the musicians? Why men you have NOTHING in common with? Does it make you feel alive, to be in the presence of someone with a soul? Does it intrigue you that they have hope of an undetermined future? You obviously don’t like their mediums, nor their other creative interests. You clearly don’t support them or their friends. Fuckin’ A…and the guys go along with it…I dont know why. There’s hundreds of other girls they could have more fun with. Maybe its attraction to the unknown, or what was unattainable in high school is now ready in willing in college or beyond. Still.

Mine are the women who keep men out of birth rooms, who don’t nurse in public, who unquestionably get custody of the children. Mine are the women who may abort without a male’s permission. Mine are the women who talk and laugh openly with each other and with their men. Mine are the ones who recognize the games other women play and advise men of them. Mine are the women who know that men don’t run anyone’s life, including their own. Mine are the women who give orders, who don’t gossip, who believe that healing and spirituality are the domains of women alone. Mine are the women who know they could also have any other domain they wanted.

I have Jacaranda and Doo-Wah Riders all swirling together in my head. I didn’t ever get a chance to make it to the LA County Fair to see Uncle Ken after all. Ah well. I don’t expect he cares much. Poppa says next year. Swell.

I think I left my glasses at the Daily Grill in Studio City. Damn damn damn. I NEED those to live. Or I gotta start getting to class on time so I can get a front-row seat…yeah, like I said…I NEED those to live. Oh, and the Chicken Pot Pie at the Daily Grill is so orgazmic and god DAMN but Ive been eating badly lately. I think its me losing faith. Im never going to be pretty to anyone so whats the point of trying? Im never gonna get hit on by anyone who isn’t a predator or socially retarded or in any important way stable. So who cares if I lose my tone? Who cares if I gain back all that weight? I’ll be dead in three months anyway.

It does take a good deal of stress off of you when you have a plan…

throat
2003-09-29-11:08 a.m.

My throat is my harbinger. It always gets sore before I get really fucked up, and I could hardly sleep last night from it. Also could not sleep because Erica and Jean were talking in the next room and both voices have amazing paper-thin-wall-permeating powers. I’ve been sucking on zinc-Vitamin C-Echinacea tablets, I took Vitamin C chewables, I take aspirin to keep the pain at bay. I’m a wimp, but I wanna make the most of this quarter.

Vacodine and Gin…hmm.

People who commit suicide because they think the world is too stressful are stupid. Now people who commit suicide because this world offers only one grim certainty…I dunno. It makes a little more sense. Its still probably stupid, but its good to have plans.

Last night, Juliet, BY, and I went to see Freddie vs. Jason. Mmm. Gore-riffic. Fairly stupid, but some very clever subtleties. Every classic horror ste-up shot was in that movie, but only a half of them were used, which is much more torturous than watching a cut-away disembowelling. I would have liked to see a few more Freddy killings, because theyre more creative.

Thursday, nNeptep, Friday Doo-Wah Riders, Saturday, Jacaranda. Whee. Still need to pay off car insurance, take Traffic School, and we just got spanked with the new Verizon bill…Verizon is a bunch of ass-reaming bitches.

lookin around the house
2003-09-30-11:23 a.m.

Man, our kitchen is dirty. I kinda don’t hate it. After the Nazis, Im kinda revelling in people who don’t seem to give much of a damn. But we GOTTA get organized, or this could all go to hell very easily.

Im sick. I don’t have much of a voice at all right now. This may work to my advantage today. I need money for books and school supplies and rent from Daddy. I can almost pay off Mike after my next paycheck, whenever that is. Then all I have to worry about are our own bills.

Do you ever toss and turn, but feel happy about it? like you’re running a marathon and winning? Im not sure how to describe it. Until my meds wore off and I had to get up and remedicate, I wasn’t sleeping very well, but I felt really GOOD about it. I was striking poses. It was really weird now that I think about it. But once I got some more drugs in me and a good endorphin high, I fell back to sleep for a good 4 hours. So yay. I still feel tired, but I expect I will until this passes. I wonder if I can head this off by drinking lots of water. Joey made orange juice and said to drink as much of it as I can. I LOVE my roommates.

Im kinda sad Im not around more, because I keep finding all these cool little additions to the apartment that give me happies. There’s a Brita water filter there right now. I really can’t get over how happy I am with my roommates.

Had my first Screenwriting and Poetry classes yesterday. So much goodness. The pleasure’s all on this side of the lecture hall. There’s another class I REALLY wanna take…but Im not sure I should. Its at 9am on the two days a week I have only 1pm classes. And its 3 hours long. But I’d have a real credit for a real TV show at the end of the quarter…I should just take it…I may never get another oportunity like this. On the other hand, Im aleady choking from Hebrew and Shakespeare, and I still kinda wanna take that 199…

Must clean up my desk at some point. Must throw party weekend after this…

must remember
2003-09-30-6:08 p.m.

bought Aiko’s hour from 12-1 Thursday…cannot forget.

busy as FUCK. Bought shiny new planner. Mmm…take myself away from me…

spiked kisses
2003-10-03-1:04 a.m.

just looking at my desktop. Spike and Buffy kissing. Which reminds me unloveable. Which, according to my Lifeskills class’ article means I didn’t experience enough “cherishment” as a child. Which sounds about right. I can’t love or be loved. And the one thing I do love is being taken away from me forcibly.

My grandmother died at 4pm Wednesday, October 1, 2003. She had had a heart attack a couple days before, so my mom was already on her way to Minnesota when she died. I feel like I should feel something. I don’t. My dad said my sister was a little messed up. My sister says my dad just has martyr complex because she told him to stop hanging around the house, that she was fine. She also said people have been calling incessantly trying to offer Toby condolences. One of them wanted my phone number. My sister said she couldn’t remember the proper order of the last few numbers. Heeee. For the most part, Toby and i have the same values. We don’t want people forcing their beliefs — like the belief we ought to feel something when a family member dies — on us, especially not all night, repetitively.

I’m a cold, cold person. Which is fine with me, but it makes it all the worse when I actually feel something for something, because I never get it, or it has to go away and that wound is opened and its so hard to close…

nNeptep rocked tonight. About half the referral-hits I get on this blog are people searching nNeptep, whether they are really interested in the band or are just spying on me, its a bit excessive. Most of the rest are people looking for Family Guy quotes. nNep was great and Matt looked REALLY happy. The rant was pleasant and short, although Kerry STILL didnt give it up for Roast Beef Sandwiches. Mmm…

Juliet and I went to Puzzles around 6:00 and met people, old and new, and it was fuzzy or something. I like Frank, the new leader of Moochfish. I want to go clubbing with him. He’s so happy . Nothing in the world like hugging Nico.

Juliet taped Angel for me last night. Still havent seen it. I think Erica has now though. Juliet brought it over when she came so we could go to the Joint. Juiet and I met this girl, Amber, who amuses muchly and she gets to play and frolic with us from now on if she wants. She’s from the Valley . Pride! Whut!

Im so fucking tired. Classes are going good. Work is alright, but theyre making things unnecessarily complicated now. Can’t WAIT to start getting paychecks again.

Dos comes back tomorrow/today! Oh calloo callay!!! I miss him lots. I hope he brings me happy stories.

Michael and I are playing at some stupid game. Honestly, I dont feel anything for him…ANYTHING. At any given point in time. Partially I dont trust him anymore. Partially he’s not all that interesting aside from intellectually. Partially, I’m iced over.

I’m definitely back to being IceKat. I dont give a fuck about anybody. Fuck all you fucks, Fucky MacFuckerson. Doesn’t mean I wanna hear about him pimping on some girl he’s never gonna own.

One thing…Matt said “Be Well” to Juliet when we left tonight. That makes me feel fuzzy inside. I said it to him a little while ago. I think its the healthiest advice you can impart to someone in two small words.

“It’s spelled ‘pretentious’, but we pronounce it ‘Libran’.”

Weird Science was playing in the background tonight!!! OOOOOH I hope this is a trend.

my creation–is it real?
It’s my creation–i do not know
No hesitation–no heart of gold
Just flesh and blood–i do not know

From my heart and from my hand
Why don’t people understand
My intentions . . . .

–Weird Science, Oingo Boingo

I want to quote whole columns of “Cherishment”, but Im pretty sure Id get sued or something. It’s from O! Magazine though. I highly recommend finding a copy.

“Meditation — any activity which pleasantly keeps the mind focused in the present” I laughed in class at that definition. No one else did. Juliet laughed when I told her that definition. We live entirely too much in each other’s minds…

poem for deadline
2003-10-08-8:39 a.m.

One night,

Now many years ago

A group,

Friends and fellows,

Students,

Stumbled home undrunk.

Then came,

From the cloaking dark,

Two girls,

High on shrooms and life,

At peace,

Barefoot on the concrete.

Two girls,

Pretty each in her way,

The first,

Conventional and small,

Her friend,

Free, unshaven, unbound.

The group

And the girls talked

On things

From politics to hookers to chalk

They laughed

And looked into each other’s world.

I left

My friends for them

Because

I was in love

Because

I have a woman’s curiosity

Because

Their place was closer

Two paths

Met at a darkened turnaround

And I,

Left my path, my friends, for

A girl,

With curls and tripping eyes,

Barefoot,

Armpits you could braid.

Stepped in

Lost myself in her world

Watched her

Narrating her mushroom world

Softly

Traveling only half on foot,

Her friend,

Forgotten to me, followed close.

I left,

Only to arrive.

Because

I’m down like an Australian hooker.

Because

I followed sober passion

Because

I stepped into the other side

And never ingested a thing.

trite
2003-10-08-11:24 p.m.

A trite solution to a trite problem with untrite motivations doesn’t work. I’m not text book. If I was, I wouldnt do it simply for the purpose of not being textbook. I don’t want to be saved. I dont want to seek help. I want out.

Jean came over and brought Orgazmo. There was Yoshinoya involved. Very tasty. Taste all over.

I think everyone regrets their blogs at some point. Most people get over it though. Because, Fuck ‘em.

Roast vegetable salad, a night in the Culver City Park, overlooking the city…so long ago…for my next trick, tacos.

fuzzy purple
2003-10-11-10:38 p.m.

My sister bought me a black towel (”because it’s ghetto to air-dry”) and a purple-and-blue furry steering wheel cover (”because its even more ghetto to drive with two fingers”). Hooray! Juliet gave me the Boondocks Treasury, A Right to be Hostile last night.

It was the first nNeptep show I’d ever missed. THe Masquer’s Cabaret. I just wasn’t feeling it. Not many were, apparently. Dave was tired, and Juliet wasn’t up to the drive. Juliet came over last night and we ordered Chinese and watched Count of Monte Cristo. Luke and I bowled and I had Juliet do a shot with me. Then I did another on my own. After the movie, nNep called and we went to the Casa. Carl was there. Hooray!

They were watching Freddie Got Fingered…which…yeah. Not as good as Old School. He’s too over the top. Not funny, just obnoxious. I dont get why they love it so much. Juliet seemed amused though so I didnt say nuffin.

Matt made margaritas, which was just as well. I was REALLY thirsty. I have been lately.

Aww, Luke just left for a party without me. Im all alone in the apt now. Erica is at home and Joey is camping. *sniff*

Juliet and I taught Matt the fine art of Love Couching after Kerry passed out. There’s something intensely comforting about a Love Couch. Its very cathartic and peaceful and open.

Real quick, pet peeve? Finding a slice of ham in the vegetarian pizza Luke left me. Grr. Fucking Pizza Hut.

Anyway, Juliet and I crashed at the Casa. Winston is the cuddliest doggy. Reminds me of Gwen’s dog, but older and calmer. Winston absolutely loves Kerry and follows him around, which Ker cheerfully demonstrated by walking all over the living room. It’s sweet.

Love couch love. I feel so much more at peace for the experience.

Falling in love with love is falling for make-believe
Falling in love with love is playing the fool
Caring too much is such a juvenile fancy
Learning to trust is just for children in school

I fell in love with love one night when the moon was full
I was unwise with eyes unable to see
I fell in love with love, with love everlasting
But love fell out with me

Oh, I fell in love with love one night when the moon was full
I was unwise with eyes unable to see
I fell in love with love, with love everlasting
But love fell out with me

–Falling in Love With Love, Andy Williams

My sister and I have the mental image of our father performing secret voodoo rites in his lonely apartment to sway me to the rhythm section. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.

If I wasn’t so miserable from my Sophie’s Choice trauma, I’d be quite content with life right now.

Old School…I REALLY hate Will Ferrell’s character’s wife…and I can’t figure out how they got married in the first place. See: Rant on prissy bitches.

Tomorrow, I have a LOT of homework and reading to do. A LOT. Like, unfunny amounts. Maybe some meditation if I can feel up to it.

I really just write that, didn’t I?

On the way home from Belly Dancing class, I made a two-hour stop at Border’s and read a book called “On the Bright Side, I’m the Girlfriend of a Sex God” which is written as the diary of a 14-year-old British girl who is incredibly shallow and materialistic and just evil enough to retain my itnerest. Toby had me read the first book in that series months and months ago. Possibly last summer.

Are katanas ever not cool? Dos took me to see Kill Bill and Bubba Ho-Tep yesterday. We had a lovely afternoon, rife with bloodshed and abuse of me. Kill Bill ROCKS ALL THE CASBAHS. Bubba Ho-Tep is a hilarious fucking concept, but you have to keep your mind working to keep it funny. It’s a geriatric thriller, but there are no Octegenarian Sluts. Aww.

So tired…damned internal alarm clock…

onions and froot loops
2003-10-12-10:28 a.m.

…is what I had for breakfast. Mmm. Onions. Mmm. Froot Loops. Don’t look at me like that.

Stewie and Brian are so cute together…

“Hey come on. You wanna get some ice cream? That’ll make you feel better, right? You wanna get some McDonalds? You wanna take a dump in mother Maggie’s shoes? Okay, let’s go take a dump in mother Maggie’s shoes”

—Brian, The Family Guy

I’ve got great big gaps in my bookcase. Jeannnnn…gimme back some of my books.

Homework and folding laundry. Yup. That’s me today. Gods help me.

Maybe I’ll start my applications to some grad schools. I have this image of me ending up in Florida despite my best efforts. If I move that far away, I shan’t come back, I think. I believe in clean breaks, like lead believes in iron. Plus I’m lazy. Plus it’s closer to England.

My stomach hurts from Belly Dance. Hurrah. Luke is gone to watch copious amounts of football. Just me alone with my thoughts. Oh, that’s depressing. Homework. Transalate chapter and article. Do article summary. Read chapter on script format. Do chapter of Escape from Film School in format. Read Lifeskills articles to date. Do stress log.

Stress? What’s that? Gods, I can’t wait until Erica gets back. Need to talk to her. We share a brain. She has the grown-up half. Juliet has the cool half. I have the cracked half. And the half that’s not good at math. Shut up.

not too sure, not too proud
2003-10-12-6:56 p.m.

Juliet came over today to study. I read Escape From Film School and cooked and was generally productive-ish, but not done by a damn sight.

Joey came back this afternoon (hooray!). His friend (Shaun?) came over a bit later and helped Joey put up more posters and pretties. We need Present Day lights now. and a fix for the track lights.

This is how I met Shaun: Juliet and I were sitting reading, and I was fully absorbed in the book. Juliet said something like “Are you listening to this?” and I noticed men were talking outside. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Juliet told me she had heard Joey and my names thrown about, so I crept outside. The only person I saw was a guy smoking a floor below me. I decided to be British. I asked him who was talking a moment ago. He said this tall guy with brown hair and glasses. It sounded safe enough, but I still asked “Is he white? Not Persian?” which must have sounded awful. The neighbor assured me our caller was a honkey and I went downstairs to see if I couldn’t find him. Shaun is tall and scrawny…entirely the sort of person Im drawn to sometimes, so I was a lot nicer (though still British) to him than I might have been. I asked him, “Can I help you?” and he asked if I knew someone named Joey and I nodded. I was a scared little British deer-child. He asked which apartment was Joey’s and I said “’s my roommate” and led him up. I only describe this because I recognize how strangely I act when Im not thinking about being a social butterfly.

As I led him to the apartment, he asked “Are you Kat?” and when I affirmed this, he shook my hand and said “I’ve heard a lot about you.” I could only not mutely and turn back on my path. I should have said something witty, or at all…”Oh? It’s all true.” or “Nothing too good, I hope.”

Anyway, he and Joey kibbutzed and worked and whatnot, and I made eggs and blackbeans for everyone,a nd finished the book, and we started watching Orgazmo while I set up my laptop to write my Screenwriting homeworik. Then I got a rather irritated call from CLICC saying I was assigned to work then, and I got Juliet to take me in.

Now for the ranting portion of this entry…

Last weekend, I was assigned this same shift from which I am now writing. 6-9:30 YRL/YRL. I regretfully decided not to go the Doo-Wah Riders show at the Fairfax Farmer’s Market and go to work. When I got to YRL, though, the library was closing, and they looked at me like the Plague. I went to the Main Lab and told the lead on duty (I think, Nathan?) that I had been assigned a non-existant shift…then walked home as fast as I could and recruited Juliet to go with me to catch the last of the band’s act. Uncle Ken was happy to see us, and he lay on our table while he was playing harmonica and I gave him a kiss on the forehead.

The point is, though, when I got assigned the same shift for this Sunday, I half-thought it was another fluke, so I wasn’t keeping track of time as effectively as I would have otherwise. So first week of this so-called Consultant Challenge, and Ive already lost 10 points for my team.

Ah yes, the Consultant Challenge, henceforth referred to as More Opportunities for Career Staff to Ass-Ream Me (MOCSARM). This is the giddy little idea of the CS awarding and taking away points that we cannot see, and giving the winning team a prize at the end of the quarter. Or, put another way, a brand new opportunity to demonstrate the nepotism inherent in the system, and the brash and irrational anger that comes with anyone else doing anything that might be considered innovative. Im reminded of Good Omens, in the part where they describe the long, cool stare Adam gives the Them when they think up something he wish he’d thought up himself.

I’m not the best consultant. I admit that. I have a life. I have a driving desire to do things that are not centered around school. But Im not nearly as bad as I’ve been reamed for in the last two years. I’ve actually had Leads tell me that people generally like me, and that Im talked about positively in Lead meetings. On the other hand, the brilliant leadership tends to overlook a lot of things (logic, reality, deeds, pregnancy, death) in favor of appearing stern.

Whatever. I’ve long since learned to stop trying to offer my ideas. I’ve long since learned not to be a too-helpful member of society. Keep my head down, keep collecting paychecks. Don’t try to be social because they genuinely don’t give a fuck if you’re not in the CLICque. And, especially, for gods sakes, don’t offer any suggestions. Because you will be shot down with extreme prejudice.

Anyway. Yeah. And so forth.

I wish webcomics updated more often.

happy katmas!
2003-10-15-12:02 a.m.

so as of two minutes ago its no longer my birthday. That’s a great pity. I’m all torn up inside. Like a rapist, my birthday comes and goes, leaving me 22 and alone.

Not quite alone. As I type, I am in the CLICC lab, being all I can be. My trusty sidekick, Red (i’faith, I don’t know his name), at my side, we defend against ne’er-do-wells that plague our fair computing commons.

So what did I do for my birthday? I went to class. The bus was kind enough to stop right in front of me. Yay. I handed in my homeworks. The professor didn’t call on me to transalate anything I wasn’t already prepared for. I went to Lifeskills. Cracked a few jokes. Kerry called during lecture, so I called him back on the break. They didn’t know my birthday was today. Kerry seemed awfully manic about it. Hehe. My teacher and classmates must have thought I was on crack from how I was laughing and talking. Im the only guy in that class. Kill Bill rules.

We listed stereotypes of males and females today on the blackboard. From that list, I was the only one who’d rather be a male. Pretty, gentle, nice, sensitive…that can all go to hell. Bitchy, sluts/whores. Those are the ones I stand by.

A year ago today I was just moved into the apartment, and was working on my birthday. It’s good to have traditions?

I lover my nNep boys. I lover my Juliet and my Jen. My mommy took Erica and I out to dinner at the moustache Cafe in Westwood. It was good, but -incredibly- poshy. I had a $12 burger. They do have this thing called a chocolate souffle though, whos entire value lies in the fact that its a cloud of extremely hot chocolate fluffiness. Then we went to EXPO which is this home-decorating store, and Erica and I daydreamed of replacing all the drawer knobs in the apartmend with piggy heads and cowheads with little copper bells round their necks. Some of it was quite surprisingly sparkly.

I can’t wait till the party now. I wanna give all my friends hugs and love. And then, oral sex! w00t to Monty Python.

After all that, I came to CLICC to futz around and make extra script copies for my scene.

I love my actors. LOVE. So much love. My scene is gonna be good, especially if I can figure out sound. It’s merely capitvatingly sleazy now.

LOVE!

Directing is so neat, especially when you have what are, at their core, good actors. They mold under my hands into something more glorious than I alone could ever conceive.

The Boys called and left a message on my machine singing “Happy Birthday” in the worst possible way, but dammit, they have HEART. It was so cute and inane and I felt squishy. I called them back and thanked them each and will give them super-big hugs and love-couchings at my party.

But now I’m back at work. Cold, alone, and with Hebrew looming in the distance. I should start transalating the third chapter. Perek Shalosh? Meh.

she works hard for the money
2003-10-16-5:58 p.m.

I’ve just gotten on shift. Its just before 6pm. I’m already bored. And Im working til 2am. Again. And I have a big Hebrew homework due at 10am tomorrow…but at least I don’t think I have anything else to do tomorrow after class…nono, I have two or three hours at CLICC. With the Powell Cart, what I hate. I’m half-tempted to sell it off just to be rid of it…

pantomime
2003-10-17-12:50 p.m.

The thought crossed my mind briefly to have a secret blog. I brushed it off as quickly as it came. It seems a bit of a pantomime to have a secret blog, and overly cowardly at that.

I’m in CLICC. Yes. AGAIN. What is sleep? Homework? What is this of which you speak? I know of no such monsters. I only know the noble hunter’s green jersey, the smell of printer’s ink.

Tomorrow is my party and people must come, for yea, I command their presence. And unto me they shall come and they shall drink of mine alcohol and all the world shall go hang.

Showers aren’t worth it unless they’re scalding hot. The trick is taking a deep breath as youre stepping into the water, and then letting it out slowly, and your body doesnt seem to mind losing its protective layer at ALL.

I’m going to have to go home and finish folding my laundry after this. Hell, I might even do a couple loads for good measure. God, what am I saying? But vaccuuming probably wouldn’t kill me. Probably. Ooh, I should stop by Rite-Aid on the way home. There are one or two items that could be extremely beneficial to my guests.

Accursed hyphen/equal key!

I was going to be Sancho today, but I rather think I am an aggreived goddess today who realizes all of her co-deities are morons. Yea verily.

Are you Sancho? No. Neither is Scott Baio Sancho. Frank Gifford is not Sancho. But I…

What exactly do Matt and Trey have against Scott Baio anyway? And why havent he and Keanu Reeves played brothers yet? They look damn near alike. Are they the same age? It would be trippy if Baio had to play Reeves’ older brother.

Kill Bill definitely had better fight sequences than Matrix: Reloaded. So there. I cant believe I have to wait until February to see part two! Check out my aggreivedness. And yea, I shall smite thee, movie industry, for thou hast offended thine Creator greatly.

I’m supposed to go to Culver City tonight and work on a website. That could be fun. I wish I had my tags already though, or even time to go into the DMV and see what the dilly, yo. I think I have to get a smog check before I get my tags. That stinks on ice. I don’t have time for this shit.

I want my doggy. And possibly my daddy. And money…and meat. Lots of meat. Hey, that’s a present idea. Anyone still wants to get me a birthday present, buy me some BEEF. Hamburger, London Broil, Roasts…you buy it, I’ll make it. Ooh, maybe I can roast that chicken today. Finally. And maybe tomorrow, Luke can run me to Costco EARLY in the morning so I can get some…I dunno. Stuff for the noshings. A flat of black beans. That big bag of mixed vegetables I’ve had my eye on. More tofu. Something to drink that isnt obscenely sugary…or Clamato. Shredded wheat…mmm…breakfast foodstuffs…I wish they made a carb-free, protein-packed, not-disgusting breakfast drink. Mmm…drinkable meat. Oooh…there’s an idea…puree basted eggs and burger patties into drinkable, packageable form! :-p OK, that was gross even for me.

I do hope people bring stuff to the party. I really haven’t got very much at ALL. I told people it was a Liquid Potluck, but I bet most people won’t listen because they’re bad people.

Let’s see if I can type for the rest of the hour. No one has come asking for a laptop yet, and I take this as a positive sign. I hate Powell 2. Hate hate hate. I hate setting it up, especially when there’s cables missing and everyone treats me like an idiot until someone deigns to come up here and see for their damn selves. Hate.

I am the LSS poster child. “Do you see this girl? She could be your mother, your sister, your daughter, your wife…well…no, really she could only be your sister…” When we were watching Matrix: Reloaded, Link’s wife is talking about her dead brothers, and I said “I want a big brother!” and Jean goes “You have three, they just kinda live far away.” It was deeply sweet and I adore him for it, but, there’s that lingering echo of every other time I’ve heard that in different words. “You’re like a sister to me.” From Jean its OK. He and Erica are going to give me grandchildren. :p From so many others though, it’s just…evil. Awful. Painful. Disgusting.

So far this Season of Angel is really good, despite the fact that they’re in Wolfram and Hart. I love Spike. Spikey Spikey Spike. I love Angel. I love Fred. I could love Wesley. I will always love Gunn. Eve is annoying and sporadic though, and I ADORE wossname…Fred’s underling. He hit on Daphne last weekend. That amuses me to no end, because he’s a truly fabulous human being…or at least he always has fabulous parts and does fabulous things with them. Fabbity fab fab, as Georgia would say. I must NOT get trapped in Borders on my way home. I need to go home and be productive, dammit. Or sleep. I’m a big fan of sleep. Sleep and I don’t talk enough. On the other hand, I do now know it is possible to have 8-hour work days and a full school schedule, as long as you’re willing to get off work at 2am.

I’m getting sicker. I’m sneezing and more stuffy int he morning. And there’s green. Did I mention the green lately? Nice, milky green. Not like the green we used to get back when I was a kid. Anyway. More vitamins! More scalding showers! More scrubbings! Less alcohol! No, wait…the alcohol can stay, but we’ll have to do away with the scribbings…sorry, science experiments for the lot of you.

Tomorrow: Work, Dance class, Cleaning, homework, party. Possibly daddy will fit in there somewhere. And maybe food, but I wouldn’t count on it. I wonder if Erica has gotten the things for her cake yet…

I seem to heal a lot faster on scalding water and vitamins. A lot. Like Highlander fast. Mmm…Miethos…

At some point, I swear I’m going to take up swimming again.

I love Miethos. I want a smarmy Brit boy with good teeth. I want a lot of things though. The world is an uncaring place. Get over it.

In Lifeskills, we talked about the Cognitive Triad, wherein there are pessimists, optomists, and negative thinkers. I’m some strange mixutre. Yeah, the world is an uncaring place. At least it cares equally about everybody.

AHAHAHA. Martin just got a cell phone. Sellout. =Þ

I hope the Zen Zoo Crew put in an appearance tomorrow night. I love those guys. And Luke and Martin will be entertained by them muchly as well.

Yenser gave us a word that means “a new coinage”. He should not have given me that. It’s like giving a pyromaniac a flamethrower and saying “use sparingly”.

Maybe I should get a haircut before I go home today. Make it a bit prettier…a bit stronger. Maybe dye it when I get home. Bugger all to the roots…

Yes…ok…so that sounds like a good plan…haircut…walk home…Rite Aid…(daddy?…) Culver City…sleep. Yess…maybe not necessarily in that order. And perhaps homework might make it in there at some point.

Come on, come ON….someone come here and relieve me. Let me free of this hell and this pain…well, actually its not so bad just now. But I wanna get stuff done…

Why do they call it chili when it’s just tomato sauce with hamburger in? Not that it’s not tasty, mind…but its NOT chili.

If someone doesnt show up to relive me soon, I shall smite them. Yea, verily. And unto them I will say: Fuckest thou in thine fucking fuck.

Amen.

i know
2003-10-27-2:15 p.m.

I know. It’s been a while. Over a week. The party was cool. I can’t get over how fucking awesome Luke and Erica are. Joey is rad too. Erica and I ran into him and his buds on campus and it was actually fun.

Not nearly as many people came to the party as I thought, but it was still cool. Martin brought glasses. The DJs were cool as shit. the drinking game lasted all of fifteen minutes. Its just boring and takes too much concentration for those of us who have already played it.

Last week sucked. I need to get a LOT better about doing Hebrew. I did meet with Martin and had some laughs. Erica’s got a job at Junior’s now, so I gotta get used to not having CONSTANT sources of amusement. Jean was over a lot, working with me on the site for Juliano’s RAW.

Songs Most Stuck In My Head Right Now:

• If Love Is A Red Dress
• Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)

OK, so this is what I was writng (by hand, so you who know me can tell how desperate I was to get it out of me) before I met Martin for lunch on Friday:

It is justice, isn’t it, to take away the whelp of she who took away your child? Or is it mindless revenge, and who’s to say the two aren’t synonymous? Our grey-eyed goddess was never entirely judicious, nor was she as wise as her title.

AND she has the gall to tell me I would be depriving her of a lot. As if I could care. As though she could melt the heart she herself cut out.

I pause, I plan, I bide my time. I soothe my pain with little yellow aspirins and a gin chaser (for though vodka is classic, it was never m poison).

Hanging the little squalling brat would be my first choice, but for the fact there is nothing to hang a rope from. There are no trees in the city, and the buildings are smooth, soulless, and flat, inside as well as out, at least the ones in the vicinity are, and I want the body to be found, recognized by someone who will understand what her mother did to me.

I’d considered cutting wrists, but that is too pathetic a death, and besides, why would I destroy those frail wrists, nor those arms that once held my daughter so close, so tenderly?

The throat would be a faster death, but I consider it a death too gory and unspeakable, to cut the windpipe and the jugular and see if the kid asphixiates or bleeds out first.

It’s not that I abhor blood, nor am I loathe to make a mess, but I will not suffer the little child as her mother has suffered my child and I.

I could fling her from a wondow, and perch glasses on her nose beforehand to confuse the police, but, again, I want her death to be meaningful from the moment she’s found.

So it’s to be aspirin and gin, a sort of life-saving poison, soothing my aches of loss and grief and hatred, numbing my senses of sight and smell and self-preservation, erasing myself until I, my mother’s daughter, am nothing but dead.

After I wrote that I had a lovely lunch with Martin, went to work, retooled my blog layout a bit, hopped a bus to Doselle’s, accompanied him on some errands, and went home. Doselle didn’t need me nearly as long as I thought he would so I called over Juliet and we went to visit Erica at work. I tried to tip her with an Advent Calendar (because she’s confused about her religion) and gelt (cause…y’know…deli), but they weren’t having it so I brought the stuff home for her later. Then Juliet, I, and Joey, set about drinking and playing Monopoly drunk and/or stoned (in Juliet’s words), and I rather think it’s the best idea we’d ever had. We need more board games and we ought to do that when we have no other Friday night plans. Joey kept trying to play both X-Box and Monopoly in his intoxicated state (”Huh? Gimme…uh…money.”), but finally caught on that Juliet and I were usuring him of hundreds of Scooby-Dollars. “Why are you a horrible woman?” “Stop being a horrible woman!” “Are you being a horrible woman again?” Heheheheheh. I even heard Joey say “Why do you hate Jesus?” which rocks my socks all over.

Saturday sucked for everyone. Matt fucked up his ankle, so we couldn’t go to the ball (so dont fuck around on Kerry’s skateboard anymore), Joey’s car got stolen (and found in the impound lot, sans radio and some other stuff), Luke couldn’t afford to get his truck out of the garage, and Erica had a shyte day at work. I was supposed to meet Juliet at Borders, but on my way there, my parents called to tell me my car had been reported as having been in an accident three months ago. Three MONTHS? And, looking in my blog, I have like a three-week gap, so I have no idea who/what I was doing. But still, you think I would have noticed a collision! Since the ball was off, and I had no real desire to see Jacaranda or the Joint again for a while, I accepted an invitation from Michael to cook dinner for his roommate John’s friends and to go to a debauchery party afterwards. I made a filed-down version of my roast vegetable salad (because those boys dont keep lists), and brought some to Matt as a get-well present.

The party was…enlightening and traumatizing all at the same time. I saw bits of people I never had any intention of seeing. Its like that time I saw John Malkovich’s thingy in that African movie. I do NOT like those types of surprises, especially not involving guys. Chicks, hell…for the most part they can strip down and prance around all they like. This one couple was really cool socially, but then they turned into a raving mob of horny and I had to keep defending my dress buttons.

On the other hand, I learned how to mix another fantastic drink…”Siberian Sleighride” or “Grasshopper” when it’s mixed properly and “Ogre Snot” when the ice on the creme de menthe bottle gives way all of a sudden and there’s not enough half-and half left. Drink also requires: creme de cacao and vodka. The cremes in equal parts, and probably a shot or more of vodka, depending on glass size, and half and half…it tastes like mint chocolate chip ice cream. Mmm. Happy.

Why do I keep hooking up with guys who treat me so badly all the rest of the time? OK, and when I say “keep” its not like I have a long list of potential paternity suits or anything, but still. I think we’re up to three now. And it HAD been a while. But still, I dont like feeling like Michael was tweaked at me in the morning.

Apparently I wasnt the only one who was experimenting with immorality that night. Ahem. Juliet. *raises eyebrow* Hehe.

Anyway, Sunday Michael drove me to my apartment, I grabbed my bass and changed, and he drove me to the Casa. I helped Matt make dinner and he taught me a lot of really good stuff about the bass. He’s a better teacher than he gives himself credit for. Oooh, is Matt’s foot a bad color. I had that color a couple years ago myself. I don’t envy him, poor poppet.

Kerry gave me a hug when he came in and said how he hadnt seen me in forever. Yeah, a whole week. Not that he was sober enough at the party to remember, or even talked to me much, but whatever. :-p Hehe. I love my boys.

Our next party: J.E.K.y.L.l Unplugged. nNeptep and Luke’s friend’s band is gonna play. *grins* our parties are gonna be legendary some day.

scandarous
2003-10-30-11:07 a.m.

Juliet and I are forming a “Pro-Cairo” coalition. Juliet comes over a lot and Cairo is a most gracious host, when he’s not subtly flexing his claws at her. “Look! Look! I have claws! Arent they sharp?!”

In CLICC. Went to the DMV yesterday. Got most of my car stuff squared away. Hooray. They said it was gonna be two to three hours wait, so I called Erica nad she ACTUALLY agreed to bring me my backpack. Unfortunately, it took less time than they let on (I should know this trick…it happens at CLICC all the time), and Erica showed up as I was concluding my business. We met with Doselle for a minute at Zen Zoo and I got to see the Zen Zoo Crew. Then we went into Santa Monica and met my mom and Jordana for dinner. I think Erica is beginning to see why I honestly don’t care what I say aloud. Any amount of time with my mother and/or Jordana will go a long way towards that explanation. I also explained why all my mom’s friends are what they are.

Erica went to the Casa, ostensibly to see Kill Bill and I didn’t see her come back, but her car was in the drive way this morning …so… hmm.

Teo is giving a lecture today and I have work AND class, and I can’t ditch class no matter how badly I want to! This is the last Halloween lecture I’ll ever be able to hear from him! Why is the world conspiring against me?

Oh Teo, Teo…

In other news, I have to find a third person to write a letter of recommendation. Yenser and Doselle are my first two choices, obviously. I just wish other professors LIKED me. Or that anyone knew I write prose fiction. I don’t even know that Yenser likes me, but he’s the only creative writing teacher I have so far. I guess I could track down that German teacher, but he doesnt seem any more fond of me than the others, despite my grade. Who else is there? Stephens? Colin? Maybe Rena. I can’t even fucking believe I may have to get MULTIPLE recommendations from the same people. Bloody hell.

all hallows and after
2003-11-03-1:04 p.m.

Friday afternoon, Juliet and I went to the cop thingy. We found excellent fried chicken and biscuits and bought some alcohol and goodies for this coming Friday.

Halloween was actually neat. I had never been to a frat party before. The part of me that’s ashamed is overruled by the part that says Triangle is an Engineering frat, and therefore not preppy biz-econ assholes. It would never have occured to me to go to a frat party, except Joey was spinning.

Juliet and I tried to go to that musical house the Whores and I hit last year, but it was hard to find, and once Joey called, time became of the essence, so we parted and went to get dressed.

I lured in Juliet with a Siberian Grasshopper or whatever the hell we’re calling it right now. Mmm. Good.

I donned my black-and-silver gown and Juliet came in all black (a la Matrix…ish), and Shaun and Joey and Brian packed up Brian’s van and we all piled in (in the rain. That’s why we didnt go to West Hollywood. And I didnt much feel like driving anywhere else either).

The house was set up frickin COOL. They had tried to make a tunnel with trash-bag plastic and cobwebs to protect and spook partiers, but it didnt reach all the way to the house. It covered up the steps though, and that really is the most key part. The dance room was set up in black trash bag plastic and spraypainted with awful things (ehehehehe. RIP Britney’s Virginity) and all set under blacklights.

Luke joined us later with a co-worker (Cavin?) and Juliet and I inducted people into Lovecouching. It was fun, except that sometimes non-Whores dont get the rules. Im afraid there was a bit of a repeat with the Love Couch of a couple Fridays ago, except that this time it was Shaun and not mM. Shaun is cool. He danced with me to Sublime and some other stuff. Joey spins good tunes.

Why Kat should not be bored at a party:

So, how long have you been a virgin?

I saw a lot of people there I didn’t expect to see (which doesnt say much as I wasnt expecting to be caught dead by ANYONE in a frat house). I saw S. Nick, loquacious as ever, found out what happened to Peter, and some other fun stuff. I saw Mike (from my band? lead singer/guitarist? yeah him), and we cuddled and talked a little. If my life was a movie, that would have been the epilogue, and would have been subtitled “One Year Later”. I admit to getting a bit misty-eyed about how much time had passed and I called both John and Sapo that night. I think Sapo and I are gonna hang out at some point this week. Maybe. But that’s getting ahead.

Luke was ornery because the bartender was trying to cut him off, so he entertained himself by maddogging the army posers. Juliet entertained herself by picking out the sluttiest girls’ costumes and wanting to throw squishy tomatos at them.

There were two horrible tragedies: 1) Erica was working that night and the next morning and didnt come play, and 2) The cops caught Brian with a $200 bottle of absinthe (unopened) and poured it out. That sucked. When I had told Joey the bottle had come, he had whooped and come right home. “I do believe in you, Great Pumpkin! I do!”

Over all a fairly mellow, but cool Halloween. Nothing horribly exciting except that a girl was dressed as Go-Go from Kill Bill and I fell instantly in love. She had her costume PAT and I didnt even need the little spiky ball on a chain she carried to tell me who she was supposed to be.

So yeah. At some point we all went back home. Shaun apparently stayed the night because he was there in the morning. Joey’s car had been stolen again and Shaun was offering to drive him to pick it up…once they located it. Poor Joey.

Shaun and I danced some more before I had to leave with Luke to go to the party store (woot to day-after-halloween sales and end of picketing at Ralph’s). But dancing wasnt the same sober. And yes, I literally mean dancing.

After Belly Dancing, Juliet and I stopped at Ahhs! because theyre having a 50% off sale on Halloween stuff. I almost got another gown, but it didnt hang right, I think, but I convinced Juliet to get a Leg Avenue costume. Hehehehe. Since I wont be around next year, I might as well get my evil influences in now.

I may still go back and get that gown.

We got home and recruited Erica to come with us to Target. Much silly shopping ensued, and Juliet and I got new board games for Friday. Muahahaha. We got some other stuff too and I need to stop buying so much crap. But ropelights are about half the price at Target as they are at the Party Store. Aside from the cool mugs we got, screw the Party Store right in its pointy ear.

We found an awesome Halloween costume for Erica for next year and since the Target is right near the Casa, we HAD to go show nNep the niftiness of her dress. This led to a debate between Kerry and Kerry on whether there could ever be such a thing as “the wrong underwear”…which led to speculation which was interesting at best. The three of us watched Jean draw a large piece he’s going to submit to The Ghetto Goes Eclectic, and listened to Matt and Kerry tool around on their instruments. Accoustic Crass…neat.

We bailed cause they were failing to watch movies and we were getting antsy (cept Erica :-p). Im feeling more and more like Kerry’s tweaked with me though. And I’m feeling more and more like some people should shut the hell up.

Yesterday was nifty for we did nothing. I did homework, Luke watched football. Joey bought too many bananas so I made banana margaritas for everyone, with some of Luke’s Patron. Joey cooked dinner (and made a special one for meeee!). Erica came home from work and we all ate and Erica smacked Joey on the butt and made him do the happy dance and Erica calmed me down about my dad being unreachable by enticing me to make Grasshopper Snot and then my daddy came and took Erica and I to see Kill Bill (hehe. twice, whut!), and I still love Go-go, although I think Ive had that movie memorized since the first time I saw it, and it wasnt as cool when I know every sword-stroke that’s going to happen. Then we came home, I did some more homework, and fell asleep on the couch.

This morning I woke up early and got some more homework done. Those damned chapter questions are the bane of my existence. Then class, then the other class, and now I’m here in CLICC waiting to go to my other class and hoping I’ll get to see Sapo today. And wishing fervently that the world was rid of virgins and smokers and smoking virgins. Damn them all to hell.

But yes, quick recap…a year ago I hated my life, my roommates, myself. A year later, I really really like my roommates, and I think I’d be friends with me.

I want my doggy, and I wish to hell I had time to go over there. I also wish I had a midget Israeli I could keep in my pocket and have it transalate my homework for me.

Present Day list so far:

• Accoustic bass
• Guitar stand(s)
• Pignose guitar/gigbag
• all the books from my amazon.com list
• About $100 worth of red and/or blue ropelights
• microsoft office suite
• new practice amp
• beef
• private dermatologist
• Israi

pod person
2003-11-04-11:04 a.m.

I’m in Powell Pod 1 right now and Im musing about a poem I’m writing. It has nine stanzas. It could have a tenth, but I’d rather not delve into that part of myself.

It’s so weird to be in the process of working on a poem. Usually they just ocme out, and for the most pert, people like them. Trained people. They might see different things in them…like severe imaginary drug abuse…than I intended, but they like them, and the general point gets across.

It’s occured ot me that my one major failing at poetry is that I never manage to properly occlude my purpose. There’s no unraveling for the reader to do. Really, every good poem is a game of stripping away the words to find the meaning, unraveling each diction choice to find the tiny little core of emotion. Each word means something.

I need to write 7 more stanzas by tomorrow at noon. On top of all the Hebrew I still owe. Im down to two Chapter Summaries, one set of sentences, and whatever dik-duk he assigns today. Aiya.

dear penis
2003-11-05-4:17 p.m.

Heeheehee. Found an old favorite on Newgrounds.com…

Dear Penis,
I don’t think I like you anymore.
You used to watch me shave,
Now all you do is stare at the floor
Oh, dear penis, I don’t like you anymore.

It used to be you and me,
A paper towel and a dirty magazine
That’s all we needed to get by.
Now it seems things have changed
And I think that you’re the one to blame.
Dear penis, I don’t like you anymore.

He says:
Dear Rodney,
I don’t think I like you anymore.
‘Cause when you get to drinkin’
You put me places I’ve never been before.
Dear Rodney, I don’t like you anymore.

Why can’t we just get a grip
On our man-to-hand relationship.
Come to terms with truly how we feel.
If we put our heads together,
We’d just stay home forever.
Dear penis, I think I like you after all.

Oh, and Rodney,
When you’re shavin’,
Shave my balls.

–Rodney Carrington, Dear Penis

Bwahahaha. I wanna play this on guitar.

Sapo came over Monday night and we checked out Cafe Cacao. It’s cool, and it has hazelnut stuff for its shakes, and I think Im ditching dance class and going to the open mic (though possibly after Angel).

I slept through the time it would have been feasible for me to go to Hebrew. Luckily we’re doing a long chapter and we didnt get to the end yet. Then I went to work, then talked to Yenser, then came home.

I turned in an improv poem called Foster today, about how “Foster care is the dim sum of parenting”, and only because I couldnt finish my Me poem on time, which I will post the first draft of as soon as I have the last few stanzas.

Im in a country mood right now. Rodney Carrington and Dolly Parton are gonna feature largely tonight.

todays password: evolution
2003-11-07-12:15 p.m.

Why? Because Erica and I went and saw X-2 at Ackerman last night. I saw Megan and her friend Grant as I was going in and we sat together, to be soon joined by William, Tiffany, and Samara. Yay! OK…Someone just needs to make a series of movies with Hugh Jackman killing people for two hours…and call them X-Men 3-20. They don’t even need titles, just 2-hour montages of Wolverine (and maybe some of the other X-Men…if they ever get around to Gambit) in a wifebeater or shirtless, just going berserker.

Before the movie, I met with Daniella for our Macbeth scene. Damn, Im evil. This scene is gonna fucking rock. Its a damn pity it’s probably only gonna go up one night.

I’m in YRL now. CLICC’s the only time I have to blog anymore, and even then not much because I keep getting assigned grueling shifts. P1/P1/Counter. I am SLOWLY catching up on my Hebrew.

I missed class again today. I was on my way to run to the bus, when Dos called and offered to pick me up. He dropped me off at Ackerman Turnaround which is about as far from Bunche as you can get. It’s my fault. I wasnt thinking and told him to go there, but grr. Still, I went in as class was letting out and grabbed the new assignments.

Dried apricots are NOT my friends.

Cream-filled Krispy Kreme donuts are my BEST friend.

Erica has joined this world. I shall try not to read it though, as I do not especially want her to read mine.

Erica was surprised when I told her Sapo and I used to be sexually involved. I could have sworn I’d told her he’s my ex-boyfriend…

Joey didn’t come home last night. Hmm.

Tonight is drunken boardgames! Yay!

no sniffin’s for the takin’s
2003-11-09-3:02 a.m.

Just came from Luis’ birthday party. Whee. Last night was semi-drunken anti-orgy. Brandie, Erica, Juliet, Luke, Dave, Michael, and Brian. Good group altogether, though. And mixing drinks is still fun. And Battle of the Sexes is…not very well written, I think. A lot of the male questions were sport-oriented, and a lot of the female questions we domestic-oriented. Fuck that in the fucking fuck.

THe party was actually really cool. Excellent vibes, excellent music, lots of people to talk to. Yuki and Nathan are married. Im just surprised there’s a church that Nathan could get over the threshhold wihout bursting into flame . But its awesome.

Im gonna be…all kinds of sore in the morning.

How is Kitty’s heart? How does Kitty feel about men right now? Is it wrong I’m just trying to get laid at this point? That I see men as a means to an end? The fallability of optomism and romantacism is disillusionment. Buried under all this hatred and anger and horny exterior is a the wide-eyed curly-haired girl who thought she was going to have a great love of her life. It’s sick that I think of myself as a child and I dress and dance like this. No sicker than anything else I do.

I half-hope Dos IS trying to set me up. I half-dream that someone will arrange a marriage for me, so I can just resign myself to that life.

There’s a girl out there with no confidence, even though she’s beautiful and smart. She adopts the qualities of whoever she’s dating at the time, because she’s too ashamed to be herself. She’s fallen back into her life of stripping. I envy her.

weirdness
2003-11-10-7:20 p.m.

Staring at a screen with shitty resolution, playing a badly-programmed game. Bored out of my fucking head and starving. Perfect end to a perfect fucking day.

Bus didnt come for a full twenty minutes. Damn MTA strike is affecting the Blue bus. Got to class 20 minutes late. Class was suspiciously quiet when I went in. Surprise! Midterm today! AHAHAHAHAHAHA kill me.

Had to stay late to finish the test (Sabar really is a dear man), then go to screenwriting. Hunger: 4, God Fucking Me Up The Ass: 3, Me: 0.

I like Screenwriting. I got a check-plus on my Orgazmo paper. The TA said not many people did. Ehehe. Walters is always interesting to listen to. People drop the class because they say he just rambles, but he rambles about his EXPERIENCE. The whole class is based on the idea that you already know how to form a story, so now you need to know how to make it into a vendable script.

Got veggie sushi and edamame and apple juice for lunch. As I was paying, Erica swatted me on the ass. Wench. We talked while I ate, then she went to class and I went to sit in the hall waiting for Poetry class. That’s usually fun, but today it wasn’t so great. Some of the girls got into this discussion about C-Sections and Im like…OK Bye-bye.

Class was bad. I couldnt shut up and I kept saying the wrong things. Im glad for Karisma and Boris though. Theyre always good to me. I wanna fuckin bitchslap this chick…the one who was all “Who would want a world with witches?” which is a very annoying, assumptive, and alliterative question. She asked something similar about someone else’s poem today, and my coherency fled with my annoyedness.

Also, it was freezing in class, and about the same temperature when class led out. Now Im in CLICC, a bit warmer, but still chilled. I need to start wearing gloves again. And pants. Pants are good too. Fuck this shorts shit.

Yesterday I went home and went to the Sagebrush in Calabasas with my mother. It was cool. There were bikers. And we had brunch. But it was cloudy and heavy and it made me tired, and the band we were there to see didnt rock enough to keep me alive. After that, we went to the Shrimp Truck. They were closing up because of the clouds and I talked ot Marco and Pat while Mum talked to Bobby and everyone was entertained by me. Plus, I was dressed as a conservative slut, in my black slacks and pretty vest and not a whole lot else.

I want food. My mom gave me a lot of protein bars last night and it didnt even cross my mind to take a few with me. Because Im a genius. Tomorrow Imma load UP.

I feel all squishy inside about…certain people who shall remain nameless. I love attention. I love being spoken to like Im NOT an idiot. I love the feeling that Im loved. I love that people get excited to see me. -Me-. My twinge of regret.

I need to finish the damn poem so I can post it. Boris said he liked it, which makes me more eager to finish.

muffin man
2003-11-10-10:21 p.m.

Juliet has problems.

When will I learn it hurts to eat eight slices of stuffed-crust pizza in one go? Huh. Never used to…..

dangly goodness
2003-11-11-7:39 p.m.

My ears are pretty! I FINALLY got my new earrings in. They’ve got garnet-colored crystals on the bottom and theyre silver and they look shiny with my other earrings.

Filmed some opening credits today and got some Hebrew accomplished. Gonna get more done as soon as Ive got this fucking poem done. *kicks fucking poem*

I hate this feeling of going through my homework and transalating words I couldnt remember for the life of me yesterday. Curses.

cor
2003-11-12-2:15 p.m.

Chef Boyardee Chili-Cheese-Hot Dog Twistaroni. Why did I feel the compulsion to eat that again?

Ate that before I took Joey shopping and went ot rehearsal. Didn’t start to feel sick until I dropped Dani off at her place. Got home, watched telly, steadily feeling more nauseated. Lay down on Joey’s pretty carpet, but couldnt stop feeling dizzy and ill. Finally went and threw up. Went to bed. Got up and threw up some more. Several times throughout the night, even though I had nothing more to give.

Got the heat pad from Luke before he left for work and tried to sleep more, but didnt do me a whole lot of good. Poppi came and gave me lots of clear liquids and yogurt-based things, and blegian chocolate pudding, and we talked a bit while i drank broth and cider.

I should just start only ingesting clear liquids. Chicken broth and yogurt for the rest of my life. Mmm.

OK, can I just say I HATE throwing up? Especially the super-violent kind that involves broken capillaries and having to get up again to clear your throat of all the blood. And I severely dislike being stuffy while throwing up so I have NO recourse for breathing.

Im highly amused that two friends wanted me to drive to them today. Jean wanted me to bring him a sweatshirt and Erica wanted me to pick her up. This is when I could barely move to answer my phone. And the fact that they called at the same time on different phones just expanded on the hilarity.

Cairo was so sweet when I was trying to set up the heating pad. He climbed onto my belly and started nuzzling my nose and giving it little licks. Heehee. Of course, i could have done without a fifteen pound cat on my poor tummy, and without his claws kneading my chest.

I need to use today to catch up on homework. See it happen.

affectionless
2003-11-12-11:05 p.m.

Mommy came over tonight and cleaned up a bit and made me tea. She didn’t hold me, which is what I really need though. Still, this is the first itme she’s set foot in this apartment in eons.

Angel was good. Doselle called after Angel to discuss it .

Dave kicked ‘em inna nuts! Yay! Im so proud!

I called Johnny because I was lonely (I HATE being sick and without affection), and Johnny told me he may come out in December!!! Oooh…This makes me giddy to no end.

dying of death
2003-11-13-10:26 a.m.

I hate being sick. I especially hate nausea-related sickness, because Im so unused to it. And because I shan’t be able to eat properly for a while yet, without fearing the repercussions. I also have a fever, which mother says means I’m contagious. Im not sure I believe her, because I’ve had all sorts of fevers before that no one else has been good enough to catch. I may have to hole up in my room if I’m not better by Saturday. Hehe. Hiding from my own party. How very diva. Of course, knowing my friends, they’ll come sit around me and talk while I loll.

Juliet’s got a cough, I’ve got nausea and a fever…I figure between us we qualify for the plague. Now if we could just find some rats to give it to…

My ribs hurt from throwing up so hard yesterday…

JohnnyJohnnyJohnnyWhoops!JohhnyWhoops!

anti-academic
2003-11-13-2:26 p.m.

I went to Hebrew class today and a girl…the good one…asked me if I was OK, because I was purple. I. Was. Purple. That’s NOT good.

All I could find on campus was green tea and miso soup. Mmm. Quite good actually. But it was perhaps too much in quantity because I feel nauseated again. I couldn’t tell before if I was nauseated from the virus or from an empty stomach. Definitely still the virus. I don’t feel any better for being full, just more sloshy.

Im ditching Lifeskills, because I can’t even deal with the pain.

And I need to consider electrolysis for the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin. OK, that was apalling even to type.

I’m gonna stick around on campus because I want to promote my party to Music Club, and plus I haven’t been in a couple weeks.

OK, body…I ate an hour and a half ago…you’re supposed to DIGEST this stuff by now. Maybe it was too soon for kelp and tofu…

I want to sleep. I need to pick up my poetry packet from Rolfe. Boris said he liked my poem. I really must remember to post it. Someone remind me.

I’m dizzy. And fuzzy-visioned. And sick. Whee. Hopefully I’ll be all-clear tomorrow.

Me
2003-11-13-6:19 p.m.

You are the first:
The one who held on with
Poking, unpadded joints
For hours until my flesh
Bore the marks of your
Skeleton.
Your unmarred shoulder,
Uncomfortable but correct,
Concave chest, visible heartbeat
Skin so thin I could see
My own reflection in your soul…

You are the companionate:
The one who curled up
In my arms as we watched
Women cavort on the telly;
Soft and round, a
Lipstick teddy.
Innocent as a hentai schoolgirl
But lacking the sexuality.
Your hair a silk blanket,
Skin a creamy pillowcase complement
To my sun-kissed complexion…

You are the savior:
The one who caressed my
Fingers in your long brown ones.
Sinews corded on graceful bone
Vibrating as you told about the
Frog prince.
Curved backbone bumps
Supporting my heady weight,
Your flat strong stomach
Bouncing my head as you laughed
At my quick and clever wit…

You are the sinner:
The one who grabbed my
Face and dragged it to those
Succubae lips framed in cherub curls.
You hunted my scent, as the
Feral kitten.
Your soft and sticky pelt
Rested against mine as
They rose and fell together,
Panting breaths and pounding
Heart echoing my own…

You are the sin:
The one who seduced
Despite pudgy balding you.
Patiently corrupted what
Little innocence there was,
Serpent.
Cold and creepy,
A forked and flicking tongue,
Balancing lies and lust.
Too ugly to touch or chase,
My twin that gave solace…

You are the leader:
The one who clutched
My neck in your powerful hand;
Your weak one petting
In your lap, a bitch and her
Master.
Your shriveled shoulder
Creaking in my ear,
Warm voice resounding
In your imperfect chest.
My most glorious moment…

You are the follower:
The one who felt the pull
Of the cuddle-couch.
Your nothing-but-muscle torso
And nothing-but-sweet,
Giant heart
Leant strength to both girls.
Perfect innocence, silence,
Adoration, compliance with
Your role. Your hushed obedience
Mended my innocence…

You are the impasse:
The one who did nothing.
Your immovable granite shoulder
Cradled my bored form.
Cold, carved marble, hard and
Castrate.
Tears crystallized in your stony
Heart that I cared not to mine.
Nose to the grindstone,
An eternal uphill battle polished
My jaded graven image…

You are the sacrifice:
The one who played
Into my icy arms, untrained
And unwary player, optomistically
Running to the fruitless altar,
Virgin lamb.
Your fragile hopes and soft,
Accommodating ribs cracked,
Your smoky pain an offering to
The greater good, your destiny to
Feed my hard new philosophy.

NOTICE

PERSONS attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.

BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR, Per G.G., Chief of Ordnance.

-Mark Twain, Huckleberry Finn, 1884

So there.

advising the ill-advised
2003-11-14-8:30 a.m.

I love Carolyn Hax and Dan Savage, and I’m coming to respect Dear Abby more in her young age than I ever did she or Ann Landers before. This is no secret. I go through days where I catch up on columns I miss, and Savage Love is always the first thing I check on Tuesday afternoons.

Hoever, I often wonder if they don’t re-edit some questions before they print them, to obscure facts, or does everyone in LA have my problems? This girl wrote in today about how she was raised a tomboy and was wondering if she shouldn’t become a coquette. She actually used the word coquette. Now if that isn’t my letter re-edited, I have a soul-twin walking around somewhere in Los Angeles.

guilt
2003-11-19-6:03 p.m.

I’m only doing this to guilt Juliet into blogging. Saturday was cool. We got shut down by the police around midnight, then we all went over to the Casa and celebrated. It was much fun. It was also fun to explain why there were cop cars in front of our apartment when she picked up Toby. Ehehehehe. The Lab is giddy.

The party at the Casa was the best yet, with so many people dancing and not just the usual blood. Amber likes me. Heather said her friend that I met a couple months back likes me as well. I r pimp. *blush*

Luke, Erica, and I woke up at the Casa. Erica and I woke up first and got breakfast for everyone from Del Taco. Someone left a little present on the floor…and the couch…and the sink…and a little trail…

Sunday was studying, but mostly sleeping. Then school/rehearsals. Blah blah blah. Failed my Hebrew midterm. Blah. Had dinner with Juliet Monday night at Jose Bernstein’s. Haven’t been there in a while. I didnt love what I’d ordered, but it was good, and I gotta go back and just follow my heart. What I really wanted, what I went in there for, was a chicken quesadilla. Ooh…or a machaca-egg burrito. This weekend is the show. Wheeeee!

I want a grilled roast beef (not turkey, fuckos!) sandwich from BJ’s. Mmm. And sex. Yeah. Gotta get me some of that.

Hungry. Is it bad I called Johnny just to triple-check that he was coming? I can’t hardly wait. I want him out here so badly. I also want to pass Hebrew…huh. Life’s little jokes.

u smell
2003-11-19-6:19 p.m.

I’m angered. I’m NOT being random when I send someone a web address, especially if its a web addy that leads to some little coding trick.

I’ve been working on making a neat little review thing for nNeptep, so they can have reviews from their shows on their website, shown prettily. The response I get “we didn’t know what you were talking about. Its just some little diary thing.” I must kick them in the nuts now. I’ve been toying with the div class translucent scroll window, and it’s really nifty and I like it and want to have its children. But they go slackjawed and focus on the fact that Im using a blog site to work on the HTML. *kick! kick!* Squah inna nyuts!

huzzah
2003-11-19-7:02 p.m.

I rock. All the casbahs. Simultaneously. With precision.

I just replaced the ass-ugly logo on the phpBB board with a shiny new nNeptep one. That’s been bugging me for months. I had even learned PHP to fix it, but I never toyed with it because I was afraid of the irreparable damage I could have done. The solution was SO simple, but it makes me giddy all over to have figured it out. I just dropped in the new image, and tra-la! Instant de-uglification. OK, its a fairly ghetto logo, and Im sure Jean will make a prettier one at some point, but its no biggy cause I CAN REPLACE IT AT WILL! I am your god now! AAHAHAHAHAHA!

Dafna just told me Lindsey’s coming back on Angel. Heeheeheeheeheeheeheeeeeee. Love.

dibs
2003-11-24-10:23 a.m.

OK, I just thought of this this morning, and I’d rather not go into the circumstances, but before Erica goes and spreads the word, I’d just llike to document that -I- thought this up first:

Q: What do you call a porn pirate?
A: A fucaneer.

Ehehehe.

Shows over! It went off well. Some of the OG told me that we looked like an army…Im not sure if thats a good thing or a bad thing. They seemed amused, but not as highly amused as they should have been. Everyone was creeped out by my interpretation of Macbeth, and when you get MORE creeped out by Macbeth, I win.

tis the east
2003-11-25-12:48 a.m.

…and Juliet is the whiny wench making me update right now. Im spending the night in CLICC. Havent done that in a while. Doing this in the hopes I get some Hebrew homework done. On the up side, Ive finished my Lifeskills and Poetry homework for the week already, and the week is only three days long.

I am plotting Juliet’s hols present verrrrry carefully. Yesss…preciousss…

I am also updating my amazon.com wishlist. I need everything on it. Now. No questioning me! I also want a pignose guitar, bass strings, meat, and a shower radio. And the other stuff I listed before.

Ive decided I like Hass and Nemerov. They may live. Except theyre already dead.

Boris challenges me to a villanelle-off. Its quite a queer little poetry form, and I’m not sure I care for it. As if what I care for matters. Mine is done, at anyrate. Im not sure it’s good, but it’s done.

“I swear by yonder virgin…”
“I don’t think so.”

Hehe. Brandie and John make me happy inside. John has amazing energy. So does Philip Danh. His “horny” phase for warm-ups on Saturday were fuckin’ (no pun intended) awesome. I hope they both come back to play…

OK, going back to Hebrew now, and to await Juliet updating HER blog! HA!

promises mean everything
2003-11-26-1:56 p.m.

What ever happened to Everclear? This song, “Wonderful” messes me up so good. It’s every reason I want to work with kids.

I spent last night querying and applying to grad schools. Im so scared of getting in. I want to go to SDSU because San Diego is safe in my heart. I dont KNOW Oakland, Madison, Florida. Madison is beautiful though. But I think its pretty boring. I may learn to write from boredom.

I took a practice GRE test and I scored disgustingly high on my Math, but badly on my Verbal — which is NOT good when applying to a Creative Writing program…although Ive been told several times that they hardly look at GREs for most grad schools, but require them because all apps go through a generic grad app place.

I know I can make friends wherever I go, but I don’t want to. For the first time in my life I have friends I don’t want to leave. I’ll actually miss them. That’s NEVER happened before. Ever. I never got the girls who clasped each other on the last day of school because it would be TWO WHOLE MONTHS before they saw each other. I never felt the passion of having all your bestest best friends signing your guestbook. I knew I’d never talk to any of those people again, and in my heart of hearts, I was glad to leave them behind.

It started when Y? moved away. That unsettled me. But its so much worse now…Israi, Juliet, my roommates…nNeptep…

Maybe I’ll get really lucky and I can bring Israi with me…

This is all making the major assumption I’ll even get in anywhere. My grades are the suck, and I have no way except this last quarter of proving that I have any academic interest in writing, and none at all of proving that my itnerest is in prose. All I have is my word and my writing samples…which I have to get together. I NEED Doselle to read the samples…which requires me sending to him again apparently…which is harder than it sounds since my laptop is not reading ethernet connections at the moment. Accursed Macs.

I wanna go home. I want Joey to come fast so I can go home and crawl into bed with my puppy for the rest of my life until my mom gives her away and I have to kill myself.

Shaun never called back. Me bloody life story.

Oh, I went into Ashe today about my eye. Two more weeks. Faboo. Not that I’m vain…Im actually amused by people’s reactions to it…it just bugs me having blood running around loose in my EYEBALL!

give me fever
2003-11-28-1:14 p.m.

Wednesday night I went home, which took me FOR-E-VER. Toby and I went shopping (several times because we kept forgetting stuff) and we made the custard for the banana cream pie and the crusts. Crusts are disgustingly easy. Everyone should make them. Yesterday, Bill M told me that crusts were always the hardest part…that’s a new one on me. The crusts were a dream, except for the aching forearms afterwards. The custard was surprisingly easy as well, but I didn’t realize until the next day that I had forgotten to put milk in, which made the custard richer than it should have been, but it was quite good overall.

Kerry called after Toby and I had finished shopping. Toby said his “Spidey-sense” must have kicked in. It’s true too: he was calling to say he just remembered he’d like pecan pie. And failing that, he’d like ice cream. Feh.

The next morning, mother woke me up at NINE IN THE MORNING to finish cooking. I’d never made pies before all the way, and it was amusing. As much custard as it LOOKED like we had, it was actually just the perfect amount. Everything we bought got used. I made the mistake of glancing at a Pecan Pie recipe in one of my mother’s books, and we had everything except pecans (including extra extra crust), so I went to Gelson’s (because Ralph’s, as I found out, was CLOSED…) and got pecans.

When we went to make the pecan pie, we didnt have as much light corn syrup as I thought, so we substituted the rest with maple syrup…Kerry said he liked it…he may just have been stroking my ego. My mom was making fun of me the whole time, between the milkless custard and the syrup-awry pecan pie.
By the end of the day I had made: 2 apple pies, 2 banana cream pies, 1 pecan pie, caramel sauce, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream (to top the cream pies at the parties). I was told I rock, that I was a goddess, that they were bloody good. Heehee.

I’ve got a fever. I can just tell.

Pecan pies tak an hour and a half to bake (one thing I didnt read in the recipe until it was too late), so my mom brought the pie with her after we had arrived.

Anyway, first we went to Bink’s for the family thing. The hostesseses were neurotic about where everyone would sit, and I was itching to bail. I set out the pies after the meal and waited till everyone had tried them to bounce. Toby and I hit the Casa and they hadn’t even sat down to eat yet.

Matt is walking around on his own now. Yay! And he made some really beautiful things. The turkey had strips of bacon on its back…just to make sure toby and I really REALLY wouldnt eat any. There was this thing with yams topped with walnuts. Kerry decided a casserole looked like kugle, and to ingrain the point, started us playing “Marco/Kugle!” Why does he have this power over everyone?

When they started eating, I drove Toby back (after a long and valiant search for my keys). My two family pies had been dispersed to the four winds. I talked to Daddy and Miss Karen for a bit, then took my leave.

Back at the Casa, a few people had left, but the party was still swinging. I spent most of the time in Jean’s room listening to people talk, because Kerry and Yoli were half-dead on the couch, and Matt was nowhere to be found (actually it was later pointed out he was FOUND on the couch in Mel’s, who had nobly leant her oven to the effort).

I didn’t leave until around 2am, which is early. I really wanted to crash there, but there was nowhere to sleep, unless Kerry and Yoli both withdrew…

Ah well. Was late for work, but generally happy.

appeasement
2003-12-03-8:23 p.m.

For Juliet.

I’m in Biomed right now. Saturday has come and gone. I like the Brew Co as a space, but Tep hates it. What I DONT like is everyone coming to me, asking me to fix the vocals, which I can’t because Kerry’s amp is too loud. To keep the vocals audible, I have to put them way up, but then there starts to be problems with mics ringing and whatnot. And everyone is trying to tell me how to fix it and theyre all wrong. Finally they tell me Kerry’s amp is too loud. Well, fuck ALL y’all. Its sad that I have so much more fun at a Jacaranda show lately. But its also all my friends, en masse, dancing. I love me some dancing.

And I love Jen! So much! She came to the show, but she left in the middle of nNep’s set (part of a trend), but she said she’d come to good Hurt.

I get the feeling I’m being ignored by certain females. WTFever. The Jacaranda group is being a LOT less patronizing towards me. This is in large part, I believe, to their females. Katherine and Anna are quite cool, quite warm. They appreciate my crackheaded dancing.

A-hahahaha. I just reread that. “Quite cool, quite warm”…

I only realized yesterday that Erica and I missed Dogma on Friday night. Damn. Not that we would have gotten in, or even that Erica was in town, but it remains up on our whiteboard.

Spent most of the day in Ashe. Had blood drawn. I like this angle of endocrinological concern. It keeps me out of the more distasteful tests. I need to not have a note of pride in my voice when I tell people about my family cholesterol history. But, it IS a record…not a GOOD record…but its a record.

I’ve eaten a bunch of chocolate-covered espresso beans…my heart is gonna be very interesting as soon as it catches up with me. I may skip home.

Had lunch with Juliet today. I love Juliet. We feed each other’s vices. And she walked me from Northern Lights to Kherkoff…

Which, btw, I have a meeting at 11am with Pam Cysner for. Must not forget. Ever. Apparently I have to actually get approval for shows now. Um. OK.

Last night, Jean came over and we worked on the Raw Site a little, and then we went to the Valley to find my wallet (which was in my trunk all along…oops). Jean got hooked on “the Simple Life”. He thinks Paris is the smart one. When you can pick the smart one out of those two twits, youve watched the show too long (in this case, a whole five minutes).

When Jean opened the front door to leave (finally!), Mom and Miss Pammy were on the other side. Ah good. Miss Pammy showed us the woeful new Northern Cross CD cover, and I showed her nNeptep’s album cover, with Jean protesting the while. Later, in the car, I mentioned she was born-again, and Jean was like “You showed an album cover with BIGGER TITTIES to a born-again?!!” He was impressed. I think. Eh.

Someone in my acquaintance needs to get “naked and sticky”. Not with me. Ew. Nor do I want to hear about it anymore. Ew. Traumatized.

When I got back to my apt, there was an IM on my screen from Aba, saying he had just left my rent check at my mom’s house. Oh.

So I drove back, got my check, made myself breakfast/dinner. Mmm. Eggs and sour cream. Just wish they’d had black beans.

ANYwho. All done. Juliet had come over Monday night. We drove to nNeptep’s to get X-1 back from the boys (Jean “let” us keep KB when he saw we had the X-Men boxed set) for my presentation. Then we had to hang out and eat banana cream pie and watch the rest of X-2.

My presentation yesterday went well, I think. People were amused that I used Rogue as my sample Lifeskills student. But they didnt laugh as much as they ought to have. Ah well. I think I get extra credit for being the A/V person in the class…AKA the only person in the class who isnt scared of the A/V stack, and took the four minutes to figure out how to use it.

So…hopefully I’ll get at least one A this quarter. Ha. Right. And monkeys might fly out of my tucchus. Heehee. Yona Sabar is so adorable. He glossed the Hebrew word as “butt, tush”. Teehee.

Oh that’s right…I finally ATE at Juliano’s Raw. The guacamole was good. They didnt have chips because the sun didnt shine in Palm Springs. Which makes sense of a sort…really. The only thing was he served it on nori, which I can’t stand the smell of. But the guac and accoutrements were SOOOO good. I got a windfall strawberry smoothie…which is just strawberries and almond milk…it could be good if there were more strawberries in it. Like, a lot more. And less Almond milk, which is gritty and bland tasting. Jean says there is “SO much flavor” in the raw food, but really its more the texture to me. The chocolate cake would have been really good if the “mousse” hadn’t been almond-based, or at least had been more refined. I think I’d be more into it if he had more pure juices, or at least more mixtures that appealed to me…but I guess that’s gourmet for you. I’m too white trash to really appreciate it. The food certainly is beautiful, and I really did feel good after eating it. And the guac really was frickin’ luscious.

I need to blog more often so they resemble chronological order. I’ll get back into it someday. I swear.

Jason Mraz sold his soul. That’s the only possible explanation for The Remedy…especially if you listen to any of his other stuff. No song should be that addictive.

Speaking of which, I’ve had Wonder Woman by Jacaranda stuck in my head for the last few days.

Princess Leia, say ya can come into my life
Anyone of Charlie’s Angels, Wonder Woman, Anne of Gables
Daisy Duke rebuked me when I turned to cartoons
The whole damn cast of Sailor Moon
Can’t hold a light to Betty Boop…

Yeah….
Boop-boop-be-dooooop…

Sci-fi TV, Cable classics, retro fables
Women we all want on the television stations
We want them all to manifest,
In the flesh, and hold me tight
Only one can comfort me tonight…

Rawr. I don’t pretend to like someone’s art because the artist is cute. I like the artist because his art moves me.

Johnny’s coming into town!!!!

Jean says I can’t smoke. Luke says I can’t be a sex-obsessed procrastinator (like on the SuperCuts commercial). I don’t get to have ANY fun!

Ran into Tony at Ashe today. Gonna try to go out after finals…There’s this whole non-existant moral dilemma there. Like, should I go out with someone if there’s a possibility that I’m subconsciously using him? Does it even matter at that level? What would I be using him for?

My mom is interested in Tony…yeah there’s an image I dont ever want in my head again. A guy dating my mother that hit on me first, and continues to hit on me every time I see him. It’s some horrible tabloid story gone legal.

People like my cat earrings. I always thought they were tacky, but they actually look quite good against my pink-and-yellow hair.

I want Johnny to start blogging more. I want him to call me. I want him to cuddle with me all afternoon Friday. I hope it rains Friday afternoon.

My Johnny. Myyyy Johhhhnnnnyyyyyy! He’s coming back to me, even if only for a couple asexual days. Of course, we also said we wanted to wait till marriage…and…yeah that worked out beautifully.

My Johnny!

I keep getting these images of us just sitting together on a couch staring at each other like we used to. We just coexisted quietly for hours. Even if we arent in romantic or consummate love, I feel like we still belong to each other on some level.

Which reminds me…

I AM NOT ONE OF THOSE KIDS YOU READ ABOUT!

I’d just like to reiterate that. In the past week, I’ve been accused of drunk driving, plotting to have sex, and smoking (cigarettes). Binky accused me of the drunk driving thing…which I never have and never will…after I dropped Toby back at her house and was on my way back to nNep’s. Mom accused me of the sex thing. I asked her about starting anti-androgens again, and she goes “I guess this means youre planning to have sex soon.” …what? My mom does this a LOT. Its part of her inherent bitchiness. Everything my sister and I do or say, she passive-aggressively implies some immorality afoot. She can never just ask us straight out, or even trust us that we’re not as big idiots as our relatives. She has to try to be cute about it. No, it just means I want a hormonal treatment to counterract HER fucked-up genes. The smoking thing was kind of a joke on Miss Pammy’s part, but after the previous two things, I did not have any sense of humor left, and I kind of growled at her.

Let me break this down: I do not drink and drive. Ever. I do not smoke cigarettes. Ever. My sexual activity is my own damn business, according to my own personal code of ethics, and I certainly do not intend to mention or even discuss them with an authority figure. Moreover, I submitted to BLOODWORK (with a needle and everything) rather than submit to any of the distasteful tests. So back the FUCK off.

I am now finished with two of my four classes. I turned in my take-home final and my five pages of script on Monday for Screenwriting. The script is called Scythe, and it sucks the asses of monkeys for nominal fees. Between my presentation and my paper I finished on Tuesday, I’m also done with my Lifeskills class. My Hebrew final is Monday and the Poetry Reading (and requisite chapbook due) is Wednesday.

People should start coming soon to check in their laptops, so I shall wrap this up now, before I am deluged.

Hopefully this can assuage Juliet’s need for me to update for a while. It’s all about Hebrew from here on out. I still need to redo my midterm…I FORGOT TO TURN IN MY ASSIGNMENT TODAY! After I spent all that time doing it in class, too. Grr.

ani rotzah yona
2003-12-08-4:53 p.m.

I want Johnny. My final is done, and I can’t find him. My head hurts and I can barely think. w00t.

I can’t do all-nighters in my apt. Its too comfy. Johnny woke me up at 7:15 am, which worried me because I thought my test was at 8 am. Yeah, turns out it was at 3pm. Oops. Got a little extra studying in. Don’t feel quite so pooch-screwed.

This weekend has been so lovely, except for one or two tiny points that I shan’t bring up. I don’t want Johnny to go home. He should just live in my bed and hold me forever. And maybe have a job at Yoshinoya or something.

Good Hurt is definitely Tep friendly, but it’s a HUGE place to fill up. John likes their sense of humor. nNep played a lot of new covers, and some oldish ones were refined. It was nice. I got to dance with Tony…

I think I need to talk to M, but possibly at the expense of teasing. I shall smite them if they start anything about Johnny. I havent seen the boy in two years, and it’s not likely he’ll come out again in any sort of practical time. Anyway, its not like anything’s happened.

Oh, and can I just say…Johnny got HOT. I mean…ok, Psych issues, blah blah blah, but the boy is FINE.

Where is he? I told him to come at six…and I havent got my phone on me…and I dont want to go back alone. The ironic part is he’s probably at the Royal watching the Triplets of Belleville…the journey will be extremely redundant if he comes to pick me up.

But I want him to…

Here’s the truly sick thing: I will always love John. I will always love him in a way he will never love me (again?). We belong to each other, and we have since we were kids. Johnny always jokes that he’ll turn into a psycho stalker when I get married.

He can do this cool thing where he can leap vertically about four or five feet onto a low wall. No hands. Im all giddy and impressed. Like that scene in Clueless.

I want Shaun to call me. He’s…definitely my type.

I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself. Yes I do. I keep ending up with insane people because no one in their right mind will have me. Ah well.

It was decided last night, I think…sometime between Christmas and New Year’s…

It’s so odd talking about the future like I have one. I never feel like correcting anyone, or myself. I think Im just applying to grad school to seem busy at this point.

I’m deeply thankful for John. Last night, when my dad called…

Its the one thing I can’t talk about for very long. I can’t stand the thought of the inevitable.

I bought a 25-lb bag of blackbeans. Now I just need to learn to cook them, and it’s all gravy. Or possible salsa. Oooh…or maybe seven-layer dip….mmm…

Oh yeah, and Im hungry. Another reason I want Johnny here.

Everytime someone touches me affectionately, it feels like my soul is recharging, my heart is healing. It’s only a temporary effect, but I live for it. It always kills me when people I’m close to arent affectionate. I die a little inside. It’s why I get so depressed when I’ve been left alone too long (like two or three days). I just need it.

ani ohevet otcha.

that lovin feeling
2003-12-09-5:52 p.m.

…now it’s gone, gone, gone, whoa-oa-oa…

Urg. He’s gone. I dropped him off at LAX this morning. Then I got lost for like two hours, with only a sixth of a tank of gas. Curse them. Curse the PCH. I hate being lost. I hate losing Johnny. So overall it wasn’t a spectacular day. Then I found LimeWire.

Morpheus stopped working for me, in large part, I believe, because I keep installing Spybot and Morpheus doesnt like that. LimeWire already has Morpheus beat for one huge reason: I Made A Mistake. I could never find it on Morpheus, and it came up almost immediately on LimeWire. Now I’m a happy monkey…but I want to down-load the Pro-Choice song Mel sang at Good Hurt.

Oh, and I can’t find an mp3 of the Jesus/Santa duet from South Park. Anyone got one?

Santa, Baby is a truly great song, even better because it was sung by Catwoman. Eartha Kitt just amuses me all over.

Back on topic (there was a topic?), when I played I Made A Mistake, I became shaken. I went to bed. I haven’t done that to solve my problems in a LONG time. But what can I do? John is probably sleeping now, and I dont see how calling him will make this hurt less.

Now my concerns are how to inform my future husband about John.

Husband: Argh! There’s a man on the ceiling!
Kitty-Kat: What? Oh. That’s John. He’s a fact of life.

Grr. I gotta go rewrite some poems…

done done done
2003-12-10-7:08 p.m.

The chapbook is handed in. The finals are final. Im DONE for the quarter! Schoooool’s out for winter! Schoooool’s out for…uh…some of winter!

The Poetry party was…nice. I met a professor who teaches an advanced Shakespeare class. He seems pretty cool. He wants a musician to do the lyrics, like Willow from Othello.

I have Tom Lehrer’s Irish Ballad stuck in my head. He wants to get out.

At least it’s not Santa Baby anymore. I love that song, but it needs to be over.

I miss Johnny.

I dont think he misses me.

I need to do laundry.

I miss Johnny.

I’m working at 8pm. That stinks monkeys, but tomorrow I’ll have Doselle and Tony (possibly), even though Im working at 8pm. Dos, Dos, Dos!

Dos ran into the girl who said we were a couple and he didn’t kick her. She apologized, but I would have just kicked her in the shins when I saw her and walked away. *nods*

The thing that sucks the most about John being gone is I had to drop him off after the most comfortable night. The first nights were all figuring out again how to sleep with another person in the bed. The latter nights were getting comfortable or me falling asleep on the couch from studying. That last night was just…perfect. Every time I woke up, he was there to kiss me or my shoulder. We fit the curves of each other. It was just…good.

I’m a shark I’m a shark a killer of the ocean
I’m a shark I’m a shark and silently I strike
I’m a shark I’m a shark I’m dumber than a tree
I only have three thoughts and they are eat swim eat

(He’s a shark he’s a shark)
I was swimming in the ocean
(He’s a shark he’s a shark)
I got picked up by a boat
A team of lonely fisherman sold me to a park
And now my name is Billy, I’m a theme park shark

Billy the theme park shark
Performing tricks for tourists
Who have paid five bucks a head
Billy the theme park shark
He looks just like a killer
But he’s too well fed

The sight of blood once put me in a frenzy
Now it means that it’s time to clean the pool

I’m a shark I’m a shark I’m swimming in a pool
I’m a shark I’m a shark I don’t have to fight for food
I get three meals a day and some extra on weekends
And I’m the only shark I know who has dental plan
(Who has a dental plan)

Billy the theme park shark
Jumping at a football that’s suspended overhead
Billy the theme park shark
He looks just like a killer but he’s too well fed

(He’s a shark he’s a shark)
But I’m not in my natural habitat
(He’s fat and old and lazy)
But I’m happier here
I really hope these activists don’t free Billy
‘Cause out there in the wold I’d be dead

Then one day just after a performance
He barfed up a flounder on the owner of the park

Billy the theme park shark
Performing tricks for tourists then throwing up his meal
Billy the theme park shark
Now he’s been replaced by a juggling seal

Billy (Billy) Billy (Billy)
The number one attraction of an aqua petting zoo
Billy (Billy) Billy (Billy)
The poster fish of Tourism Iowa!

–Arrogant Worms

Sorry, just had to get that out of my system.

Then Dan, the Insurance Salesman…

just like chicken
2003-12-11-10:43 a.m.

Listening to “The Night Santa Went Crazy”. Hehehe. I love Weird Al. Have I mentioned?

I don’t know why I’m blogging. Maybe just so I can give Juliet and Y? something to keep them entertained. My mom wants me to take Lauren to the vet. Im really busy right now just because classes are finally over, and everyone seems to want a piece of this. Im on my way to do Laundry right now. Note the capital letter now. Yeah. It’s pretty bad.

I can’t fucking believe I gave John a black eye. I feel so fucking bad.

I was reading through this blog last night, the owner of which seems to base their identity on the fact that he/she is Atheist. I only read a couple entries before deciding I didnt care for this person at all. They have decent spelling and grammar and all, but there’s a couple things…

• An atheist should NOT base their identity on the fact that they’re atheist, for the same reason there arent any Atheist organizations on campus.
  

  Leader: Welcome to Atheist Club. Um…so…everyone still Atheist? Good…good…Um…boy we don’t believe in any gods! Yeeha!

• Spanking is wrong. Hurting kids is wrong. You think you’re not fucked up? Did you LOOK at your blog? Yeah, kids are brats now, but thats more to do with the culture than not spanking. I can point to quite a few police detectives who can articulate why spanking is wrong. First and foremost is because adults DONT know how much force to apply. Hitting is NOT ok, for kids or adults.

OK, I feel better now. I know I’m not very political in this blog all the time, but kids and animals are definitely my pet subjects.

OK, Im gonna do laundry now. Really.

alamo
2003-12-11-8:18 p.m.

Juliet brought me a poster for Present Day and Preacher: Alamo! Yeehah! I just finished it. Heeheeheeheeheeheehee. I frickin love that story, although now I feel really bad about missing the bit about Jesse in Salvation with Christina L’Angelle. I wanna see that. Now, if there could be a pro-religious comic as good and ugly as that, I might be a little moved, but I dont believe there’s a way to do it without being trite. I wanna be Tulip. Bang, bang.

Dos took me to a Taco Stand and a bar in the Valley today (conveniently next door to each other), and we went the Illyad and he traded in some books and got me two more Sandman trades. The heroes of older generations were Superman, Spiderman, Batman, X-Men…men who fought the good fight, who saw evil and vanquished it. The heroes of my generation are morally ambiguous killers, who fuck and fight and cuss and kill and lift me higher because they are not on any high road to begin with.

Not that I dont fucking LOVE Spidey, Bats, and the X-Men.

Going to the Joint tonight after I get off work. Have a mission to recover Erica’s X-Men DVD’s.

Just called Jean. He seems curiously indifferent.

Erica got food poisoning. See, if I’d just held out a few weeks, we could have had it together.

Shaun still hasn’t called me. I know now that his name is spelled Sean, but I shall continue on this path of Shaun simply because Im lazy and stubborn and annoyed.

I can’t believe I gave John a black eye. Even if it doesn’t HURT…its still not a good thing for me to have done.

OK, I’m reading through some stuff and I wish my roommates werent so hard to round up…cause that’s 4 people right there when the minimum needed is five…

OK, Im bored of this for now.

aaaaaaaaaaaargh!
2003-12-12-11:11 a.m.

OK, so I’m sitting down at this terminal, I look down, and there’s a bee on my shirt!! Ewewewewewewewewewewearrrrrrrrgh! As calmly as I can, I walk over to the desk and say “Daiyo, you’re a boy. Get this off of me.” I get met with a chorus (mostly of girls…god I hate women) saying “Go outside and brush it off.”

I start to walk outside, and with every step I take, the bee takes a few steps UP my shirt. By the time I get outside, it’s almost to my neckline. Then I blow on it, and thankfully it flies off. I’m shaken, but I come back and sit at the terminal, pissed at my co-workers.

So there.

Yesterday, after work (gee, its nice to be caught up, but Im a little disconcerted not having DAYS to blog), I went to the Joint to see nNep’s last show of the year. It was fuckin’ sweet, and there was mad response from the few people the Joint can hold. It was cool. No one bought a shirt, though. I think part of it is to do with the fact that the group name doesnt actually appear on the shirt.

I talked to mM a bit. No harrassment on his part. Actually, he seemed quite pleased. Especially at the part about Wookiee and my future plans (of which there are none).

OK, something broke on my shoulder and I’ve been bleeding the last five or so minutes. This is NOT in the big book of “Good”.

Aiight…Imma go to Wooden and get breakky at Ackerman….cause the two go so well together.

mM really would be cute if he didnt smoke so much.

Why oh why is Erica such a smug smug bitch? Whom I love :-p of course. Don’t hurt me, Im fragile!

Would it be practical to just get my index fingers manicured?

Heehee…Joey sent me an SOS V-Mail last night that I only saw this morning. It’s so cute and weird and funny. And he was stoned, so all the more. Heeeeheeeeheee.

I keep forgetting that my clock is set an hour ahead. I never had this problem before. My brain usually grabs at any notice to sleep in more, but this not obeying daylight savings time thing really works!

I Made a Mistake messed me up bad last night. I was sitting there mouthing the words along with Mel, head in my hands…it must have looked weird to anyone who was watching me bounce along to all the songs prior. She COULDNTA sung Red Dress last night, huh? HAD to be Marley. I hate being fragile. As much as I hate the term, I like to be “sturdy” I guess.

On Doselle’s advice I didn’t go to Tony’s…not that I really had time, as late as Dos picked me up. I really should call the man though. Dammit, no matter what I do, I’m a bad person.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I could marry mM. I’d just be wary of dating him.

Erica, Daddy, shut up.

this lost lamb
2003-12-14-10:13 a.m.

New Q/LOTD!! Finally.

Fingers are fucking frozen. Typing’s a bitch. Feel special.

Woke up, worked on the RAW site. Finally. Need to go to the bank. I hates the bank.

Shaun’s coming to visit Thursday. Hee. We’re gonna walk around ’cause he hasn’t seen L.A. properly.

Went to Cork’s party yesterday…I dislike people. Have I mentioned? I dislike being the youngest non-blood there. I dislike being the youngest female non-blood moreover, because they order me about. I don’t mind helping out in the kitchen that much, but I loathe being ordered to someone’s skirts.

Once Yona got there, I started trying to keep to myself, hiding behind the garage. Unfortunately people go back there to smoke, plus people were chilling on the porch by where you had to come out. No consequence. I talked to Maddy a bit, and Travis for a long while. And Pollyanna. Who now works at UCLA. We exchanged info, and I’ve never REALLY had anything against her, save for her taste in friends. Mom sent me to nNep’s to fetch the pie pans. Only one was ready to take, but they gave me a roasting pan too.

nNep is dying, collectively. The boys all have the flu. They just lay on the couch, buried under blankets, eating oranges by the bag. They weren’t in a giving-a-crap mood.

I took the pan back to mother and skedaddled.

Heather had to go to a party, and Erica had to go to work, and Juliet came over and she, Luke, and I ordered Chinese food and smoked and watched Old School and X-Men 2 and tried to watch bad Saturday evening programming, but we’re only human.

I should work on this bloody album. The one chagrining factor I have is that Travis DOES have all those Dr. D. songs I want on tape…and I want them digital in the worst way. Maybe next year.

domesticated
2003-12-17-5:48 p.m.

The continuing adventures of Juliet and Kat…

Monday night we walked to the Casa to get a CD of the Raw site. I introduced Juliet to Rally’s en route. We took a bus home. My feet were trashed. I can’t stress how much I need decent shoes.

Yesterday, we went to the Valley and made caramels and cookies. The caramels failed miserably. They taste like caramel, but they feel like granulated sugar. Altogether an unpleasant sensation unless, I imagine, you are my sister. The caramels were a smashing success, except for one little itty bitty thing: we doubled the recipe. This wouldn’t be such a bad thing normally, but the recipe was already fairly massive. We must have made over 150 cookies, all fairly large. I had no idea the recipe was inherently doubled.

Also? Hands no replacement for a hand-mixer.

Toby went off to babysit when we were finished, and Mom took Juliet and I out to dinner, by way of the laundromat. They’ve been keeping Israi pent up in bedrooms for weeks now, and she’s starting to take it out on Toby’s bedspread and rugs. Serves them right, really.

Making cookies is not about the cookies, nor even about the cookie dough. It’s about the grainy liquid mixture of brown and white sugar, butter, eggs, and vanilla extract (which I believe we are all agreed that you canNOT overdo vanilla ever).

Anyway, after dinner (and I really have the impinging feeling that the proprieter of Bamboo Forest doesn’t like us much), we went to the Fashion Square (or something like it). Juliet and I walked around. We went into a Sephora, breaking a life-long vow of mine…the things I won’t do for Juliet. I got Toby presents and looked for Erica.

We got home eventually, packed up and…didn’t go home. My car wouldnt start. This led to a lovely adventure of fetching gas and calling triple-A and waiting for Daddy and then my car turning on JUST when I got to show Daddy what was wrong. Of course. *kickkickkick*

Today Erica and I brought nNep echinacea, and Kill Bill, and our hols CD and cookies, and I stayed behind to make sure they started acting healthy.

Kerry’s seen Grease 2 AND he cites it. I dunno who was more creeped out when we figured that out: me or him.

Blah blah, bus home. Blah blah waiting for Juliet. Etc.

Shaun’s coming tomorrow and we’re going camping w/ Joey Friday.

two hours
2003-12-18-9:52 a.m.

It’s a two-hour drive from San Diego. And I have no idea if he’s even started. I’ve had no call from him. I’ve masked, lotioned, lined, and mascara’d. So I’m as not-ugly as I’m going to get without resorting to the hell that is foundation and concealer. Cause…yeah…fuck that right in the ear.

I am muchly angered by the vast, scarred expanse that is my back. I’m some horrible stereotype.

I’m hungry. And Im self-loathing. *shakes fist at OTCL* This is thy negligence!

It’s not subtle, it’s not attractive. Its a circle of white plastic. It’s apalling. It’s more apalling that you can buy designer containers. No. That’s bad people. You stop wasting money on THAT crap right now.

I really truly despise wastefulness of money. I blame The Banger Sisters for my hatred towards rich people revival. Although, I also dislike what the writers/director/actresses did to the children. They were absolutely irredeemable, and unclever. And the alleged “smart” one had APALLING grammar and sense of style in her Valedictorian speech. I wanted to slap her heartily. BUT Goldie Hawn’s character was cool for the most part and I liked to identify with her and Harry.

The one thing that Goldie Hawn cannot hide is her hands, like a witch in a fairy-story. She just can’t. They give away her age every time, and putting rings and bangles on them do NOT help. Aside from the area from the elbow down, and her eyes — Erica and I agree something is wrong with her eyes –, she is absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Juliet and I went to Junior’s last night. We bought a dreidle and some candy first. When we got there, we asked to be seated at one of Erica’s tables, but they said she had already left. I left a message on her phone inviting her to join us for dinner. When she called us back, we were finishing, and she was just on her way out (grr.). She came back and sat with us and we ate candy (mini-pastilles..mm) and talked. And harrassed nNep from afar. *grins* I can’t even say how much I adore Erica’s sense of humor. Are you fuckin KIDDING me?! She’s evil. Like…almost as evil as me, but she can keep a straight face longer. :-p

Anyway, here, not doing any work, in a big grey sweater, as much to cover my fucked up shoulders as to keep warm…no word…why must I always expect disappointment?

ain’t got no plans
2003-12-23-12:08 a.m.

Mary J Blige’s I’m Going Down is so beautiful at its core, but its so fucking overproduced.

Just got back from a hip-hop poetry reading with Dos. Found a new love. I’ve always loved hip-hop poetry style. Now I’m listening to it over the course of two hours, and I’m thinking…I can DO that. I can write a villanelle, I can fucking write this. Drunk is along the right lines, but I need to do one without a hook. Especially a retarded hook that rides the short bus and all the other hooks make fun of it. Some of these people were POLISHED. Like what. I think most people I know would dig this stuff. I want Juliet to come back so I can bring her. And Erica. And…and…yeah.

Is it possible to be a slut if you havent had sex? John, Shaun, now Paul…

Fuckin’ Paul. Yup. Like Cholera. Except with…tequila…and inevitability. And Fate or Karma or some fucked up self-righteous entity with nothing better to do than make my life into a fucking feel-good movie of the fucking week.

Fuck fucky fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck…Sorry, I’m just thinking of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer where Huck sneaks away from the Widow’s and tells Tom he had to hide in the attic and cuss for an hour just to get the taste back in his mouth. I kinda know what he means.

My sister is moving her blog. Hopefully she’ll discover the beauty of a locked Diaryland blog, and all the perks that accompany that.

So is it karmic because we do it or do we do it because we feel it is karmic. Or just because we’re horny and one of us (him) feels the need to frame it poetically?

AC/DC gives me a happy.

Ooh, I found out that all this time we’ve had the tape of Fast Times at Ridgemont High. So much better on tape than on telly. Not the highlight of teenager-genre filmmaking, mind, but great soundtrack. Wanna read the book. I hate when you can pick out in a movie where they chose to cut something half-assedly from the book.

OK, and it’s been at LEAST five days since Ive begun self-loathing. It’s always a long time, but damn. I’ve got guys not-coming and going and its damn frustrating.

The cats are beginning to take to me even more, given I’m the only steady stomach they’ve had over the last couple days. Cairo has decided that my rack is not only a shelf but a stairway. Ass-monkey cat.

Erica’s brother is a BAD influence on me. Hah. Right. Like I wouldn’t have done the same thing anyway. I just wouldn’t have handed me such a strong drink when I told him I can’t taste the vodka. It was one of the skull mugs with vodka and sprite. I drank over half. Suddenly using vodka doesn’t seem so hard. Just have a comfortable bed ready.

Oooh! Shaun left some planty goodness and all we had was that metal pipe so Kenny and I went and I bought a glass one! And a non-butane lighter. I need to buy butane for my pretty tiger lighter though. Still.

Mom and Dad have both bragged to me about the presents they’ve bought me. I thought only Dad was buying for me this year. Did Mom forget they switched? Did Toby get left out in the cold? Wouldn’t that be seven kinds of ironic? Or is that competitive spirit finally entering the holiday season?

I had an avacado melt at the reading. fucking good. Decent green tea too. Mmm. Happy tummy.

I wanna hook up with Paul before he leaves town, if for no other reason than the novelty. I want Shaun to call me and tell me he wants me. I feel like Im selling myself. It’s weird. And I hate this shit where he expects me to call first. You know what? Fucking CLAIM me. If you want me, fucking stake out your territory. That goes for any of you. I don’t like this guessing shit. I dont like being kept on the edge because YOU fuckers have a problem with “labels” or have issues or something. “Embrace the pain, spank your inner moppet, whatever, but get over it.”

I need to mention this before I go take my pretty sleepy pills…hah, I wish. I havent slept properly in days. Actually…I may have some vacodine laying around…point being…atheism…yes. I’m not an atheist because bad things happen to good people. Shit happens. I just realized that there wasn’t a God. The world is bereft of the supernatural. I got over it. That’s it. There was no traumatic experience. I just figured it out for myself. Go me. Move on.

A memory I wish to treasure though…walking Santa Monica and Venice with Paul, a bottle of tequila between us, sitting on the beach, discussing religion and philosophies, sex versus breeding…

I fucking love walking the beach. Not in the bad crappy romance compilation CD way, but the half-drunk philosophical way. It’s the second time I’ve done it in a week. My legs hurt and my ass looks good, and my mind feels calm. This is what winter vacation should always be about.

I’m really getting a little scared…I think I merely exist as some weird combination of Erica and Kenny…there’s unnatural amounts of brain-sharing in there.

I love my dog. I love Israi. More than nNeptep. More than music. More than writing. More than reading. More than South Park or Family Guy…

Tequila is sugar-water with an alcohol backing.

And for the bitch in the back row: If I don’t pick up when you call, don’t cop an attitude. I didn’t hear it fucking ring. I may have been in class, or away, or asleep. Yes, it happens. It may just have been buried under clothes in the next room. Shit happens. Don’t call people and make them call me. Doesn’t help. I will call you back when and as I get around to it.

My dad wants me to go to DeVry. Fuck DeVry. I can fucking work joe-jobs until I make it. I don’t need a fucking degree in WEBSITE programming to be content with my life. I want my MASTERS. Possibly my PhD. Stop holding me back. I went to fucking Monroe because you assholes did everything in your power to convince me Performing Arts was hellish. There was never any real faith in my artistic talents. A few words of encouragement and then an admonishment to focus on my studies. You guys go to hell. I’m not going to fucking DeVry.

hate hate hate
2003-12-23-2:21 p.m.

OK, forget Shaun. Seriously.

Do NOT argue one of my fields with me unless you, too, have studied it. Especially language and government. If you don’t know what the Constitution looks like, if you haven’t read the Federalist Papers or anything germaine to the topic YOU’VE chosen, bugger off.

“A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, and you know it.” The trick is getting people to stop being such collectivists. At least Paul is fucking informed. And I don’t see him making the statement that “English sucks.” I think one of the reasons I like musicians so much is their facility with language. I never thought I could like writers until last night at the reading. Antone…

Virgin, smoker, and erroneous debater…gee, what a package.

indictment
2003-12-24-12:21 p.m.

Nothing is sacred from her. Honestly. And she has no shame. As much as she always called ME a drama queen, she fucking thrives on this shit. It’s her own damned fault if she doesn’t know her daughters at ALL. We’ve NEVER given her a cause to be ashamed. And ashamed to WHOM? Her family? Her dysfunctional, alcoholic, self-indulgent, self-righteous, reprobate-ridden family? Her friends? Her internet-lovers?

And here’s the crux of it, I’d imagine. She gave up parenting us when the Internet entered the house. She gave up being a wife, a mother, a human, whatever semblance she had maintained up until then, for the draw of chatrooms, of faceless, factless, feckless men who told her they loved her. Her obsession with the Web-Connections has weathered the years, and only waned as much as it takes for her to function.

Toby cannot be in the same room with our devoted Mater now without garnering an anguished sigh, a pained head-shake. Every guilt-inducing trick she knows, many so old they no longer effect us, but rather make us the more disgusted at her, is wielded.

What I fail to see is what Toby did to deserve this. Mom was reading her journal. Toby knew this. I knew this. Our mother is neither clever nor subtle. So Toby put in a fabricated entry about weed consumption. Partially at my suggestion. Mom read it, and freaked out.

There’s two issues here:

1. She doesn’t KNOW Toby at ALL. As long as I could remember, my mother has been CONVINCED Toby does something bad. She jumps at any joke as though it’s an admission of guilt. She’s asked me before about whether Toby uses drugs or has sex. That brings us to…
2. She doesn’t trust ME. I’ve told her that if there’s anything -I- think she should know about, I would tell her. And I’ve been good about it, loyal to both parties. I ONLY tell her about stuff she NEEDS to know about. If she doesn’t have a good enough relationship with Toby to get the less vital things, or worse, doesn’t believe Toby when Toby TELLS her the less vital things, that is her own damn fault.

Perhaps some of this does fall on our shoulders. Toby didn’t know how to hide her blog on the browser until a few weeks ago, and our mother is NOT one to resist temptation. Just look at her. She can’t do it. And nothing seems to tempt her like sneaking. Talking openly, in a non-accusing manner, does not tempt her. That’s no fun. She likes to play Detective. She likes to worm confessions out of her targets, in this case, us. The problem, as has been mentioned above, is that the woman is NOT clever. She is intelligent, but she has never been able to decipher between her “reality drama” TV shows and how things work in real life. She has never understood that Toby and I don’t fear the trenchcoat, the fedora, the big, rounding finger that points squarely at the butler. My mother and Lisa share this manner.

Toby does not want me picking this fight on the hols, so I’m merely laying it to heart until after New Year’s, but something will be done about this. Speaking to/fighting with her has never done a damn bit of good in the past, so, as much as it seems hokey, our choices turn to pranking and revenge…or perhaps vengeful pranking.

For now I’ll have to content myself with promiscuous sex in the house while she’s gone.

whine and keen
2003-12-26-4:12 p.m.

Fur floats in the air like a gold-and-white fiber snow. She curls up in my lap, or presses herself into my pillows, a golden angel of innocence and adoration. All she lives for in these days is to follow me, comfort me, be comforted herself. As isolated as they’ve been keeping her, I can’t blame her. But she’s torn nothing up, destroyed nothing, a testament to how much she’s grown in the last couple years alone.

The best is when she hears something outside. Her cable-dish ears unfurl and she crawls over me, so her front paws drape protectively over my hip. If the noise gets louder, she’ll bark. If the noise remains distant, she’ll bury her chin in my thigh and keep glaring at the door.

She’s not happy unless she’s touching me. Even now, she rests her head against my heel, waiting for me to stop typing.

What I really want is for Paul to call. I want us to take her for a long, long walk, maybe to Ventura, maybe to some dangerous neighborhood, which is anywhere in a one-block radius from here. Maybe we’d walk to his place and back. Something to get out an about, far from human eyes, where she can run far and free and wear herself out, and we could follow suit.

Last night, Christmas dinner, was good. It was…what it always is. Women work, men talk shop, Kat walks the thin, funny line. Daddy’s friend, Harry, brought several kinds of wine. I allowed them to make me try the dessert wine. It was alright. So yay, I can tell the difference…should it ever come up in a survival situation.

I have no more books to read, and I haven’t for a long time. I gathered $45 in book gift certificates for the hols (on top of knives, bakingware, and a Fender bass amp), and I want desperately to go shopping, but I feel guilty leaving the house without Israi, and moreover, book shopping is more fun with a companion, for it is a proper adventure.

I’ve read many of the rest of Toby’s Block collection. The first ones do feel fresher, speaking as one who has read them out of order, and were bored by several of the later titles. The fairytales are nothing special at all.

I miss Oz on Buffy. I know the show is over, but its something I wish to Joss they’d resolve. He was just one of the truly great characters of all time.

Speaking of, Droz from PCU which Erica bought today, and how smug are we? Very.

Watching Buffy makes me want to hunt.

I feel like a grade-schooler, using each word in a sentance…not because I am, but because I realized how much I’ve italicized in the last few paragraphs.

She’s lying on the avacado blanket on the red-and-white flowered pillow under the TV…even a tiny sound from my lips, and she comes over to lick my arm reassuringly.

I wish I knew exactly what Lanka meant…I wish it was a real word. The rest…they can go hang. But Lanka seems to want to mean something.

I love Seth Green. He’s him.

pacing
2003-12-26-5:23 p.m.

I feel like a fucking caged animal. Im restless, I’m pacing, I’m thinking too much. I need to get out. I’d rather have a book or a person though. Maybe we’ll meet someone. Maybe we’ll leave a lasting impression.

Why are the winters so cold?

Can we walk up Burbank? Into the fog, into the end of time and space…the end never comes, until you see a traffic light. It leads into Reseda, which is another time and place entirely. When you’ve hit Reseda, you’ve left the place of gangs, wandered the land of ax murderers, and come out in the fairy land where nothing bad happens, because it’s too far to go to cause mischeif, too middle class to rob, and just populated enough to make certain kinds of mischief more trouble than it’s worth.

I could write short stories about people I know, situations I dream…things are changing in my head…Im so bored, even of Cable TV.

driving to drink
2003-12-26-6:27 p.m.

OK…that was the world’s shortest walk. Its —ing cold outside, and I’m in shorts and a canvas jacket. I stuck it out a good bit, but with no destination and no cash, there wasn’t much point. My legs are cold, and one is bleeding where Israi scratched me. That was my own fault.

SO TV is driving me bored and the internet holds no love. So…alcohol? Alcohol poisoning? There’s that bottle of Patron calling to me…maybe just a few shots…put myself to sleep so I don’t have to think anymore until tomorrow. I hate being pointless. I hate being alone. Where the fuck are all these alleged friends of mine? Even a fucking PHONE call would be nice…anyone?

entry
2004-01-09-11:37 a.m.

I had a New Year’s Eve post. It vanished. I didn’t feel like recapping the shitty week I had between Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve day. My dad’s friend is a slimeball. Love to Erica and Doselle for getting me out of my own personal hell for a few hours. MUCH love to Kerry, Matt, and Jean for hosting the New Years South Park Orgy.

I like beat poetry. I just severely dislike the people who do it. Literary masturbation. The group in L.A. is a clique, and its the kind of clique that sponsors every event. They’re passionate about their art. I haven’t read yet, ’cause I really don’t have anything to offer yet.

I’m on this new drug that has a side-effect of being a pretty powerful diuretic. I’m not allowed to drink alcohol because this compounds the effect of the diuretic. I can actually drink a bunch of water and get around it, but I haven’t done that in months. I didn’t know this until Dos had already bought me three G+T’s at Co-Lab, which is a reading at the Temple Bar in Santa Monica. Josh from the reading at the Green beatboxes. Co-Lab is where people read poetry and choose musicians to back them up…It’s supposed to be collaboration but it’s really just another excuse for people to read their shit, where there happens to be accompaniament. Still, it’s a cool feel.

My bitterness towards the flock comes from the fact that they never acknowledge me. Some of them know Dos and hug him and coo with him, but even when he introduces me, I never get another look. If part of our exploration wasn’t for my benefit, I wouldn’t mind, but I dislike thinking of myself as a poet and being treated like a lapdog.

After Co-Lab, Dos and I went to Volcano Tea in Little Osaka. There was a group of kids standing in the middle of the parking lot, blocking our car’s path. Dos said something like “Move, Asian kids!” I said “Those aren’t Asians! They’re linguists!” It was Aaron (who is a hapa) and Samir (who is not) and two Asian girls (ok, fine). They saw me when I saw them and I waved awkwardly as I went into the shop. After I ordered, Doselle said I might go say Hi. When I went outside, they said “We were just telling your story.”

I have a story? Aparently my little outbursts in class are famous now. Huh. I never even TALK to these guys and they’re immortalizing some stupid jokes I made a while ago…

Anyway, I’m back in school now, back to the grindstone, been accepted into the Poetry class, even though it conflicts HORRIBLY with my Hebrew…

Bad Santa is the best holiday movie ever. Fuck Elf.

Shaun dropped me before I could drop him, so I dont have my dignity intact, nor the recourse to make it so. It’s fine. I’m feeling very asexual lately…

grief and recovery
2004-01-11-2:01 p.m.

I had to go home yesterday morning, so my mom could drive me to East LA so I could take care of a car insurance thingy (damn those people for wanting money EVERY month). I had to join her early because she was running errands and didn’t want to go back to the house (we did anyway because I forgot to get directions).

I would have had to go home anyway because I was supposed to meet with the woman who wanted Israi. When I got to my mom’s hair salon (via Erica who really is a good sport about me being annoying), she was all “well, maybe you and daddy should go to her house to see if you like where she lives” which I thought was about as reasonable as anything she had said about this so far, so I agreed. However, over the course of the day, I heard mother proclaim several times (in person to friends and over the phone, and rather jovially for my taste), that we were to leave Israi there today. I was NOT prepared for that. I thought we were just going to visit. I didn’t know that it was the day I had been dreading for months. And it didn’t help that mom told this to EVERY FUCKING PERSON SHE TALKED TO.

When the time came and Dad came by to pick up Israi and I, I threw a tantrum. One of my mom’s fears is upsetting the neighbors. When she got divorced, she kept whining about how Toby and I didnt suffer the stigma of being a divorcee, and she couldn’t bear what the neighbors must think of her, to which I kept replying “Fuck the neighbors.” My parents bitched me out. Dad tried to get Israi in the car, but she wouldn’t go. The only car she likes is mine, because it rarely leads to the Vet. I could tell my dad wanted to hurt her to get her in the car so I yelled at him and climbed in. Israi got in and curled up in my lap.

The whole ride over there, I didn’t speak. Israi got into the car ride and stood on my leg so she could stick her head out the window. My dad told me to put on a happy face for the new family.

I just couldn’t. I wore my sunglasses, but tears were streaming from them. I freaked out when I heared the little boys shout “Look at Lily!” I can’t fucking believe my mom told them her name is Lily. That’s not her name. It’s apallingly disrespectful to me to call her that to the new family.

When we got out of the car, Israi pretty much ignored everything in favor of sniffing. She’s always had a greater interest than most about sniffing everything in her little ADD way. It probably has to do with the fact I don’t keep her on a leash hardly ever. It tore me up that she didn’t understand what was happening to her. I think that hurt most of all, because there was no way of making her understand we were abandoning her until we actually left. My dad told the woman that we were going to “drown our sorrows in ice cream.” Because that’s their fucking solution to everything. I don’t eat to make myself feel better, or to bury the pain. It’s always been an ugly thought to me. My mom called later to inform me that they had bought her food and a leash and had taken her for a walk and she had “calmed down”.

I couldn’t deal. The whole drive back to West LA, I was silent. Dad tried to talk to me, but I couldn’t and wouldn’t respond. He turned on NPR, but turned it off. He told me he “respected and felt the loss.” Whatever. They both think of her as “just a dog”.

The whole drive home I planned on drinking as much as I could stomach, and taking the last of my vacodine. I called the boys to tell them I wouldn’t be coming to the show, but I couldn’t keep my voice straight, and Jean and Matt got it out of me. They made me promise (and they really worked at it…in their own way, although the promise of a Viking fucking me in the bathroom nearly scared me off) to come. They promised they’d make me feel better.

So flashback nine/ten months when I was still being angsty over Luis. nNeptep’s first show at the Sagebrush Cantina. I overhear Luis and Mason talking about Luis’ girlfriend coming to the show, and Luis blushes and says how in love he is. I’m not hurting, exactly, because I already know, but I get very very depressed in the space of about four minutes. nNeptep takes the stage…and I forget everything else. The music picks me up, shakes me off, sets me back on my feet. It stomps out all the self-pity and self-loathing and all that other bullshit. It makes me human again.

Back to the present. I agree to go to the show, because I know damn well that even if they don’t pay two seconds of attention to me personally, the music will put me right. Jean tells me to shower, relax, come to the show, get some tequila and a beer, and I’ll be straight.

I’ve already started drinking, so I finish that first. I shower, I shave, I scrub, I mask, I lotion (I never lotion), I do my makeup and my hair and put on my little black dress that’s not that little and extremely unsexy, but its all I have left (I REALLY need to do laundry). I put on my black high heels and my pretty purple sunglasses, tip all my stuff (wallet, keys, phone), into my purple purse, and drive to Good Hurt.

I haven’t spoken a word since I hung up with nNep. My voice is all hoarse from crying and disuse. I park about a block away (and decide I keep doing this because I hate circling around for some reason), and totter to the club. I ask the bouncer what time it is. A redhead in a black dress who is talking to the bouncer beams at me. I know I look good. He tell’s me its about 9, and I realize I have an hour at least. No one from nNep is here. If they were, they’d be outside smoking. I set off in search of something to eat.

I go into the liquor store John and I bought gum in last time. I look around and decide I want some real food. The cute Korean guy behind the counter grinningly tells me there’s a place just across the street, Pepy’s Galley, a diney in a bowling alley.

This place rocks all the socks. It embodies all of da bombs. I had an awesome meal (new york steak, vegetables, grilled sourdough bread, mashed potatoes and gravy, split pea soup) for $7.75. So good.

The waitress was pretty chill, and interested in me…I guess I don’t look like a normal bowler, but I had to really work at it to get myself able to give her more than one-word responses. The food was good, and the company was aiight, and I bought myself some gum on the way back.

I was popping it into my mouth when I heard someone calling my name. I looked around and saw nNep. I had been about to walk past them unloading their equipment. We hugged, and Jean vouched for me with the bouncer, who is an extremely good-natured man. It was nearly 10 and nNep wasn’t even setting up yet, just putting their equipment in the bay.

I slunk onto a couch that had a big red furry pillow and cuddled the pillow. Everytime I started to feel a little depressed, one of the boys would come over to cheer me up. Heather and Brian set up near me, so I could listen to them talk. Matt bought me a shot of tequila, and we did the shot together. a nNeptoid, James (?) brought his employer, John. John is charismatic. You can tell why he’s an employer. He bought be tequila. And he was content to let me tell stupid jokes for a while, until I got antsy for the boys. The bouncer and I were playing “He Did It” Tag… (I got tapped on the shoulder and didn’t see who did it, and the bouncer swore he didn’t see anyone running out of the club…uh-huh. :-p).

I had stamped on a tatt before I left and everyone liked it. Jean and the bouncer talked about gin being the stongest alcohol (hehe. my baby wins). The show rocked. Brian, Heather, David and I all represented on the dance floor. The music cleared away the remaining cobwebs. The club was fullish, and everyone loved them. Afterwards, more socialization, more playing, a lot of discussion about a band who does a punk cover of a James Taylor song. I helped Mel pack up her kit. There were hugs and snuggles and kisses and smacks on asses. Once Kerry was standing on a low wall in the club and leaning over someone, and I planted both hands on his tucchus and pretended to push. Hehehe.

I drove David and Dan to Canter’s. Kerry was in RARE form. They had seen a car hit a fire hydrant on the drive, and it sent Kerry into hysterics. He was more blue than he had been in a while, and we cleared a two-table radius with his mouth alone. It was so funny. He broke David and this girl Kim. He was so proud of himself. I was so fucking amused. I know it’s retarded but this is the kind of stuff I adore…as evidenced by the scenes I direct, I guess. Nothing is so funny as Kerry walking that fine line of annoying the fuck out of people and seriously getting lynched. All kinds of hate crimes.

Matt ingested tongue. O.o

I drove Dan home, feeling high as a kite, so long as I didn’t have to talk about my puppy. Found a pretty good parking space, and fell asleep.

I’ve been leaving the lights on in my room every night. Sometimes Erica turns it off in the morning. I need Luke to come home today.

This morning, I told Erica what happened to my puppy, and about how nNep endeavored to cheer me up. Erica went to take a shower.

Mom called. If I hadn’t heard the muffled “ring” (it’s a techno song), I would have spent the whole day getting depressed again.

THE LADY BROUGHT ISRAI BACK!!!!
My baby. Mineminemineminemineminemine. She was snapping at the little boys. She does that. I have no idea why my mom would give her to a family with little boys in the first place, but she did, and now my sun princess love puppy is back.

rainbow ejaculation
2004-01-13-10:16 a.m.

Something Positive is a love thing.

“If masturbation were meant to be cute, pink bunnies would do it in meadows and would ejaculate rainbows and flower petals.”

Hehe. Luke dropped me off at the Green last night. It was a long one, but mostly good. This was the first time I’d seen the artist there, and not seen Jedi. Beth apologized for not having seen me at the Kitty last week. It’s cool, though I have no intention to try again.

There were a lot of Afro-Centrists at the Green, and although some had talent, a lot of them were trite. I’m reminded of Black Is…Black Ain’t, which has views on people like that. Dos was tweaked at them and is going to write a poem about “black racist bullshit”.

My poems won’t finish themselves. I need to either add to a poem that is pretty long already, or cut out a line I really love. Dammit.

nNeptep tomorrow night. Co-Lab in a few weeks. And Hebrew homework right now.

j00 sunnuvabeetch
2004-01-17-2:12 p.m.

Heeheehee. Erica, Samara, and I saw the Princess Bride last night at the Nuart. w00t to midnight showings. w00t also to w00t, the new webcomic of my choice. I’m up to four now. I’d have more if Bite Me wasn’t for pay now. Grr. I’ve been bingeing on Yoshinoya. Mmm. Want. *drool*

I’ve already fucked up my first poetry deadline. I hate the new scheduling system. I don’t -care- if everyone else does it. If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you? plz die kthx.

We also finished casting last night. I have the r0xx0r cast! Imma have to go through the rap and actually pick out who gets which parts. Uh…this may be more thinking than I was actually up for. I may bag this and just do a straight scene. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. *wipes a tear* but you know what I mean.

Also, I have a panel of what seems to be extremely good directors. Muahahaha. Oh the raw power. Rawww. Mmm.

I’ve come to realize the 8 bus ends its line at Juliano’s. AND the Jamba Juice on my corner sells Juliano’s book. Neato.

Joey unplugged my laptop without saving what was on it. I am really quite annoyed, though not as vexed as I think I should be. I’ve pretty much given up on having a future anyway. I don’t see the point of applying to grad school or anything.

I’m friggin tired. I’ve been napping a lot lately. Maybe I have Epstein-Barr. I’m like, please! It’s chronic hepatitis, or at least chronic fatigue syndrome. I mean, nobody cool has Epstein-Barr anymore…

Annnd…scene. End Buffy possession.
Luke punked on us, and now we’re trying to get a nNepteppian to go to Vegas with us. Erica wants protection. Its a *whole* half-mile from the strip to the motel or wherever we’re staying. Uh…huh.

I can’t help the feeling I’ve recently suffered moral outrage, but I can’t for the life of me imagine what it was about.

nNeptep was awesome. Good Hurt was awesome. Pepy’s was awesome. Kerry and Matt on the same pool team is a little like the mafia putting hits out on balls. It’s not particularly pretty, but it makes for a damn good movie.

I wanna play bass like Matt. They need to return Erica’s call.

I’m going home tonight to see my puppy and Nick, and I have hebrew homework and whatnot and the other thing, and then work tomorrow night. I need to remember when my Yoga class is. And I should probably call Lauren and tell her when to get her mail and ask her if we have an assignment in the class I missed Friday because I got scheduled for work during it.

I wanna start a webcomic. Come on. I got scripts. Who wants to draw ‘em? The first few don’t even have to be colored!

assignment
2004-01-18-5:19 p.m.

(Disclaimer: you can ignore this entry unless you’re REALLY all that interested in my poetic preferences. This is an assignment I have to do for poetry: to write 2-3 pages on the poems that inspired me.)

I’m a nerd. I’ve always been a nerd. And moreover, I’ve always been the kind of nerd who reads. I’d read everything: novels, cereal boxes, Golden Books, but my poetry experience only came and went so far as oldies lyrics and Shel Silverstein (mind: not the Shel Silverstein of Playboy fame, but rather the Shel Silverstein of A Light in the Attic and Where the Sidewalk Ends. The Playboy stuff I would only come to know much later, and wonder why I had been cheated). I buried myself in my nerdiness, and even dabbled in geekdom, giving myself up to the gods Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett, and Neil Gaiman.

However, nerdiness such as my own led to very few paths in high school. In my junior year, I was an Honor student with AP English classes on the Academic Decathlon team. And I was suddenly deluged with meter and rhyme.

Approximately at the same time, AcaDeca and AP Language handed me sets of poems. From AcaDeca I had Brown, Browning, and Bradstreet, and from AP I had Donne. All at once, I belonged to Porphyria’s Lover and The Broken Heart, stories of pain and anguish, beautifully worked out for rhyme and meter in a way I had never considered.

Before this exposure, I should mention, I thought every line in every poem had to be a complete thought. Not because I had ever seen such poems, but because I had never before been forced to think about poetry in this way. It made things easier, in my mind, to construct a story and a meaning without the restriction that each sentence had to be X-amount of feet.

I was particularly fascinated with Porphyria’s Lover, a dark tale to whet my fantasy-genre-fed appetite in language so natural, I barely noticed how the meter propelled it along. It was not Poe (whom I had also read, but had found no great affinity for). It more sober, less drug-induced, an allegory with a smudged line between protagonist and villain. It spoke to the core of my being, that hates with a sober passion, for things to be named as “good” or “evil”.

Then there was The Broken Heart, perhaps the most engaging self-pity poem a teenager has ever read. The metaphor of the shattered mirror was so perfect to me, that I began to subconsciously apply it to other situations. Buttercup of The Princess Bride said “I shall never love again,” and I imagined her heart a mosaic of mirror fragments glued together, reflecting cold light. I used it to explain away people’s bad relationships, to justify the idea of “true love”.

Both of these poems showed me what poetry could be, what language could do if correctly wielded, what metaphors could do when thought out, what poems are, despite the proliferation of bad attempts that surround you in high school.

I’ve grown up now. I’ve survived romance, and the subject no longer lures me. I listen to old, angry punk bands and rap and hip-hop alongside my oldies, and words flow through my head all day. I pen my own poems, about sex, yes, but more often about social problems and solutions. However, everytime I pick up a pen (or, more likely, open up a WORD document), I feel the surge of Porphyria and mirror shards in the back of my brain, a solid base for my own style.

o…k…
2004-01-19-12:50 a.m.

Alright…so guess how I just spent the last four hours?

If you guessed “editing the personal statement of Ethiopian nobility”, well..damn. Good guess. And here I was all set for a nice shift of burning my eyeballs out on urban legends, when this guy walks up and asks all the consultants present (there were four of us, for reasons I’m not entirely clear on), to please proofread his paper. Everyone withdrew before I finished, and I offered to type it for him (ok, this isnt all noble of me or anything. He wanted me to stand over him while his brother typed over my corrections to make sure they didn’t get anything wrong, and I just -knew- that would have taken longer).

Long story short, I got a ride home, and Yoshinoya, so I am extremely smug with myself right now. Oh yeah. Who got Yoshinoya for wielding a pen? You know it.

I think they may come to Masquer’s Cabaret on Thursday. That’s really really neat. I think I can hear the sound of shit hitting fans. I just hope the boys behave.

I also hope hope hope that Matt opts to come with us. How fucking cool would it be partying with Matt in a non-Tep setting?!

Why am I watching Church? *glares at TV* And why do I now know Romans 12:6-8? This entire last seven hours are conspiring to convert me.

legal
2004-01-20-4:18 p.m.

Erica turned 21 yesterday. God help us all.

I spent the day on the computer, and talking, talking, talking to people: Erica, Kerry, Juliet, Luke, Joey, Simone. We watched some French flick for Simone. Fucking Frenchies. What the HELL is wrong with you people?

Early in the day, Erica and I drove to the Valley to pick up a whole chicken I had forgotten at my mother’s house the day before (I went over Saturday night, went to some bars with my mom, heard really good music, but chilling with your mom is a pretty big cockblock…especially when she knows I’m supposed to stay sober). Unfortunately, Nick, our house guest, had already eaten one of the quarters, and I decided I didnt want to bring an incomplete chicken over the hill. I still ate another quarter though. I’m very OCD about how and when whole chickens are consumed.

We went to a pet store and bought a new kitty box with a lid (woohoo!), and Erica went to work, and I got INUNDATED with phone calls. The first, and longest, was Kerry, so that was alright, but EVERY FUCKING TIME I hung up the phone after that, I got another call. Damn my popularity. I got no work done before I had to go to CLICC.

The only thing that made up for me having to go into work is that I got to Chuck a little. Before this, the only reason Chuck even made an impression on my mind was that he was the one who saw me in my ballgown in the dorms last year. I gave him a Tep flyer.

When I got home, Erica wasn’t back yet, so I took a shower and headed to Green. Dos was there with Andy and David and I chauferred Andy back to his car. Erica showed up eventually and I got her a slice of chocolate cake, and she enjoyed muchly the Features (those slam-jam two from Co-Lab…how I love that boy and want to be that girl). She wanted to leave and so we went to the Liquid Kitty and got a drink. It was fairly boring though because no one knew us, and the Green group wasnt there yet, so I convinced her we should go back to Green. She agreed, and we continued watching until they hit a run of suck performers, and Doselle suggested the four of us (Andy had left while we were at the Kitty) go to McCabe’s for a drink…

Once the bartender (who has the most beautiful brogue) found out it was Erica’s birthday (he kindly carded her…I could tell he didnt want to, but he had probably heard Erica complaining loudly because no one had carded her at the Liquid Kitty. Erica slammed her ID on the bar at McCabe’s and loudly proclaimed “Gimme a drink!”), he bought her first drink. After that, Dos and Andy kept us supplied with Lemon Drops (which are uncommonly good for a shot) and tequila (a clear one…it was neat) while we played pool and horsed around.

This led to Delores’ Coffee Shop which ONLY exists because its a 24-hour diner, and people need that in West LA.

We all eventually got home, slept, and none of us had hangovers in the morning. The End.

I -like- being drunk around fun people. I love Doselle. I’m debating whether or not I should go to the Omelettes thingy tonight. I’m SO going to Masquer’s Cabaret Thursday night. And I have hip-hop tomorrow night. So yeah. Catch me if you can.

masquer’s cabaret
2004-01-23-1:25 a.m.

So I’ve finally gone to Masquer’s. The entire excursion ended up costing exactly $20. Thank gods Dos had given me some work earlier in the day.

The Cabaret is this tiny dinner theater run by this sweet man named Harris who, for reasons unexplained, has fostered a deep affection for the boys.

The room is cozy, the sound is good enough. The only real problem is the prices (I shit you not about the prices. Yeah, that $20 I spent? Bread and coke. That’s it). The place is fairly beautiful, but needs to be renovated a bit to be stunning. There’s all these huge framed posters of old old movie stars on the walls, and there’s red curtains behind the stage (and draped over the back of the upright piano to make it blend in when not in use). The prices are heartily retarded though. OK, enough about the prices.

The opening guy was funny, but not overly musical. Stephen Lynch he ain’t.

The band! Ah yes. The band was good, despite and because of the fact that each and every one of the Four were well and truly ripped by the time they took the stage. It was all well and good until that…oh…seventh shot of tequila and beer…Jean and Erica have more in common than they think. Let’s just leave it like that. Everyone was too drunk to drive, and I, the courageously sober one, got to play motivator.

“Kat, you don’t HAVE to move stuff for us.”

I don’t have to. I know that. But I do. I get them moving, and try to get them out of the clubs before the clubowners get pissed off. It’s only the grace of gods that club owners love them. I try to make sure they’re safe, and reasonably taken care of. I’m not doing it because I feel I have to, I do it because its right.

OK, I could do without the coming in at 1 in the morning when it was a 10 o’clock show…

The bottom line is, I love those guys. I want them to succeed, and they want to succeed at being rock stars. And that involves Jim Morrison-like moments, I guess. Mel actually called Kerry Jim at some point during the show.

Harris liked my energy and told me as much. I need to learn how to take a fucking compliment.

I hope Kerry and Jean are OK…

I wonder if Mel has to be like that.

crapmonkeys
2004-01-23-10:33 a.m.

I just realized that my poem for this week is almost due. Damn damn double damn. Fairy isn’t ready, nor is Pear Grrl…and I already turned in the Bribe one. Well, let’s see what we can do…

And of course my head is filled with “Brown Eye”. Damn them and whoever that song is written about…ok, I know who that song is written about. But still.

The dreamscape awaits
With open, amorous arms,
For me to discover her
Every nook and crevice.
Once more I will embrace
The ecstacy beyond sleep.
I will trace the features of
Her terrible, chaotic face
And stroke the nightmares
As they brush the minds
Of a sleeper caught unawares.
I will mold the Dreaming
To my entranced desire,
And find her glowing core
And as I shape her around my touch
A thousand dreamers will cry for more.

viva
2004-01-26-9:30 p.m.

Las Vegas was cool. Expensive, but cool. Chicks do not pay cover in Vegas, which is reason enough for me to move there.

Erica and I stopped by the boys’ house on our way home from Vegas. We exchanged stories…actually, Erica and I told them about Vegas, and then I told them about what really happened at the Masquer’s Cabaret, since they all had synchronized blackouts.

Kerry and Matt found it very funny that he told the drunk-driving/fire hydrant story on stage. Jean, in the grand tradition of people, showed up just as I was describing what had happened to HIM Thursday night. Matt got a huf tattoo. It’s cool as shit. And apparently painful…um. I wish I hadn’t patted him on the shoulder when I left. “Ow! Oh yeah, that reminds me! Check out what I got this weekend!” It just smacks of when he broke his foot and Jean hit it hard when he came home and didn’t know.

Vegas was cool. A complete ego stroke, except for the $ thing. We shook our respective moneymakers at Studio 54. We walked the strip like the slutty little teases Erica is and I hope someday to learn to be (”tease” requires some sort of self-restraint apparently). We stayed at the Palace Station which is unfortunately off the strip, but reasonably priced, and, as I suspected, has a free shuttle that runs too and from the strip during the God-fearing hours (that’s 6am to 12am in my world). When we weren’t exploring, we were sleeping, or walking around the Palace’s casino with ice cream cones. OK, here’s the thing about gamblers: they’re addicts. They sit down at a machine or table and don’t move for their entire trip, except to get more coins. That means all those men haven’t seen any real females (cocktail waitresses don’t count…they’re too obviously dressed, to the point its not sexy anymore) in days. They hear Erica and I laughing or joking, and look up, and see us, and stare quite rudely until we pass and we get all smug inside. Isn’t that a lovely little desperate cry for attention?

At Studio 54, Erica and I danced with some fairly fly guys. The last guy ASKED my permission to dance with us, and he was good, so I was all kinds of amused. I kissed him on the cheek when we left (we were both knackered…and damn Enola for giving me Brit slang to mess with) so he wouldnt feel bad. We left fun notes for the hotel cleaning staff to find after we checked out.

Del Taco and McDonald’s rock my universe. Del Taco makes me especially giddy, because Im only now really starting to see how widespread it is. McDonald’s wouldn’t even get a second look from me if they didn’t have that parfait…

You know what else everybody likes? Parfaits. Have you ever met a person, you say, “Let’s get some parfait,” they say, “No, I don’t like no parfait”? Parfaits are delicious!

–Donkey, Shrek

I’ve gotten Erica addicted. Hehehe. My plan has come full circle.

On the way back, we stopped in Barstow. We got Parfait and then went to Popeye’s. I’d never been to a Popeye’s before. It was interesting. i think I still prefer KFC though. Del Taco it ain’t.

I want to submit to Westwind, UCLA’s Arts mag. I’ve also been commanded to submit. Now if only my laptop’s ethernet worked so I didnt have to explore the magical realm of zip disks.

Ah well. At work now. Waiting for pizza. Trying to think up something to make Jean…

ger-row-el
2004-01-27-6:22 p.m.

I got a check-plus on my Journal for Poetry. My POEMS only got checks, but I like prose better anyway so THERE. And this teacher laughs at a lot of my comments in class. And and…ok, so so far so good. The people in the class are a little more insane than they were last quarter.

I rewrote Mistress Morpheus with longer lines. The longer one flowed better, but it went against the comfort of my mind. It seemed ponderous for something as delicate as a dream. Also, almost no one in the class had read Sandman so they were trying to put the poem into terms of the abstract that they believed the Dreamscape to be, even after I explained the Dreaming to them. I’m trying ot write a journal entry for the class even as I write this, and I don’t know how I’m going to get around to writing it. I don’t have any reactions to messing with line lengths. I dislike line lengths. I think in beats, and when I’m writing, I can feel the breaks in my head, and they’re usually in the most natural place. Still, my poem did well for something I literally improvised right before it was due.

Writing about writing seems silly. It always has. I despise writing reaction papers, and can no more describe my “process” than illustrate the face of an atheist’s God. Things just come out. Sometimes they come out wrong and have to be tweaked, or else they come out incomplete and must be pounded into completion, but I don’t outline. At most, I sketch, that is to say, I write sentences of the ideas I want to convey, and stare at it until rhythm or rhyme or imagery descends. Even if I start in the opposite direction, and choose a form before I begin to write, things just tend to fall into place, and I don’t think about revisions until I’ve gotten criticisms.

So, what does this mean? It means I don’t take a stance in the “long vs short lines” controversy. A poem is shaped how it wants to be shaped, or else it’s shaped how the form dictates.

I really don’t have any other thoughts on the subject. It’s just not something that occurs to me that often.

mistress misogynist
2004-01-29-9:27 a.m.

Can I just say I fucking HAAAAATE losing entries, especially when they’ve taken me a half-hour to write?

Alright, I’ve been saying it a lot lately, but I’ll write it here for posterity (assuming this doesn’t get lost too, goddammit!): if I wasn’t a woman, I’d be a misogynist. If I wasn’t an actor, I’d be a misanthrope. If I wasn’t a writer, I’d have killed myself a long time ago.

nNeptep’s website is new and improved! Now with more mung! Unfortunately, it’s done in Dreamweaver, and therefore has a few annoying programming quirks. It hurts, because that site could be so FUCKING cool if I wasn’t afraid that going in and rewriting it would collapse the system. However, given Jean’s talents, the site LOOKS sweet, even if it doesn’t function particularly well. When, oh when will people learn that Dreamweaver sucks? It makes things easy, but unstable. There’s something to be said for a program that requires other programs to clean up the code it produces. I wonder if Jean will let me go in and clean it up? I wonder if he trusts me not to fuck it up out of spite. I should write a poem about how much Dreamweaver sucks.

Wings clipp’d by chainsaw
Feet broken and bound for looks
New page cannot stand.
Haiku, motherfucka! Whut!

Today’s rant is brought to you by the letters “F” and “U”. I don’t really want to go into the details of it, but I’m once again getting tweaked by people who cling to their makeshift adage “People only cuss because they can’t think of anything else to say.” Fuck that. In the pointy ear. People who deny the talent of people like Matt Stone and Trey Parker and even Eminem simply because of objections to language appall me (oh, and if people would please stop telling me that I’m misusing the word “appall”, that’d be super, thanks. My sensibilities are different from yours, and my vocabulary is better). I’m not saying that I expect to start seeing politicians cussing during debates (though if one did, and did it well, they’d probably gain my respect), but curse words are a rich class of words all unto themselves. They can mean so much, and most definitely can denote a change of tone in the voice of a poem.

I think I’m rediscovering my infatuation for Food Network. There’s a new chef who very may well replace Alton Brown in my heart and soul. I think they should have a pudding wrestling match for my affections. His name is Bob Blumer, the Surreal Chef. He makes me want to grill things which is something that Alton, for all his detailed refitting of his grills, could not inspire in me. I want to roast corn on the cob and serve it with roasted red bell pepper butter. I want to watch sugars carmelize on asparagus spears. I want to make Beer Can Chicken. Just because I can. I need to spent more time watching Rachel Ray. She makes meals like I like my women: fast and cheap. But she’s not as cool as these guys. She makes good filling food, but she doesn’t expound on the beauty of chemical compositions while she does it.

I just found out that Alton Brown has more books. Oh, I’m a bad, bad fan. I need them. Someone buy them for me, pleeeease?

I need to call Doselle. Maybe we can go out tonight after work, if the boys don’t call for South Park which is now and always will be a priority. I hear this season is really good.

I love my roommates. Luke said he’s gonna move back home in April and that makes us sad, and more than a little bit afraid. We don’t know if we can ever find this perfect balance again…or….y’know…TV…and X-Box… But we love Luke. He’s so fucking cool. I feel sad our little family has to fall apart ALREADY.

rock and roll leprechauns
2004-01-29-10:40 a.m.

sing mm-dadadadadadada, mm-dadadadadadada, mm-dadadadadadada, they’re comin’ to rock and rolllll!

Last night was cool. Luke came with me to the Casa (aka Club Foot, aka the Seventh Ring, aka South Park Mecca) bearing pizza and vodka and 7-Up (hardly any of which got consumed and all of which got left behind…poor Luke). Luke got pretty fucked up and happy, and I was grooving on the boys’ jamming, and on South Park, and just the general FEEL. I can’t even wait till Saturday night! I’ve invited Paul (turns out he’s still in town! Hooray!) and Brandie and Erica are coming. They need more co-eds at the shindig. In Kerry’s words, “we need more of THIS [indicates my boobs] and less of THIS [indicates the five guys that comprised the rest of the gathering last night]”

Jacaranda’s website has media stuff up now. I guess everyone’s riding the web wave just now. And the Dreamweaver wave, I think. The site shrinks and expands with the browser size, which is cool, but it means that for optimal viewing, my resolution would have to be at roughtly that of an oppossum’s.

I object heartily to servers going down for more than five minutes, even if it is in the name of updates. I had to type my previous entry into a word doc and send it to myself. Oh how I loathe that.

Alright. Time to go take my weekly wack at Hebrew…ahahaha.

godsdammit
2004-01-30-11:31 a.m.

I have to write a poem w/ syllable or word count. Im beginning to think I’ll never have an opportunity to turn in one of my beat poems before Doselle requires me to read.

So what to do? I have a half hour left, due to the fact that I forgot what the assignment was, and worked on Fairy until I realized I should probably look it up. Villanelle? Sonnet? Hmm…I haven’t written a good sonnet yet. I wrote a few in high school, but they were trying to be stories because I hate thinking in the abstract. I refuse to write one about my “favorite subject” though. So what to write about…

Homo sapiens girls are silly things,
Co-dependent puppies that yip with glee,
Growl at shadows and to her master clings
And, when confronted, just whimper and pee.

Women are as stupid as cockatoos:
Talking, squawking, preening, vicious, dumb birds
Too sheltered and admired to pay their dues
And adored for spouting meaningless words.

Women are quite often compared to cats
For the too-ready claws at too-small slights
Or hens (for their gossip) or cows or bats
Or named a “bitch” when she pointlessly fights.

Derogotory terms followed my youth.
Some stereotypes are rooted in truth.

(this is finished at 2am the next mroning, after a lapdance)

necessity
2004-02-02-11:31 a.m.

Isn’t doing things out of necessity the same as doing things out of desperation?

Friday night was cool. Doselle took me to a stripclub called 4-Play with Andy and David…Dos and I share two lapdances with this one girl who was pretty cool, and had a sense of humor.

Saturday night I went to the newly dubbed Club Foot for Jean’s birthday. I got to watch every single fucking person I care about (except two: the one already belongs to someone, and the one who might never again) hook up. Some of the hook-ups were good. I’m all proud and fuzzy inside for B & J…and I will continue to refer to them as such until it stops amusing me, and for J & K…which admittedly, I could have NOT had party-goers leave little encouraging notes on the bathroom door, stuck up with gum Angela brought. Ah…and that one…I had to take a walk. I had to get out. I hate being around people as it is, and to be around people and be CONSTANTLY reminded that I will never have it as easy or as good as people in my groups…just sucks. Just because I’m an autotheist doesn’t mean I have any ego to speak of.

If I’m to be honest, I have to say I’m appalled at NJ’s decision…a lot…and I’m kind of reluctant to go to the next show…

And then there was Josh. Why? Because. That’s why. There was no good decision making skills there. I was kissing a guy that belonged to one friend, and wanted another. I wasn’t drunk. I was just fucking sick of being left behind. But I snapped out of it when I heard a girl cough. It all brought me back to reality, to all the anger I was feeling.

I got home at 8:30 yesterday morning. I slept till 2, but even after I woke up, I was listless. I wasn’t tired…couldn’t go back to sleep…but my muscles weren’t responding. Eventually Erica came home, and I went to the Valley, where I did nothing for several hours until I went to dinner with Nick and Toby and Mom…

Oh, and didn’t I JUST need a heaping helping of mom last night. Oh so much. I fucking hate her when she’s around men. She treats me worse than a child. She allows me no graceful explanations. She jumps in with her own versions. She passes judgment on my self-expressions freely and in the most subversive manner possible. I wish I had talked back to her last night. She would have been pissed at me for causing stress to the “nice evening” but she was already being a big enough bitch for the both of us.

OK, it happened like this: Nick asked to see my studded band, so I passed it over. He put it on his own wrist and asked our opinion. Toby and I told him it looked awful girly on him. Toby mentioned that her school was beginning to ban them. I was confused, because my studs are blunted and can’t hurt anyone. Then my beloved mother started opining that it sent off a “weird message” for high school kids. This from the woman who maintained that black lights were “demonic” for the better part of my teenagedom. This from the woman who smoked pot and doesn’t consider HERSELF worse for wear, but has pretty much told me that if I ever do it, I’m going to drop out of college and end up in the streets. This from the woman who made us stand out on our front lawn after 9/11 and hold vigil, and who defended airport security when I criticized the idea of detaining and searching EVERYONE who looked remotely Middle Eastern. This last criticism is enough for me to want to get a tattoo. I wish my back was better healed, but at this point, I may just get one on my wrist or back of my neck. I dream of clearing up my shoulderblades enough.

I was working out a poem as I left Hebrew.

I learned the truth at seventeen
But didn’t believe it ’til I was twenty-two.

That’s all I have right now. Oh, and I remembered something. Josh kissed me on the forehead…

ev’rybody’s doing it.
2004-02-03-10:38 a.m.

Why do you cry?
brought to you by Quizilla
I don’t cry, though. Not for more than a few seconds together. Ever. I try. Making myself actually shed tears is a concentrated effort. I have to really feel bad for myself to even shed a few. Then I become disgusted for feeling so bad for myself. A lot of people have it worse than I. Granted, no one in my group seems to, but I know there are uglier stories than mine. There are more poignant pains than my mere trifles.

My closest friends are all older than I, more adult than I. They are what I ought to become in five or six years…independent, strong, alive. They have left their birth homes, and come to L.A. to risk everything for success, and they, like myself, do not cry. But nor do they mourn! They live their lives practically (which is not the same thing as responsibly), and live for each day. They take jobs that they love, and the moment they cease to love them, they change! I, who has no choice but to graduate college (or be disowned), admire them for that freedom.

I believe they do not cry because they are happy. I do not cry because I am too cynical to allow myself tears.

It’s not as though the only thing I have to cry about is self-pity. I’ve looked at dead bodies without batting a lash. I’ve watched people be tortured, children abused, and while I’ve become agitated, I haven’t cried. What good does it do anyone, unless you’re Rapunzel, and your tears can restore eyeballs.

I suppose I ought to address that as well: my so-called “sense of humor”. I have one. It’s horrible, I know…a crime against humanity to crack jokes at every occasion. I’m a horrible person for wanting to watch the Daily Show before I glance at FOX News. I’m a disgusting child for cracking jokes about 9/11, the Holocaust, and poor Janet Jackson’s boob. I know it’s an ugly trait of mine to crack jokes about the use of weapons in The Matrix: Reloaded (e.g. “Man, if he just finds a couple of katanas, he’ll have covered every Turtle!”), or worse, crack jokes in class (e.g. “Why doesn’t this rule go all the way?” “Because it’s not that kind of girl!”).

People follow me because of my humor. My mother curses me for it. People tell stories about jokes I cracked two years ago. Certain Republicans arch elegant eyebrows at me.

So I have tears that never fall, and witticisms that never stop. I have people who put their trust in me to lead them, flaming holes in my self-confidence that a lion could leap though, and a level of jadedness that would put a stand-up comic to shame. What a package, eh?

No wonder I don’t have a favorite band, really. No one band really represents me all the time, not even Queen.

This past Saturday, I made a bunch of stupid decisions, because I’m young, stupid, impractical. Except that I’m not, and I realized that having to consciously TELL myself that I’m stupid and impractical probably means that I’m not. I couldn’t go through with my decisions. And I have no one to talk to about this, because I feel guilty talking about my problems to other people. I shouldn’t put this stuff on anyone, because it’s not their problem. Whee! My mind is fun.

yesh lanu koach
2004-02-04-11:08 a.m.

Firstly, I NEED TO LEARN TO FUCKING TYPE MY SHIT INTO FUCKING WORD BEFORE I FUCKING POST THEM SO THEY DON’T GET LOST WHEN A FUCKING EVIL YAHOO PROGRAM DECIDES TO TAKE OVER MY WINDOW AND GOD I HATE YAHOO!

OK. I’m better now. Fucking Yahoo.

This was supposed to be a really quick entry anyway.

Basically, after Hebrew today, I was singing the tenor part to “Yesh Lanu Koach” as I was packing up and the girl sitting next to me, who I kinda-sorta-knew is in Shir Bruin looked at me in -shock-.

“You’re singing our song!”

“It used to be my song.” — said with perfect comic-book-style older, more-knowlegable smile.

I always wanted one of those moments. I was hella surprised she didn’t seem to remember I told her MONTHS ago I used to be in Shir Bruin, but whatever.

I need to research litanies. I have to write one for Poetry.

litany
2004-02-04-11:18 a.m.

Definitions of Litany:

• noun: a prayer consisting of a series of invocations by the priest with responses from the congregation
• noun: any long and tedious address or recital
  

  Example: “The patient recited a litany of complaints”

Hmm. Prayer. Call and response. The definition given in class was simply a “list”. The one she read off wasn’t particularly cheery. I always thought “litany” had negative connotations…let’s see what happens.

hokay…
2004-02-04-11:26 a.m.

On reviewing Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”…Walt Whitman can go to hell and die….52 fucking stanzas? And some are quite long…maybe I should post it to pass the time…

On further review. No. Fuckit. Its already 7 pages with just 9 stanzas at 10-pt font. You get the idea.

modest proposals
2004-02-05-3:09 a.m.

read this.

now read this.

I appreciate the satire. I even admire Miller for it. However, Swift had a point. Miller had a bunch of bad stereotypes.

holy crap
2004-02-05-3:53 a.m.

I have PEOPLE who I’ve listed as favorites, and people who have listed me.

I love reading advice columns. I hate that ideas flitter in and out of my head while I’m reading. I need to get better at just writing stuff down before it all disappears.

I should probably start doing Hebrew.

I hate overnight shifts.

I’m not hungry because I drank a lot of soda at the movie my dad and Miss Karen took me to tonight. Along Came Polly. Heehee. My daddy’s in a movie. My daddy bought me Yoshinoya, but I can’t finish it just now. I want to, ’cause I keep thinking about it.

I miss Kerry.

I don’t know what to do when women show me pictures of their kids/grandkids/doll collections/whatever. I don’t CARE. It’s horrible of me or something, but I just don’t. It’s a wrinkly little thing on paper. Show me the actual baby, and I might care more, but I have no instinct for becoming an emotional hen just because some weepy-eyed rag-bag busts out a few chemically-treated pieces of paper.

My dad thinks Prof. Harjo is cool. I thought he would. He says she’s a very competent musician as well.

I kinda hypothetically asked John to marry me. I love it when he’s in a good/manic mood. I really do wish he’d move out here. I love Seattle a lot, but a) I dont like families, and b) I don’t like suffering from year-round S.A.D.

I’m writing a litany about John. Because he’s an easy subject. I don’t like that I’m still writing love poetry, but my hate poetry seems to sputter out halfway through, and there are no crutch cliches available to get me back on track.

Erica and I watched Angel tonight. Cordy buggered off for good. Spike rocks. Eve buggered off. I need the fight scene between Angel and Lindsey on tape — and constant repeat. I love Lorne and Wes and Gunn and Fred. And Angel and Buffy are soulmates so THERE, Erica. And Spike isn’t a Nazi anymore, so shaddup about next week.

I really am a nerd, aren’t I? Yes. But we knew that. I’ve been ever so ugly lately. I’ve been considering dyeing my hair brown or reddish-brown with some color streaks. I saw an Asian girl on campus yesterday with blue bangs and streaks. She was amazing.

I wish to look into the world of salicyllic acid. Queer Eye rocks all my jocks, and teaches me things, too. I’ve always suspected I needed a chemical peel, but that show really showed it doesnt have to be as bad as my mother made out. I don’t suppose anything is as bad as MY mother has made it out to be. I wish I could stop being so fucking afraid all the time. I’ve come a long way, but I still have many miles to travel.

I’ve been thinking about my relationship with my dad tonight. It’s strange to think how little I know him, how all my friends like him, and yet how shockingly bad I think his judgment can be. At least he doesn’t try to shut me up anymore. He wouldn’t cut me off from singing in public like my mom has. He hasn’t made me feel -ashamed- in a good long while. Just worthless. I was talking with some friends the other day about my mom. They think she’s nice…but scary. That seems to be the consensus on meeting my mom. Nice, but scary. And this is just on blank first impressions. No talking about her yet. I think one of the ugliest truths I have to deal with is…I used to think my mom was a saint. She was soft and sweet and protective. I didn’t get it then that she was pouring poisons in my ear, undermining what she could of my future self-confidence. She held me. I could hear her heart beat. Then she left me for the Internet.

I have to stop writing about this now, because tearing up at work is not a good idea. So what else should I write about? I just like typing. There’s something soothing about it for me. I like how fast I can type with just five fingers.

I wanna hang out with Jean and Matt a little more while Kerry’s gone. I love chilling with them individually.

Things I need:

• tennis/sports/walking shoes. with treads.
• glasses/contacts

Things I want:

• chemical peel
• shower radio

I think I wouldn’t loathe our shower so much if there was a radio in there. It’s been proven time and again that all I need to be truly happy in life is music. Fuck confidence, love for myself, etc. Music. Mu-sic. M-U-S-I-C.

I want to be a writer so badly, but I can never finish anything…not gracefully anyway. Where do all those ideas go when they’ve skittered across my Working Term Memory or whatever it’s called?

litany at last
2004-02-05-6:32 a.m.

OK, it took me all night. Ive done no homework yet, but maybe now I can start. I don’t think it’s particularly good yet, but here goes:

John

I wrote a story once
Where you were a king,
And you rescued me,
And we lived happily ever after.

I wrote a story once
Where you were a knight
And you fought for ideals
That you knew were right.

I wrote a story once
Where you were brave
And one where you were strong
And one where you fought your demons,
Skeletons, ghosts, and a few vampires, too.

I wrote a story once
Where you were a leader
With fire in your eyes
Who gave orders like blood.

I wrote a story once
Where you were hale and hearty.
Where you were whole.
Where you were healthy.

I wrote a story once
Where you were proud of your talents,
And created masterpieces
That solved world hunger.

I wrote a story once
Where you were ambitious
And climbed the sordid ranks
Of Costco.

I wrote a story once
Where you were a doctor of art.
One where you’d graduated college.
One where you’d graduated high school
One where you had a GED.

I wrote so many stories
So many times
Because truth is stranger than fiction
But fiction is kinder than truth.

erica’s a sadist
2004-02-05-11:51 p.m.

And she has this strange Oregon Trail fetish…I can’t explain it, but she seems to get off on the idea of people dying of dysentery…

She needs help. She’s also laughing maniacally over my shoulder, arch-villain style. And now she’s having a crisis of faith, Chinatown style.

Muahahahaha. I made her wet her pants. *victory Erica-wet-her-pants dance!*

grr
2004-02-06-11:03 a.m.

I can already tell today is going to suck. At least I got to talk to Johnny for a while.

Oh crap…I have to turn in that litany already, don’t I? Damn damn damn.

boredom, homework, strippers
2004-02-08-11:57 p.m.

OK, I don’t entirely have the energy to write a big long entry, but DOSELLE ROCKS!

I know its selfish, but I hope Garry buys a big enough place. I dont know how much change I can really deal with all at once.

blanking
2004-02-10-4:03 p.m.

(This is a Journal for class. Feel free to disregard in terms of continuity).

I have nothing to write about right now. I’m too busy thinking. Thinking about the curve of a stripper’s body, the exotic black of the inks against another one’s sun-robbed skin, and how her blood-red dreds contrasted with the black silky waves of the other. How the dark-haired girl wore a black spider-web gown that made her look elegant and evil and her slutty movements clashed with her sweet expression. How her kiss tasted like strawberries and cream.

I cannot banish from my mind the punk-girl’s acrobatic tricks…how she leapt from bar to pole gracefully like she belonged in Cirque d’Soleil, and not in a seedy strip club in Silverlake, performing for her friends like I perform for mine, her milk-white legs and tattoo-sleeved arms more extraordinary than any others in the club, because of the muscle that cut their shape.

Strippers know to pay attention to me. Playing with girls gets the guys’ attention, and I only mind if one I don’t want is blocking my view of one I do.

There were other strippers, of course. The nice ones, the semi-talented ones, the fair-to-middling attractive ones.

There was the one with bad teeth, but a forthright attitude, who didn’t get dressed after her dance as the others do, but walked off through the club stark naked. She was our Puck, our spirit. She made sure we had drinks. She sat with us in a day-glo green bikini and hooted and hollered at the other dancers, and asked my Employer to lay out a few more dollars for this one or that one on her behalf. She sprawled herself across the back of our booth in a pink baby-doll negligee and gossiped about the other dancers.

There was the black one who had everything pierced. She wasn’t as sensual as the others, and didn’t dance, but shook her generous posterior at my employer in three different positions during a three-minute song.

There was the Latina one who wasn’t bisexual, but knew how to play one, and blew in my ear to give the onlookers the shivers. She had soft brown curls that lay against soft brown skin, and wore a red-flowered white shift that somehow reminded me of a housewife.

They all seemed like good, practical women, kind and fun-loving, happy to hold a conversation while they writhed and gyrated on the cold metal pole. It didn’t debase them because they didn’t care to be debased. In one sense, it was a very empowering experience. In the other sense, I wanted to run my hand down the dark-haired girl’s spine, cup her rear, and kiss her throat. I wanted to watch the punk rock girl closer, and, when she spread her legs, see if I couldn’t see what makes her tick.

Is it possible to be a chauvenist and a feminist at the same time? Is it possible to be bisexual and misogynistic all at once?

jappy birthday jorge
2004-02-11-11:06 a.m.

Last night, I went to Good Hurt for Kerry’s birthday partyish thing. I made pies. They came out good, I guess. A bit messy, but there was chocolate, peanutbutter cups, bananas, and whipped cream all in one dessert, so who’s complaining? No one at the afterparty, I can tell you.

I love my black card.

I only met the Fenster matriarch for a moment, but she seemed cool as shit and very nice. Like Kitty Foreman, but Jewish, from New York, and above housewifery. I’m a little waried that even kids with GOOD parents like the Fensters can end up so tumultuous…but I also guess that not everyone judges their life by how much certainty they have that the next day will turn out just like this one, that the sun will come up again, that sort of thing.

I think mM’s been reading my blog. I know Angela has been. I’m not gonna lock it or censor myself anymore than I would normally, so no worries, but its still nose-crinkling. I get so fucking paranoid when someone says “I’ve heard so much about you!” Every time. It doesnt matter the people or the tone, I just automatically cringe. It must show, because so often people will immediately qualify it with “Only REALLY good things!”

I feel like a puppy that’s been hit too often. I’m always expecting another blow. Im always expecting the other shoe to drop. I’m always paranoid that I’ve forgotten something, or that someone’s decided something for me that they havent told me and they’re going to yell at me when I can’t fulfill those expectations I had no way of knowing about.

Things I dislike:

• Being the 3rd, 5th, 27th wheel
• Not being introduced to people I’m supposed to meet. I HATE striking up conversations with people I’m only guessing who they are. I wish people would take a half a fucking minute to just conduct a proper introduction.
• People telling me I have _________ negative quality of my mother. No one except my mom ever tells me I have the negative qualities of my father. Because as far as the outside world is concerned, the man is perfect. My mother comes off as “stern” though, and *ahem* nPeople told me last night that I have that.
• Outright dishonorable behavior on the part of my loved ones. There’s fucking around, and then there’s fucking over someone.

I really wish I hadn’t been imbued with this idea that everything is too hard for me to accomplish. Intellectually I know that it’s not so, but there’s a very strong sub-intellectual impulse to slack off of everything, because I’m never going to be GOOD at it. Hell, I’ll probably just decide I don’t like it, and drop it and will have wasted someone’s time. This is more or less what I’ve been told my whole life, EVERY time I wanted to take a new interest. Or, worse, they’d find me a class that I absolutely hated, and they’d point to that as a reason to never indulge me again, and completely ignore the fact that my entire hatred of said class was based on some insecurity SHE’D planted in me (yes, I’m harping on dance classes. Especially because this was in the Era of Uberbitch, which she’s completely indignant about me bringing up).

There’s something wrong with my life. Really wrong. I don’t want this one anymore. Maybe (hopefully) England will help. It’ll get me away from the Collective if nothing else, which is something I never thought I’d be thinking, yet there it is. Not that that’s all I want to get away from. Parents. Small-World “friends”. Exes. Futures. Sternness.

Waitressing in a pub (or whatever I end up doing there) might seem like a step backwards for a college grad, but I don’t want to be this kind of person. I don’t WANT my fucking degree in fucking Linguistics and Psychology. I WANTED to be an actor or a dancer, and I was told, quite simply, that this wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t going to be allowed to go to Van Nuys, so I went to Monroe. I learned law and government, and became EVEN MORE SERIOUS, EVEN MORE ANGRY, EVEN MORE DISILLUSIONED than I was in sixth grade and Jr. High. I was rejected again and again by my “best friend”, and kept trying because…well…we’d always been best friends. Then I get into Wisconsin, which my mom had been pushing me to apply for, and I sorta half-convinced myself it wouldn’t be so bad, and then I get told I can’t go. And now Im stuck in L.A. with a Mom who’s just starting to rediscover her maternal instinct, and gets pissed off if I’m not available when she wants me to be.

And welcome the the next part of the rant. My mom called me yesterday and asked me if I wanted to have dinner with her. When I told her I was working til six, she got all terse. She informed me that she wouldn’t be available the next day…as though I had called her. And a lot of this stems from the fact I didn’t come home for the weekend. I’ve invited her over a few times, but she never accepts, even though there’s more to do in L.A. than in the Valley. I sincerely hope Toby goes to, like, France or Italy for college, so she’s free of this particular thing. My mom really leans on passive-aggression.

OK, ignoble though he can be, I really do adore Kerry. After Kill Bill last night, Erica and I agreed it was time to go…shortly after which Erica and Jean disappeared into Jean’s room. As soon as the door closes, Kerry grins at me and goes “So, how’s that whole third wheel thing workin’ for ya?” Purr. When the revolution comes, he may live.

on review
2004-02-11-11:46 a.m.

…some things in my life have happy endings…as long as they stay ended.

Now if only I had been the catalyst.

vd
2004-02-14-4:40 p.m.

It may be something to how much I’ve grown in the last couple years that I’m actually able to think of today as “Just another day.” I mean, sure, I’m performing tonight, so I’m doing a mask, and I’m going to look all cute in my gown, and still be all alone, but how is that different from any other performance? I don’t even know how this is going to work out. I made a reservation for four, which I never got confirmed, and it sounds like there will be at least six coming (Dad, Miss Karen, and Toby…Dad can’t leave well enough alone). AJ and Andrew seem to be the only other ones performing. That’s OK. I can deal with this.

What does tweak me is the hopeful note in my parents’ voice when they ask me if I have any plans for tonight. Not hopeful, like they particularly WANT me to join them for VD, but hopeful that they didn’t make me so completely socially dysfunctional that I can somehow swing a date.

Yeah, that’s a pity.

I muse with the idea of Andrew though. It will never happen. Ever. If he were a few years older though, I would totally make a fool of myself over him.

Speaking of…someone has a date tonight. Damn I wish people wouldn’t tell me stuff all the time. Im this big fucking Nexus of information and I don’t even fucking TRY. People just TELL me things.

Speaking of, Erica and I rented Margaret Cho’s 2 movies today. They’re not as hilarious as I thought they’d be, but there were definitely funny moments. Erica broke once during “I’m The One That I Want”.

I need to learn this monologue…

oh right, right…
2004-02-15-11:59 a.m.

THIS is what a hangover feels like. It’ve been too long. It’s not BAD overall…

Daddy and Miss Karen came to my apt way WAY after my performance, so they didnt see me eat it on my last sonnet, and they gave us half a satin pie and me a pen on a chain with a crown at the top, which is pretty and went with my gown.

While I was waiting for them however, one of my neighbors, Amir, invited me over to the party they were having, so as SOON as my dad and Miss Karen were in the elevator, I skittered over. My neighbors are really cute, really popular, and really Persian. Heather warned me about this. Persians don’t generally associate outside of the pack. I wish I had learned more Farsi when Heather and I were friends. I spent most of my time there doing shots and talking with another tenent, Hanoot who is extremely fine, and extremely young.

Anyway, short story shorter, I lost count of how many tequila shots I did, on top of the Siberian Sleighride I had mixed while I was waiting for my dad (he really did take his sweet time). I have a small hangover now that I need to figure out how to get rid of…tried IB Profin and drinking milk and eating a donut….um…

food day
2004-02-16-1:55 p.m.

I started writing in my Alton Brown Cook’s Notes book. It feels so good! I don’t understand why though. I’ve written in almost all my pie/cake knowledge, and as soon as I finish Cherry Pie and Pecan Pie, I shall put in Erica’s Chicken Pot Pie recipe, if it looks good enough. I REALLY wish I had been able to get that Chicken cookbook, but c’est la vie. And I should put in my roast chicken thing, except it’s so bloody basic. Still, I roasted a chicken without covering it with foil, and it came out REALLY REALLY well, so I think I should just write that in there for posterity. Unfortunately, most of the recipes I’ve come up with on my own read like my grandmothers…”Add some of this, a pinch of that, a palm of that”.

I’m gonna go to Green tonight, but Im going to bring my Hebrew homework for when people are boring. I’m working till 8 and Green starts at 9…so it’s gonna be interesting if I can even find a seat.

Ooh! I just figured out what to do with the blank unlined pages in the notebook. I should make an herb/seasoning list. Just stuff you should always have in your kitchen. Cinnamon, Oregano, Dill, Cumin, Paprika, Celery Seed, Ginger, that sort of thing.

Anyway, I’m at work now. Listening to my LaunchCast station. Yesterday was boring insofar as I can remember, and thoroughly uneventful, except I talked to Anthony before I went to bed. This morning was cool because all four of us were there, and talking and laughing, and Joey’s new female had the priviledge of seeing us mess around and kibbutz. Erica and I went to the Persian Pad and retrieved our ice trays…

“Hey, what happened to all our ice trays?”
“Oh yeah! Hey, Erica, wanna meet the cute Persian guy?”
“OK, gimme your ear, I’m gonna drag you over there.”
“I’m not even wearing a bra!”
“Well, strap one on!”
Ten minutes later… “Erica! They’re just ice trays! Hurry the fuck up!”

Anyway, yeah. Erica and Luke are now bonding at the batting cages. Sigh.

reviews
2004-02-16-2:29 p.m.

I’ve been looking at this blog that reviews blogs. It seems cool, but for some reason I heartily object to the requirement that you link to their blog BEFORE they review you. It’s pandering. Not that they seem to grant favor to the people they review, but it’s still rum to me. It’s like paying for something you haven’t tried yet. I don’t think I’m explaining it right yet.

I dunno, I have this ingrained desire to be judged, but on the other hand, I dislike any sort of organized judgment. Whee! I’m a paradox! ph33r me!

fabbity fab
2004-02-17-1:24 a.m.

Someone from USC and someone from UCI have both logged this blog within a couple hours of each other. Oh this bodes all kinds of fucking well.

So I’ve finally decided on a course of action after college, but I can’t type it here because my mother will read it and decide I’m the anti-christ. The long and the short of it, however, is that I will be in Europe for nearly a year. Hopefully there is someone in Dublin or Belfast that will take me in for four months. I don’t mind hostelling, but it will get expensive rather quickly, I think. My kids will get a hostelling card for their 16th birthdays.

I wonder about the logistics of just hopping a train for the last two months of the year, maybe completing my stay in Amsterdam.

Doselle is my hero. He really is the best person to talk to about this stuff. I told him I was planning to sell my eggs when I got back to the state, so I could have some time off to write and apply to grad school, but he told me to wait until I got back to the States to make any plans, see if Im the same person that I was when I left. Also, I have to hope Extreme Makeover is still on the air. Also, for some reason, I have this driving urge to be on the Real World before I turn 24 and am considered over-the-hill. It’s strange to think that I’ll be 23 when I again set foot in the home of the free, and there will possibly be an entirely different regime ruling the country. But not that strange. I think it’s part of why I want to leave. The country needs to sort this shit out, and I need to not drive myself insane over it. Right now, the world is going to hell, and Bush is leading the way.

I used to get shit from Corkie about how I didn’t appreciate how wonderful this country is, better than any other country on the planet. Like there’s a country in this world that doesn’t say that. Like Iraq is so full of people going “Damn…we suck. We really should move. God, I hate this place.” Not any more than in the US. Countries work because of blind, drum-banging patriotism. Woohoo. Go team. We rock. Go us. Yay.

Maybe the countries I want to go to aren’t superpowers, but they’re not unliveable. Their systems still work. They still have the sort of national stability that comes from actually following the documents one’s country is built on.

As far as all this goes, all I want is for one day to pretty much be the same as the next.

Dos and I were talking about romance tonight, and how I never expect to find it. How I’ve come to the conclusion that, given my statistics over the past 22 years, I will NEVER have a movie moment. I will never get that Hollywood Screen Kiss (damn you Billy). Not from a non-pogonophiliac at anyrate.

I fail to see how things will be better in Europe, but Dos swears they will be. Ah well. At least I can have faith in the pandering of reality TV, and there will always be a show willing to give me major cosmetic surgery for ratings.

Breast reduction, skin rehab, hair lasering, straighten teeth, liposuction, scar reduction, chemical peel. Let’s start with that and see where I am. Dude, that show would have a field day with me. There’s nothing horribly wrong with me that needs fixing, but a thousand tiny things to pick at.

journally goodness
2004-02-17-10:39 a.m.

Journal for class. Y’all know the drill.

My mother bought me a Cook’s Notebook, and I am in love with it. I have spent the last two days writing in my recipes and notes (e.g. “Salt is completely optional in every case except some baking.”), my lessons learned (e.g. “That thing you did where you ended up in the ER? Yeah, don’t do that thing.”), and I have only just finished the dessert pie section. Next shall be the meal pies, and then the roast meats, then seared/sauteed meats, and then roast vegetable salads and then grilled vegetables and butters, then desserts like trifle and cookies. In the blank pages, I’ll write lists of neccessaries for the kitchen…shears, herbs, spices, and the like. A kitchen without cumin is not a kitchen I care to be part of.

I hate to cook. It’s time-consuming and I get burned often. It’s also expensive to furnish my recipes. But I’m so damn good at it. People have fallen at my feet for my carmel-glazed-cashew-studded apple pie. I think one of my custards made a girl have to excuse herself. The cake my roommate and I made for a friend’s birthday was somehow correlated with the fact that every one at the party that night either hooked up or got laid.

Which is one of the reasons I cook despite my great loathing for the process. I get more action than a Thai whorehouse when I make food. I’m talking, like, crazy, like, boy-band ass.

My parents think its hysterical. They remember when I absolutely refused to cook, because of aforementioned hatred. My father mocks me mercilessly…usually right before he asks me to make something for a dinner party. They consider this a great big circumstance of eating my words, but really, I’m just honing my skills.

Another reason I’ve had to start cooking (note that I never had to learn to cook…I’ve long since realized that any idiot can follow a recipe. I use the Force when I cook) is because I am a picky eater. There are lists and lists of things I don’t eat, and thousands of restaurants that will happily ignore that list to make a quick buck. People look at me like a freak when I tell them I don’t eat turkey or fish or pork, right up until I make them a chicken dish that they can easily see themselves living off of.

One of my roommates wants to open a restaurant, and I want him to. I want to be his head chef. I’d have sous-chefs doing all the hateful work, and I’d be conforming everyone to my diet. To dream the impossible dream…

blues
2004-02-17-3:09 p.m.

I gotta write a blues song for my next class. Why oh WHY did I never save my Slave Pen logs?!! I used to improv blues all over the place, and a lot of them were good. Damn me.

It doesn’t help any that I have “Wade in the Water” stuck in my head, and “Strange Fruit” and the fact that I seriously wanna bitchslap some of my classmates. I swore that if she gave us free topic reign this time, I’d write a comeuppance for the three or four people in that class who are constantly ticking me off, but Blues is call and response and not the right venue, I think. I think I need to head home and think about this some more…

And I have to go to the De Neve ORL thingy tomorrow at 4…

I’m hungry. I should go take care of that.

hate
2004-02-18-12:23 a.m.

I hate everyone right now. I need Y? or John. Y?, please please please call me…

This won’t mean anything to anyone else, but I had to go shopping alone tonight.

sleep don’t come
2004-02-18-2:07 a.m.

OK, I pulled the battery out of Luke’s wall clock, and then Luke started to snore. I can’t sleep. I can’t find a fantasy to hold on to. I get as far as the opening image, and my mind goes “Haha! I found something so I can ignore the sound! Yes, that sound! Damn!”

NOTHING works! So Im about to resort to homework…which isnt good. I need sleep. Sleeeeep. *cries*

I need someone who loves me who my mom can’t give away. I am a redundant human being.

i got no blues
2004-02-19-2:08 p.m.

I need to write a blues song. I can’t think up a subject. Well, I can think up a couple, but one I’m saving for the right assignment, and one is too cheesy for me. I thought up a cool title for one…so lets see if I can’t bullshit it…

The Misanthrope Blues

…

Fuck. Nope. It’s just gonna sound ugly and bitter. I can’t think of a way to make it sound funny just now. Goddammit! I need a fucking Blues inundation.

the ritch
2004-02-19-2:29 p.m.

Erica and I did the Wednesday ritch last night. Angel, then to the Casa to watch South Park.

Cracky G is like a good fairy. I hung out with him yesterday for a few green-and-white hours. I was tingly all over the entire rest of the day. I sold off my hours at work, so I could go home and let it wear off, but Luke was there to keep me a-tingle, and I finally had to wave off nNep’s generous offers. See? Seeee? It’s all Cracky G’s wonderous good luck. I wish we hung out more often. *purr* Shotguns are fun.

S.A.D.

My hot tears vanish in the freezing rain.
My hot tears vanish in the freezing rain.
Clouds hide the sun that tries to keep me sane.

Grey drops of ice score my sore, drooping head.
Grey drops of ice score my sore, drooping head.
Thunder’s rumble soothes no one but the dead.

Why do clouds cloud over a clear blue mind?
And blur visions of savior spring to come?
Ev’ry grey-heavy winter all I find
I just wanna sleep or cry myself numb.

When I was two hard winds brought bitter tears.
When I was three dark days brought bitter fears.
Now I cut my arm ’til sweet sun appears.

If you left in springtime, I’d never care.
If you left in springtime, I’d never care.
But the still of winter’s more’n I can bear.

OK, it’s a start. I feel confident this will look better posted than it does right now. Comment if it moves you…or if it just moves your stomach =P

anxious
2004-02-20-12:34 a.m.

I can’t even wait to get out of here, to get to tell everyone to go fuck themselves. I can’t believe it’s gonna be sooo long until I can go.

Good news: Shakespeare got funded for thw quarter.

Bad news: I hate almost everyone in this country individually and by name.

Worse news: I will miss the music.

I left a Jacaranda performance before it started tonight because I hate being places alone, and even Dave punked, so I had no ride home. I really wanted to hear them play, but I really couldn’t stand the thought of being OUT alone. I hate being alone above everything else, and everyone’s withdrawing because it’s winter, or they’re turning into pricks for other reasons.

I should see what it takes to get residency in the Netherlands.

Possible exceptions to my hate list are: Matt, Martin, and John, and mebbe Luke. And possibly Joey…but that one’s complicated. And Toby. I’m all kinds of hoping Toby comes up right.

Someone was informing me how expensive London is…yeah, I know. That’s part of the reason I want to go there. I want to struggle. I want to be so far fucked financially that I don’t have time to sweat the fact that I don’t have any friends. I want to have a psychotic break from reality.

This guy was also listing expenses in London…like bars and clubbing and beer…which…I’ve gone without food before, and have no idea how he counts those frivolities among necessities. Obviously, I’m going to stock up on a few things before I leave here…a small toilette, and shaving down my wardrobe, and replacing it all with a proper witchy black…not because it’s cool, but because it’s practical. I’ll buy a couple nNeptep shirts before I say goodbye to them.

Another quarter and a half, and then a month of summer after that. God DAMN waiting sucks ass.

weird
2004-02-20-1:24 p.m.

Somebody spent about an hour and a half on this blog researching the boys…I can tell because they logged a hit for every single fucking page that has “nNeptep” on it. I hope its going towards something good, like them making a deal, and not something stupid, like some chick stalking them.

winter willies
2004-02-23-12:08 p.m.

Ooh, check it out. Journal for this week actually matches the Poem for this week (See S.A.D. below).

All the shit hits all the fans in the winter, and the world is a-splatter with emotional fecal matter. In school, Winter Quarter is always the hardest for some reason, so everyone buckles down, and your social life effectively dies. In the outside world, everyone is too cold to dance or walk or play. Even the ocean, my beloved ocean, that I love to walk by when I’m lonely, is too violent to go near.

But all of this pales to what happens in my mind, what has happened in my mind every winter since I was born. I don’t just withdraw like my more studious friends. I don’t just become quiet, as the thundering rain and heavy grey clouds mute the world. I become suicidal, hateful, paranoid. As the sun’s light is cut off from the earth, so too is my psychological well-being cut off from me.

I can always feel it happening. I watch myself interpret things badly. I hate myself for hating others for tiny, imaginary slights. If my brothers don’t want to play, I decide it’s because they hate me because I pouted the other day, and then start planning their murders. Every disappointment becomes an invitation to imagine my own funeral, and what would my will say to show each person how they had hurt me. Then I begin to doubt that the bastards would feel sorry at all for me. They would probably roll their eyes and say “a drama queen, even to the end.”

It’s not JUST winter. Unseasonal clouds will have the same effect on me. The one time I visited my (now ex-)boyfriend, John, in Seattle one summer, I was enthralled in the city in bouts of about four hours, when I became depressed again as rolling clouds blanketed the city, if only for a few minutes. I adore Seattle, and would have gladly moved there to be with John, but I knew I would have thrown myself from the Space Needle within a matter of weeks.

These reactions have a name, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). When I was a kid, and I would complain about the light levels, people would smirk. They thought it was cute that I could say big words, and patted me on the head like a darling little hypochondriac. My parents knew my problem, but they ignored it, believing my general depressive mood was nothing a non-accredited psychologist couldn’t fix. They took me to a church friend who didn’t seem to have a problem with conflicts of interest. She was a useless human being, and the family therapy sessions turned into spotlights for my mother.

But, childhood traumas aside, life is alright, I suppose. I wish I had more time for work, so I can do this BUNAC work abroad program more easily this summer, but my employer is taking steps to make my introduction to the new countries (Ireland and Britain) easier. I’m almost put in mind of old days where one would send a travelling friend along to an acquaintance with “letters of introduction” so the person would not be without acquaintances when he arrived at his destination. I rather like that idea, actually. It smacks of old-world propriety which I am not entirely against (up to a whale-bone point).

One of the wonderful things about my employer is that he knows someone in almost every city in England. By extension, I know a good deal of people in London and Birmingham, but my employer is like a phonebook of the British Isles. Inasmuch as I dislike initiating conversations with people, I am grateful that my employer has taken an interest in my social well-being while I am abroad.

Surprisingly, my mother has decided to be supportive of this endeavor, including all of my proposed side-trips. This may very well mean I will have the best summer since…well…ever.

I love the sun, but I’ve always had fairly rum luck finding something to do for THREE months, aside from work and summer school. But here, I have everything about July planned out, and I suppose I can try to find babysitting work for a month or so.

And isn’t that just the note to leave the country on? Corrupting the young minds of tomorrow, and then taking off into the wild…er…green yonder.

eitan
2004-02-24-2:01 a.m.

There’s this amazing poet at Green, Eiton. He’s won a couple of National events. He’s sorta…well…legit. He’s also really cute in that dorky pimp-Jew way. I’d noticed his poems from the first itme I went to Green. It’s actually why I kept going. Then I started to get into Manuel and Un-Sean and all the other crazy motherfuckers out there.

After Green tonight, Dos condescended to go to Liquid Kitty, so I went along. People…that is, some people…finally introduced themselves to me. I officially now know all sorts of people whose names I cannot recall. Eitan knows Dos pretty well (for a poet), and I got them discussing strip club outings. Anyway, Eitan and I talked a little bit and long story short, nothing noteworthy happened. >.> <.< ^.^

He writes so well, but there was this tugging at the back of my mind that he was…I dunno…ulterior. Something ulterior.

Anyway, on the up side, I started writing “slam” again. It’s good, but its incredibly bitter. I should just get over and make a chapbook called “Bitter”. Maybe that would get all of this out of me.

tomorrow
2004-02-25-12:01 p.m.

In my mind, I’m leaving for Ireland tomorrow. Spring Quarter has come and gone. I’ve left Shakespeare with a (finger-)bang. Comic-Con is fun as always. OK, I’m ready to go…

Eitan got me thinking about a lot of things. I’ve written a couple poems since Monday, and I finished Fairy. But I’m thinking that the reason I have no problem being a kissing slut is because I know I’m not gonna be around that long. The reason I hate my life, is because I know I’m only fooling myself. If even for only a couple months, I want a real boyfriend (I’ve pretty much forgone women as anything but sex objects…unless Angelina Jolie happens to decide I’m her next project…).

I want to know that someone on this side of the pond will…suffer. Oh, it sounds shitty, but it’s true, and it’s true for most of you reading this. It’s human ego, and it sucks, but it’s why you do most of the things you do. So people will remember you and think well on you and benefit your sense-of-self. Think about it. What do you want a lover for? “-I- want someone to hold me. -I- want someone to love me. -I- want someone to miss me when I’m gone.” It’s all -I- statements, and the sooner everyone just gets over this and admits it to themselves, the happier we’ll all be.

Oh and wouldn’t dating a nationally known poet just make me smug? I never thought I’d get on well enough with a writer, and I suspect I won’t get on well enough with Eitan, but it’s an interesting concept nonetheless. I love to date artists near my age, because I adore paintings and drawings, but I hate the fact that they all seem to want to be existentialists. An artist’s true philosophy doesn’t properly settle in until he’s about 45. I love musicians. A lot. They’re down to earth and practical and fun, but they also tend to attract drama like a sorority girl. They will suffer a type of fame that will never let them belong properly to anyone. This isn’t just based on nNep. My parents were a legend in the music industry for staying married as long as they did. It’s -hard- to stay married to a musician. When they’re not OD’ing, they’re flirting and networking, and keeping long hours, and meeting LOTS of oh-so-interested other people, and most people don’t seem to have the constitution to properly support their significant other in the profession that probably attracted her to him in the first place. This works for husbands of chick musicians too, and maybe a little better because men are so easily threatened. I’d be supportive throughout, because I know the industry, but all this attention does something to the musician’s brain where they quickly become afraid of commitment after any sort of success.

So that leaves writers. Good writers are the most dangerous love interest of all because they have to be philosophical 24/7. Even musicians get a break here and there to work on music riffs, but writers only write, and build their life view and their voice and they get trapped by it, and they spin a persona around themselves that they can never live up to. They don’t often get outright adoration from fans, much less girls throwing their panties at them, unless they’ve sold some really good scripts or novels and have a large cult following (like Mssr. Gaiman). It’s almost worse nowadays because aside from having to lock themselves away for months at a time to work on their manuscripts, they now can conduct all their business from the Net, and therefore needn’t ever actually have any human contact, much less real human experience.

This boy in my Poetry workshop yesterday wrote a piece called “The Library Blues” (the same guy who wrote the orchestral jazz arrangement poem two weeks ago), that was entirely about how he met a woman on the bus who was as a passing dream of truth, who denounced the written word as useless, but he returns to his library, preferring pre-packaged knowledge because he can not obtain real world experience. Karisma and I were the only people who got the correct interpretation, even though it was bloody obvious. I was positively smug about it.

I feel like there’s more to write. A tomorrow and a tomorrow and a tomorrow. I had dinner with my mom Monday night (before Green) and she told me she was supportive of my decision to go abroad. I keep turning that over in my head. Is she supportive of the experience, or of me getting out of her hair? Is she looking to empty her house, so she can feel free to date? Probably not, because she offered the studio to Penn. Frankly, I think Penn should move into my apartment. The change will do him good, and its closer to Loyola. It will give him the experience denied him lo these many years.

I think Anthony is ignoring me now, which sucks. John and I talked a little last night, and it was good for me. Dos needs to call me and tell me when our next outing is. Heehee. Outing. Like in Mary Poppins! OK, I’m officially on crack now. On the lighter side, I feel on fairly good ground for my Hebrew Midterm Monday…I just need to lock myself away this weekend to study the words. Words, words, words. Hamlet r0xx0rz.

If you’re good readers and leave interesting comments, I’ll post Fairy up here. I think I’m going to read it next Monday…after my Midterm…or I could just sleep. Mmm. Yes. Sleep…No. Must see Non-Sean and Manuel and Josh and Zesty Girl.

Ooh! I don’t believe I mentioned! Monday this girl…Molly?…did this poem about not feeding into the system, about how Americans don’t care who they hurt as long as they get immediate satisfaction. The first and third verses were fine, about Americans buying into the fast food culture that destroys ecologies and whatnot. The SECOND verse however, made me want to hit her. In and of itself, the message wasn’t so bad — downloading music puts people out of work, hurts them, makes them homeless, etc. — however, in the context, I couldn’t help objecting that she was proposing FINANCIALLY supporting one of the most corrupt and fatted industries this country perpetuates. She nasally and self-righteously slammed about “Paying a measly $17.70 for an album I like.” or something, and it’s complete bullshit. $20 for an album on which I only like one song? And for what? Because a record company has given an album a hundred-percent markup BEFORE it hits retail stores? And it’s not like the artist sees a whole hell of a lot of that money either, the way current contracts are written. The artist, if successful, makes more money off of endorsements and concerts and the like, stuff you CAN’T pirate. In that sense, I think it almost behooves the artist to produce his own albums, if he’s confident he can reach a top ten spot and start getting offered endorsement money. Its the same concept as a sports player, except eer performance of a sports game is like a concert, albeit a not-very-well-paying one.

I don’t know if that made sense to anybody, but the basic moral here is: YOU CAN’T FUCKING RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE IN THE SAME BREATH YOU USE TO OIL ITS HINGES.

OK. I feel better.

frozen
2004-02-25-10:18 p.m.

Why did I assume that just because my jacket has a hood, it’s waterproof? It’s a POS. Now my fingers are frozen to the fucking bone and I’m typing this just to keep my mind from the fact that I’m going to move to a country KNOWN for its bad weather.

I didn’t see the conclusion of Angel tonight because I had to drive to work. I bet she lives…she has to…because she has all those men working for her…dedicated to her on a deep-bone level. Even Lorne got violent. Aw…my Gay Karaoke Demon…

Have I mentioned I fucking hate winter? The depression, the rain, the internal bleeding…

Oh yeah…I’ve not written about it yet this year. The internal bleeding. That’s so fucking fun. Tra-la-fucking-la. I know I’ve bitched about it before…a couple years ago, but lets face it, no one reads that far back. I hate coughing up blood. I hate spitting up blood while I’m talking. I hate tasting blood when I know damn well I haven’t slain a heathen in days. I don’t mind bleeding from my skin if it gets torn. I do fucking mind my vocal and respiratory tract conspiring to fucking drown me.

I wonder what would happen if Rhonda took over Ballroom and Patrick and Samara and Andrew took over Shakespeare…It would be an odd kind of Empire I’d be setting up over the Arts…

for the trees to drop
2004-02-26-2:03 p.m.

I’ve had “Strange Fruit” by Billie Holiday stuck in my head all morning. It’s…interesting.

I’m at work now. I’m going to be on campus until about 11:00 pm tonight.

“He was trying to give me an out, and I hated him for it.”

I found that written in my Grammar book, and I don’t remember who it was about, or even the story I must have been building around it…well, I know the type of story it was. Obviously. But if I could put a face to the quote, maybe it wouldn’t annoy so much.

I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Kerry or Matt since Saturday now, and I feel weird. Especially after my dream. Especially since Erica knows so much more about them than I do now. This bites. I feel like I’m four. They’re MY friends, dammit. -I- love them. Why does SHE always get to play with them? And if I hear one fucking thing about her having to park on the street…

Actually, I blocked her in today…I didn’t mean to, but she was gone by the time I woke up, and she obviously didn’t think about it as she was leaving for school, because there was no hate-filled note on my keyboard. I expect if she thinks of it before she has to go to work, she’ll call the Lab, and they’ll tell her I’m here. I shall call her after I’ve gotten off shift and remind her though. Argh.

I finally got to talk to Tom a little on Y-Mess! before I went to sleep last night. Heehee. Reminds me of my friends at that age.

Which reminds me…at what age do all your friends become dicks? They all get so fucking serious and turn into “adults”, or parodies thereof. They still care too passionately about stupid things, but now they care with authority, with “clever” jadedness. Now they’re stiff and unamused at everything, because it’s not adult. They don’t fool around. They don’t pretend to be animals (not in some sick Furrie way, in an innocent way), and think we that do weird. Even the boys are like this to some extent, and it’s sad.

I hope Penn moves to LA. I would love to talk to him. He always had imagination to spare.

I want to hang out with Matt. I want Jean to email me to say he started my logo (and if he mentions it’s a brilliant idea, so much the better). I want Doselle to call and tell me he, Eitan, and I are going to Star Strip Too tomorrow night, and wear something slutty.

linguistic resolve
2004-02-26-2:43 p.m.

For the past couple days, people have actually been finding this blog through searches for sound, Linguistically related things. The one that gives me the most happy feeling is “‘forbidden experiment’ Genie”. Note how this has nothing to do with incest, sodomy, bestiality, rape, or cannibalism (ah, and watch my hits rise).

another sonnet
2004-02-27-1:05 a.m.

Fuckit. Let’s do a love poem…or a cussing poem…hmm…ooh…

Paranoia in Love

I fucking love ev’rything about you.
Sure as shit you’re the best thing in my life.
I don’t give a damn for life without you
You’re the only cunt I want for my wife.
If some cocksucker ever took you ‘way
I’d weep like a motherfuckin’ willow
And piss all my money and life away
On booze, bitches, cryin’ on your pillow.
While you and that bastard lived passing well
I’d jerk off to pictures of our first date
And cum all over your face with a yell
Of pain of an ass who’s lost his soulmate
But this pussy and I have been through Hell
With a love not even George Bush can quell.

And there you have it, a cussword on every line!

l.a. fair and the rest of my life
2004-02-29-8:39 p.m.

Last night I dreamed that Erica and I went to Ireland and got arrested on our first day there (for shoplifting, which, as Erica so helpfully pointed out when I told her, is pretty much illegal everywhere, but that’s not the SYMBOLIC point). Ireland and Britain look like a happy reality now, and I’m afraid of not knowing all those little laws the average citizen comes up with simply by dint of living there. I’m afraid of asking for something that’s an unspeakable crime there…then I remember that this is the state of affairs in America right now anyway, so what’s the worse? I’m a good kid. I’ll pick it up as I go along.

I think of people under 23 as kids.

Yesterday I went to the Brea mall with Erica, Heather, and Marissa (Erica’s Lompoc friends), and we went to some Plus-size shops that were trendy and cool. I called my mom to tell her how awesome the Brea mall was, and jokingly mentioned she might wanna take ME there for shoes someday, and she went Zero to Bitch in .05 seconds. She snapped “For the kind of gas money that takes to get there, I could buy you a whole fucking fleet of shoes.” She could have asked what was so cool about the mall or something, but now. I get fucking hostility and raised hackles because she’s either in a bad mood or trying to show off for Corky (whom she was in the car with at the time). I’m all kinds of giddy that a mall can be built towards FAT PEOPLE MY AGE, and she fucking snaps at me. Anyway, Erica and i did the math, and figured out that a car with good mileage would only spend about $5-10 on gas anyway so screw her.

Over the last half-hour or so, I’ve realized that I’m not going to be around for the county fair this year. I always love going, and my dad blew me off this year, swearing we’d go next year. That was the impetus for me dragging Juliet to the Farmer’s Market last quarter. But see, we CAN’T go this year, because I’ll be abroad, and even if I wasn’t going to Ireland, I’d be somewhere else to get away from them, and we wouldnt go either.

I guess the moral is don’t blow off the really important loved ones in your life (and yes, I bloody well believe I get to win out over Karen), because they may not be there tomorrow.

accepted and drunk
2004-03-02-1:39 a.m.

I’ve just split a rather large bottle of tequila so bear with me:

There are giants in the sky!
There are big, tall, terrible giants in the sky!
When you’re way up high and you look below
To the world you lost and the world you know
And you realize just how small you are…

The guy who plays Andrew in the Buffyverse went to UCLA! He played Jack in Into the Woods. I know this because Sean, from Green, told me. He told me because he split the bottle of tequila with me.

Tra-la! I feel accepted! I feel loved! I feel…wanted. I haven’t felt that in a while. Sean got my digits. Eitan drove me home. I like them. They’re shiny. They’re cool. Sean likes me because I like Angel and I liked his poem last week, the really gory-misogynistic one.

I started 2 poems at Green, and got inspired how to edit a couple more, but I can’t write any of it here right now because I’m buzzed, and typing feels funny, especially putting in HTML breaks. One was about Eitan, but Erica took it to be about herself, and far be it for me to correct her. It’s about someone’s head blocking my view of the stage. The other one is about Public Service Announcements and the pain they cause. The More You Know indeed.

I really like Eitan. I like Sean too. I’m flexible. That’s me. Lalala. Or maybe I’m just a desperate slut. Nil desperandum…or whatever. My Latin isn’t too good in this condition. Hmm. I wonder if anyone will actually remember me at Green next week.

Eitan came and sat with me after Erica left, and we passed notes, but I guess I wasn’t a good conversational partner, and the notes were sparse, and far between. Still, he gave me a ride to the Liquid Kitty and then home, so I couldn’t have been TOO off my game.

Damn, but I seem to type well when Im drunk. I realize I cannot use this as my Poetry Journal, unless I’m desperate.

oh yeah and
2004-03-02-1:51 a.m.

TAKE MY NEW SURVEY! MATT AND TREY FANS! W00T!

If you don’t like Matt and Trey…you go to hell and you die.

OK sleep now. Class tomorrow. Work tomorrow.

eyes
2004-03-02-9:47 a.m.

Again, journal for class. You can skip.

The best way to distract people from how truly and heart-stoppingly ugly I am is to make up my eyes. I do not do this often, as I tend to cut my schedules close and enjoy sleep immensely, but for special occassions, I’ve been known to explore the realm of the cosmetic.

I highlight my eyes because there is so much stuff made for them, it is easy to make them the center of attention. Plus, what else am I going to highlight to hide my ugliness? My cheeks? My nose? Oh yes, let us put blush on. Then I can look like the alcoholic that is the life’s aspiration of the members of my clan.

My eyes are not all that good to begin with, small and sharp, but they can be enlarged by dint of a line of black underneath. They can be softened by brown mascara to frame them. They can be shadowed to make them stand out against the rest of my yellow-pink patchwork skin.

By and large, I am not vain. I think nothing letting my hair grow wild for years, nor of my hips extending beyond that point that is culturally acceptable. However, I do crave power, and there is power in being attractive to others. Clinton had this power and wore it like a king’s cloak. Most movie stars have it, and it makes people forget that they are idiots or villains.

When I have this small amount of power, it gets my foot in the door of people’s minds. They’re more willing to talk to me, realize I’m not such a bad person just because– as they will inevitably notice at some point in the future– I’m hideous.

Even more than that, it makes people feel sorry for me instead of amused when I do something clumsy or stupid. It makes them help me up, clean off my shin (last night’s example was I slipped and fell entering the room and scraped my shin but good on the cement edge of the floor), hand me a tissue, instead of just sniggering inwardly, or outwardly as the case may be. This concern is alien to me, but an infinitely better response than I’m used to (i.e. “Quick! It’s down! Fetch the torches and pitchforks!”).

So yes, armed with an ever-diminishing amount of black eyeliner and brown mascara, I shall take over the world. Or at least find enough people who are attracted to it that I can learn something useful from them. Muahaha. Check out the evilness of me.

pure imagination
2004-03-03-8:26 a.m.

I’m all kinds of tripping on “Pure Imagination” from Willy Wonka. That movie is EVIL. Willy Wonka is so much more sinister when played by Gene Wilder than when written by Roald Dahl.

Come with me
And you’ll be
In a world of
Pure imagination
Take a look
And you’ll see
Into your imagination

We’ll begin
With a spin
Traveling in
The world of my creation
What we’ll see
Will defy
Explanation

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanta change the world?
There’s nothing
To it

There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You’ll be free
If you truly wish to be

If you want to view paradise
Simply look around and view it
Anything you want to, do it
Wanta change the world?
There’s nothing
To it

There is no
Life I know
To compare with
Pure imagination
Living there
You’ll be free
If you truly
Wish to be

I spent last night at home, doing laundry, talking to Toby and Ari. Toby’s starting to become a human. She’s looking at colleges.

Best line ever…better than Margaret Cho’s “Stick it in!!!”…”You. Pants down now. Share.”

It looks like, despite all humanity, I have an 8am class next quarter…this HAS to be remediable….

forbidden things
2004-03-03-4:45 p.m.

Doselle has forbidden to bring drama upon the Green, because he will have to find another poetry place. Like I want drama. I hate drama. Unfortunately, since he said it last night, I think I have to make a decision now. Something I must hold to no matter what. But I don’t want to. Firstly because I doubt either of my options are actually options, and secondly because I don’t want to end up screwing myself if one option presents and the other doesnt.

Another One Bites The Dust is so fucking awesome. Maybe I can join a band in England that does cool covers. I should brush up at Kitty-oke though. Erica and I need to decide on a song.

Sean offered to record a demonic laugh for our outgoing message. If I had the money for an answering machine, I’d be all about it. I wonder what ever happened to my old black phone. That had a pretty decent machine…It’s probably been long-since hocked. Damn. Maybe I can look around Office Supply Depot for one. I want this last quarter to be PIMPED out…

Which leads me to thinking about asking my dad if I can’t get my own room for next quarter. That would actually be QUITE cool…because me being MORE isolated is always SUCH a good idea. But still. I think I rather like the idea…

NO ONE IS BUYING MY FUCKING SHIFT! I’ve had it posted since last night or so, and no one’s taken it yet, and I doubt they will, which means I’ll miss South Park again and I really don’t want to. I miss the boys, even if they don’t seem to give much of a fuck about me…

…which is a pity because I really love them. I always want to help them. They piss me off no end sometimes, but they’ve been an extremely good source of light in my life, and it pains me to think that it’s time to leave that behind already.

And this basically means that as of now, I’m planning on blowing off the Joint show this Friday that I still haven’t gotten an announcement about. I…suspect I’m going to start skipping shows altogether unless they’re at Good Hurt, because…everything is a bit easier when I’m that inebriated. I’m not a depressive drunk (despite what evidence Y? has). Anyway, maybe after this quarter…maybe they’ll begin to remember I’m a friend and not just some nagging directorial voice…

I wish Sean would call. I wish AJ would call. I wish Eitan weren’t away. I wanna hang out with someone. I need social interaction that’s not Erica and not a co-worker. I need NEW. I need DIFFERENT. I need conversations in which we do not yet finish one another’s sentences. I need hugging and laughing and people who don’t suspect me of being uncharacteristically dishonorable.

I find I’m still smarting from that one, especially a lot of the stuff she wrote when she thought I’d done something bad (and I so hadn’t). All this venom issued, and I can’t forget what was said…it would be pointless to say I don’t like being viewed as such, because I imagine not many do, but I am hurt at it, because I thoroughly do not think I am as bad as depicted…

At anyrate…

I wan’t sleep. I want to go home! Someone buy my fucking shift! PLEASE! FOR LOVE OF WHATEVER GODS YOU BELIEVE IN!

weeping for sleep
2004-03-03-6:47 p.m.

I’m barely functioning on the minimal amount of sleep I’ve gotten this week. Partially my fault, sure, but FUCKDAMMIT! I want to go home. I tried to sell off my hours last night too and that didn’t work either. I hate this. I hate it so much. Hate hate hate. Let me go, let me out. Why isn’t it letting me go? I wouldn’t even go to nNep’s at this point because I’m so fucking tired and manky, I’d be ashamed to be near them.

Out out out out out out out! I can feel the first waves of panic rising, and I’m quelling them, but barely. I dont want this. I wanna go home. Want my puppy. Want…anything else but this fucking lab listening to canned demo music…

Please let me out…someone…please. Free my body and my mind from this fucking institution. Home. Out. Please….

out out out
2004-03-03-8:29 p.m.

I’m in fucking YRL fucking pod and Miki’s left, so no one to entertain me, and I feel a lil bit more awake now because Miki talked to me, but I still want to die. As shyte as this week has been, you KNOW its gonna be similar next week, because I intend to start it off by drinking with Sean again.

sob-wracked form
2004-03-03-11:12 p.m.

I’m crying. I never cry. I can’t breathe. I need the boys. I need to see Matt and Kerry. I need not to feel so goddamned alone. While I was at work, Sean called, and I missed it and when I called back, he didn’t pick up…I can’t do this. Im trapped. I called the Casa and they said I shouldn’t come over cause everyone is going to bed soon anyway…My mom says I can’t go Home because I’d wake up Nick. I need something that doesn’t exist for me….

co-lab
2004-03-08-1:33 a.m.

I’m accepted…more or less…into the community. Unfortunately, the way in which I’ve been accepted means I can never get any action from any of the guys I want.

I feel like I should write my entire rest of my blog ever in spoken-word style, if I know what I mean, but I’m still a bit drunk and I have class in the morning, so go fuck myself…

If I remember to, I shall post what I wrote at Co-Lab and write what has been happening this week.

Eitan. Mr. Frog. All I have to say about that.

pass on, pass out
2004-03-08-2:13 p.m.

I feel ready to pass out. I’m typing, trying to get my mind to focus. I made 2 fliers for Redhots! and Doselle is pleased with them. He said he liked the “first one” which I THINK means the angsty one, but I can’t be sure.

When I go home, I must make myself a sandwich, shower, and do homework (Hebrew, and write a personal statement thingy for Poetry). I intend to read at Green tonight. I do not know how I will get there as Joey has lost my keys to my car and now I can’t use it, nor let Luke’s out of the driveway…this will be interesting. To say the very least.

It is too beautiful to be inside right now. Yesterday we rehearsed Hamlet outside the heroine den whilst passing around 40’s of Olde English. Then I went to Co-Lab and drank 2 gin and tonics and got trashed…from THAT…cause…that ever happens…

Anyway, I’m not kissing Sean because I don’t know my deal with Eitan, and I’m still messed up about the Other Two.

Kerry met his soulmate yesterday as we were leaving rehearsal, Penelope, who claimed to be Princess Penelope. She’s nuts. She held her own against Kerry, which in and of itself was pretty damn impressive.

from the bowels
2004-03-09-2:02 p.m.

Friday night, me, Sarah, Samara, Erica, and Sean went to see Switchblade Sisters. It was…amazing…how did we not know of its existance before? I think it changed Samara’s life.

Anyway, yeah. Turns out one of my options really is an option and I haven’t kissed him because I am going to hurt him a lot if I start that nonsense. I intend to fuck around before I leave, and nail at least ONE person who I have animalian attraction to, dammit. The boys are a wash, I guess, which sucks all the ass, but I can still look at a certain frog-toting Jew. I think I’m going to convince myself I like the game more than I actually like having someone. I think I have to because I think I’ll drive myself insane if I keep thinking about the fact that not ONE guy I’ve ever truly lusted after (from the beginning…I grew into John and Sapo) has wanted me back. I’m making it a game of seeing how many times I can get shot down in the five or so months I have left on this continent.

I read at Green last night. No one was impressed. I sped through it, and held the paper DIRECTLY in front of my face, like a tool. Plus, Dos bailed before I read. I spent all of Green chilling with Sean on a couch, which is about as good for my heart as doing that with Dos. Touch grounds me.

I got ot Green late so I didn’t get a chance to sign up on the clipboard. After the break, I asked Slim if I could still put my name on the list and he said yes, but I didn’t see a clipboard so went to sit back down with Sean. Everyone had left during the break who was signed up, so Slim looked up and said “Kat, do you wanna read?”

I keep being surprised that people I don’t fucking know know my name. Sean talks about me. He said he’d told everyone about a line in “Fucking Responsibility” which is cool because he likes it, but sucks because no one will be impressed when/if I do read it some day.

Next week is Green’s “cover night” wherein you read ANYTHING BUT your own work…like “poetry karaoke” or something…which is brill. I kind of want desperately to read either “The Great Smoke-Off” or “The Shattered Heart”. Well, that’s on top of wanting to order my actors to do Hamlet…

rumble rumble
2004-03-10-11:07 a.m.

My tummy is hungry, but I’m withholding satisfaction because I’m a cruel mistress. Right. Anyway.

I have to write this intro thingy for my chapbook and I can’t think of what to write. I don’t have any deep abiding philosophy that connects all my poems (unlike some of my classmates…”I am Native American. And white. But Native American in my soul. But still a bit white. And somewhat black on the inside…etc.”). I’d rather make a chapbook from my spoken word stuff because that is all at least of one genre, even if it is a genre I don’t particularly like (Feminazi).

I think my tummy is winning.

Jean came over last night and showed me how to fix the fliers Dos wanted, but he also gave me another suggestion which sounds good in theory (change the font instead of bolding it where you want it to stick out), but I’ll also probably end up ignoring in practice because I don’t believe my own eye that much.

I gotta talk to Sean. I just do. He’s such a good person and I just am not. At all. I called him last night while I was high (on life, Mom), and he seemed very amused, although my words weren’t coming out as cleverly as I intended them to. We actually talked a lot yesterday. He called me from work, left a message on my voice mail, I called him back when I got the message, I called him later that evening, he called me back after the lounge he was at. I would love him for a friend, but I can’t deal with his crush. I never could deal with this stuff well, and in the past I’ve always given in unless I found another way out, but I think…or at least I want to think…that I’m better than that these days. I’m better than a lot of things. I’m better than a lot of people. Woo. Go me.

Heehee. Today was payday…there will be blood tonight!

I have the night shift tonight. Kill me, stuff me, mount me. Shiny penny to anyone who knows where that’s from.

Ahahahaha! Tummy has subsided its grumbling! It is submitting to my feindish will! Still, I should feed it before it enlists my menenges in it’s rebellion. Hate food-deprivation headaches.

i’m not dead
2004-03-18-9:54 p.m.

and i’m not sure if that’s a good thing. how dare they fish for my affection now.

priscilla
2004-03-28-7:48 p.m.

Priscilla, Queen of the Desert may be the best movie ever. How am I so in love with Guy Pearce? And it just amuses the hell out of me to watch Hugo Weaving…but Mitzi and Bernadette are just so…BAD in the hotel performance. I want a job as a consultant on movies where they employ superstraight-type actors to act like women.

Finals are over. It’s spring break. I’ve alredy got a sunburn. I don’t think Im going to graduate college this year, which means I’ll have to put off going to Ireland. My shows came off beautifully and some old guard came to the performance, so they might spread the word. No one came to the party. Auditions are in 2 weeks. Im working 3 of the 5 days of the spring break week. Sigh.

topless cooking
2004-03-30-1:18 a.m.

In 20 minutes, I wrote an entire spoken word piece about why topless cooking is a bad idea. I need to add a bit to it, namely mention the part where Luke came home, and I asked him to finish browning the meat whilst i tended to my new grease burn scars.

phone sex
2004-03-30-3:26 a.m.

…smells funny :-p I’m feeling kinda melancholy and silly. I miss the boys. I wish Matt would call me. I’m actually writing funny shit. I just wish I could perform it with a straight face. And I wish I could get “I’ve Never Been To Me” out of my head. Her voice combined with the image of Hugo Weaving in drag, trying to be graceful, is such a strong cue for some reason. Very intense visualizations.

I need something and I don’t know what.

Hey lady, you lady, cursing at your life
You’re a discontented mother and a regimented wife
I’ve no doubt you dream about the things you’ll never do
But, I wish someone had talked to me
Like I wanna talk to you…..

Oh, I’ve been to Georgia and California and anywhere I could run
I took the hand of a preacher man and we made love in the sun
But I ran out of places and friendly faces because I had to be free
I’ve been to paradise but I’ve never been to me

Please lady, please lady, don’t just walk away
‘Cause I have this need to tell you why I’m all alone today
I can see so much of me still living in your eyes
Won’t you share a part of a weary heart that has lived million lies….

Oh, I’ve been to Niece and the Isle of Greece while I’ve sipped champagne on a yacht
I’ve moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo and showed ‘em what I’ve got
I’ve been undressed by kings and I’ve seen some things that a woman ain’t supposed to see
I’ve been to paradise, but I’ve never been to me

[spoken part edited out for being trite bullshit]

Sometimes I’ve been to crying for unborn children that might have made me complete
But I took the sweet life, I never knew I’d be bitter from the sweet
I’ve spent my life exploring the subtle whoring that costs too much to be free
Hey lady…… I’ve been to paradise, (I’ve been to paradise)
But I’ve never been to me

–I’ve Never Been to Me, Charlene

Yeah. OK, maybe that got it out. Damn song. I can’t just be into disco like Erica?

I don’t really feel like talking about everything thats happened since I last properly blogged. I don’t feel like talking about how Israi’s in Arizona, and I’ve been suicidal. I don’t feel like talking about how I failed Hebrew. I don’t feel like talking about how I threw my cell phone against a wall because I couldn’t reach anyone and nNep bailed on me for the show. I don’t feel like talking about how I emailed my mom to tell her I was dropping out of college, and she came over and talked me out of it…for the moment. I don’t feel like reliving the fight I got into with my dad on the phone, because his solution to ANY of my emotional problems is to point out how much money he’s put into me, and how much money he’ll lose if he drops a session to come talk to me. “I’ve paid for college the last FIVE years, Kat. That could have been another car, or a downpayment on a house! I have Joy in the studio right now. If I go to you, it’ll cost her thousands of dollars.” I didn’t CALL you, Fucker. I didn’t ASK for you to drop shit for me. Don’t fucking turn yourself into a fucking martyr when nobody CARES you self-possessed, money-grubbing absolute JEW.

I don’t wanna discuss how I’ve burnt myself all over, because Im stupid. The topless cooking was just the last thing. There’s a whole epic about tanning and lotioning up after one’s dressed, and not lotioning up again after one has switched to more revealing clothing. There’s the little side chat about how no one actually manufactures 18g jewlery, much less cuffs. 16g seems to be standard. I don’t mind the hoops so much, but I really wish I could find the cuff.

I don’t wanna discuss how no one showed up to my party, except about 6 poeple and Blake monopolized the conversation until everyone left, and then in came Sean and his friend, both of whom stayed too long, and were way too loud, although I think Sean’s friend got that. I rather liked him for someone who doesnt smoke, drink, or like people. He rather reminds me of John.

I don’t want to talk about how I’ve been whoring myself out online in the hopes of finding someone worthwhile in LA…someone who can be worthy of my admiration…someone who won’t bail on me for the big things. This is more pressing now that it appears I won’t be graduating on time.

I don’t want to talk about how I’ve made room reservations for Comic Con, but have yet to buy my ticket. I really don’t wanna discuss why I’ve already agreed to work for Garry again. I love Dos and Garry so much though. I wish guys my age were as fucking DOWN as those two are.

I don’t want to think about why I’ve decided to become a raging whore if at all possible, because its better than trying to have an emotional connection with someone that can be taken away. If I have this whole big need to nurture something, why not an STD?

i know, i know
2004-04-09-3:32 p.m.

Im a horrible person for not updating. I just never feel like it lately. This quarter seems good so far and I have the best poetry professor ever. I didn’t apply to Joy’s class again, because it’s become this huge conflict of interest. I really REALLY fucking hate people talking about me. Especially to my parents. I’m glad I’m out so my poetry can start reflecting my father a bit. I havent seen hide nor hair of nNep in 3 weeks, and Matt hasn’t returned a phone call in 2 weeks. So I’m half-wondering if I’ve done something wrong. The other half is just glad I’m going to graduate and get out of this country.

Dos bought me a new wardrobe, so I have pretties now. Mostly black. Some burgundy and charcoal grey. I have big clunky maryjanes from Out of the Closet. I’m going to a couple of morally questionable parties in the near future. The theme of Scott’s Easter party this year is “Musical Crucifixions”. Monday, Dad and I went to a Seder with no Hebrew whatsoever. The entire ritual was trimmed down to ten minutes, but the food was great. I like my role as trophy daughter. I like that people respect my mind now that Im nearly a graduate. I like that I get to be the intellectual “out” for professors because all the men are talking shop around us. I like showing the only kid in the place (poor kid) where a dog’s tickle- and lick- spots are. I like how this kept him amused for a full half-hour. I like how small a world it is (except not really: the Seder was in Brentwood, so obviously Im going to run into at least one Zen Zoo/Maha Yoga client). I like looking important because Im one of three people in the room who know all the songs and prayers, and that the holiday somehow involves Jews (I swear to GOD, why were they hosting a Seder? It was really fun, but completely non-religious).

I miss my daughter. I keep trying to find people in AZ who will bring her back to me.

I feel sad because something feels broken between Juliet and I. I can’t forget the things she wrote about me, and she deleted it, but its not the same as “taking it back”, I think. But I’m willing to let the friendship go, because that is the way of all relationships in my life. Everyone will lose interest in me or I shall find some glaring fault in everyone eventually.

I’ve begun writing my cousins in Ireland. They write as ones who are weary that I am coming to mooch off of them. They make it very clear I can stay at their place until I get settled. They suggest I go to another town, Galway. They try to be nice aobut it, but it’s not quite concealed. I did ask them if they knew of anybody who was willing to rent a room. Why does that transalate in peoples’ heads as “can I crash wit’ you?” I wouldn’t want to stay with family, because then I would not be on my own, but to be near family, especially creative, intelligent family, is appealing to me. With the loss of Israi, I must renew my search for a connection to this world, and have found none. It’s been nearly 23 years, and I still have no one person I feel truly connected to, no person I trust implicitly. There is no one I can point to from my childhood and say “They were always there for me.” Maybe Y? but she’s just absent enough to make it hard to count her.

Erica, Dos and Garry have been wonderful to me, but I find myself still waiting for the other shoe to drop, because it’s been so little time. I loved Juliet, but she struck out against me the second she thought she had reason to (she didn’t…by a lot).

I don’t know how things will be different in Europe. Presumably, I won’t be as repugnant to people abroad as I am to people in America.

I want so desperately to play music. I wish I had a good voice. I wish my dad didn’t trash me whenever I sang in front of him. I wish he wasn’t a musician, so he could just appreciate that I like to sing, and not pick on how horrible I sound. I wish someone had told me I should pursue performing, like those people did after my performance a few Fridays back. A guy and a girl came up to me after the show, wide-eyed and tripping over each other…”You have IT! You TOTALLY have IT! Do you act? You should totally act!” I got flustered from the praise, and thanked them and made my escape, but why has no one ever told me before? Why is it that whenever I used to express interest in acting, no one ever said “That’s a great idea! You’d do well!”?

God fucking dammit. I want a do-over.

I hope Sin will still be in England when I go. I plan to meet up with Samara, Will, and Kristen in London this summer before I go on to Dublin. It’s something we should do.

I don’t know who reads this, but I gotta get something off my chest: I feel like DJ is cutting me out of my own group. He’s got all the information, and he’s not giving me direct access to it. I’m just a custodian for HIS group. He’s EDITING my emails to the email list for gods’ sakes. He posts things at his leisure, which robs us of time, and he didn’t update the website this last time so no one who wasn’t on the list had a way to find out about auditions. We’re planning on making a flyer website soon that the Meta Crawlers will grab on search engines…

There has to be a way to get this group on its feet again. I like what we do. I don’t like people saying I’m in charge and then trying to control me. ESPECIALLY by editing my language and signing my name to it. Do NOT suck the humor from my writing and then say I wrote it. Whats worse, rewriting lines to make me sound like some 13-year-old pink-clad teeny-bopper.

OK. Im done now. I think Ive run through the whole cycle of emotions. I don’t have that many.

hypotheticals
2004-04-19-9:28 p.m.

I’ve spent a good chunk of time actually worrying about this today:

If you were transported back in time to the day before the Great Stock Market Crash of ‘29, what would you do? I mean, you wake up, you’re in the roaring 20’s, but you notice its 1929, and you’re like…”Well, crap.” Oh, and you’re British. You have a British accent. I don’t know why this is important.

This is assuming there IS no way for you to go back to your own time. You’re GOING to live through the Great Depression, and know it leads right into WW2. Do you leave the country? Do you find someone and try to convince them to sell off their stocks early? How do you convince them not to tell anyone so they don’t start a panic too early? Can you make them swear to God? If they even believe in God, do they believe in God because everyone did back then, or do they believe because of actual faith? And say they do pull it off and get out of the stock market before the crash? Does that help you at all? You are now stuck in this country, and you don’t necessarily have any guarantee you’ll make it through the next six years or so. And if you decide to go to another country, where will you go that the Depression doesnt hit just as hard? Africa’s out because a lot of innoculations havent been invented yet, and I think China’s still closed off, not that you wanna be in the East when WW2 hits anyway…Do you have a duty to help those destroyed by the events of the ’30’s? Will it even change anything?
I actually spent about a half-hour agonizing over this…before that, I was trying to figure out how to not look like a freak should I be transported back to the Old West type of times. And earlier this week I was worrying about ending up in Ancient Rome…

I think the problem is there’s never been a really good time-travel (backwards) movie. The people all modernize the time theyre in and magically end up speaking the lingo of wherever they are. What if you end up in a country that speaks Latin, and all you speak is modern English? You can read and scribe, but you dont know if your accent could possibly credible, if you’d ever learn declensions, if you would be able to avoid slavery or the arenas. Good lord! Why don’t we have scientists studying this?!!

closed off
2004-05-03-12:29 p.m.

I feel pleasantly dead inside. Finally. Summer is here early to rescue me from my own mortal weaknesses. I’ve been thinking about the way people react to me. They react to my proper speech which exists in direct conflict of my actions. My father has always said I have an old soul, and I’ve always embraced that concept, let it stroke my ego. I am extremely well-read and only wish to exist in circles of people who don’t site Thoreau in every small-talk conversation. It shames me that I have spent so much of my childhood with my nose in a book rather than having my ears and eyes to music trends. It shames me that I cannot fit in with my peers, because I am older than they, and I cannot fit in with people older than I because they inevitably use phrases like “I’m (we’re) older than you)…”

I’m glad for Erica and Doselle. They are the mediators. Peer and older, yet neither holds himself distant because of mental or physical age difference, though truth be told, in most areas, Erica and I are damn close.

So Im closing myself off from everyone who doesn’t count, and who doesnt count me. And, karmically, my throat is closed off. ‘Cause that’s fair. I can’t talk, and I have no desire to. Chuck Palahniuk has way way too much influence over my life right now. I’ve only read through half of “Lullaby” and Im beginning to think like the main character.

can talk, can’t hear
2004-05-06-2:14 p.m.

BLOODYMOTHERFUCKINGDAMMIT! OK, my throat feels tons better, but now Im all congested, including my ears. Actually, the doctor said my ears look clear, and its likely these little tubes behind the eardrum that pinch together. All I know is I feel like Im in the beginning stages of a yawn, all painful buildup, and no happy pop to release the tension. And its starting to itch inside. Erica’s so very sick of hearing me complain, but Im so very fucking sick of having to deal with not breathing on a regular basis. I am currently taking Vitamin C, Echinacea, IB Profin, Sudafed, NyQuil, on top of my Spironolactone and OTC-L. Im not even counting my Silver Sulfatey thingy for burns because I hardly use it anymore. Right now…

I’m at work, and I feel like I’m drowning. If the polar ice caps melted and got hit by an ice-meteor that melted too and the whole world was flooded, I’d totally die because I couldn’t pop my ears. The doctor said, aside from Sudafed, I should try sipping liquid and chewing, so cut to me drinking English Breakfast Tea and chewing Pepperment Dentyne gum while sitting outside my classroom doing homework.

Oh, OK…the readings. The readings have been having small but cozy turnouts. Last night I was so stuffy, I couldnt hardly breathe at all, and then Erica showed up like a Good Fairy (if good fairies gave ancient Egyptian art presentations in Fowler) with a cry of “I didn’t suck!” (and of course I had to point out that this was indeed the ONLY time one would ever hear Erica utter those words), and she brought me not only a GRIP of toilet paper, but she jacked a roll of brown paper from the ladies’ loo. I’ve already gone through most of it. <3 for Erica!

Really, its not been a terrible quarter, though perhaps a bit lonely. Im doing better in Hebrew than I ever have before. The roommates, though somewhat annoying, can be handled, and we now have THREE cats. Ralphie is so cute. I really have an obsession with orange-gold animals, and he’s a sweetie. The only problem is I caught him drinking from the toilet bowl this morning. Eeew. We had to give his sister, Gucci away, and I will always have the scar on my chest to remind me why.

I’ve decided my skin is a wash. All I can do is control breakouts, but I have given up all hope of ever making it attractive again.

I’ve lost all poetic inspiration. I just…can’t make words say what I want them to within the confines of formalist poetry…I used to think of it as an “excercise”, but I just see it as a nuisance now.

Not much else. Had a bass lesson with Matt last week, which was neato compleato, but even Erica is starting to feel cut out of the group now. They told us we couldnt come over for South Park last night because it was going to be a “boys’ night”. Thats…a bunch of bullshit right there. Unless they were doing some pretty hard drugs or something, I don’t think that gets to stand alone as an excuse. Last week, they went out with friends that night. Dude, they’d blow off their first-born children to watch a first airing of South Park, and have said so…in so many words. Something’s afoot. I don’t care so much, but I think it’s putting Erica on edge, which makes me sad.

Its kinda neat watching other people spiral down. I like to think when Im posting bad shit here, I’m entertaining someone somewhere.

wowie
2004-05-07-9:15 a.m.

…you look away for a month or so, and all of a sudden, your blog has a LOT more readers (and by a LOT, I mean four). This makes me happy, but I will try to not let my new-found popularity go to my head.

I’ve been spending and…inordinate amount of time on OKCupid because…well..its fascinating. It’s a complete mindfuck for anyone who used to like theSpark.com, as well as anyone who thinks that there is no one out there who understands you. According to the statistics, you’re dead wrong. It’s just sexy. I’ve met a few people on there, and for the most part they’ve been very cool to hang with, though none are mate material (I mean, come on…they’re looking for sex partners on the ‘Net). Plus, I have a theory that all guys looking for friends on the net are inherently ugly.

Normally, I would have ended that paragraph with “no offense”, but that would be a lie. In his book, The Truth, Pratchett has a brilliant little line about people who say “no offense” rather than just not saying something offensive. I just can’t remember what it is just now.

Lullaby is fucking brilliant. I have about 10 more pages to go though. Stupid Bookzone closing times…

I took all my pills today, but havent had time to eat yet. This is apparently not a Good Thing, as my stomach was being PMSy all through my (way WAY too early) discussion. I like Child Development. I should like very much to develop them as a career. Somebody should.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: PEOPLE SHOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO BREED. The other day at Cinefile, they were playing this documentary by Penn and Teller (yes, the magicians. Very good. Now hush.) about stupid things Americans do. The only section I saw the whole of was about child-rearing practices, or rather, lack thereof, in the states. People will pay any amount of money to people to teach them how to raise their kids, and they’ll believe ANYTHING! Even things that are detrimental to a child’s mental wellbeing. To test this, Penn and Teller set up a phony parenting course informercial and got some new fathers to come in to be the participants. They…they didn’t question ANYTHING. It was…horrible. I feel so bad for their kids. Its just one stupid generation raising up another. You know, Plato was on to something with his creche idea. And the Chinese aren’t entirely wrong be regulating people reproducing (they do, however, have the wrong approach, and are far too arbitrary in whom they control). But we need a test.

Who wants to help me build a test that all Americans must pass before they’re allowed to reproduce? Like, half would be Child Development theory, half would be practical skills, half would be logical reasoning, and half would be humanitarian scales:

Q:If my child is crying, I should:
a) Hit it ’til it stops.
b) Walk around bouncing it.
c) Stick a pacifier in its mouth.
d) Try to see if it’s hungry our needs a diaper change, and if not, lay it on my chest and stroke it till it calms down.

Voluntary Human Extinction Movement is my friend. It may be the bad kind of friend, but it has a point. Just ’cause you CAN pop one out, doesn’t mean you SHOULD.

female weakness
2004-05-09-1:53 a.m.

I was…thinking…about John, and as soon as I…finished thinking…about him, I started sobbing. I don’t like that I did it, and I know he won’t like that I did it, and I feel confused and hurt…all this fresh pain that I never really felt during our relationship…why now? Why years later?

I’m going to visit him when I graduate, just for a few days. One last time before I leave…God, its always so hard to leave him. I don’t think there’s been one time over the past years that I havent cried when we parted. Even when we’re just being friends…we’re so…fucking…close. I begin to understand living arangements like Garry’s.

I have a midterm in Hebrew on Monday and one in Child Dev. on Tuesday. Is it bad that I don’t feel the need to study for Child Dev.? Its all so…basic. I’ve taken this class hundreds of times over. It was just called different things before. Hebrew, Im scared of, but I feel slightly more confident than I have in any of the last two quarters.

I just disinfected my computer of Sasser A. Good lord I hate that thing. I spent hours working with Erica’s new laptop because her NAV makes things way more difficult than it needs to. Its like a puppy doing somethign repeatedly so it can get a treat, in this case, clicking the OK button on its multiple grandiose announcements that it just deleted this or that virus that -I- had to set its definitions for.

Bloody programs.

calloo callay!
2004-05-09-2:30 a.m.

This makes me happy inside. Damn skippy.

I don’t remember if Ive ever really talked about Toby before. Its kinda hard to describe how I feel about her.

Toby is…loveable. We look alike, but she’s taller, blonder, blue-eyed, younger, slimmer, more artistic, and apparently kinder. I’ve heard my dad say how her empathy has deeply struck him. She’s a straight-A student. Toby has a lot of friends and a lot of talent. She’s been given every opportunity I never had. My parents have killed themselves to make sure she didnt have the same crappy teachers I did.

In some ways, Toby’s talents resemble mine. I don’t have her musical ability, but she’s long since lifted my love of drawing, my sense of humor, and acting talent. All my childhood stories have long since become her own. And if you try to convince her otherwise, she’ll pat your arm and ignore you.

I, of the punk-grunge hair, am the straight man in our siblinghood. I was told not to take the Drama program. I went to London and Paris with a bunch of self-possessed Fratboys-in-training because I went the practical, unfun route of Law and Government. I hated high school. I hate many aspects of college. My prospects are so boring that I choke whenever I try to look into the future. But Toby has options.

Toby hates me. She won’t hug me. She won’t play along with my flights of fancy, nor with Poppa’s if it comes to that. She hates impulsivity. I nearly saw red when she refused to stay over near the County Fair because she didnt want to stay in a hotel. Of course, I snapped, and she cried, and my dad yelled at me, because how do you explain being pissed off from not being able to stay in PASADENA? She also will NEVER stand up to our parents. She doesnt like conflict, and it tears her up inside when other people argue. She’s clever enough to debate, but I dont think she could take the pressure of having an unpopular opinion.

Toby isnt a social climber, exactly, but she’s something close. When she was catching static in Jr. High, I told her to play along, make it a joke. She did. She’s the Tyler Durden of the Drama Freak club. If theyre not the “in-group” its only because they don’t wear Gucci. Theyre all beautiful and talented. Tomorrow’s spotlight stars.

We get along well enough, but mostly because Ive come to realize Im not going to run her off. If we tell each other stuff its only because we have to conspire against our parents, or because our friends are of no practical help.

I’ve taught her to be liberal and funny, and she’s left me in the dust. My parents have ALWAYS ALWAYS called her the artist, the actress, the writer, even in the face of my own accomplishments. Toby talks at length about her high school hi-jinx, because no one would ever tell the dreamchild she’s long-winded. She monopolizes any audience handy, at the expense of others.

But Im the only one bitchy enough to see anything wrong with the golden child. Im the only one ugly and bitter enough in her immediate vicinity to really dislike her. Im only the one who’s honest with her about some stuff, but even this I can’t tell her, because she would cry, and my tuition might get pulled to pay for her therapy.

Of course, I love my sister. How can you not? The perfect mix of warm humor and stone-cold cynicism. That flat, disdainful look she learned from me that she turns on me every time I say anything she objects to or doesnt want to hear. Those long arms and legs, used for pushing me away, or hitting me, because our parents to this day wont tell her it’s wrong to hit. That deep throaty laugh that all the women in our house have. That adorable improvisational skill, that raw creativity that was squashed in me ages ago.

I know its sick and cheap to hold yourself up to your sibling. But so much of her is me, or was me, before she came along and took it all away. If she becomes famous, I will hug her if she lets me, congratulate her, and cut my own throat.

no knot unties itself
2003-02-06-3:28 a.m.

where have i been? here, there. hell and back.

ok, lets do the fun-fun chronological thing that just turns into rambling:

01/24/03 — Im supposed to go to a club, the Plastic Factory, with Denise. I have rehearsal, so I tell Denise Ill meet up with her afterwards. Rehearsal goes well. Diedre, Meagan, and Samara rock SO much house. I come home, get ho’d out, and head for the beach. I have directions. They involve freeways. I summarily ignore them. I decide I KNOW where E. 11th street is: east of 11th street, near Venice. No. I get (laughingly) informed that E. 11th St is in East L.A. Its already 11:00pm or so, so I decide, fuckit. If Denise is even still at the club, she won’t be easy to find. I call Denise and leave a message on her phone that I wont be joining her. I return home. I go online, desolate that my plans were thwarted. I post on the forums: “All prettied up and nowhere to go”, asking if anyone wants to go out somewhere local. This guy, Jason, responds. We meet. It’s…interesting to say the least. We talk till 5am. I go to sleep feeling socialized.

01/25/03 — Adan calls, and I tell him about the party at Gigio’s tonight. He says swell, he’ll meet me at my place much later. He never shows or calls. I call Dave to see if he’s going to the Gig tonight. He is and offers me a ride. We talk a lot. Its good. I think we’d be great friends if he wasnt always so preoccupied. We get to the Gig and Dave starts talking to Shakespeare people, present and past. I stand around like a twit. Luis comes up in face makeup. Jacaranda is doing a “Muppet Show” theme tonight. Luis looks scary and doesnt say hi. He just grabs Jason (Jacaranda, not guy from last night) and they go behind the building to do Jason’s makeup. nNePtEp, minus Melanie, arrives. I get a double hug from Kerry and the bassist. I feel shyte I dont know their names better, but John never includes real names in his emails. We go in. I dance around a lil, but the club spins hip-hop between sets, and there’s actual black people in the room, and no one else is really dancing. I meet a few Shakespeare-related people, and go to sit with the nNePtEp boys. We amuse ourselves. I tell Kerry I can’t stay after the set because I have to book to Gigio’s party. Kerry says he can’t stay either because he has to go to a birthday party. He asks where my party is, and I tell him, and he says he lives right by there. Yay! I want to play with Kerry more often. Kerry asks me why Im not on the floor dancing and I say because I dont want to be the white girl dancing to hip hop alone on the floor. He asks whats wrong with that. I ask why isnt HE dancing. He makes some silly excuse about being self-conscious. I point out that he’s a musician and therefore has a sense of rhythm and therefore already has a leg up on EVERY guy at UCLA. He clinks bottles with me. And flips off a stray drink on the bar by my elbow. Its sweet really. The set is funny as fuck, and the nNeP boys help Sean/Kermit sing the opening song. Sean is Kermit, Jason is Rolph, the drummer is Animal, and I dont recognize Luis and Tony. Luis calls himself Dr. Teeth. He still looks scary. He can’t quite carry off the voice without fucking up his singing voice for the next song. Its funny. Kerry does so too dance. Almost all of the set is songs I havent heard yet, but theyre still good. The last song, I dont know if it is good or not because the speakers suck so very badly. Later Dave tells me a set is called a “set” because for normal bands, the live mixer just has to set the levels once and can walk away. Live and learn. I never even get to see Luis that night, but I guess its good my face is being seen more by the older people.

Dave drives me to my place and I book to Gigio’s, picking up Jason on the way. I get my groove on and watch college life progress before me. Im not drunk. Others are. We all bump and grind and sway to the underlying jungle beat of youth. There was a love bed. It was good. Somewhere out there, Kendra has a good picture of me on her digicam. Even Michi is pleasant. Adam is absent. Jason makes a copious ass out of himself. I tell him as much and we make a deal that I must always tell him. Its turning out into too big a job for one girl. I drive him, Aud, and Who home around 3.

01/26/03 – 01/31/03 — Classes, mostly. I do well on a midterm in Abnormal Psychology. I have an affinity for insanity. I meet a boy named Nicholai who is beautiful and funny and distracts me from studying. He is also young and naive. You could fall in love with a boy like that. Unfortunately, he has “yellow fever” or something to that extent. The night I meet him, Patrick and Will come into the lab and help me embarrass ourselves. It affects a healthy portion of UCLA men. Im not that cute, but I deserve a fair shot, dammit. Im consistently getting lonlier. Heather and I have lunch almost every day this week, but the times before and after are desolate. I dream of Sapo, and that small month I had where I was content, smitten, and all that rot. Nicholai and Jason and I hang out in various combinations all this week. On Wednesday, Nicholai offers me a ride home if I go to Puzzles, so I make my first and probably last Puzzles night. It was fun. There were cops and drunken belligerence to watch. Nicholai, Daisy, and I entertained everyone. I talked Geek with some forum guys. whee. I freaked out Patrick, I think. The week is on the positive swing, fueled in part by a tiny, futile crush on Nicholai. Jason helps me get over it. None of the Whores like Jason, and he doesnt quite understand why he’s so hard to stomach. Its not VERY difficult for me, but it has its moments. I cannot get a word in edgewise sometimes, and he tells the same damn stories over and over again. But once in a while he tells something of value or insight and I end up liking him again. My Psych and Law class rocks soooo hard, and I met a really liberal lawyer. I want one of those in my size.

02/01/03 — I wake up and have a compulsion to straighten my half the room. I do so with a vengeance, tragically thwarted by my lack of possession of hangers. Ah well. The best intentions and all that. Sarah shows up while Im cleaning and fails to be a figment of my imagination. I mostly ignore her as I clean. I find rhetorical small talk rolls off my tongue, unbidden. She leaves. I head home. I need to remember not to do that anymore while the sun is setting in my eyes. It is most unpleasant. I arrive at home and no one else is there, as I’ve arrived quite unannounced. Mum and Toby come home and have not got anything for me to eat. I make soup. Its very pathetic. My dogs have been fighting viciously and I think Mum wants to put Israi down or give her away, but if she does, Israi will die because she wont eat, and I will be forced to do something drastic. To myself of course. I wish Phil wasnt allergic to shedding dogs. Toby and I go and ask permission to record Jacob the next day. My dad has been moving out all this week, and I help him schlep the last of his stuff. He only lives a few blocks away, and he hasnt hardly any furniture. He is living off bean soups, which are Good and Nutritious, and cost 85 cents for a package. We go shopping for stuff for his new apartment, like food and cleansers. I teach him how his furniture, should he come by any, ought to be arranged, to make walking around not-dangerous. He has huge closets, and Toby is now the only one in the family shafted on personal closet space. Mum is moving some of my stuff into the back yard, now that Daddy is gone. I buy apple cider vinegar, but forget to pick it up before I leave. Must reclaim.

02/02/03 — A good deal of this day is spent with Jacob and another is spent with his family. Jacob’s interview is totally listless and fruitless. He has a lot of speech problems, but he also has an obsession with playing the same game repeatedly, and Power Rangers High Force or whatever the fuck its called. A good 30 minutes of my 90 are him saying “Pick who wins.”, making fighting noises, and declaring “He wins!” Ah well. I drive back over the hill and pick up Y? and Nicholai. We go shopping. We cook. We eat. We talk. We laugh. We’re a regular BH&G family. We drop Y? off and pick up Jason. Jason drives and Nicholai navigates, and we pick up Aud and her friend, Jenn, from the train station. We drop off Aud and Nicholai first, and Jenn lives near us, so Jason asks if we cant make a quick grocery run. Jenn buys more than Jason. We help Jenn schlep everything up to her apartment, and stay there for hours talking. She’s awesome. She could only be cooler if she was bi or lesbian. Around 5am we go home, only cause I mention I have class in the morning.

03/02/03 — I don’t make it to class. I throw a mild temper tantrum when Denise asks me to move my car at 8am. I sleep in till 1. Its not enough but it will have to do. I can’t meet anyone. My isolation begins. It passes like a third weekend-day. I sell off some hours so I can go home at a god-fearing hour. Jason and I ride the bus together. Adan has come and gone while I am at work. He has left a note that makes me amused and sad. He is moving back to El Paso. I call his place, assuming he’s gone, but he picks up. We talk for a while. Sapo has come back 2 days ago. Adan will visit again in a month. I tell him to visit with his mother so he needn’t ever go back. He leaves anyway. Jason and I go to Yoshinoya and come home and talk until 4. I really wish he had gone earlier. I need sleep.

04/02/03 — AbPsych day. I read through it. No one around to meet me for lunch. Im alone. I start having cutting fantasies. I cant find anything to read to commit to. I try to get a Buffy night together, but the turnout is abysmal. The only upside is that I now know that Samara is awesome Buffy girl. She can totally hang with us more. She doesnt really like Jason either. :-/ Im swamped with loneliness. I have cutting fantasies. Desolation. All sorts of bunk. I make a post on the forums “need a boyfriend”. People respond! One guy tries to sell me his roommate.

05/02/03 — Meh. I go to Ling, meet my new partner. She’s cool and has nephews to experiment on. I go to Psych/Law, see the roommate. He doesnt say a word, doesnt approach me. apth. He’s not online after class either. I, being a spaz, am having a horrible looks-day. I have a bruise on my forehead and I don’t particularly care to go into why. It becomes abundantly clear I will not ever have a boyfriend. Even geeks avoid me. I come home, Heather picks me up for dinner @ McDonalds. We talk a lot. She’s got a guy. I tell her about my recent forays, but dont tell her why, really. I let her think its just about Sapo. I try to nap. Cannot. I watch Angel. Angel is good. I meet this guy, Alexey, and we go to Delores’. I am not his ideal woman, and he never says please or thank you to the waitress. He is young. Otherwise, we get along fine. I come home. Watch some telly. John Stewart rocks my world. Around 2am, I get a call. The night shift I thought was for the next night is TOnight. I drive to CLICC.

Which is where I am now, on 02/06/03. Sitting in CLICC, watching my life end one minute at a time, catching up on blogging, and praying that just one person Ive talked to in the last two weeks or so realizes that they dont want a tiny asian girl. They really want a sex-deprived geek with a sharp wit. No, really.

I tire of the internet. Its missing something.

i kissed a girl
2003-02-10-12:24 a.m.

her lips were sweet.

Ive had a kinda shyte week, but a really good (for the most part) weekend. With the exception of losing my ATM card Friday night, its been pretty solid. I havent studied nearly enough, but yeah.

Thursday I got a ticket. That on top of everything else, I blew. I screamed and cried and just out and out raged for over an hour. Friday afternoon, I was supposed to meet some guy, but he didnt even approach me when he saw me. That blew. But, yeah. Over it.

I was so desperate a few days ago that I advertised on the UCLA forums for a boyfriend. A few guys responded. Im talking to one of them right now.

Im reserving analysis of what happened Saturday afternoon for a discussion with said girl. It was sweet, gentle, promising and good. But it doesnt seem plausible.

Saturday night, my dad took me to this place in Highland Park, Mr. T’s Bowl. Go. Have the Bouncer Sandwich. It’ll change your religion. So good. The place used to be a bowling alley. Now its a coffee shop/club/venue. Daddy and I were tired so we didnt stick around for a set. We went back to the studio and I talked with Jeff and this guy James. I amused them. I used one of my AAA service thingies for the year on this stupid Texan guy. Stupid Texas.

Today I met this guy Matt and Y? for lunch. Saks, cause I keep forgetting California Teriyaki is closed Sundays. Silly me. Y? leant me some money until I can reclaim my card tomorrow. Bloody banks bein closed Sundays.

Matt’s cute. And funny. And pointedly not interested. C’est la vie.

poor girl’s all gone away
2003-02-19-1:04 p.m.

My weeks have been sucking more or more. I find myself living for the redemption of the weekends. But why bother when all that lays on the other side is another week?

All my decisions are bad, no matter how good my intentions or how much I’ve thought them out. No one has ever truly loved me. Im fat, and Im ugly, and I cannot seem to make vanish either of these things. I have always been a tool or a toy for other people. Something to make work, or to play with until something more interesting comes along. I bring disgust and derision to the eyes of those I care for. People with no reason to believe so think Im stalking them, or trying to manipulate them. I am neither brilliant nor accomplished. Besides writing, I have no talents, and even this I cannot seem to make come to full form.

Im not depressed, I think. Its too easy a word, and it involves changes in sleep patterns and weight loss or increase, and nothing in my life has changed. More and more, I think of that fantasy Ive had since I was fifteen, but avoided. The one with about my shoulder. I read one confession in my ab-psych book where she drank an entire bottle of vodka first so she didnt feel anything.

I’ve always been terrified of death. I have panic attacks. But lately, there’s nothing. I know I have nothing to contribute to the future, so what’s the point of me staying on?

Fuck Sapo. Fuck Heather. Fuck everyone who doesnt mind being mean to me. But the problem is, with the exception of a VERY few people (M & Y?, maybe my parents), that’s pretty much everyone.

Im tired of looking for something wrong within myself. Im tired of trying to find out why Im the only one who is handled like this. I have a few questions left, but I dont think I need them answered anymore. If anyone wants to take a crack, though:

• Why is it everytime Im looking forward to something for more than a day, people bail on me? And I mean every time.
• Why do people who call me friend find it so easy to just disappear from my life without warning?
• Why do I know so many talented people, and the only ones who want to work with me are of mediocre talent, or dont give me their best in joint efforts?

Anyway. Yeah. I really can’t picture my own future anymore. The more I think about it, the more I envision a desk job with no chance for promotion. Maybe I can get into grad school, but for what? There arent any grad programs that ARENT highly selective. I wanna do creative writing, but yeah. Watch that happen.

I’ll never dance. I’ll never be good at bass. I’ll never front a rock band or write a famous play, or be a famous model or actor. I’ll never rescue the world’s impoverished children. Why try?

For the record, should I end up in the hospital, or whatever, I would want M or Y or even fucking Sapo to go through my My Documents and rescue anything that looks promising. I have notes all over my computer if you know how to look. Give em to a good writer. Make them live.

Don’t worry, though. I won’t. Im too lazy. And still afraid of pain.

dear carolyn…
2003-04-03-8:43 p.m.

I’m 21, living at a college about 30 minutes away from parents. I have a teenage sister who is very intelligent but very passive. My parents are in the final stages of their divorce procedings. My sister and I would be fine with this if not for our parents’ behaviors.

5 years ago, my parents told me that they were going to get divorced, and, amidst my crying, told me not to tell my sister. I didnt tell her for a few years, then decided it wasnt something I should keep from her.

Our mother calls me constantly to ask if Im OK with the divorce. She decided I cannot drive my sister anywhere, and that my sister cannot even run to the corner store without calling my mom at work and telling her where she’s going. My mom expresses her frustration at losing control of her marriage by taking firmer control of her children, and she’s a royal PITA.

Our father has a cool personality, though he can be high strung and fairly absentee when work presses him. However, one of my mom’s friends let it slip that my dad had been cheating for nearly a decade. When the divorce procedings were initiated, my dad got a girlfriend and told EVERYONE, including me and my mother, and started leaving for long weekends with her, even though my sister needed him. Now I see our father as a morally bankrupt individual.

I cannot be in a room with either one of them for more than a few hours before an argument begins, usually starting with them nitpicking some poor choice of diction or something trivial. My sister is threatening to move a long way away for college (not a luxury I was afforded), which sends my mother into “hurt mode”. I think at least one of my parents is planning to move away once the divorce is settled.

I’m so horrified that two people who are normally quite level-headed, have adopted such outlandish behaviors, and inflicted them on their children, and there’s this strange mix of fear and hope that I won’t see my family anymore after I graduate.

where have I been?
2003-04-03-9:03 p.m.

Spring break has come and gone. I passed all my classes by a good margin. I burnt the crap out of myself walking to the beach, but barely caught any rays ON the beach. I saw Y?’s workplace. Im back in school, and I feel good. Except for this rib-cage shattering loneliness.

I dont have any constant companions anymore. Im content on my own to an extent, but that extent is where I find the need for a real, present lover.

There is someone on the horizon, a friend of a lost friend, someone sweet and funny and good, but time and space and corporate rules are bitches.

Everyone is damn near ready to kill the Executive Director of my troupe. I like her as a person, and want to be her friend, but Im not sure how to remove the power from her hands. People who have threatened to leave have offered to come back when she leaves. It’s stressful for everyone.

This guy in the troupe, Greydon, took me after dress rehearsal to his place to get drunk one night. Four shots of tequila and something called a “fruit salad” later, and Im barely buzzed. Still, I taste tequila every time I burp, and had a hard time finding anything to eat either before or after. When I got home the next morning, I had two bogus parking tickets. I hate that officer. He’s evil.

Im at work now. And hungry.

relaxation
2003-04-04-11:13 a.m.

mm. after work last night, I went to Relaxations to meet the OS Whores for Boba. Me, Audrey, Heather, Gigio, Cabbie, Juliet, and Jen! Yay! Jen! I tried to convince Martin to come, the the communication lines were kinda fucked up on my part.

There weren’t any tables upstairs, so we sat two-to-a-stool. Audrey made Cabbie glad he rejoined us after his quarter-long hermitage. It was all cozy except Heather was there not talking to me anymore than I was talking to her. I really dont regret losing that friendship. She still clucks about her curfew.

I got the Peaches n Cream boba. Soooo weird but sooo good. We talked, we lauged, we fondled. Jen raised serious eyebrows from the Cantonese study group at the big table near us by reciting a long list of Cantonese cuss phrases. It was highly highly amusing.

Its kinda weird. I know Juliet likes Martin, and Martin likes Juliet, and theyre kinda taking it hella slow, and its just, awkward for me. And it shouldnt be, but he’s so fucking smart and cool, and…y’know. Tall. Im over him because of the drug thing, but it still irks me, not being the object of his crush. We’re so fucking compatable, its sick. And Juliet’s a sweetheart. Refer to my poem about Carlos. Anyway. Whatever. Attention drawn to current attention-drawer. Gosh, someone who actually likes me and is cute AND stable. Will wonders never cease? :-p

Gigio gave me a ride home and I got back around 1 in the morning, watched a little TV, besides being literally sick and tired, and then went to bed. My symptoms are getting worse, but at least I can breathe still. Time to inundate w/ Vitamin C, Zinc, Echinacea pill! Yum. Although its so sugary it makes me hack more.

I wanna protect my sister, but then I also want her to burn in hell for being the favorite and the more coddled. But she’s got my disease where she cant SAY anything to the person she likes first. Sucks. I think Disney’s fucked us.

damn jews
2003-04-04-11:49 a.m.

OK, so the point of today why I started writing anyway but got distracted…

I was in discussion today, and the TA passed out a problem on Palestinian Arabic. This ortho-Jew-boy int he class raised his hand and says in the MOST obnoxious zeloutous voice ever, “This should really be called Israeli Arabic, because God gave the Jews Israel forever!”

How do you say “Oh, for fuck’s sake, this is NOT a political forum!” in Hebrew?

forgive me, father, for i have sinned
2003-04-07-3:16 p.m.

Why?

Saturday night was the Shakespeare Party. It almost happened that no one showed up, but Greydon, Alex, and their friend Tony took charge and tracked people down. Yay! I like being taken care of.

A good portion of the part consisted of taking care of overly drunk people, but thats all right. I was proud to have contributed to the college experience for some of my sophmore friends.

As to the sin itself…I don’t actually feel guilty about it. I dont feel anything about it. I never really do. I think I commit this sin because I have nothing better to do at the moment. What I do resent is that Im being ignored now.

Yesterday was the first performance. I flubbed my lines in R & J and dropped an entire speech in MWoW. Blah. Diedre will be there tonight so I dont have to worry about two scenes again. Scott made English Sherry Trifle and it was sooo sooo good. However, it occurs to me this morning that aside from the trifle and a bit of peanut butter and some leftover stirfry, I didnt actually eat yesterday. Hmm. Finally, sickness is the key to weightloss. Ive never NOT eaten when I was sick before.

M tried to make it to the performance but she didnt know the tricks to UCLA-area parking, and since my phone doesnt work much on campus, I didnt get her call, or even realize she was missing until after the show.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit…

Bloody male dominated religions. Bloody male everything.

What differentiates a slut from a player besides gender/orientation?

sick
2003-04-07-3:26 p.m.

I ducked out of Ling C132 at the half to go to Ashe. I have another URI. Blah. He gave me Tylenol w/ Codeine. Whee. Narcotics. Its to supress my coughing, but I can only take it at night. And no alcohol. Ew.

I wish I could plead drunk.

making good use of discussion
2003-04-10-11:54 a.m.

Im waiting for Ling C132 discussion to start. i look at the Mac behind me and see Heather. Oohhh K…a lil creepy. ah, they started the class and she darted.

Last night I had this dream that I saw Sapo and confessed how hurt I was that he didnt seem to care about me. He was shocked and told me to follow him. He took me into his Furc dream (only, y;know, corporeally.). It was a pretty hopping place, lots of furres chilling, and his DS was really involved. He had to do spell after spell to get to his secret place in his dream where he kept a big black backpack. When the backpack was opened, I could see written in red were diary excerpts, how much he had hurt without me, and how he was suffering. I remember being touched, but I can’t remember how I responded. It may have turned into a chase-horror dream after that.

Before performance Sunday, Madeline tooke Keita, EJ, and me to rieber. id never been there before. Decent food, I guess. We tried to teach EJ how to score digits, but he’s too shy and good natured. *sigh*

Anyway, Sunday was more of the same, as far as Brian ignoring me, but MWoW was SOOOO much better with Diedre. Diedre and Meghan feed off of each others’ energy. I want to direct them in something really random, like Piece of My Heart. Also, there was no trifle. Scott gave me the recipe, but it takes a couple days and I think I left it in the theatre anyway. EJ gave me a ride home. We talked, it was nifty.

I finally boought books and sent in half the money I owe. If I can just get balanced, I might be able to buy groeries and tune up my car.

This Friday, Im trying to get Moranne, Jen, and Nicholai to go with me to McRed’s to see Jacaranda. Nicholai needs to call me! This will be the last Jacaranda performance I attend where I will not know anything more than freaking.

yum yum yummy
2003-04-10-8:01 p.m.

After discussion, I went to Phonology. I like Kie so much thus far. I dont know why. Im just generally overly optomistic about the entire quarter. During the break, I started organizing my folder, and people started commenting on how busy and organized my stuff was (they really l iked the color charts), and I mentioned the band I’ll be performing with this Wednesday, and practice, and racing to see NepTep and Jacaranda, and all that, and I went into OCD-overdrive. I spent the rest of the class organizing my folder and my schedule book and not listening and BOY am I an idiot.

However, I DID engage Jennifer, this girl who tried out for Shakespeare last night. I think Im gonna do a lesbian brave new world style Measure for Measure. Planet of the Amazons style. Hmm.

Anyway, after that I went to Farmer’s Market and bought strawberries and an artichoke and pomegranite juice. The juice is a lot sweeter than pomegranites themselves. Its probably an effect of the skin, like grapefruit. I bought the deformed, dejected strawberries, and the lady gave me extra. I got miso soup from this sushi restaurant that just opened up today. It took forEVER to get it, and they make both spam AND cream cheese sushi (but not in the same roll), so Im traumatized now. POINT being, I totally gorged myself today. My sister mentally includes me in the “fat” people that comprise our family. Look, Im TRYING, all right? What kind of sick bitch gorges herself on produce and soy?

whoops! i’m bout to slip down
2003-04-11-3:48 p.m.

Ugh to bitchy co-workers. When I was working the other day, this…SLOR (wow, havent used that word in a while), sent me to fix a printer, while I was trying to file a report on that same printer which I had just spent a bunch of time working on. YES, I was aware it was messing up, and if she had just LISTENED to me for two fucking minutes, I could have told her I was working on writing the report and getting that printer shut down. But no. I fixed the jam AGAIN and then told her off, and she was all trite about it so fuck her. I spent most of that 6-hour shift on those damn printers because some TS had to go all more-knowledgeable-than-thou on me. Slor slor slor slority slor slor slor. And I really hate prescriptionists. Guess what? American English doesnt conform to your stuffy little world. Cope.

Tonight Im going to see Jacaranda with Jen, M, and possibly Nicholai. This may involve me driving on freeways. Tomorrow I have belly dancing and band practice, not to mention homework. Why oh why arent we open 24 hours yet?!! Sunday I have homework and swing. Monday I have to finish homework. My work schedule isnt up yet even though its Friday which SUCKS. Wednesday I have performance, AND my nNePtEp are playing 14-Below. Grr.

rebecca mecca
2003-04-17-10:53 a.m.

Eee! Despite the legitamate first half of the day (and I mean literally midnight to noon), yesterday turned out really good.

First the terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad part (if you dont wanna feel bad for me, skip along, skip along). The badness actually started on Tuesday (and if I say something bad happened on a Tuesday, you KNOW its bad). So Tuesday, after Buffy (which, ok, overall good, but oh! my poor baby Xander! Yay for the Faith montage, Faith/Spike bonding, and Firefly guy as Caleb! but I digress), I went in to CLICC to do my Language Processing Lab (yeah, ok, I procrastinated. Shaddup.).

Y? was on teh bus. I didn’t even notice she was sitting across from me until I heard “We have got to stop meeting like this.” Well, ok. I heard a kinda mumbling in Y?’s voice, saw her, and had to ask her 3x what she said. Either Im deaf or she mumbles. Yeah, OK. I’m deaf.

Y? walked em to CLICC. I told her I had been feeling sicker in a relapsey sort of way. Ohhh yeah. Nothing like an all-nighter with bronchitis. Gods, I hate my lungs. Actually, despite the fact that the Excel sheets didn’t seem to accept my data (which I attribute to using Fetch to upload my data last time. Stupid Macs), I was done around 5:30 am. I crashed on CLICC’s couch, which would be so much more comfortable if it could accommodate my feet. But 4 hours of sleep IS…well, 3 1/2 hours because I woke up at 9am and went to Ashe. While I was waiting for the Nurse/Practitioner, I made up a parody to Janis Joplin’s “Mercedes Benz” song about wanting different lungs, nose, ears, eyes, and everythign else in me that takes infection too easily. At the end of it all, though, I got Amoxicillin, which a L says will give me infections I dont want, but I say, at least I’ll be breathing.

Between Ashe and the pharmacy, and the fact that my class was in Bunche, I was 20 minutes late to class. I had sent word via a fellow 132 all-nighterer that I might not be there, but still the fear remained that it might not be accepted. It was. Day started looking up.

I had to wait until noon when Schutze called break to turn it in though, so I was all squirmy, wanting to go hom and start my antibiotics and nap.

Here’s the intermission: Can I just say, Think Thin! Low Car Diet French Toast is a strange but awesome little bar? Now that’s a breakfast. (I should get money for that.)

Resuming. I went home. Yay home. I took a grip of pills and ate something a little more proteiny/filling (canned chicken salad. My specialty), and watched Urban Myths on MTV w/ roomie. I’m so bad about taking care of myself. But I did take a nap, and I fell asleep planning how to get to nNePtEp’s show on time. I woke up at 4:20pm (teehee), did the mad dash to shower, change, do hair and makeup, and get a little practice in before the gig. In all that, I totally forgot to put on the tattoo.

A few days ago on Bruin Walk, I got a temporary tatt for the Matel Children’s Hosptial on campus that I meant to wear onstage and have been keeping in my wallet so I wouldnt forget. D’oh!

Anyway, I got to the Coop at 6. We set up, schmoozed, did sound checks, and even did a few impromptu songs, “Basketcase” and that sappy Pearl Jam/oldie cover. We’re so cool. The guy who introduced us didn’t know my major. I had been there for an HOUR before, onstage, tunign up, and he didn’t ask my major. *annoyed*

The set itself went…well. I messed up at the end of “Yellow Ledbetter” a bit, and I dropped “Good”’s bassline more than I care to go into because my fingers were freezing cold. I feel bad. But I think the four of us should keep together. Mike (lead guitar/singer) dubbed us MelAcc, which got a few chuckles from the engineering crowd.

After the set, I picked up my stuff and bounced.Juliet had come and helped me out by carrying my amp for me. I thought she was just gonna carry it to the bus, but she carried it all the way to my apartment. Juliet rocks my socks. I tried to beg her to come with me to 14-Below, but alack! she declined. Ah well.

Overall, our turnaround time (from the bus stop to the apt to the other bus stop) was gorgeous, and I didn’t even get to 14-Below as late as I had convinced myself I would. I actually entered before they went on!

OK, two sidenotes.

1. On the bus tot he club, there were a man and a woman sitting near me. I heard the man mention 14-Below and I kinda grinned and said I was going there right now. It turns out they work at West L.A. Music. They were discussing classic joints like the Whiskey and how they were shells of their former selves. I talked to them about music and clubs, the man got off the bus, and the woman and I kept talking. I invited her to come see nNeP. She did. She was cool. I bring the revellers. Maybe I could take a job as a club promoter. I have a fairly good track record thus far.
2. Matt, the bassist, told me (and then Mel and Kerry mentioned at various points), that his sister in New York had tried looking the band up on teh net, and only three sites came up, including this one. Whee! Google loves this site. I was a little bit apprehensive at first, but they seemed amused so yay for WTMIAK!

nNeP rocked, and, as I think I’ve said, I enjoy them as people, the lot of them. Even their non-musician friends are cool, and Im not just saying that because the one called Wes sponsored me. *gggg* I got their demo CD w/ “Rebecca Mecca” which is, like, my favorite of their songs. After, we went to the sports bar next door. I got to hang out with the four (nNeP and John) and their friends and relative.

Things I learned last night:

hypocrites n’ hols
2003-04-21-4:25 p.m.

So the big news for the weekend is that for the first time in my adult life, I’m under 200 lbs. as of Saturday. 198. Oh yeah. OK, its not a LOT under 200, but Ive dropped about 7 lbs this WEEK. Hmm, if i can keep that up until Comic Con, I could be almost decent-looking.

And now for my semi-annual even-cool-people-are-hypocrites rant.

A lot fo the coolest people I know go on AT LENGTH about how looks arent important, and, theoretically, a little extra weight should be the least of these concerns (compared to say, the Streisand nose I don’t bear, but my genes are sooo harboring). But this is a lie, and you know this is a lie, and I know this is a lie, and Im sure that, on some level, THEY know this is a lie. Looks matter. To them, to everyone, to some extent. Brilliant men fuck up their lives because they opt for the conniving-but-stupid bimbo models over the even-tempered intelligent eggplant girl time and TIME again. Of course, given enough alcohol, my cool friends will make passes at me…

Anyway, after Belly Dancing Saturday, I went to seder at Bink’s house. Toby brought Taylor and there was food and prayer and…karaoke. OK, we usually always sing, but digital music and bad punctuation is not usually involved. Nor is there normally such a god-awful proliferation of showtunes and easy listening. Toby, Taylor, and my brains were fried tot he extent that we couldnt even think up any good songs not on the karaoke list to move away from the nightmare. I had to play my blues/jazz/swing/bluegrass compilation the next morning just to get a sense of rhythm back in my head.

Yesterday was like, Eastery goodness, but without the church and gross zombie part. I had planned my day around Swing class, but I remembered I didn’t have it, so I called my dad and he picked me up and took me to his friend, JC’s house for a lovely all-day sit-down meal. JC is not treated like the rest of the world is treated. He’s a sweet man with sweet dogs, but it hurts me to see so many show biz personalities so deferential. JC seems to approve of me though, so yay. His friends, his cousin, cousin’s gf and roommate were all incredibly nifty too. My dad hangs with cool people.

I’m pretty sure I don’t like Karen and I don’t want her framing pictures of me and Toby.

After JC’s, Da’ dropped me off at Scott’s secular Easter Party, so I got to see Harvey, which I had never seen before, and Who Framed Roger Rabbit? on DVD. There was copious chocolate and The Trifle (which, truly, is no mere trifle), and…and…I got there around 10, so I missed the rabbit-flesh-fest. And there’s this new girl, Brandy, in the troupe who’s observing Passover (I mean, Im observing it too. Look. There it is.), and I helped her get chametz-free trifle mousse.

Passover is the Cliff’s Notes version of Lent., and Yom Kippur is the Cliff’s Notes Ramadan. Channukah is the long-drawn-out less-important version of Christmas. And Purim is Halloween with less gore.

things that never hurt less
2003-04-23-4:59 p.m.

…even though I should be SO used to them by now:

so disconnected
2003-04-25-3:51 p.m.

I feel cut off. I go through circles of it. Everyone is too busy to hang with me. At least one person is mad at me for something I didnt exactly do, possibly two.

I missed discussion today. I slept until I would have been late to class, and did nothing about it. Im supposed to call this girl in 2 of my classes and ask her if she wants to do homework and lab together this weekend. I think I stopped losing weight, and maybe even gained a bit back. Fuck fuckity fuck fuck. My self-control vanished with the introduction of stress.

No one in nNeP and no one in my cast has emailed me back. Im gonna just set a time to meet. I really really really need EJ’s response though. Otherwise I may have to go to BW, and wont THAT be awkward.

I folded all my laundry and hung up everything I have to hang and was all proud of myself for a moment, before I got back to being self-conscious. I have an offer to go to a party tonight, but I dunno if I should go. I probably wont. I’ll probably turn into the hermit sort I loathe so very very much.

I feel like Im in that Goosebumps book where everyone around the kid is part of a plan to test him to see if he’s good enough to send on a mission to Earth. Earth sounds nice this time of year.

Sex is bad. Im swearing off sex. Unless M calls me.

I wonder if anyone is so truly desolate as I feel. Its like I walk the world in a shell. Things happen around me, but they never want to play with shell-girl.

Shell Girl

Shell Girl
Walking down this world
Never
Knows she isnt quite alone
When I see her looking so damn sad
It makes me feel just so damn bad
Cause Shell Girl
Yes, my Shell Girl
Is a swell girl
Once you get inside her Shell.
Girl, you don’t have to be a loner
Though you’re less exciting than a stoner
Shell Girl
In your own private hell, girl
Left on your own to yell, girl
Cause noone can hear through your shell.
Girl.

[Instrumental]

Shell Girl
Walking down this world
Never
Gonna get thrown a bone
You can’t hang on, she walks right by
Unloveable, don’t even try
She may be cute, but you’ll find
Every chance, she’ll slip your mind
Shell Girl
In your own private hell, girl
Go a head and yell, girl
I don’t care
Cause I can’t see you in your shell.
Girl.

Need to find a topic for Phonology. Will spend entire weekend locked up and studying. No really. I mean it this time.

I just wanna dance, dance, dance. I miss Craig Kilborn.

Thursday, nNep is playing at the Sagebrush Cantina. Luckily, that barely counts as a school night. Now lets see if I can’t shirk work as well.

Im the Invisible Girl, a la Queen or Buffy. I wonder if I should become a governmental tool of destruction. Mmm. Governmental tool of desctruction…

If I lose weight, will my nose lose weight? Cause it’s too big. But maybe its not fat. Maybe its genetic. Then I’ll be sad. Sometimes I think if I ever get thin, all my skin will sag and I’ll be even uglier, and I wont even get the old icky Persian/Mexican guys vibes I get now.

Someone come dance with me, take me away from me.

own personal jeebus
2003-04-28-2:05 p.m.

overstock.com is a new jeebus.

Saturday, mostly out of boredom, I bought a Diaryland Supergold membership. Now there’s all these little things I dont understand. Extra fields. What are these strange things and what do they do?!

I painted my nails yesterday and theyre all pretty and glittery and stuff. Since I used glitter, they maybe will be stiffer and wont tear as easily. Typing feels so weird. OK, no pressure on me or anything, but here are the things due this week:

• Tuesday – Phonology Homework
• Wednesday – Processing Lab
• Thursday – Phonology Midterm
• Thursday – Development Midterm (so-called “Mid-quarter” by the prof)

Which all adds up to no sleep for Kat. Ah, and then the true challenge of College Stupidity will be if I make the nNePtEp gig in Culver City Thursday night. I hope I can find a sponsor.

new and exiting
2003-04-28-5:52 p.m.

The new fields dont do me much good, and make my older entries look kind of ugly, so I’m not going to bother with them just now.

This guy hit on me today. He called me pretty. He said he had seen me yesterday and was going to approach me, but he didnt want to fright me. He recognized me working Counter though and said something. We talked awhile, during midday computer-orgy. He’s pretty intelligent and cool. An MFA student. How nifty is THAT? So, lil ego boost for me. Yay. Twenty bucks says hes some kind of scary religious though. Betcha by golly wow.

My cast meeting produced 2 people. The only persons Im concerned about anymore are my Pompey and my Lucio. Lucio is kinda key to the whole scene.

Mary J. Blige…was she the first one to sing “I’m Going Down”? Cause it seems like such a classic song. I could just be influenced by Mowry renditions though. I want to d/l it and listen to it till I learn it. It owuld sound good in my voice, I think.

My head hurts. I almost dont want to go to Salsa today. Its hurt all day, too.

It looks like we’re all staying in the apt for the next academic year. Yay for low-stress! Yay for feeding my OC personality!

flaking glitter
2003-04-30-2:02 p.m.

My nail polish is chipping, so they’re a pathetic kind of shiny.

I went to see a creative writing professor today and he said the main thing considered in MFA programs is the quality of the writing sample. Gods, I hope so. But he did give me some ideas about what I need to do to get into a program, and said to come back next Wednesday at 1:30. I need to update my planner.

M called last night. We vibe so well when we’re actually, y’know, interacting. =Þ So the guy from the last entry called last night and we talked a bit more. He doesn’t seem scary religious, so take your by golly wow and get out. He’s actually fairly cool. Lots in common. I wonder how old he is. As long as we talked last night, I didnt remember to ask. It seemed rude at the time, but in remembering David, incredibly pertinent in retrospect.

TWO of my actors from my Shakespeare scene bailed, and I think I still havent heard from one of them, so…oh no, no pressure. Im going to start looking up other scenes now. I want to use Veronica and Adam in the worst way.

My pressure crisis seems less pressury, as long as I can get enough reading done by 9:30 am tomorrow. If I skip training and just do the online assignment, I can go home and shower and maybe nap after my last midterm and be all pretty for nNeP.

No one’s commenting on my entries! This makes me sad inside.

return of the library from hell
2003-04-30-4:24 p.m.

This is only my second time ever working in SEL. At least there doesnt seem to be any evil wench-woman around.

Nicholei said I look good, that I look like Im losing weight again. Yay! He stroked my tummy. There’s this co-worker who I was talking to about the Sagebrush Cantina who didn’t look amused by me and Nick being so physically familiar.

A while ago, my daddy said that if I lost all my extra weight, I’d be beating guys off with a stick. The idea kinda amuses me, but kinda firghtens me too. Ive already had trouble with guys trying to follow me home and stuff. I don’t particularly want that issue compounded. And if I lose too much weight, will I be too slight to fight people off? No, because Im drinking milk…err…taking belly dancing. I feel me getting stronger. The class is pretty muscle-intense.

I told T last night that I have lots of friends, lovers, and admirers. I was joking at the time, but when he pressed me about it, I realized it was kinda becoming true. It’s strange to be liked, I think. Its stranger yet to get away with stuff because Im liked. I was in a smartass mood on Tuesday and kept cracking jokes in class, but everyone just laughed.

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one
Compares with you
And these mem’ries lose their meaning
When I think of love
As something new.

How do I know if Im a good enough writer for the MFA program? The professor I talked to said as a writer, I was going to be rejected QED. But that’s just it. In matters of pure writing, Ive NEVER really been rejected. I won the fellowship. Ive been printed in poetry journals. I know how to pick out my own best works for presentation. I know how to write in almost every fiction style there is, and still have time to make up my own. I don’t understand why people wouldn’t want my stuff, until I realize that people may just be flattering me, and that sucks more than I can begin to put into words.

wait a minute
2003-04-30-4:39 p.m.

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

Take the Dante’s Inferno Hell Test

How the HELL did I get Very High on Violence?!! I answered “No” to everything Violence-related. Im one of the worlds leading pacifists…or something. Come to think of it, how did JOHN get into 7th level? And how did he get so High on Level 2?! As far as I know, only about three of those questions apply to him…

deleting memories
2003-05-09-7:51 a.m.

I hit my allotment for my ucla webmail, so it was time to go through my sent mail and delete the unneeded. A good deal of my life is a litany of time-stamp issues and linguistics projects.

Another major theme seems to be trying to make friends. I don’t get why people I think are cool as shit don’t seem to wanna hang out with me. My mom says I’m cool.

I dont delete some emails. Scripts and good memories. Of course some are stupid. I didnt delete one email simply because in one sentence I refer to Sapo as my boyfriend.
,br> So, two homeworks, a night shift, and an awkward pause later, I have my own computer again for a while. A Mac. Heh. Oh no, this isnt strange.

My dad brought it last night, along with two (2!) RHPS action figurines! I have Columbia and RiffRaff on the Alter next to Angel and Oz now. Harvey Nagila has been displaced to the CD thingy.

My dad also brought Uncle Billy. Of my dad and his brothers, he’s the most handsome, but he’s also the most cold-hearted towards me and my mother. He likes my sister. He’s very into physical stuff, and the last time he came here, he wanted to go to the beach, and I had a raging headache, which my dad kindly transalated into me being lazy. Asshole. No, I was actually on my ass with this headache for hours.

Anyway, Bill can be pretty pointedly cold when you’re an overweight female. Or any other day of the week I think. For the hols, he used to donate money in my sister and my names, which is cool. Then one year, he wanted an essay from us on why these charities were worthy recipients. WTF?!! My charity is cystic fibrosis and my sister’s is a battered women’s shelter. Theyre worthy because PEOPLE DIE if you don’t do something. OK, people with CF are gonna die anyway, but you can at least prolong their lives, and give them alternative treatments.

However, Bill does have one uber-redeeming quality to him: his daughter. She is amazingly cool. She’s about 6 or 7, Chinese import, and clever and energetic and fun. I kinda wish he brought her with him, like one of those little dogs rich people seem to take everywhere. Ah well. Dad says BIll is making an effort, so I kinda regret not being warmer towards him last night, but I just…don’t get it. And its not like he was Mr. Chattypants.

On the upside: Canters 2 nights in 2 weeks. On the downside: I was doing so WELL until the Chocolate Eclair. Canters makes up for its eclairs lack-of-flaky-puffyness with about a gallon of chocolate cake-icing on top, and the custard is pretty good too. My dad didnt want anything, so he just ate half of mine . Saved me from me, in my view. After seeing how much icing was on mine, i convinced another woman at the counter to buy one. Hehe. Temptation. IR evil.

I finally made a brisket! Its not brilliant, but it doesnt suck. I can’t find the crock pot machine, so I just used the pot and lid and stuck it in the oven. There is nothing barbeque sauce cannot make good. I fell asleep for about 6 hours, and apparently that’s a pretty decent cooking time for a brisket, although I think I could have stood to have left the temperature lower before I nodded off. Sigh.

Why do I continue to have 10am classes?

Two nights ago, I felt all this pressure just crash down on me. A lot of its still there, but at least Im not in nervous breakdown mode anymore. I hate crying on the phone to mum. I hate crying. I feel so weak afterwards, and it takes so much out of me I can never do it for long. I really dont understand the concept of “a good cry”. But Mum offered to take care of some things, and Ive dealt with a couple other things, and now I just need to worry about getting to dance classes this weekend, and you know…money, insurance, tickets, school, future, buffy/angel/that 70’s show, etc. I need my dogs.

Shakespeare party tonight. That was a pleasant little surprise.

My skin is shot. I dont see how I could ever be pretty anymore. Nature keeps working against me. I thought I had thought I stopped losing weight, and I probably have, but at least now I have an idea of WHY that doesnt directly implicate my eating habits. I think my dad mentioned paying for a manicure last night. Hmm…I think Im going to hold him to that. I really want my nails to get long enough for the Drusilla thing. God, im such a fangirl.

Alrighty then, off to another fun-filled day of class, experiments, and…maybe work…I should look that up….

quick
2003-05-09-8:17 a.m.

does anyone want to do a two-day fast with me? clear liquids only?

a weekend to end the week
2003-05-12-5:34 p.m.

I know you are, but what am I?

Friday night was a much-needed party. It was at a Shakespeare actress’s apartment, and I actually got drunk off of only two drinks. I ask you! I was apalled at me. But it was fun because everyone was nice and Greydon took care of me, and my sinning cohort held my hand (when no one was looking, of course). Rachel has the coolest roommates. I love to see a household like that that truly WORKS. Gives me a happy. I also like the fact that guys seemed concerned about me. Its not a Munchausen thing. I just…its interesting to me.

During the drinking game (Kings and Cats by any other name is still a classic), Greydon took all the drinks on my behalf (”Ooh, ladies drink. Don’t worry, Kat. I’ll drink for you.” He’s such a prince.) while I laid with my head in his lap, drfiting pleasantly in and out of consciousness (I arrived a good 2 hours before everyone else, so I had a heavy headstart on the drinking thing). One of the times I woke up, I realized someone was holding my hand behind Grey’s back, then I realized who it was, and I spent a few pleasant minutes squeezing his fingers, and he squeezing mine. Still, I wish he didnt have to be immersed in drink to acknowledge me. Not that I want a relationship. Just a little civility.

After I had talked to mine hostesses at length and made friends with some non-Shakespeare people, and sobered up a bit, I spent a good deal of time looking after overly-drunk Cohort and making sure no innocent fratboys went thirsty. Im getting good at bartending.

I finally got home around 7am, grabbed my car (fully sober, no worries), and went to the Valley. My mom and I took it to Pep Boys and we got new brakes and oil and stuff, which my mom graciously paid for and hardly said “I told you so” at all. I missed Belly Dancing though. I feel horrible for it.

For breaky, My dad and Uncle took us to this French bakery place that does a decent omelette. First, I got to wake people up. Taylor was easy peasy (magic word: doughnuts), but Toby, I had to bust out with “Alive awake alert enthusiastic” at which point she threatened to finda hose and do something horrible with it to me. Aint she adorable folks? But I got everyone up and going like I was Ex-Lax….or something. We were all ready and waiting for Poppi, but momma finally called him and apparently he got sucked in by a garage sale down the street. We went and had a gander, and they had some pretty cool stuff and some pretty weird stuff, and I found stuff for people and Toby bargained so well it brought a tear to my daddy’s eye. After that I caught a nap with my puppy until my car was ready.

Went back home, changed, and got a ride to Borders. Am a quarter-through with Acorna’s Search. Rachel picked me up and we met Greydon and Alex for dinner and MacBeth. It was good. Pirate themed. The backstage fighting sounded amusingly pornographic, which Ive been helpfully mentioning to everyone Ive told about it so far.

Sleep! What a brilliant idea! When I woke up, I called Toby and she told me Dad was cooking brunch for Mother’s Day. We did a delightful little brunch, replete with berries, and I ran Taylor to her place and back and talked to the chillins a little while and generally fostered good will until I went back home to get ready for Swing.

Can I just say, I love Universal Swing? And not just because Im kinda good at the technical parts. It just LOOKS good when you do it right. Of course, how many people do you know who can do Universal Swing? Sigh.

Anyway, I came home, watched telly, and went to bed at some ungodly hour like 10pm…

peekaboo!
2003-05-14-3:42 a.m.

…I see you. I love having this many stats trackers on my site. Now the question is: why are my roommates checking my blog so many times a day?

It’s entirely too early in the morning for all this. Im trying to finish my Lang Processing Lab, but I cant find a file I apparently need. =( And Nicholei hasnt come to entertain me. I hope Im awake enough tonight to go to the Derby AND come home and do homework. At least I know not to drink this time. Friday night was too weird, and cannot POSSIBLY be beneficial when I have homework due to even test my new limits.

I got a weird message from Kerry. An invite to the Derby. On one hand, yay! a personal invite. On the other hand…umm…I already said I’d be there like eight times. I beleive there were a stack of X-Men comics I was made to swear on or something?

Still, it looks like I have no one to go with. Damn…this may involve driving on the freeway by myself. On several freeways…If I don’t blog in a couple days, someone be a darling and ID my body? Thanks.

abortion portion
2003-05-14-1:13 p.m.

OK, so apparently every year now, these skanks are going to put up 2-story-high billboard depicting 3rd term partial abortions, preceding the display with posters saying “Warning: Genocide Ahead”. The last two days Ive been debating online about abortion rights.

Here is my initial reaction to the subject:

I am hugely and unfalteringly pro-choice. Pro-lifers are unfathomable to me. One of the ugliest debates Ive ever undertaken, and I have NEVER seen someone successfully argue for Pro-Life without:

1) Bringing up religion. You know what, Im an atheist. According to most of y’all Im already going to hell, so what does this matter? Pick a new theme.
2) Bringing up propogandistic photos or images of third-term partials, which are mostly illegal anyway, so remove your head from your ass already.
3) Bringing up some tearful, personal story about how THEY were almost aborted (and I honestly can’t always see the bad there).

Outlawing abortion is along the same lines as outlawing homosexual sodomy to me (not straight sodomy mind. They only have laws against same-sex). Hateful and Texan.

A bit harsh, neh? But in high school I got buried by someone pulling out this story about how SHE was nearly aborted (complete with tears). This was a debate in a politics class for a grade, and she fucking pulled THAT shit. Skank-ho-bitch-mouse.

A little later on, I added:

I adore how everyone’s like “just give it up for adoption”. Ohhhh. How many kids have YOU adopted lately? How many kids are being bounced through the foster system because theyre the wrong race/height/attitude? How many foster kids have you or someone you know taken in for an extended period of time?

Honestly, in the first two terms, I dont think the fetus is human, its only potentially human. Like every time you menstruate or (guys) jack off, you’re wasting the potential for human life. I refer the board to Monty Python’s “Every Sperm is Sacred”.

I dont believe in third-term abortions unless the mother’s life is in danger (and yes, it DOES happen. Medicine is good. Its not a replacement for nature yet though).

I appreciate the sentiment that pointed out that pro-CHOICE is not pro-ABORTION and even more did I appreciate the point of abortion is NOT genocide. This isnt a conspiracy of heathens or however the hell pro-choicers are painted. This is a group of DIFFERENT women who for diferrent reasons, some good, some selfish, decided to end the parasitic process in her body. And not everyone does this, either. There are plenty of people who are pro-choice who would never themselves have an abortion.

Above and beyond ALL of this, I object to the government telling a woman that she MUST bring to term whatever is planted in her body. She must bear the expense and suffering that comes with carrying an unwanted child, and then must deal with the pain of giving up something she is hormonally attatched to.

Pro-Lifers have their stories about Pro-Choicers, their urban legends, and we have ours about them. You have your horror tales about how a fetus was proven to be the next Einstein and we have ours about how a girl was stabbed to death by her parents when they found out she had gotten pregnant out of wedlock.

The thing is, horror tactics dont/shouldnt work. Seeing photos of worse-case-scenarios 2 stories high is not exactly a productive endeavor, especially after mislabelling it genocide. People love that word, and are usually the ones to deny the Holocaust.

Abortion is a SURGICAL process. There is always going to be blood and gore, and pro-lifers are always going to be parading that around like a gruesome bible. “This is truth.” Well, no. That is only a tiny fraction of truth, an aspect told out of context. A circumstance even most pro-choicers are against. And what was with the monkey?!!

Did anyone notice the picture of the monkey with the headgear on? I KNOW some of those pro-lifers are NOT against animal testing/spaying/neutering their pets, or any of the other hundred and five ways we have of torturing animal life.

The bit about parasitic process garnered disgust from those people who find it repugnant to be reminded that humans are part of the Animal Kingdom.

Now, without actually expending myself, Im now posting the best Pro-Choice arguments (honestly, there arent that many good Pro-Life arguments at all):

• RayofLight — I am 100% PRO-CHOICE. I feel that it is a choice entitlled to mothers. I do not deny the fact that it is indeed a human life you are destroying. That is something people have to face, no matter how you put it, it is a life you are ending. However, whether or not to bring that life into this world resides entirely on the mother. It is her choice what she wants to put her body through and how she wants to live the rest of her life. I do not like the idea of women committing this inhumane act, because it is, however it is a choice that I understand and accept. Making this choice does not make one a BAD person, it is a conscious choice like everything else in our life is. But like everything else, this choice does not go without consequences….
• Aatiyki — Pro-choice. Some people just don’t want kids, and shouldn’t be forced to have them in the event the condom breaks or the birth-control is 3% ineffective. Nor should they be forced to have it just to give it up for adoption if they don’t want to. Period.Women that don’t want their kids are less likely to take care of themselves during their pregnancy and increasing the risk of birth defects in their kids. How fair is that to the child? Sometimes abortion is for the best, and there is no denying it.

  [later post]
  what pisses me off is when some people confuse pro-choice with pro-ABORTION. That is fucking bullshit. I, nor any pro-choicer I know are solely pro-abortion, but that is what a lot of desperate pro-lifers like to say. There is a MAJOR difference between being pro-abortion and believing that abortion should be an OPTION for pregnant women (along with keeping their child or putting it up for adoption). And they say a lot of other extreme stuff too, which is more directed as hate towards pro-choicers and less at the task at hand.

• Mindshed — I dont think any pro-choice person ever says “it’s only a fetus and thus ok to abort because it can’t fend for itself and is dependent upon it’s mother.” That’s more like what cynical pro-life people say
• Po Man — I personally have an unique stance on the issue, I am a pro-choice person not only because ultimately, I think that people will choose what they will regardless of the law and that leaving desperate mothers without options can only lead to bad results (ie. Dr. Coathanger).More importantly, I can say that I am here because of abortion. I am the second child in my family but I was my mother’s third pregnancy, the second time she had to abort due to a surgery. My parents ideally wanted two children, and since my arrival there has been no more talk of having more children. So then had it not been legal I would not be here, it is a selfish argument I know, but that is plain fact.
• PianoMan — Like Po Man, I think I can offer some personal insight into this. I’ll be upfront on this. I was a mistake. My parents were all set for a summer vacation all over Europe, when my mom found out she was pregnant. My dad actually really wanted her to have an abortion, but she refused, and was very careful about not flying, not drinking, coffee, etc., unless absolutely necessary. She said that it was HER body, and HER decision, not my father’s. She was in grad school at the time.So… whaddaya think my position on this is? Well, duh! I’m pro-choice! Notice, my mom made the CHOICE to have me. A sad day if that decision is ever taken away from the mothers and put in the hands of the federal government.

  BTW, I am religious, and my religion is expressly against abortion for the killing of life issue. That’s where my views diverge from the church’s.

  Now, to make things even more complicated, I also feel that sometimes in society, abortion is seen as a “escape route” for a young couple that engaged in hanky panky and doesn’t want to deal with raising a child, or are hiding it from their parents. That’s just wrong, too.

  Abortion should be viewed as a last resort, only after exhausting all other possibilities, a woman comes to. I’m worried, however, that there are quite a few youths in America who are maybe just too young to “get it”, and think of abortion as a “quick fix” so their parents don’t find out they were fooling around. Admit it, this happens more often in this country than we’d like to admit. And that does sicken me.

  I leave with this caveat: If a woman wants to have an abortion, fine. It’s her decision, and that’s how it should be. BUT, I sincerely hope that if she decides to have an abortion, she’s doing it for the right reasons.

• StickMe (a male)– Pro Choice: I’ll never carry a child, it’s not my choice. Passing valutive judgements on this issue personally is moot. I could be the victim of a crime, therefore I feel my voice as important as relating to discourse over crime. I feel similarly about the economy, politics, etc.While it is possible that I will be affected in some way by an abortion even though I am a male, my physical or fiscal security and well being are not at stake. When you have the government trying to legislate emotions and religous morals, you start to get problems.

  Question to Pro-Life advocates:
  You say that a mother could at least carry the child to term, and then give it up for adoption. So, who is going to pay for that child? Are you willing to pay more taxes to support these children when no one else will? If your primary reason for being against abortion is that it does not honor the sanctity of life, then how honored is life if it is ignored once in this world?

  [later post in response to someone suggesting everyone simply stop having sex until theyre ready to have children, and compared abortion to suicide from overreating...not exactly the brightest crayon in the box]
  News Flash: People fuck. And they aren’t going to stop because you, or anyone says so. Saying “you shouldn’t have sex” does not add any insight or solve any problem. Yes, if they’re not ready for a child, or don’t take proper precautions, they shouldn’t have sex. But it happens. There is no use complaining that it does.

  People also don’t get 150 pounds overweight from eating a candy bar once.

• reimund — …genocide is the systematic and planned extermination of groups of people. That is true, but since when did anyone collectively choose to destroy groups of fetuses? The mothers are making the choices to abort the fetuses as individuals and only for themselves. It’s not like there is a coalition of moms out there who are looking to kill the fetuses of other mothers.
• |victor| — (in response to someone criticizing me about my point about orphans) i like how you phrased abortion as “kill[ing] them mercilessly at our own whim” – it’s a wonderfully skewed portrayal. the vast majority of abortions occur after intensive deliberation and consideration by the involved parties, thus making the label of ‘whim’ inaccurate. it’s not a spontaneous or impulsive process. additionally, terming the act a merciless killing is a gross misrepresentation. proceeding with an abortion is arguably an act of mercy for the mother and fetus.

And on it goes. My bottom line is thus:

I don’t think its morally wrong, especially not in the first two trimesters. And sometimes I think its very necessary. I think life…human life anyway, starts when you have testable cognitive functions, a demonstrable ability to adapt to survive.

Someone referred to “Dr. Coathanger” a while back. Someone should have mentioned “Dirty Dancing” too. You know what? Shit happens. People fuck, whether by force or by purpose. Birth control fails. At LEAST we have birth control available and common now. Back in the days of Roe v. Wade, it was hardly common in most of the country.

Pregnancy is expensive, painful, ruins your body, and in a lot of cases, ruins your life, and Im not even talking about the child that results. Having a child is only good for those ready and committed to raising their offspring, or at least those white and Asian people who know they can find a buyer for their whelp.

Men don’t have to deal with this stuff. Even if the woman sues for paternity, more often than not the man gets out of it. They can claim they have a stake in it because of the “moral wrongness” or whatever, but I honestly don’t think they should have a say. Let the women debate the morality. And I mean LET them. Don’t feed them stuff from the sidelines.

Yes, Im a liberal. Yes, Im a feminist. Yes, Im an atheist. No, I don’t hate men. No, I don’t hate children. No, Im not going to have my own children someday. Yes, I plan to adopt/provide foster care. These are my choices. These are what feel morally right to me. And no, Im not going to let some manufacturer error or one horrific incident, stop me.

Luckily we do have the morning-after pill. We do have a lot of options open to us that were not available to us back in the days of “backalley abortions”. But say you don’t, or you don’t know until its too late for RU-486. I do NOT think that a trip to a clinic is out of line.

At some point Im going to post my conversation about last night’s Buffy. And then oh, how the Spoilers will roll. Aside from the convo, Im going to do a small essay I think. It may be hard for some of you to read, so Im just warning you ahead of time.

love for thyself
2003-05-14-7:47 p.m.

dear diary,
gods last night rocked. Nicholei came to my rescue and drove me to the Derby! Matt agreed to do my ling project…which…yeah, need to call him. Mel hinted at cocktaily goodness. Kerry was very nice and gave me a ride home.

So amused by them. My dad saw them, and was like, pointing out stuff they needed to do to tighten up, and offered them studio time and Mel was way businessy and I felt generally happy. My daddy can really help them if they truly want to be helped.

I wish they didnt always harp so much on the “friends” thing.

I can’t do my phonology homework right now. I guess Ill do it after work and drop it in Alex’s box if he says its OK. It doesnt LOOK that long…

Im having a bitch of a time converting my Buffy convo to anything legible. I may have to just transcribe it by hand…that kinda sucks on levels I dont care to go into, but Im totally committed to this essay now.

Its refreshing to have fantasies realized, and depressing to realize how mundane your fantasies really were.

Friday night, midnight, Matrix with Shakespeare group!!!!! Terry Pratchett says multiple exclamation marks are a sure sign of a diseased mind….but would you really want to read the blog of someone who was sane?

abortion portion ii
2003-05-15-5:03 p.m.

The winnah! Gigioooo!

If you make abortion illegal, the following is expected to happen:

1) Rich people will just fly out to the closest country where they are legal, and get it done there.

2) Poor folks might end up doing in under very unhealty and risky circumstances – resulting in many deaths. (yes, that is what used to happen)

Therefore making this world even harder on those on the bottom of the scale, while not affecting much those on the top.

a few days late
2003-05-16-2:35 a.m.

This conversation happened RIGHT after the last Buffy, like a matter of minutes after the end credits. I should probably mention this convo took exactly an hour and there are mad spoilers if you havent watched yet, and lots of educated spoiler speculation. Yes, we’re fangirls. Shaddup.

Me: omg…did you see Buffy?
Her: Yup!
Me: *dances merrily* sooooooo soooooo good
Me: I think Greydon will be absolutely bitter tomorrow though.
Her: Next week is gonna be even better! I predict much good Spike-action — and was that Willow with white hair?
Her: Why?
Me: I think she becomes a guardian or something…that was my impressiopn from the whole half second clip
Me: maybe her powers shift from dark to enlightened.
Her: Yah.
Me: so she can do the witchiness without the big bad
Me: And I KNEW she should have beheaded Caleb. I was sitting here yelling “Behead him!!”
Her: I know! I’m just waiting for it to turn out to be a mistake even to have turned her back on him after he fell.
Me: Yeah. Grr. Ah well. Angel with the kissings and the “God, I missed watching her do this”
Me: and then Spike saw! And Dawn!!!!
Me: I felt way apprehensive about the scene with Anya and Andrew I was convinced Caleb was gonna show up
Her: Yah. Also — bets Dawn is gonna invoke her powers as the Key?
Me: Yeah, I was wondering about that. I think its either that or the first converts her back. or something. I dont feature Dawn living through it.
Her: Nope. Someone’s gonna go, and it can’t be Willow or Xander.
Me: Yeah. Cause Xander does need to be by her side. Although I wish there was a way he could bust out with some big power right at the end, just to make them all even before he dies. I cant stand remembering the Wedding episode, seeing him old and useless…
Her: I know! I really hope he’ll be the one to knock down Caleb finally — nice message about misogyny there would be too!
Me: Yeah!
Me: Although…maybe a bit twisted message…the only one who can really kill the misogynist is a guy….
Her: Plus the whole “you’re the one who sees things” deal.
Me: Yeah…*grins* I see the “off” switch!
Her: hehe!
Me: *dances* I want Angel and Spike and Buffy to get married or Angel and Spike to fight or something…battle of wits…
Her: Hehe! Showdown of ensouled vampires! “I feel more guilty than you!”
Me: Yay! And…wait…did you see the last Angel?
Her: No. What happened?
Me: Conner ceased to ever have been.
Her: What? Does Angel remember him?
Me: Angel does. no one else.
Her: Lot of stuff like that.
Me: See, but therefore the prophecy cant come true…unless the son of the vampire with a soul is the son of Spike?
Her: Or unless it’s a “sire” deal, in which case, Spike might be the son….
Me: grandson
Me: Angel killed the only son we know about…
Me: the one that cut crosses on his victims cheeks in the Prodigal
Her: Hmm. Connor was a tad far-fetched to begin with, even for the Buffyverse — how’re they gonna get one of them another offspring?
Her: Maybe they’ll find a way to re-do Connor?
Me: maybe….its too weird…Connor’s body has a happy family and he got like perfect SAT’s and has his choice of colleges now…and…its just WEIRD…
Her: Yah. But… new love interest for Spike? Or will they go through the whole Darla thing with Dru? ‘Cause that’d be majorly weird, especially post-Buffy-closeness.
Me: yeah…hmm…I dont know…if they kill Spike next episode…
Her: Hmmm. No killing Spike! (Feel like the Buffybot.)
Me: *laughs* aww…no, they couldnt. It wouldnt be fair…but there’s two things tearing me up right now…1) There was a prophecy that Buffy would tell Spike that she loves him and 2) Angel and Buffy are soulmates unconditionally.
Her: Well, didn’t the girl just say “She’ll tell you?” It’s unspecified *what*. Maybe just something like that he’s a good man? That would be cheating.
Me: It would be. And she had a goofy look on her face when she said it, although that may have just been Azure Skye being herself…
Her: Yeah. That was a weird episode. *Roots through memory for possible foreshadowing*
Me: I dont know along which lines youre rooting
Her: Not finding much, anyway. I can never figure out to what degree there’s a master plan in the series.
Me: I dont like that Angel fell in love with Cordelia…but now that Connor never existed…it should all be different…
Her: Yeah… is Angel all alternate universe now?
Me: because she cant manipulate connor with her pregnancy now…
Me: I dont know. I wish I did
Me: I dont like how the oracle woman was calling the shadow men watchers…
Me: And I REALLY dont like that Dawn tazed Xander… poor boy’s been through enough…
Her: I’m suspicious of the oracle woman. She seemed kind of “is that all” for some one who called herself “the last surprise.”
Her: There must be more to it!
Her: Xander’s always getting beat up!
Me: *shakes her head* I think it was supposed to be simplicity in power type of thing…only because the other way is too complicated when we only have an hour left.
Her: Yah, i guess so. Ah! How can they fit it all into an hour! *weeps*
Me: I dont know…but they will…if it kills us.
Her: You just know they’re gonna come up with some Season 2 type heart-ripper thing.
Me: Oh god…no way…
Me: they wouldnt do that to me…
Her: At the same time — I almost want them to…. God, I can’t stand it!
Me: Eee. Faith and Wood.
Her: Weirdness!
Me: fabulous
Her: Do you think they might kill Faith?
Me: ok, look…if they do, they’ll have to deal with a new slayer. If they dont, maybe the project she’s working onright now for Fox is a spinoff…
Her: I wonder what they’re gonna do with the whole slayer thing, now Buffy’s gonna be over. Will Angel have any contact with whoever it is, i wonder?
Me: Maybe they’ll move the new slayer or Faith to Angel…I dont know…my mind can not even grasp all this. I think Buffy’s gonna die third-times-the-charm-style, and I cant bear the thought that Angel might turn human when Buffy’s not alive to benefit.
Her: Maybe they’ll scatter the slayer power through all the potentials, or through the world in general…. It would be kind of cool if Buffy could just be a “normal girl,” so that when Angel turns human, they can go off together….
Me: That would be nifty, actually…although a bit too utopian an ending…and what happens to all the little 7-year-old potentials?
Me: Ideally, Buffy would become immortal…maybe Angel could vamp her out and have Willow instill her soul with a revised spell…or something
Her: The other thing is, they can’t kill the First. So what ARE they gonna defeat? Other than Caleb, who is obviously going down.
Me: The uber-vamp army? a real demon? maybe Willow can lock away the First…
Her: Damn! I forgot the uber-vamp army!
Her: Too many things to happen!
Me: I know! Although now Im thinking Buffy can go through the uber-Vamps like buttah
Her: Tis true. Though we have uber-vamps plus Caleb (who looks like he’s been bleeding from the eyes), we might have more trouble.
Me: he’s bleeding black from the eye…but he bled red, so Im thinking there’s something there…maybe…
Me: We also have Angel, I think…So Angel, Spike, Faith, Buffy, Willow, and Wood, and possibly Dawn-key. Hehe. Dawn-key. Appropo of her first season…
Her: Lord, yes. I wonder what part Anya’s gonna play here?
Me: There’s only two ways she can go, and I dont think d’Hoffryn is gonna demonize her in the face of the First…
Me: he was kinda gleeful when he took her powers…
Her: Definitely. Be kind of sad if she just stood there, though.
Me: I think she wont be killed in battle. i think she’ll be killed on the sidelines…
Her: Yeah. It might be apropos to have some kind of confrontation between woman-hating priest and ex-man-hating demon….
Me: *grins* that would just be…neat…
Her: Ah…. Too many possibilities.
Me: indeed…
Me: Is it selfish I dont want Andrew to die well? They played Earshot today and I just felt sorry for Johnathan all over again…
Her: I dunno if he’s gonna kill Andrew at all. Probably he will though; he might go making some pathetic last stand, amybe trying to save Anya…
Me: or the girls.
Me: he IS kinda the den mother now…
Her: Yeah. Though he might just die unremarkably, in an explosion or something.
Me: that too…I have the feeling there’s gonna be a rash of deaths with Buffy just moving determinedly forward through them
Me: Like, she’ll either mourn them afterwards or join them
Her: Ah! This is gonna be so sad!
Me: oh gods…Giles…
Her: Noooo!
Her: Giles has to live!
Her: I will completely go to tears if they kill Giles!
Me: Giles and Xander have to live…those are my vote. The rest can go hang as long as Buffy still wins the day.
Me: cause…you know…if she doesn’t, we all die type of a thing.
Her: Yeah.
Me: OK, I have to start heading to CLICC. Whee. Homework. Go with Joss.
Her: You too!
Me: wanna watch the last ep here?
Her: Might well!
Me: sweet!

wet hot american friday night
2003-05-17-10:59 a.m.

I got off of work at 8pm last night. I’d been on campus since 10am. I’d gone to class, gone to work, gone to rehearsal, gone bakc to work, and in all that still managed to miss a shift. Aiya.

I called nNeP, half-idly while I was walking to the bus stop, and Matt picked up and agreed to Sunday. Great. Now I just need to write the test and the information sheet. And, you know, research my topic.

Anyway, Matt invited me over to watch Wet, Hot American Summer, so I decided to blow off the Matrix. I just don’t feel like spending money. Im half-tempted to lose my credit card again so I CAN’T.

Went home, changed into something more sexy than my stupid yellow UCLA shirt that was SUCH a good idea when I bought it. I put on my ratty green tank, which is only sexy in the slummy tomboy-y sense, but whatev. I read last night that my lucky color is green, my lucky gems are emeralds. I always liked to think so.

I almost got myself killed when I first started driving there. I was being a bit reckless, and seriously pissed off the guy behind me, but I straightened out by the time I got going in the right direction.

I get scared I’ll get lost every time i go there, but I definitely have it down now. Nooge.

nNeP’s “cool” words are all Jay and Silent Bob…well, mostly Jay. I kinda like the sound of them, and they dont have the other meanings like “shibby” and arent as dorky as “spifftastic”. Or I could just be being me, picking up other people I admire’s mannerisms.

When I got there, they were watching Teen Wolf. There was one woman I had not yet met, but we met. They’ve feng shui’d their apt. I sat on the floor while we watched.

OK, here’s the thing: I’ve never had a group of older friends wherein a) I was not treated like the baby and b) I was not someone’s girlfriend. There’s a certain amount of protection and condescension that goes with each role, and I am too pliable to them. Here they treat me like an equal and its weird. They were concerned when I chose the floor as my choice spot. This has never bothered anyone else except Phil. Its where people think I belong, I believe. As long as they have carpeting, Im 5 x 5, but now Im thinking if I don’t need to become more of a…lady…or something. Better posture and a taste for wine and all that. Yuck. Isnt it enough Im growing out my hair and nails? Do I have to give up my ripped jeans too?

As Im writing this, im doing laundry, and realizing how much of my clothes is irreperably ripped, holed, or blood-stained. I think I need to make a massive donation to Goodwill, starting with all those damn heavy-cotton t-shirts that seem to coalesce in my drawers.

I had never seen the whole of Teen Wolf before, and it was interesting. nNeP has the whole thing memorized, and they talk through it, commenting on its socio-political aspects and its general fucked-up-ed-ness. We compared it to other eighties high school flicks, like Once Bitten. I can’t even BELIEVE how much of my random assed trivia these guys know. In that sense, I bow to them.

They were drinking Amaretto, which tastes like almond extract, except for a sharp bite. This was solved when John came back with Del Taco and we discovered that Mr. Pibb is the perfect mixer for Amaretto. It doesnt change the taste much, and it nulls the bite a lot. Mmm…Del Taco macho burritos. Its so kismet that they live that close to the only one anywhere near my general vicinity. I had only had 2 low-carb protein bars that day, but I held off and gave half my burrito to Matt and one of their friends whom Ive met like 5 times, and still cant remember his name. Rawr at disnomia. I need to remember I can control hunger. Ive given in too much over the past few weeks. Yeah, Im hungry, so WHAT? So Ill be hungry until I can get ahold of something worth eating.

After Teen Wolf, they put in Wet Hot American Summer. It lampoons just about every stereotype in every kind of feel-good or summer-camp movie there is. I now feel justified in NEVER spending money on one of those types of movies EVER again, because they’re right, there’s no plot you can’t totally predict going into it with those types of flicks. SUCH a funny movie. SO many drugs must have been going through the writers at the time, though. Mmm, young Paul Rudd. Mmm, Jeaneane Garafalo. By the way, this is TOTALLY the missing link in EVERY Seven Steps to Kevin Bacon game. If you can’t link it through this movie, you can’t link it.

Oh snap! I just realized that the function key on my laptop’s keyboard opens the number-keypad!! Hellooo one-handed logins. To school sites, you sicko.

After that movie, we started talking Jay and Silent Bob, and Kerry put on a J&SBSB clip of Jay singing a song I had heard them sing a couple nights ago. Then we started talking South Park, and Kerry put in his SP DVD of Cartman’s Mom is a Slut and the sequel and Chicken Lover.

I was the last one to leave by a matter of minutes. I kinda felt bad being the last one, but Kerry walked me down and we made plans for the Observatory and to get pierced next weekend. So right now Im desperately trying to hook up an appointment for tomorrow with Anto. After Belly Dancing, Im going to Promenade to buy dye. Im going for broke, literally.

I think someone is using my credit card…the numbers arent adding up exactly…in my head anyway. I need to go home and check my records.

I feel all ambitious today. Mmm. Ambition.

Quote of the moment: “Earlobes are like having extra penises.”

What are the “rules”?

Thanks to WHAS, Ive had Danny’s Song stuck in my head all day. Enter my bluegrass CD.

strange fruit
2003-05-17-12:23 p.m.

Its funny how one song can change you from giddy to reflective in one moment. If more people listened to Billie Holiday, would the world be a better place? More beauty, more reflection, more social consciousness….

Whoever I end up with, I want them to dance with me. I dont think Ive ever done anything more than freaked someone I was interested in. I want to sway and waltz easily to Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Peggy Lee…

Dream a little dream of me…

Tonight Im casting a spell. I haven’t done it in a while, and certainly not since I’ve caught me up on the entire Discworld series. How much of this will work because of headology? I don’t doubt it will work. My sister owns the weather and I own human character. Bloody useless powers, if you ask us. But people want magical help, and they always assume I know how. Its besides the point that I do. Something I dabbled with in high school. Someone pointed out I might be Druidic once, but then I look at my mom’s family and just laugh. And then I see my sister do the weather and I shut the fuck up right quick.

How much would that explain about why my luck is so bad, though? Jewish AND Druidic? Two races all-but-demolished in true genocides. Two races eternally persecuted and never felt sorry for by general society. Wow, now I feel all special inside. Snakes and stars. Yuck.

He always jokes about it, but Im beginning to think its true. He would fuck anything in a push-up bra and a skirt. The more uncharacteristic a conquest, the more enticing.

“Ain’t Misbehavin’”…great fucking song…and it used to be so relevant to my life.

Been reading Miss Manners’ Guide to Excrutiatingly Correct Behavior. A lot of it is cool, makes sense, and I’ve realized I do a lot of it without thinking about it. But a lot of the manners we’ve dropped over the years just dont make SENSE. She chalks it up to the aberration that is my generation, but really, what’s the point of being so stiff all the time? How can you be sure you’re friends if you don’t sprawl over each other, laughing at the same stuff together.

Lady Sings the Blues…He said being in a relationship is so hard because you have to care about someone all the time. I just want to be cared about when I need caring. I like to be the caregiver usually.

I don’t worship them like I did Luis. I have a lot more in common with them, I think. Not that Luis and I were perfect strangers, but he’s awful removed. I have love and affection for them, and they for me. Or at least theyre amused enough by a kid who makes buttons with their name on it to let her hang out.

I hate thinking like this, hate being distrustful of people who have been so wonderful to me. Im a big girl. I’ll take what they give me, and give them what I have to give, and maybe we’ll still be friends by the time I graduate. Pennies From Heaven.

No one knows how good this mix is. All the songs flow together the way I want them to. I really want someone to dance with…must finish laundry and go to Belly Dancing to blow off steam…

I wonder if I still know how to swing pivot. And I wonder if Casey will wanna work on it with me, and come to nNeP’s next show…

Finals are approaching. Research paper will be due. Abstracts, intros, methods, conclusions. Optimality Theory. I wish it all made sense. If I figure Phonology out over the next couple weeks, I can focus solely on Cognitive Development during finals week. I can fucking do this…

I could do Universal to “Shoe Fly Pie”

the year of the sequel
2003-05-19-8:20 a.m.

Check it out:

• X-Men 2
• Matirx: Reloaded
• Legally Blonde 2: Red, White, and Blonde
• 2 Fast, 2 Furious
• Terminator 3
• Dumb and Dumberer: When Harry met Lloyd
• Tomb Raider 2
• Dude, Where’s My Car 2
• American Pie 3
• LoTR 3 – Return of the King
• Charlie’s Angels 2: Full Throttle
• Rugrats Go Wild!

Did I miss any?

Put this all together with the release of Desert Storm 2: Return of the Rednecks, and I think Ive just corroborated Morranne’s assertion that the world is ending.

Y? keeps me grounded.

My mom wants to give away my dog. I need to step in, but Im so mad I can’t even speak to her right now. She’s always getting rid of my pets, historically without consulting me first. Poor Mini-Me….

I started an advice column on the UCLA Forums. I think Im getting pretty good at it. =) Yay. People are ACTUALLY asking me for help, too! Its neat.

in just one night
2003-05-21-9:51 a.m.

its over. Buffy is finished. But Buffy lives on…so what happens now? There needs to be a spinoff, something like Birds of Prey that doesnt suck ass. Kennedy and a couple other now-Slayers need to band together in Cleveland. Or maybe all of them. Like the X-Men, but with Slayers. Kennedy can be the Leader I guess, and Willow can be Oracle, and Giles, Xander and Buffy can move back to England (with Dawn, if they MUST), and start a life as a happy little family, rebuilding the Watcher’s Council to something that actually works. Faith and Wood can stay on the spinoff as somewhat-detatched mentors, too involved with each other to really interfere with the Slayer team. Yeah! YEAH!

And, in a couple years, when Angel must end, Angel can turn human, and Spike can reappear as human (I love those now-vague prophecies they seriously need to abuse), and they can fight it out, and then Angel and Buffy can get married.

argh! I missed about 10 minutes of the show. Stupid lights and stop signs.

Buffy has the power to bring people together, or temporarily set people who are not talking to talking, even if only for one night.

ears!
2003-05-26-11:30 a.m.

I have four new holes in my head since yesterday afternoon. My ears are all shiny now. Ker punked on me (wah wah, Im sick. blah blah blah. j/k. You know I love you, Ker). But Juliet came! Yay!

Its Memorial Day and I have to go to work. Weak. I also have to do 2 Phonology Homeworks, a Language Processing lab, and write my phonology paper.

Matt is my speaker for this paper. Yay! Brooklyn! He so has the best accent in the world. And he’s SUCH an /ae/ tenser! Bwahahaha.

Saturday evening, I picked Matt up and we grabbed Del Taco and gas and no one did not lead to the other. We had a picnic on the hood of my car while the car was filling up. Hehe. Mm. Del Taco-y goodness. We talked a lot and it was really cool. I like talking to him. He’s a good guy.

He drove us to Los Feliz, to daddy’s studio. And we met some people Aba was recording, and Matt was having happies over my dad’s studio, and my dad set us up and I got to work Pro Tools! *proud* Then I dropped Matt off, my car off, and hopped a bus to Rachel’s party. Which did not rock quite as hard as her last party, but was quite the experience none the less. I dragged Martin there, and he was a popular boy, especially with various interested parties. We all played spin the bottle, for the first time in most cases. Hmm. The game kept getting interrupted. Ah well. I kissed all kinds of people. Actors and stoners and actor-stoners, oh my! We renamed the game “Everyone Except Jen” because we had to make a rule that when she was involved, there was no lip-kissing allowed. We also made a rule that if it landed on someone of the same gender, the landee could choose whether the spinner took a drink or kissed them. Because most of the guys were homophobic. ah well. No hot guy-on-guy action, but gratuitous girl-on-girl. Hehe.

I walked home from Rachel’s the next morning. That sucked. I watched the bus roll past me while I was between stops. Grr. Still, I drank a lot and didnt get drunk, so i think I can officially declare my tolerance is back. That last party must have been a fluke.

Memorable quote:
“Never have I ever…been drunk more than twice in my life.”
“Kat, you b–…I almost called you a bad name.”

Hehe. Bitter. :-p

Then, yesterday, on 2 hours of sleep, I got Juliet to come with me to Venice and I got four new ear piercings (while grasping a bar so thin my nails were digging into my palms, and singing every Buffy song I knew, and keeping my eyes firmly on the saintly Juliet), and bought a new utility bag that’s a pretty light purple and Juliet spotted me $6 for a green flame bhutane lighter. Shiny. I feel fulfilled as a human being now. I just wish my ears would stop bleeding.

I also wish I could find a summer job. Turns out I -DONT- have a place at CLICC this summer, which they told us with around three weeks to go. Bastards. I spent Thursday evening and Saturday morning running around trying to find a job that wasnt a scam (ARN). Actually ARN would be good experience, but it wants you to pay them money I copiously don’t have. About the best thing I can find is babysitting. I called a LOT of places, but none of them have called me back yet. Im not too coherent on answering machines. Gods, I don’t know what Im gonna do…

OK…need to get ready for work.

my all
2003-05-27-8:32 a.m.

This is just prelim Buffy essay, written hastily before I make a mad dash to class.

Buffy was my all. I didn’t just identify with her. I felt the essence of that show in every aspect of my life, metaphorically and literally. I could liken every person I came across as a character or demon, and usually be right about them. I could take the stance that people are basically good, and feel justified. But it didnt just end there.

There was Angel, her two short-terms, Riley, Spike. John is my Angel, I think. Theres this annoying wish for him to be saved, and a strange reciprocation on his part, but natures keep us apart. The two short-terms were Lisa and Kariann. Lisa was the first one, though. The one who got points for using mosey in a sentence. Kariann was the other one, the first guy in college. Riley was Sapo, and I only see that now, as I write this. He was the one that was supposed to make everything right, and the one that did the most to fuck me over once I realized how much I cared for him. And he’s probably the one that is better off without me now. Spike is a combination of M and K/AJ, because they are the illicit ones, the fun ones, the ones that are probably best for me if M was ever around or I would just let my guard down around K/AJ. Im defensive, and I feel like Im using them, but they believe in me, and I want to love them all, but I can’t. I have too many responsibilities.

So yeah, I guess I see myself as Buffy, although I would much prefer to be a female steadfast-but-funny Xander, or maybe a cross of the two. Especially because Im not as whiny or self-righteous as Buffy. But I am charismatic and Im strong. And I say things like “That gives me a happy.”

Anyway, like I said, this is just a preliminary, and long overdue at that. What even brought this on, besides mourning for Buffy was an email from John, of the kind Im used to when he gets reflective. It was sent to me and CC’d to everyone else. In it somewhere he says “These questions are really keyed towards Kat, since she’s used to me thinking like this” or something along those lines, and it just reaffirmed the belief Ive had lately…I own a part of him, and a part of me is NOT willing to give it up. I get so jealous when I see this other girl post on his blog. I get annoyed I dont seem to know him as well as she does anymore. And its stupid on my part. Like he’s my dolly or something. Mine. Mine and no one else gets to play with him…

Eh, I feel possessive about M too. How many can I collect? *licks her finger and tags everyone* Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine!

for tovah
2003-05-28-12:30 p.m.

I want to write something for my sister, and I might as well play around with it for the thirty mintutes I have left before my shift starts…

What fairytales cannot provide,
Such do strength and dignity make.
Go bravely into that great divide
For your breaking aching heart’s sake.
Let each whispering wind perk your ear,
Let each new odor your senses wake
Let no exclamation of pain nor fear
Escape to make the spirits wake.

Im not sure where Im going with this…..

dumb fuckin’ luck
2003-05-30-8:32 p.m.

I really do have the most predictably bad luck of any in the multiverse. I invite 30 people to drink PBR’s, which, ok, not a brilliant marketing strategy, but people had SAID they would come, and no one has shown! What’s more, I can’t get a hold of anyone to come. Sapo’s answering machine seems to be disconnected. Yes, I was that desperate.

The wind whistles through my earrings. Its creepy. The tissue is really bruised on my left ear, and one morning a couple days ago I woke up, cleared some schmutz, and the piercing bled for five minutes!

My nails get in the way of everything and tear way too easily to be a weapon. However, Chan at work did let me scratch his hand. Actually he held his hand to my nails and ripped it up and away. Yay! He was surprised they didnt break.

I thought it would be funny to write a script about my family’s Passover tradition. I got 8 pages in before I realized I didnt have a plot so much as a bunch of fairly good unconnected scenes. I need her to undergo a change, but I can’t really think what that is.

Anyway, like last party, Im sitting here, listening to blues, getting more depressed by the minute…I really hope someone shows up soon.

I love how blogging makes the minutes zip past. Of course, sometimes its unfortunate.

Why havent nNeP called me back in 2 days? I wanted to party last night and they never called me back to tell me where the Green Party Party was that Jacaranda was playing or even to tell me that they didnt know…:( Are they OK? Probably. I don’t know how I feel about that. J/k. But this IS how it always starts…

ain’t misbehavin’
2003-05-31-8:31 a.m.

Eh. Yes I am. And its the second time. I resisted a long while though.

Alex, Tony, Evan, Brian, and three of Phil’s friends, including Joe whom Im learning to adore, attended last night. Philip and Jennie made cameos. Mmm. Cameos. I got a LOT of cans emptied, but no where near all of them. I still need to figure out exactly what I want to do with all of them.

We talked. It…seems ok now. Like Im not doing anything bad. Now just repeat that to myself 100 times a day until its true. I miss the simplicity of not worrying about it. Now I have to. And there’s so many people potentially involved…eh. Fuck it. Fuck it all to hell.

Im going to a Jane Austen dance tonight. Im going to wear my Gothic Angel dress. Philip will be there and Jennie and its line dancing, so I can’t be left out in the crowd, I think. Mmm…dancing…

It feels like forever since my last dance lesson. I have rehearsal at 2, and Belly Dancing at 3:30, which I categorically do NOT want to miss. It will be the last one. Everything is coming to an end, like in “the Last Midnight” in Into the Woods.

Alex, Tony, and Evan talked until late into the night, discussing the troupe’s future. Alex has great vision, and, I believe, the drive to carry it off. I want to help him create something truly great. Why am I always the helper? Because Im lazy. I also never would have dreamed up a Summer Shakespeare UCLA festival. Especially not if it involved planning so very long ahead of time. Its like Vorbis in Small Gods, and Im not entirely sure that’s a bad thing. “You have to have a mind like Vorbis to plan your retaliation before you’re insulted” or something like that. Planning for 2 years into the future…damn.

Selfishly, I want to be remembered for having been one of the great leaders of the troupe. I want to leave a legacy. I have nothing but myself to give.

Im on my last can of black beans, and I think my system is grateful. The blueberry cake I bought yesterday was greatly appreciated by Tony, but also by me, which is Not Good.

Yesterday, I went to an interview for a modelling agency. I really believe that if I had 300 dollars I could be a Plus-Size model. Zet cards are so expensive, though not that expensive when you think about it. And Im pretty. Not as pretty as the black plus-size Enrique showed me, but I have good features. Just….scary hair. I really need to get bleached. I think I’ll call my mom in 20 minutes.

Should I pop a roast into the oven? Or should I head over the hill? Should I shower first? I showered yesterday, so I don’t really see the point, except to ablute my sins away.

Mmm…gnawing hunger…

I think I shall not see nNeP this weekend. Perhaps it is for the best, although I would have liked one of the gentlemen to escort me to the dance tonight, or maybe go with Mel. I dont know if its her scene, and theyre probably partying tonight. Sigh. But perhaps we will be 5 x 5 come Thursday with the time off. I REALLY need to get bleached. I think I should clean up from the party, load up my car with the suitcase Ive been meaning to take back FOREVER, and my bleach and whatnot, and head over the hill. BEG Anto, if I can find her…

This has been floating around my head the last week or so, since my dad mentioned that my sister pointed out that mom’s favorite pasttime is making other people uncomfortable. If you look at it that way, its kind of disturbing, but it explains a LOT. Like, why I’ll never feel comfortable discussing sex with her.

(wavy imagination lines. oooh.)
Kat: Mom, I had sex with this guy…
Mom: Oh, I remember the time I was gang-banging the Denver Broncos defensive line!
(wavy return-from-imagination lines)

Yeah. Like that.

A couple weeks ago I discovered you could abate hunger by burping, which my be why so many people who find fake burping fascinating are skinny little nerds. Its a neat trick when I remember to do it, but it only lasts a few minutes before my stomach fills up with angry gas again. I wonder if anorectics have tricks for not feeling hunger pains, like bulimics do for not getting caught purging…

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regency and roaches
2003-06-02-12:41 a.m.

I have bugbites all over my ankles. Suuuuucks. So badly. Itch itch itch.

The Jane Austen Regency Ball rocked. My daddy came. I danced with my daddy. Aww. Samara, Jennie, and Philip were there. Daddy also danced with a dance mistress. She seemed to enjoy herself. My daddy’s a pimp. Everyone seemed amused by him. Someone was there that was awkward, especially when we were in the same dance set, only once thankfully, but we kept eyeing each other and just KNEW. There was also an old TA but I cant remember who she was. I hope I liked her. We smiled awkwardly and finger-waved, the universal sign for “Hi, person-whos-face-I-recognize-but-cant-name-or-place.” The dances were elegant and well thought out, though a lecture on the times accompanied each new step and made the thing quite tedious for those not interested. I was interested. I wore my gothic angel gown and was pretty. My dad was worried about the precarious state the dress puts my breasts into. I guess he hadnt seen it before.

The dance master told my father, in extremely animated detail, that he had cut out several intricacies to all the dances to make them more learnable to the un-deportmented masses. I want to take deportment classes and I want to learn the missing things! What if I go back and time and can’t keep up because he decided I couldnt learn these bits. I am a quick dance study.

Today I went to my last swing class. I like this the best, I realize, because I look good doing it and Im GOOD at it. The way he instructs is easy for me to process mentally, and I pick up the moves easily, and do them well. He teaches a summer class I really want to take…maybe he can cut a po’ student a deal. We still havent learned “whips”.

Yesterday was the last Belly Dancing class. I was so tired I nearly passed out. Stupid immorality. Anyway, Ill prolly take it again in the fall. Its good for the soul, and my muscles look better, even if I havent lost that much weight this quarter.

After class I went to nNeP’s. They got cable. Yay! There goes the last of their ambition, though. Where was Jean?

This thing with K is messing up my head…my dad, I think, has already decided that mM should be his son-in-law. Which, yeah, ok. But…I dunno. K is messing up my head. In a way Sin never does.

Matt cooked dinner tonight, and I met one of Mel’s roommates, also a Rockwellian. We all get on swimmingly. Remembering my father’s examples, I cleaned the kitchen and washed dishes. They objected a lot, but not too hard. Its so much easier to clean dishes for other people than for myself.

Their friend wants to get a job at a placement agency. Ooooh!!! I could TOTALLY be a nanny after college! Or even better, a personal assistant. Mmm…personal assistant to Joss Whedon. That is my Paris Int’l, First Class (View From the Top).

I talked to Matt a lot tonight. Im a big big big Weird Al nerd. The new friend I met hadn’t seen Ghostbusters, which Ive seen 10 times, so I could ignore most of it. I told Matt they have exactly one year from tonight to make it. Cause after that I may have to move to San Diego or something.

They should package and sell the Mule Chronicles. Maybe a little editing for time, but its just weird enough to be a cult classic should nNeP ever take off.

nNePtEp is playing the Joint this Thursday at 9. I have dress and two rehearsals this week. Oh yeah. I see me doing any work that would make me money THIS week. I have a lot of nNePtEp flyers to hand out if I get a free moment. Hah! I need to meet with Cal Bedient.

K is messing up my head. Its gonna be all what-ify until…its not.

please be
2003-06-02-8:00 a.m.

I have this oldies song stuck in my head, but I dont remember anything except the tune and the rythm scheme of the lyrics, which doesnt search well on google. Grrr. Well, Ill just have to write my own…

Ev’ry time you hug me close
I feel a spark from head to toes
I know this is the way it should be.

But baby, now all I want to do
Is tell you, “Baby, I love you.”
And hear you say you love me, too.

Ah! Inspiration struck and I remembered enough of the lyrics. It was “Make Me Your Baby” by Barbara Lewis, and written by a couple of guys. I can’t place most of the tune except the chorus. *dances* Anyway, back to the song, neh? I believe I was up to a chorus?

(CHORUS)
Baby, kiss me once more
Love me forever more.
Don’t let this chance pass us by.
Baby, kiss me once more
Love me forever more.
We can’t keep living this lie.

You don’t want your friends to see
What you really feel for me
But baby, its so hard to hide.

Your touch is always so sincere
Though your eyes shine with fear
I can’t do it, but God knows Ive tried.

(CHORUS x2)

OK, not brilliant, but have you LOOKED at oldies lyrics lately? Some were actually quite allusory and stuff, but mostly they were just reinforcing stereotypes and whatnot. So nyeh.

OK, I need to stop feeling bad for myself. I need to start singing tra-frickin-la-la all the livelong day. I need to…not be breaking out. Holy FUCK. I scrub my face twice a day, and I still fucking break out. Jesus motherfucking Christ! Plus Im all fat and ugly and whatnot and my face has oil issues so bad, Bush would invade my pores if he knew about it. Fucking Bush.

I need to write a comedic rap. Or at least a good outline of one. Stand-up: the final frontier. And just last night the final frontier was bed. Hmm. That’s me. Always conquering new frontiers.

I need to write traditional poems with a sense of irony. Hmmm…

So much to do, and Im so fucking lazy…

defining essence
2003-06-02-9:13 a.m.

I have a sick obsession with these things. I just need to do them every once in a while. It was disturbingly hard to find the right kind this time though…

Name: Kat, the Kat, Kitty-Kat, Drusilla
Age: 21 and change.
Sex: I enjoy being a girl. As long as I get to wear ratty t-shirts and jeans.
Home: Los Angeles, born and bred. Yes, the pollution has made me a mutant, X-Men style. Snickt! Snickt!
Height: 5′10″. Without heels. No, really, I wear heels sometimes.
Hair Color and Style: Mousy brown originally. Currently half-grapefruit.
Favorite Relatives: My dad. And my sister. And sometimes my mom. And sometimes my great aunt and uncle, and their kids and grandkids always. And Tong Yan. Fuck all you other extended fucks.
What Do You Remember Most About This Year?: Moranne, Kerry, Brian, and Shakespeare.
What Do You Think About Ouija Boards?: I dont trust anything that bears the Parker Bros. logo.
Favorite TV Shows: Simpsons, South Park, Buffy, Angel, La Femme Nikita
What’s On Your Mousepad?: I dont need no steenkin mousepad! Optimouse fool! Whut! Well, normally. Right now Im using a laptop and its touchpad. Either way…
In A Car, Do You Use A/C or Open The Windows?: Windows, cause Im a poor, cheap bastard, thats why.
Do You Believe In Yourself?: I believe I am the Supreme Cosmic Ruler. I do not believe I can accomplish everything I set out to accomplish. Meh.
Favorite Game: Politics. Don’t really have one, actually. I prefer toys, imagination, and whatnot.
Favorite Magazine: Maxim, Entertainment Weekly.
Favorite Drink: Water, ice cold whole milk, gin and tonics, lemon not lime.
Favorite Sound: Someone groaning in pleasure. My puppy’s bark.
Favorite Smell: meat roasting in olive oil, garlic, onions, and dill. My puppy after a bath with puppy shampoo.
Best Feeling In The World: waking up with my puppy cuddling my side. Waking up after about 12 hours of sleep to someone attentive and amorous.
Worst Feeling In The World: Being dumped for a reason that makes less sense the more you think about it. Being avoided.
Favorite Thing To Do On The Weekend: play with nNePtEp, banter, club. Generally be social, funny, and whory. And well-rested.
Favorite Soundtrack: Oh god, so many. 10 Things I Hate About You, Wayne’s World, South Park: BLU…
Where Do You See Yourself In Ten Years?: I don’t. Married to a rock star or a nanny/personal assistant to one I guess. What’s The First Thing You Thought When You Woke Up This Morning?: “God-fucking-dammit Denise, turn OFF the motherfucking lights or Ill beat you and my nose is stuffy”
Do You Get Motion Sickness?: Depends on the motion, but yeah. Its happened.
Roller Coasters–Deadly or Exciting?: Exciting if its on my list of good Roller Coasters. I dun like going upside down. Deadly if its at Magic Mountain.
Pen or Pencil?: Mechanical pencil or fine-tipped ink pen.
How Many Rings Before You Answer The Phone?: I get to it when I get to it.
Future Daughter’s Name: Jazz Phoenix Artemis…so she has no normal name to revert to and she has to become either proud of her name or learn to deal with adversity. Plus, she’ll like it once she hits Jr. High.
Are You A Good Friend?: very
Chocolate or Vanilla?: chocolate…what else is there?
Do You Like To Drive?: In a perverse way. I prefer to drive with someone else in the car. It makes me feel all grown up, and I can’t get to thinking in my own head.
Do You Sleep With A Stuffed Animal?: Only when he’s drunk. No, I dont. I have a real animal when I go home.
Thunderstorms–Cool or Scary?: scary, unless its daytime and you’re at home on the porch wrapped ina quilt with your puppy and hot chocolate.
If You Could Meet One Person, Living Or Dead, Who Would It Be?: I really wanna have a sit-down discussion with Joss Whedon, Trey Parker and Matt Stone, and Freddie Mercury
What’s You Zodiac Sign?: libra. Im SUCH a libra.
What Do You Wear To Bed?: wear? Usually the shirt Ive ben wearing all day, if anything.
Do You Eat Stems On Broccoli?: yes. yes I do.
If You Could Have Any Job You Wanted, What Would It Be?: the Ruler of the World’s right hand man. Best selling author/screenwriter/comic-book writer. I should really check the papers to see if there are openings..
If You Could Dye Your Hair Any Color, What Would It Be?: Permanent blood red, so I never had to bleach or redye again.
Do You Want A Tattoo? What And Where?: Sort of. i have this THING about needles…although I apparently dont have a problem poking holes in my ears. I want something that represents everything I am, ever was, and ever will be, and I want it to fit into a 3″x3″ space on my lower back.
What’s Your Favorite Brand Of Gum?: Im not sure. Spearmint something. Whichever brand stays sweet and soft the longest.
What’s Your Favorite Quote?: God may be on his side, but Lady Luck is my bitch! Any given quote from Buffy/Angel/South Park.
Have You Ever Been In Love?: Im not sure. probably not.
What’s On The Walls In Your Room?: photos, posters, wall scroll, clipped comic strip, note from Adan, a bookmark, programs and flyers for various shows…Manga competition certificate and letter.
Is The Glass Half Empty Or Half Full?: depends on what is in it, cause it may be all the way empty in a minute if its the right stuff.
Pick A Song That Relates To You: Lady Sings the Blues by Billie Holiday
Cool Ranch Or Nacho Cheese Doritos?: Cool Ranch.
What’s Your Favorite Snapple?: ew. pink lemonade I guess. SO much sugar in that shit.
Favorite Movie(s): Why not just ask me to pick a favorite child?!! SP: BLU, 10 Things, Waynes World, X-Men, X-2, Matrix, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, Mallratz…
Coke or Pepsi?: Coca-Cola 4-eva! Represent!
Normal Or Chocolate Milk?: Normal. Chocolate Soymilk though.
If You Were Going To Kill Someone, What Method Would You Choose?: snap the neck, Caleb style.
Righty, Lefty, Or Ambidextrous?: lefty, but I can do some stuff with my right hand.
Do You Type With Your Fingers On The Right Keys?: Usually. A few typos maybe, but Im pretty good.
When You Meet A Person Of The Opposite Sex, You First Notice Their: Overall face, the shape and tone and whether its handsome or not.
Have You Ever Saved Your Chat Conversations?: If theyre funny/pertinent enough.
What Gardening Tool Would You Be?: a rake.
What Kind Of Shoe Would You Be?: Knee-high lace-up black stompin’ boots.
If You Could Do Anything To The Person You Hated Most, What Would It Be?: snappy snappy. or have him fired. Gods, I hate that guy. And I really dont hate anyone else.
Mud Wrestling or Jell-O Wrestling?: Mud. Jell-O is evil.
What’s Under Your Bed?: carpet. pillow. dont have a whole lot of vertical space.
What’s Your Favorite Number?: 4, because its perfect. What ever number Im calling the most often at the moment.
What’s Your Dream Car?: tripadelically painted jaguar coupe…
Who’s Your Biggest Crush Right Now?: K and M are about on the same level. Maybe K is pulling ahead a lil because I see him so much.
Say Something Nice About The Person You Ripped This Off Of: She was funny as heck. Wish I knew who she was. :-p

party hardy and dream big
2003-06-04-11:28 a.m.

After dress last night, I went to a party with two of my actors. It was…neat…but no one was all…hey, how YOU doin? My head did the floaty thing after a jamba juice and a couple shots of rum. Captain Morgan is interesting.

I dreamed I was Rogue, and that Apocalypse/Mastermold and Sentinels were coming to get me. Kurt kept killing them for me by cutting their heads off with a knife, but I was afraid to, and just before I woke up, they caught me. I hope the next X-Men movie doesnt have Sentinels like everyone seems to want. Cause they scare me.

First show tonight. Im MC-ing. Oi…

ego trippy
2003-06-07-1:14 p.m.

Wednesday’s show was…bad…from my standpoint. The scenes themselves came off really REALLY well and DAMN I love my cast, but I couldnt hold it together smoothly, and people werent being organized about the set changes. Feh. No matter. Only about a dozen people showed up, all friends and family of the cast. At one point, in the second half, I had nothing else to say while Keita was changing the set. Adam suggested I sing a song. Grrrr…I sang “Going Through the Motions” right up until “She ain’t got that swing” because much to my surprise, Samara chimed in! I sang a little, then decided that Samara was my out. “A fan!” I announced. Everyone applauded and I skibbled off stage. Feh stage. Kherkoff Grand Salon is not the yummiest space.

Northwest is. Yummm.

But lets stay chronological.

Thursday night I went to the Joint to see nNePtEp. I DANCED MY ASS OFF. Wait, no, its still there. But I made Jean dance with me fo Rebecca Mecca and their friend Heather danced with me to like four songs. People were amused. The band said it was “so cute.” Their neighbor had come to watch the show, and fully sponsored me. He offered to get me something else to sober up, but I told him Id come down after a little while. He liked me. Ive been feeling so good about me lately I have been like, repressing any nagging, creeping lines of black doubt that have been trying to insinuate themselves into my gold aura of happy glow.

Anyway, after the show, and much schmoozing, and some rather intense headbanging for the next number up (a metal group that was sooooo good), I gave Jean a ride to Del Taco and to the Casa. Heather was following us, so we had a chance to be all talky. Poor Jean, trapped between two girls and conversations about underwire. We played around with their cable, but there was nothing really on except for Kindergarten Cop.

Soon everyone finished trickling in and it was all giddy. Mmm…Del Taco rocks everything’s socks. There was smoke and talk and TAB and Cannibal! the Musical (twice, once straight, and the second time with the drunken audio commentary), and Egyptian Rat Fuck. Kerry owned me twice, but I think the Force is strong in me. I hadnt played any card games that didnt involve waterfalls in a LONG time, and I think my reflexes were pretty much the suck. But with a little training, I can be rebuilt. I just dont know if Ill ever be as good as Kerry or Alison because I dont play that often. Ah well.

I left my lighter there, and I lost an earring. I really really wanna find the earring. It makes me sad that its gone. Plus I dont want my normal holes to crust up. Feh.

He walked me to my car. Fun fun fun. Much better without metal. Less what-iffy now cause its more likely.

Anyway, Friday show ROCKED!!!!! nNeP came and chanted for me and made me all happy, and amused Audrey muchly with their Kat chanting. She called them “the rowdy guys” and I was all beaming proud. Everyone seemed to dig the more MC-y me. And they liked my scene, which is the only spot of comedy in the entire thing.

Kat: rawr. *molests*
Nic: whoa
Nic: i liked that
Nic: did u hear me scream i loved u yest.?
Nick: hehe
Kat: no…I didnt. when did you scream this?
Nic: what?
Nic: r u serious
Nic: after first scene
Kat: Maybe I did…when did you scream it? OH!!! you came!!
Nic: der
Nic: i loved it
Nic: i ddint wanna leave
Kat: *thinks* maybe I did. I remember someone screamed it.
Kat: yay!!!
Nic: makes me wanna go back to acting
Nic: that was me
Kat: hehe. Im glad you liked it though! I thought nNeP screamed it
Nic: u looked all cutee with a dress i was shocked
Kat: yay! I feel all speshul
Nic: nah how sad me me me
Nic: u r
Nic: der
Kat: *laughs* oh good…shocked.
Kat: *molests appreciatively*
Nic: hehe
Kat: *dances* I had a whole cheering section
Kat: yay! I feel speshul all over
Kat: last night was soooo good.
Nic: i know
Nic: glad i went
Kat: hehe…I cant believe like, all my friends were in the same room!
Kat: and none of them met.
Kat: Did you hear nNePtEp with their Kat chant?
Nic: no
Nic: i saw audrey i think
Nic: i think that was her
Kat: *nods* I saw her at intermission
Kat: she was with a guy.
Nic: yeah who was that
Kat: her friend. i forget his name. He was amused by me as well
Kat: *needs to get off the ego-trip*
Nic: no no stay on it
Nic: u deserve it
Nic: at least stay a lil while
Kat: aw shux
Nic: hehe
Kat: okie dokie then. gosh, Im good.

I love my friends. Mmm. Ego trip…

Best quote of the night:
Someone: Kat, are you coming to the cast party?
Kat: I dont know…
Greydon: Come on, Kat NOT go to a party?
Kat: (meaningful look at Aba)
Greydon: (blank)
Kat: (meaningful look at Aba)
Greydon: (blank)
Kat: Oh, HI Daddy!
Aba: (smirk)
Greydon: (RED)

My daddy missed the whole thing, but he DID show up in the last five minutes, and I made him ferry my crap to my apt, and then dragged him to the cast party. My daddy was tired and bailed before a lot of people showed up. But he talked A/V Nerd to David and now David thinks my dad is cool as shit. And Rhonda helped me model the purple gown for my daddy, cause he didnt see that performance either.

People need to NOT tell me intimate details of their life. *nods*

We played Kings Cup (Kings and Cats) again. This game is naturally THE king of all card-based drinking games. It got pretty vicious. Here are the Four Rules, inasmuch as I can remember them…

1. Everytime a girl has to take a drink, the guys have to drink. This does not stack. (Me and Dani)
2. Everytime a guy pulls a card and he has to drink as a result of it, a girl has to dance for 20 seconds (Nick and Adam)
3. Double spiral: Every time there’s a waterfall, girls cannot begin to stop drinking until all the boys have stopped.
4. No matter who pulls the fourth king, Brian has to drink the Cup. (Dani and Me)

I had to belly dance for that last one. Hehehe. It was all good though. There wasnt a lot of hard alcohol and I couldnt find a cup for Baileys…which makes me a little sad in retrospect.

Never-Have-I-Evers are a brilliant addition to the game. After much soul searching, Rachel came up with “Never have I ever made out with a girl” which, yeah. Most of the guys drank, but so did I. Greydon had been waiting for that, I think, because he cheerfully pointed out that I was drinking, and that the First Rule meant all the guys had to take another drink. They REALLY hated that rule.

I don’t like the Truth or Dare thing so much. No one drinks, and its kinda sad. But Patrick’s roommate John picked me in the “Who would you most want to kiss in this room?” round, and I felt warm and included. Most of the guys picked Dani. Heheh. Rhonda didn’t want to answer, so she took a dare, which was “Kiss a girl for 15 seconds.” Hehe…that was fun, and she got way into it. All closed mouth and everything, but absolutely fierce. Dave was grinning at her and I the rest of the evening.

On the second round (there were only two because Jokers were the card for it), the question was “Who not of your gender preference would you most want to kiss?” Adam, my choice in the first round, nearly made a clean sweep of the guys in the second round. I did get a kiss from Adam as he was leaving. Yay. None of the guys did. Pthbthbttt!

It never ceases to amuse me how guys cant WAIT to see les action, but the moment someone suggests gay action its all machismo and threats of violence. I love Will.

At some point this weekend, I actually have quite a lot of work to do. I may not post for a week. But thats ok, because I will have nothing to report until my last final is done.

cast
2003-06-11-3:37 a.m.

One of my buddies on here has a cast of characters on her diary, and Im thinking its not such a bad idea. Here goes then:

Me — Kat, Dru, Groovetastic One, whatever. Im me.
Toby — My little sister. OK, she’s taller than me. She has her cool tendencies. I think I’ll keep her.
Ari — Toby’s best friend. Extremely weird female, but termed my “weekend sister” because of how much time she spends with us on vacations. She tells people “Im a quarter Jewish on Toby’s daddy’s side.”
Sean — Ari’s male. God forbid they should breed. Sean and I talk online sometimes. He can be amusing. Fondly termed “Figgy”.
Juliet — My friend.
Doselle — My employer. I’m Mercy to his Lex Luthor. Except Im not…y’know…cute. Or mildly attractive.
Mom — My mother. My opinion fluctuates depending on her mood. My parents are divorced.
Dad — Daddy, Aba, Avi, Poppi. Pretty cool as parents go when he’s not being an ass. We can get into some major fights, but he can also be my best girlfriend.
Miss Karen — My dad’s “girlfriend”.
Joey/Erica/Luke — Beloved roommates. When our powers combine, we become J.E.K.(y).L.(l)! Yes, I live with boys. Eek. I love my boys though.
Cairo and Bear — Erica’s kitties. Kittykittykittykittykittykittykitty!!!
Joey’s Friends — Joey has cool friends. Simone, Sean, Bryan are the main ones that come over, but theyre over a lot, and for the most part, interchangeable.
Y? — A solid friend Ive had for, what, 3 years now? Started out as a housemate at school. She’s so supportive and always up for talking and 3am runs to the grocery store. A bit neurotic, but amusing as hell. Only friend Ive maintained this long in college.
John — my first real boyfriend. a sweet guy, but definitely wins the “person to have most fucked me up” award.
Sapo — I dont really talk about my second real boyfriend much anymore, and if I do, its usually to bitch about him. Still. I apparently have a thing for artists
Luis — I was in love with him for about a year. Met him at a party, he got me drunk. Needless to say, nothing happened. Has a band called Jacaranda that rocks hard. He introduced me to a lot of important people, namely nNePtEp.
nNePtEp — punk/emo/ska/classic rock band. Kerry, Matt, Melody, Jean, Allison, Diane, Heather, and any other number of random names that hang out with them. So much fun and passion and music and weird movies
Shakespeare Troupe — I run UCLA Shakespeare. I met Luis through here.
CLICC — I dont really have that many friends that work for CLICC, the computer lab I work for, and if I feel the need to mention someone, I’ll usually add “at work” after their name. My job is VERY laid back, but I just dont get along with most of them, even if theyre really making an effort to get along with me.
Israi/Lorena/Maggie — My dogs. Sometimes the only things I feel emotion for. I love my babies.

OK, now I need to check back in two weeks and see if ANY of this still applies. I make and lose friends pretty quickly, but right now I think these are the big important faces in my life. If I missed anyone, leave a comment.

imma marry that man
2003-06-11-4:17 p.m.

Ooh. I may have a job this summer, and against the better judgement of EVERYONE ON THIS PLANET, it looks like its going to involve food service. Im applying for a job at Zen Zoo where Kerry, Jean, and Allison work. Yum. Friends. Kerry suggested it.

Realizing I was NEVER gonna get any work done at my apartment where there’s roommates, DSL, and digital cable, I decided to surprise Kerry yesterday, so I hit the Zen Zoo. Id been there before, but had not yet partaken. It was surprisingly good. Kerry was right though, he does mix the drinks better.

Im pretty much done with my paper, which is neato, but I still need to stretch it out and explicate a couple things. Tomorrow, AFTER my cognitive development final. My professor has so much faith in me. Its kinda…sad.

I had so much fun at the Zen Zoo. I was even happy while I was writing my paper. I always am when Im accomplishing things. Yay! Accomplishment! The only thing is how trendy that place’s clientele are. Ah well. I expect Ill get over it. I need to buy a bunch of black t-shirts though. I should anyway. Hmm…where can I get them?

I asked Kerry about “Finding Nemo” and he was so cute about it. “Its a movie just for me!” It reminds me of when Toby was a baby and she saw mini-anything. “Its my-size!”

After that, I met Audrey and Juliet at this new place, Skews, in Westwood, and Gigio and his friend met us there, and Audrey and I were giggly together, much to the annoyance of poor Juliet, whose cynicism I so cherish normally.

I met a potential dance partner after that (see how well I study?) that I met from Craig’s List. How much does Craig’s List rock? Anyway, Ive gotten really good responses from ALLLLL my posts. This one guy seemed cool but…less than there. He didnt do much to keep the tone of surprise out of his voice or face when he saw me. Eh. Fuck’im.

I cant even describe how great yesterday was and how much tomorrow is going to suck. I can’t wait until my last final is over and I can…well…work, but then go to Rachel’s party, have my party and ROAD TRIP!!!

Im driving one, maybe two friends, up to their places in San Francisco! I asked Daddy and he said I could! How sweet is this?! Im a little scared, but it’ll be excellent experience.

Im going to come back Tuesday night, maybe earlier, with Daddy, who’s flying up simply to help me drive down, which is cool, cause I dont wanna drive down alone either. I need to find a time in there to apply to the Zen Zoo…

And then Wednesday is nNePtEp’s show at 14-Below (they go on at 11:30!)…maybe Jean and I can work on the site Wednesday day, so they have something to announce on stage. That would be kinda coo’…

I just want finals to be over now. I want this week of freedom so badly I can taste it. And then…Session A kicks in. I start working, in theory. I stop breathing for six weeks. And then Session A ends, and I start working full time, maybe? Comic Con somewhere in there. Maybe go up to Spokanne with my Daddy…

who am i?
2003-06-11-3:39 p.m.

I run a Shakespeare Troupe at UCLA. I act, direct, and MC shows. I don’t keep friends with uncool people. I dont like people who take things too seriously, and if I can, Ill force them to grow a sense of humor. I crack jokes in class, but theyre always intelligent. Im the type of person who is always physically comfortable with her friends.

My friends’ punk band is the most important thing to me right now. I go to all their gigs and make people dance. I hang out with them almost every weekend.

My biggest character flaw is Im dependent on people, physically and emotionally, in the sense that its hard to concentrate on studying, when I know I wont get a hug or hear a good joke for two more days. I kinda feel desolate.

Im strong though. Im the type of girl whose skirts (should I wear skirts) people hide behind. Im 5′10″, so its not hard for people to assume Im brave, and Ive rather grown into the role over the past couple years.

I dont know what else…Im bi, but my friend calls me a “gender opportunist” because I prefer the company of men. Really, I just cant stand mind games and drama that seem to follow most females everywhere.

Aside from that, I dont know. Im smart but poor. Adventurous and liberal, but horribly underexposed to the great wide world. I sing to myself in public and pretend I can fly down busy sidewalks. I start religions.

But inside, Im quiet and shy and scared of everything.

A response to a response to Craig’s List. Heh.

My swing coach found Utopiate Nation. Ah-ha. Ah-ha. I pray he has as good a sense of humor as he seems to.

bleeding my own blood
2003-06-11-3:49 p.m.

I finally made meatloaf. Its quite good actually. Props to Matt.

Things I know today:

• I’m not pregnant
• My skin will clear up soon
• My weight should level out now
• Im a smug bitch
• I need to have less sucky skin, cause all my white shirts have spots all down the back.
• I need to buy a lot of black shirts

cheap high
2003-06-12-9:06 p.m.

Seeing the cute guy check out your rack/catching him adding something complementary about you under his breath.

Is it wrong to feel smug because the guy all the jr. high school girls in Brentwood fawn over kissed me goodbye? Walked me to my car? Eh. I gets my jollies wheres I can finds em.

Pigtails are fun. Vests without shirts under are fun.

Feeling responsible to several people…not so much. I cant wait until my final is over tomorrow. I need to talk to like four people. And I need to make Matt dinner…

“Can you do it Doggy Style with Black tea?” Hehe. I win.

impulse
2040-02-06-10:30 a.m.

Im done! Finally! No more lessons, no more back-breaking books! No more teacher’s semi-bemused looks. Well, actually Ill kinda miss that one. I had a fairly good lineup of profs AND TA’s this quarter, even if one was Carson. He was MUCH cooler this quarter.

Ive been impulsive lately. The Zen Zoo was an impulse. Actually beneficial to my finals studying. Now I have the impulse to drive to teh valley and sleep with my dogs.

Im hungry. Mmm. Meatcake.

Someone, prolly the workmen, in the building are playing “Down on the Corner”. Rawk.

I had to take out one of my piercings. It was tugging through, bleeding, and there were unpleasant little pools of caked pus in the hollow behind my hear. I think I need to try to let this one heal up and get it re-pierced with a stud or something…its all big and hard now where the hole is…

I just noticed something’s wrong with Diaryland’s clock. I wonder how fucked up all my times are…?

bleeding heart
2040-02-07-2:36 p.m.

drunken post.

Rachel’s party was good, but I actually left by 2am.

I watch all these freshmen get drunk, and I wonder if I shouldnt be setting a better example.

I know certain people have my back, and that makes me…happy…safe-feeling. I cant think of the word.

My roommate (M) is SOOOO drunk. He’s so adorable when he can’t stand up straight.

I have now kissed both Dave and Rhonda…Though Rhonda’s still ahead, 2-1.

I spell incredibly well for someone who feels so buzzed. My brain works way too well, but I still use drunkenness as an excuse to say some stuff.

I WANT K! Im recruiting Brandie this summer to help me haunt his place of business. Mmm. Dragons and laughter and boba oh my!

Im going to go sleep now before I type anything really (more) stupid.

day after friday the 13th
2003-06-14-7:23 a.m.

Yesterday was so good. On Thursday, while I was waiting for the bus home from work, this older Lebonese Canadian man reminded me that the next day was Friday the 13th. I just kinda smiled at him sick-like and said “that’s what I’m waiting for.” That didn’t daunt him though. Uch.

Like I said, I left Rachel’s comparatively easy (edit: early. Freudian slip? :-p), but I SWORE we were gonna make it up tonight. Oh my yes.

I LOVE my cast this year. Honestly, I feel like we’re a real group. We love each other and are comfortable with each other. Not AS comfortable as the Whores, mind, but that requires a certain amount of law breaking.

Last night, I ran the drinking game because Greydon wasn’t there. That was why I was freaking out about responsibility. I felt like it was just a taste of what lies ahead. It didnt help that the game dissolved 3/4 of the way through, but Rachel and some others helped drag it back into place.

The holy triumvirate could easily be Samara, Jenny, and I. Im not entirely sure that its a good idea to have 3 females in charge, but Samara and I definitely have a little yang in our yin. Jenny is level-headed when it comes down to it as well.

SO many carbs and so many calories last night…

During a Truth or Dare round of King’s Cup (yeah yeah, we have no creativity, but it WORKS), the Truth question was, who would you sleep with in the circle? I grinned and gestured widely “ALL y’all!” Everyone laughed. I opted to take a dare, on the grounds I couldn’t make up my mind. Because really, most of my cast is pretty fuckable. Enter the part about me kissing Dave.

I need to clean up. I think Ill wait until Mike wakes up.

WHY am I awake so early in the morning?! I couldnt have had more than 4 hours of sleep, and like a daisy, I awake.

People are coming to respect my bartending skeelz. I should just give it up and become a bartender this summer. Cause really, like writing, I think its my calling. Plus Kerry was all…yeah…the jobs arent exactly OPEN yet, when I filled out my app. Its a lil creepy, knowing people are gonna be gone if I get my job. OOH! I should go bug Jean! No, I really shouldn’t, and besides, it woud totally be a five minute trip because -I- have nothing to dooooo! Lemme say it again (in sing-song voice) Nooooothiiiiiing to DOOOOO!

Although I really do need to write some poems, or maybe I should take my backpack and write my lyrics into digital form…

Good drink:
-Rum
-Tonic
-slice of lime
-slice of orange

Don’t ask. Just drink…

OK, no more coconut milk ANYTHING for me EVER. I nearly was sick at supper last night. Stupid Thai food and its stupid overuse of stupid coconut milk.

I need water….ooh…there’s some….

OK, Im back. Im making another roast chicken. Ive been draining off the excess liquid to make stock later, but I dont know what I will put in the soup…

country roads, take me home
2003-06-14-4:09 p.m.

Im listening to the Doo-Wah Riders’ Big Small World. Doo-Wah Riders is my Uncle Ken’s country band. A few of these songs really rock, but the most amazing thing is to see them live. Too bad L.A. doesnt really have a country scene…I really just said that, didn’t I? Oi.

K would dance with me to Etta James. He likes Jazz. But would he put up with country music for the woman he loves? Eh. It may be too much to ask of any man, even the ones that Ive built from fantasy.

Yay, the time/calendar issue seems resolved! Woot! One less thing for me to feel anal about.

I think Ive gained all my weight back, and my skin is SHOTTTT. Fuck fuckity fuck fuck.

People are impressed when I can sing lyrics they like. TC likes it. nNeP is always amused. I got bonus points for knowing everything from Frank Sinatra to Teddy Bears’ Picnic.

I wanna dance every night until I can’t dance anymore.

resurrection
2003-07-18-9:23 a.m.

my dad thinks he’s recovered my files. He’s making me burn my docs while he watches. Which is SO cool with me I cant even tell you.

So much partying and being happy this last week, I can’t bear to think of going back to school tomorrow. But I’ll make the most of it. I think Im going to start walking to school if I can, and spend my Tuesdays and Thursdays at the Zoo studying.

The Zoo needs to be a big part of my life. So many people to meet and be friends with! I feel good there, and I can make people feel better when theyre sad.

This one guy has offered me a job at Comic Con…hell yes! Im SOO there. I always wanted to sell stuff at a table at the Con. I dont know why. Something in my personality wants to be a used car dealer. But this will be cool as shit, having a base to chill/work at when Im not stalking my favorite geek icons.

Im listening to Bad Hair Day. Ah, Weird Al…someday we shall be together. :-p Right after Matt Stone and Trey Parker.

Lessee…

Friday before last, Rachel’s party. Fun as hell, but I copped out early. Next day (Saturday, if youre keeping track) was my party, which I drove Tru and Yiloc insane over. Made a fool of myself with K, but he was cool about it, and everyone else seemed to have a great time. Matt’s puke was, and probably still is, in my lobby from my party the Saturday before. It was a GOOD party.

Sunday morning, woke up next to Jennie, at about 8am, went with her to Mom’s to make Father’s Day breakfast, which made him giddy, then we headed towards San Fran. Made it to Bakersfield. Im highly traumatized of long distance driving now. Got back to Mom’s house before midnight, crashed in the studio.

Monday, I…dude I dont even remember. This is why I blog. I really can’t remember what order stuff happened in. I think I probably went to the Zen Zoo on Monday or something. Im all kinds of blank. Tuesday and Wednesday, I spent with Jean, pulling the website together. It feels soooo good to figure stuff out and make the site come together. I also took care of Jean a bit and went shoppin