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There's truth, but no logic

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Fierce [30 Mar 2008|09:19am]
[ mood | awake ]

Hello to all!

I feel like Rita emerging from the crypt of livejournal...all moldy and covered with moss. Okay sick. That's not the point.
The point is that I just had the weirdest dream. Here's what happened:
I was on America's Next Top Model and it was still early in the game. Me and all of the other models were all standing around in this hallway, which was a segue location from my last dream where we were in a hallway trying to get rides home from something. Anyway, we were in a hallway, and I was just looking at everyone, not thinking of anything in particular. And then I hear this random lady saying something, and then she indicated to the girl who was standing two girls away from me that "You're first, go!" And then that girl started walking all sassy with her hand on her hip across the hallway into the adjoining room. Once she was in the room she seductively reached into a closet and picked up one box of cereal, then another. She walked back to her original spot, and the next girl followed suit. I was getting really nervous because I was next, and I didn't even know what the challenge was. Something about being a sexy mom? I didn't know. Anyway, when the other girl got back to her place I was really feeling like I was going to be eliminated. First off, I had two big shopping bags in my hands, and I had to clunkily set those down. Then, as I started my model walk all of the girls who were sitting on the floor tried to trip me with their stupid pointy toes. I got to the closest, and felt like I was taking too much time deciding which cereal to get. I realized that it didn't matter. I just wanted a good kind. All of that deliberation was for nothing though--I chose stupid kinds, I think plain Cherios and Total. What the hell. Anyway, I walked back to my spot and didn't even notice that the other girls went after me. I remember talking to the girls who were next to me about how I was sure that I would be eliminated. "What was the challenge in the first place?" "It was the ten steps challenge, you had to walk there and back in ten steps." What the heck is the point of that? Look good while taking elephant steps? I digress.
The next thing I knew was that we would find out if we were eliminated by going into another room and trying to find a piece of pizza that had our name on it within a Mr. C's pizza box. I opened it, worried out of my mind, and was scared to find that almost none of the pieces had anyone's names on them. But luckily, I spotted my name, which looked like it was written in pencil across the hardened cheese. I picked up the piece, and started devouring it. Then John called me mid-bite and I woke up.

3 didn't listen|tell me in person

Horray! [26 Apr 2007|09:25pm]
[ mood | bouncy ]

it's been a while, (how many people have started simliar entries in this fashion???) a million
by the way, this isn't an end of freshman year recap...sorry!
I'm still not done, so in the spirit of this continual process of school and neverending work I would like to share a part of my Italian final with all of you.
It's in English..well, this version at least, I can let you see the italian one if you want.
Anyway, this piece is a dialogue between Beppe Severgnini, who is a famous Italian journalist who wrote a book called An Italian In America, after spending a year living in Georgetown. SO it's between Severgnini and his American editor, and they are discussing changes for his latest book "An Italian Returns to America" (btw this book doesn't really exist)

Editor: Mr. Severgnini, I don’t think this book will be well received in America, you’re criticizing their lifestyle much more than in your last book.
Sev: Since last time, I think Americans have adopted even stranger customs, which are far easier to criticize.
Editor: If you want this book to sell at all in America, you’ll have to change it. You can’t expect our people to read a book that’s just making fun of them. Listen to this part, in chapter six of the book.

“Another strange American phenomenon that I have not yet mentioned is their interpretation and variations on gelato. For us, the word gelato brings to mind generally one image, but in the spirit of opportunity found in choice, the Americans have several different views. There is the standard variety, which remains in freezers until completely crusted over with freezer burn, and is what comes on the cones, after the strenuous effort of a teenage gelateria employee. Then there is soft serve, which comes out of a machine in a aesthetically pleasing spiral, and keeps coming, spirals one after another, until it resembles a famous slouching tower. To add to the list are the confections of the ice cream man, the never ending selection of popsicles, and one variety, recently discovered by myself, that is beyond any explanation: Dippin’ Dots, Ice cream of the future.”
Sev: But what’s wrong with that? Where was the malice?
Editor: Continuing…just listen …
One afternoon, I took a walk, and while I was strolling I caught sight of the vibrant colors and wacky lettering of a sign above a store that I had never seen before. I was lured in by the air of whimsy, as I often was during my stay in America, to find a horde of kids milling around brightly colored stools, and defeated parents massaging their temples, trying to blot out the noise. The counters were splotched with creamy puddles the size of peas, and the kids were shoving into their mouths spoonfuls of a substance that I could not discern. I approached the front of the store, where before me lay a freezer of what appeared to be containers filled with multi colored freeze-dried fish eggs. The glass counter above read words like, Cotton Candy, Tropical Tye-Dye, Neapolitan, and Caramel Brownie Sundae. Flavors. For tiny fish eggs?
Editor: Tiny fish eggs? Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? How about at least…I don’t know, caviar?!
Sev: Don’t you think little balls of frozen ice cream are a little weird?
Editor: Well in America, we like to have fun and be different. Dippin dots embody this, and I think a lot of people will take your opinion the wrong way, as a criticism for our way of life.
Sev: Well that fun that you hold so dear doesn’t last very long— in this case, after five minutes it was completely melted, not fun anymore, just normal ice cream for a ridiculous price.
Editor; You should have eaten it faster, Italian! In America we don’t take time to savor our food, you should have known this by now.
Sev: (mumble) Maybe you should you wouldn’t have such a huge obesity problem!
Editor: What was that?
Sev: Nothing, nothing.
Editor: Alright then, moving along…
My perplexity was interrupted by a frayed teenage girl who asked, “What can I get for you?”
“Excuse me miss, but what exactly do you sell here?”
“Dippin dots,” as if I hadn’t read the sign, “They’re little balls of ice cream, flash frozen and kept at 40 degrees below zero. They’re…fun”
Fun. Oh..kay. All of the kids are testament to that statement, I suppose. So, feeling curiously adventurous, I chose the flavor “banana split”, and parted with more money than should ever be paid for ice cream. Reader, let me tell you that the process of eating a bowl of dippin’ dots was one of the strangest sensations I experienced in America. The bananas were the yellow dots, the chocolate syrup the brown dots, need I tell you the white dots were the scoops of vanilla ice cream, and low and behold, there was even a cherry on top—or at least mixed up in the rest of it, the red dots. Truly a banana split. Never before had I eaten ice cream with such a resistant texture, felt it actually melt in my mouth, or had frozen beads of a banana split trickle down my chin. I have to say that Dippin Dots is another example of the American’s incessant need to create something completely unnecessary. What isn’t fun about normal ice cream? Shouldn’t the biochemist who invented this culinary oddity have been creating something useful, something that would benefit the world instead of an unnecessary variation on a product that already exists? America, qualche volta non ti capisco. America, sometimes I do not understand you.

Okay! So I read that at a poetry slam tonight and it was really fun. I saw this amazing woman who just...embodied poetry. And she really made me want to pick up writing again, and learn how to slam. So yeah, watch out, for I will annoy you all with my attempts I'm sure.

Okay so this summer is going to be awesome. It's basically going to be like my verision of college...I'm sort of making a syllabus in my mind.
I have a big reading list which I won't bore anyone with, and I have a lot of music that I'm planning on learning on both instruments.
Okay, livejournal has officially become the template for my syllabus. You all suffer

Summer (re*)Reading list

Beloved--Toni Morrison
The Bluest Eye--Toni Morrison
*The Odyssey--Homer
Homer's Daughter--Robert Graves
*Invisible Man--Ralph Ellison
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn--Betty Smith
Atlas Shrugged--Ayn Rand
Stories from Underground--Fydor Dostoevsky
11 Short Stories--Luigi Pirandello
Un Italiano in America (finish)--Beppe Severgnini
Mrs. Dalloway--Virginia Wolfe
Black Boy--Richard Wright (currently reading)
The Wasteland--(umpteenth attempt) T.S. Eliot
Short Stories--Vladimir Nabokov
in reality, there's more

Music learning list:
that mozart sonata that I'm learning
The Minute Waltz--Chopin
Tales of Strange Lands and People--Shumann

keep up learning fiddle tunes
relearn meditation from thais the right way
song that Laura will recommend for me.

Start advertising myself as a pianist who will play classical music for parties.
Play piano/violin at least once at a nursing home
Write at least one poem/story/something a week
Create something visual once a month
Take urban biking classes so I don't get hit when I'm in Ann Arbor
Learn about current events
Watch Season 3 of The OFFICE
Watch an Italian movie every week
Write something in Italian every other week
Dog sit for someone
Make a dinner for Mrs. Amato and Mr. Campion
Make at least one person's day every day at Kroger
Advertise myself at Kroger
Find out about being a plus size model
Not get skin cancer
Go to the pool at least once
Have a birthday party!

May 13-19
Chicago! To see Regina Spektor!
New York! To wander and create memories!

June 4-7?
Cedar Point!
To take a train!
To ride the new rollercoaster!
To cement friendships forever!

July 16-20
The Pittsburg Jazz Violin and Fiddle Camp!
To learn to improvise!
To learn to shred the fiddle!
To become less introverted!
To take the Greyhound!

Sometime in August!
To experience NATURE!
To be with friends!
To pee in the lake!
To create inside jokes that will last a LIFETIME!

Ohhhh summer. Oh yes!

can someone tell me how to make a cut? I forgot.

3 didn't listen|tell me in person

[15 Mar 2007|11:13pm]
[ mood | everything ]

you know what's good:

i have been missing out on years of rich goodness
and for what reason?
i thought it would taste more like cheese.

How wrong I was.

3 didn't listen|tell me in person

has anyone seen the new ipod commercial? is that band the new jet?! [02 Feb 2007|11:41am]
[ mood | standing up in high heels ]

written yesterday, around 5:30 pm

Io penso positivo perche' son'vivo, perche' son'vivo
I think positive because I'm alive.
Simple as that.
I wish i could always feel the way I do right now. Accepted content with purpose intelligente heading in the right direction tolerant (of the rap beats that permeate all four walls. Of the girl that handed me the flier for tonight's bear pong tournament. I smiled, without glancing at the flier, deposited it in the nearest trash receptable with slight penache' while an older black man, shaking his head, while walking towards me said "I was thinking the exact same thing")
I guess I'm just in love with all of academia at this moment. This is how I feel after class with Margaret Jordan. Just innamorata. Everything she says I just want to commit to memory--she is so articulate and cheerful--even when she's talking about something negative you can always detect a smile burrowed away. We were talking after class, a conversation which initially began as an inquiry about her office hours, then a posed question about the topic for my first essay, then an invitation to discuss it while she got ready to go outside in order to save me a trip, then a continued discussion of the current state of education in America, how I want to become a part of it and how she thinks I will be a great educator w/ the power to contextualize the material w/ what is going on today b/c I can see how everything is connected) about my nationality, the nature of romance languages and our disdain for the anti-intellectual attitude that our country possesses. All of this while she prolonged her preparations of leaving so that our conversation could be lengthened w/o me feeling that she was rushed and I was taking up her time.
She wears a beret. Her glasses are perfect circles of slightly thick black frames. She has an adorable compact mirror into which she gives her modest, charming, academic visage an affirmative nod.
I want to make someone else feel like this. In generations to come there will be children who find themselves set apart from their peers, and able to identify better and find commraderie with adults. I want to be there for these children--to assuage their worries that having a thirst for knowledge is something to look down upon.
True, I wish I didn't spend as much time as I do in the library. I wish I had more of a social life. But if all of that time spent in solitary preparation is a means to this kind of euphoric end--then fuck the rest.
Fuck the college norms, I don't need them and I don't need to feel like a social deviant because of it. This is what makes me happy. And I love it.

1 didn't listen|tell me in person

For the record [13 Nov 2005|12:31pm]
[ mood | peaceful ]

Mrs. Beyerlein on the subject of 'her old man'

"He's a workin' man.

He sells tools. Do you know what tools are?

What kinda tools?

Do you want to buy some tools?

You all could probably care less."

1 didn't listen|tell me in person

[22 Aug 2005|12:17am]
[ mood | happy ]

I wrote this earlier today:

College is finally becoming less surreal, now that I'm sitting in my backyard, on this autumn-like evening, wearing jeans and long sleeves for the first time this summer. I'm soaking up the forgotten sensation of being completely immearsed in cloth, after remebering how fantastic my ass looks in jeans. It's becoming less surreal to imagine paking all of my clothes, and CDs, and books, and diaries, and secrets, and memories up in dull brown boxes...as if the stories behind any of my random belongings could ever be classified as 'dull'. As the clouds remain stagnantly perched, dusted peach in a periferal frame, I realize that in about a year I'll be watching the sunset in an alien location. Without worrying about having to cover up my notebook when the buzzing and screeching of the cicadas is interrupted by the door slamming, and my mother's unseen presence setting off irrational panic in my irrational beautiful mind. I won't have a backyard. I won't have the lush, abandoned stage of my childhood waiting for me a few steps away. The site of my stuffed animal zoo, the bloody burial of our first dog, my first dry sex experience, and countless ant barbeques will be out of reach.

but it's just a plot of land. Just a spec of green from an airplane. Not even a mere dot in the grandeur of the cosmos.

It's getting cold, I think I'll go inside now.

If you have a heart, or any fond childhood memories of animated Disney CINEMATIC CLASSICS...please sign this survey, http://www.petitionspot.com/petitions/disneytraditionalanimation , it's because Disney is now only making computer animated films...I don't even want to go into why this is bullshit, but take a minute, give back to your former (or present) self.

4 didn't listen|tell me in person

I could have danced all night... [19 Jul 2005|11:56pm]
[ mood | enthralled ]

I do know how you all have missed my wonderful updates, brief and pointless as they normally are, I can imagine the pain and anticipation you all go through in waiting for my words. Surely, I jest.

So I got hit by a car today on my bike. Eh, whatever, still truckin'.

I want to go to a ball. I want to wear a long, glimmering periwinkle dress with a shimmering trail that would be fraily (adverb?) attatched to my wrist. I want to waltz with an older, English man for hours. I want a string quartet to be playing, swaying in unison to the rhythm of a composer's heartbeat, long ceased. I want diamond earings to dangle, and schintillate, filling the entire room with a soft, warming light. And I want the lack of conversation between the gentleman and myself to be of little interest to the both of us, so that we can just enjoy the magic hovering all around us in a reverie of silence.

But doesn't everyone?

I'm madly in love with Rex Harrison at the moment. As well as Harrison and George Harrison, as always...I'm beginning to notice a pattern.

I'm going to go finish watching My Fair Lady, I'll edit this entry with that movie survey when I get back.

Let me be enchanted for a while, without having to fill in tedious x's.

1 didn't listen|tell me in person

Emerging from the ashes [08 Jul 2005|01:25pm]
[ mood | determined ]

Wow. Hahah, just wow. I got back from Chicago yesterday after spending a week at the National Student Leadership Conference...I have to say that was probably the best experience of my life. I met SO many cool people...and it was awesome, because the program was called Inside the Arts...so I had something in common with everyone. PLUS, there weren't any dumb people...because the invitations were based on standardized test scores/teacher recommendations. I mean, dumb people are fine...it's just that it was nice to be with people who are really motivated in school/just naturally smart.

I also fell in love with a gay man who resembles Michael Darling identically.

But one thing that I realized when I was there is that I take advantage of knowing so many awesome people who live here, because I realized that when you are forced into a group of random people that you will eventually make friends based on similarities that aren't always apparant...and I realized that there are so many people in this town that I have a lot in common with...that I never hang out with, and it made me really want to hang out with a lot of people that I never see. So if I know you, and we've hung out maybe once or twice...or we used to and we sort of lost touch...expect to hear from me sometime soon.

But not too soon, because I'm leaving for Cedar Point/Niagra Falls tomorrow.

I love you all.

8 didn't listen|tell me in person

I love your blood cells [09 Jun 2005|09:32pm]
[ mood | energetic ]

Oops, I was supposed to do this and forgot:
01. Reply with your name and I will write something about you.
02. I will then tell what song/band/movie remind me of you.
03. If I were to apply an o'clock to you, it would be...
04. I will try to name a single word that best describes you.
05. I'll tell you a memorable moment I've had with you.
06. I will tell you what animal you remind me of.
07. I'll then tell you something that I've always wondered about you.
08. Put this in your journal

I really need a tutor for my algebra 2 final, if anyone is good at math...please help me out, i can pay you in either money love or cookies.

10 didn't listen|tell me in person

GIRLS ROCK UR BOYZ [08 Jun 2005|11:03pm]
[ mood | precipitevolissimevolmente ]

Okay, so I'm updating just so everyone can see what song I'm listening to. You've ALL done it, don't lie...or you make sure you're listening to a cool song before you start updating. Don't lie. This song makes me so happy that I might cry....hahah...or spell everything dyslexically before I correct it...but you can't see that.

These days are long hot and pointless, but we're almost done. That's all I have to say about that.

The best parts about today include: singing part of 'The Sign' in my US History Presentation, watching Heavyweights in Film Lit, seeing a random horse in the s-lot, finding out that you can't get money back from waterbottles, counting all forty two bottles that were in my locker, resurrecting the robot that we took from Ben, finding out who sings this song, and realizing that Nabokov is one of Daniel Handler's favorite authors (that was yesterday, but who cares).

Mr. Garlough is my grandpa, Nabokov is my dad, PT Anderson is my fiancee, and Mr. Campion is my erotic uncle.

New life's dreams: get proposed to in a foreign language...and something else involving either Boston or scuba diving.

Don't you love stupid updates? They're so much better than heartfelt ones...by better, I mean faster to type.

9 didn't listen|tell me in person

You know what I haven't had for a while? Big league chew. [28 May 2005|11:10pm]
[ mood | pensive ]

What is the real point of documenting things that happen in your life? I mean, yes, interesting, beautiful, life altering, earth shattering things DO happen to people. everyday. they're probably happening right now, and will definetely happen in a few hours from now, when a bunch of people loose their virginities after prom...but...writing down things that happen takes away from the random bursts of memory and good feelings of nostaligia that overwhelm us from being reminded of something you never thought to write down. It's true that you remember a lot more from writing it down somewhere, it's the same about flashcards...you spend so much time writing them out that by the time you're done, you don't need them anymore...if you spend so much of your time just writing out everything that happens to you, when something obscure reminds of you a good time you had a year or two ago, it doesn't seem as special, as out of the blue...what I'm saying, I guess...is that you shouldn't spend so much time reflecting on things, that you should just go out and experience as many things as you can, and build to the things that will create a good feeling of nostaglia when you randomly see a billboard that reminds you of something special that you once said to someone.

There's no real point to this entry, because I love rambling about my life in my hard copy journal.

I guess watching the Daria movies tonight reminded me of all of the unwritten moments that made 8th/9th grade incredibly memorable.

So I think I'm going to Cedar Point tomorrow?

tell me in person

"Dad! There are other wipes besides star!" [22 May 2005|12:22am]
[ mood | sleepy ]

Today was pretty historic. It was the first day that i played badminton outside of gym class. More importantly, we finished our movie today, which makes me unbelievably happy. I'm really happy with the way it turned out, although I wish I had more imput in the actual making of it. But what I did contribute, I really like...namely the music. But yes, it's a really great movie, even though I haven't seen it with the new narration. Everyone should come to the film festival on the 1st, (the same night as the band/orchestra banquet, i KNOW) There were a lot of really good movies that we watched in class, and I'm really proud that Mr. Monaghan picked ours to be included.

Mission for the summer: sleep on the roof without falling off and dying.

tell me in person

Hey! I wasn't supposed to get pudding in that eye! [20 May 2005|11:48pm]
[ mood | amazing ]

I wonder if Mr. Campion is sitting in some secluded area of his house, writing in a journal about how much he hates the world but secretely loves Tom Diebol. I just wonder...I can see him, surrounded by his collection of swords, a single light source casting barred shadows through the blades onto his panicked and paranoid face...because if anyone found him, or was stealthily standing over his shoulder, reading his expression of the suppressed enamoration he has for the one and only porcine wonder of sixth hour, first semester creative writing...it would ruin his career not to mention life not to mention infallible image.

He's probably not. If he were me, he'd be watching standup, and laughing inwardly.

I remember the day Em was born, I was wearing my red dress from Hawaii...and I just remember spinning around in the hospital room where they kept me...not really thinking about anything, not looking forward to the 'new addition', just watching the floral ruffles of the dress swirl and chase and bloom with the gushing air from the extreme spinning velocity. I remember my aunt...or maybe uncle...or grandma...coming out of a long white hallway saying "Her name is Emily!" The first thing I felt was disappointment, that she hadn't been named after a Disney princess. "What a waste of a name", my eyes said, and I was dragged out to see her. I don't remember being thrilled to see a ball of fat being wrapped in a blanket, but I do remember being ecstatic at the sight of a cake with rainbow colored sprinkles.
Dear Em, I was like five...even though I hated you for many years after that, I don't now! So yeah...don't feel bad.

Anyway, does anyone think that our thoughts are restricted by the words we know? As if anyone's vocabulary could do any justice to the emotions that they feel, or the way that they perceive their surroundings...Do our thoughts become loftier with an increased linguistic repetoire? Or do we just become pretentious? How could there possibly be enough words, in all of the languages of the world...to put a name to every idea, object, expression, and emotion...if we are all so drastically different...and we all see things through differently tinted glasses? I think I need to re-read Hayakawa...now that I don't have an inevitably ridiculous test following my 'comprehensive study'.

Yeah, so basically...I love everything. Which basically means that something will go horribly wrong tomorrow. But congratulations to everyone in One Acts! Sincerely, I enjoyed everyone's performance...and directing...and everything, it just made my night. I would go into more detail, but I'm afraid it would take up too many indifferent people's friends pages. That's bullshit, if you really want to know what I thought you can ask.

Also, congratulations to Kristen...for mistaking Mr. Glendening for Mr. Garlough...if it was only for that one moment.

5 didn't listen|tell me in person

I gave her to hold in her awkward fist the scepter of my passion. [19 May 2005|08:24pm]
[ mood | listless ]

Teenage reflection time!

She was Dolly at school.Collapse )

2 didn't listen|tell me in person

Eliza, where the devil are my slippers? [15 May 2005|04:17pm]
[ mood | good ]

Last night I had the most disturbing dream...I was...at some golf course, I think, but I was outside looking in...at least it felt like that for a while...anyway, I saw my dad--who in my dream, was Amelie's dad, unquestionably...and he was just walking and then this snake with really thick legs, okay it wasn't a lizard, I know that you're thinking that...its legs just kind of sprouted from its sides as it came onto the grass...well anyway, the snake/lizard beast exploded out of the water, pretty much...and bit my dad's leg, and as he was collapsing, bit his neck....now I'm realizing that it was like I was watching this whole ordeal in a movie theatre....and I somehow was transported onto the golf course to try and save my dad, but he was dead on arrival. It was all very surreal, and then..I was at a dance at South for some reason...it was the Valentines Day Dance because Mike had this satin change purse with hearts on it, and kept pulling out these cheesy romantic sayings...anyway, I was completely stricken with grief...and I kept looking around for someone who would listen to me, and actually care about what I was saying...but I could only see people that I knew my sight...but I managed to find Alyssa, and we went to her car...which was parked in the staff lot for some reason....and people kept going to the dance through the door by the band room...so it looked like a morning before full orchestra, and reminded me of all the times my dad drove me to it...so I felt genuinely depressed...like how you feel like you are actually scared/turned on/being hurt in a dream...and I couldn't stop crying, and I was trying to tell Alyssa about what happened...and then Zack Brooks showed up, and I told him that my dad died that day, and he just laughed and laughed as if I made an derogatory joke about politics or something....anyway, Alyssa and I went inside her car, because I couldn't stand to just be out in the open and having people staring at me...and I was speaking Italian for a long time about how sad I was, and how much I was realizing the severity of my situation...I remember only one thing that I said "E lui era l'un che mi è piacuto...che farò?" and this was about the time I woke up...to one of Em's friends butchering my piano...trying to play...some christmas song I think. But it was one of those frighteningly realistic dreams, where you wake up with a hole in your stomach, wondering why your face isn't raw and sanguine from crying.

My dad just left for California, I hope my dream wasn't a harbinger of things to come.

1 didn't listen|tell me in person

Would you tell a sunset that it couldn't last...forever? [08 May 2005|09:55pm]
[ mood | enamored ]

This has been one of the best weekends that I can remember. Discounting all of those stellar weekends at the car wash. This goes above and beyond.

I'll bipass the SAT, car wash and other minor details. If I really wanted to tell you about any of that, I would have already.

But OMFGZ PROM~! I wz SOoO SOoooO nervous! Lik omg what if lik some1 wuz waring the same dress az m3...i wood dy.

Too bad I probably paid at least seventy-eight dollars less for my dress than anyone else. Two dollar, formal, never-been-worn dresses from thrift stores make my life. Anyway, this is all still very unimportant. So fastforwarding through all of the awkward pictures, tiny hot dogs, and backhanded comments about my body exploding from carb infiltration...the evening started out on a lovely note, by the temperature being considerably above freezing. Always nice.

Okay so at the BARRISTER HOUSE *overly sophisticated accent*...Alex and I walked in and they were playing this music unfit for the most body odor/cheap perfume/cum stain contaminated elevator. Well, maybe it was a little better than that. But not much, and it continued unabated for a good two hours.. which basically killed everyone's hope for the endurablity of the night. But I had my money on the fact that enough people were already inebriated enough not to be effected by the insipid music selection. Anyway, the food was so schifoso that I couldn't celebrate the fact that I was FINALLY off my stupid diet, and it was so unpalatable that I wouldn't send it to Ethiopia. Oh I'm such a BITCH.

Okay so moving on to the point where people left their inhibitions at the table, tucked away under the box flavored mashed potatoes. The ACTUAL music started off generally enough...meaning they played "Brown Eyed Girl", so that 75% of the females present (plus Alex. JK) felt at least a slight sense of appreciation. So the music is pretty bad so far, and we realize that Caroline and Jennifer left...so we take the night into our own hands. I mean seriously, if you're going to spend fifty dollars for a night of mystery, enchantment, and inedible food...you might as well make the most of it.

So basically everyone knows how a dance progresses. Bad rap song, bad rap song, good rap song, techno, 80's rock song/90's one hit wonder, slow song to rescue everyone's heart rate from overpalipitation due to overgyration. And repeat, season immediately after cooking. But there's nothing wrong with all of this, as long as you're able to overcome your standard boundaries and let yourself have fun. Or else you can just sit back your table (because this option exists at prom, instead of standing solo by the bleachers) to rip up the garrish masks in lonely rage. Umm. moving on.

Anyway, one of the highlights of last night was this observation (hidden in between its rambling re-telling) As soon as Alex and I processed the 80s styled opening riffs of another high school dance classic... we decided to take a sabbatical from owning the floor, to observe the social patterns of our peers...because isn't that what makes life worth living? Steping outside the lines, looking in, and realizing that you do it so much better. It meaning living. (What's worse? Having fatally low self-esteem or being ridiculously egotistical? I kid of course. But really, just listen) So we're watching everyone, posing for a picture, watching...watching. and I notice that if you look quick enough, you can see at least three people surreptitiously making out every thirty seconds or so. It was staring into the soft darkness of summer, waiting to see a firefly momentarily encased in an illuminating orb. (o! Fitzgerald) Except...this was more like...watching musty darkness being interrupted by pulsating multicolored lights, to catch a glimpse of two hormone fueled teenagers seeing how far a can tongue can be thrusted down the receiver's throat before being spotted/gagging...whichever came first. Not that most of them cared. Anyway, after that song ("Pour Some Sugar on Me", I should note) Alex and I were sick of standing on the wall, and decided to do something. We were just looking at these people, like they were some kind of freaks. So "Let's Get Married" by Boys 2 Men came on...and every couple unhooked themselves, took two steps back from each other. Apparently, the theme of commitment being blasted from speakers that had witnessed this pattern many a time, was less stimulating than the theme of being coated in a diabetic's nightmare. So aside from Get Low/Candy Shop/Hey Ya!/Since U Been Gone/Grease Megamix/the plague stiking (Avril Lavigne)/Nasty Girl/Rich Girl/Both Nelly Songs...that was my favorite part of prom.

So by 11:40ish I was basically so exhausted from such hardcore dancing, hardcore car washing, and hard core test taking that I can end my account of this day without you being eager to know what happened next.

So today! Hardcore buffet, no doubt. Nothing more needs to be said.

And a carnival with Em! I figured that I should do something wholesome after a night of slutty dancing. But of course...carnies ruined that innocent notion with their impure thoughts/glances. SERIOUSLY WHAT THE HELL. MY SHIRT WENT ALL THE WAY DOWN TO MY CALVES...I definetly grew tired of the pussy-hungry looks, and money-hungry cat calls. Carnies discust me. I wonder what they're all doing right now...probably not reading Fitzgerald...or eating something that didn't come out of the cotton candy maker. Anyway, we went on everything...the only thing really worth mentioning was the Ring of Fire. Not because it was OMFGZ SO FUKING SCERRY...it wasn't, I wasn't even paying attention...my heart had been arrested by the sight of an upsidedown sunset. I won't even try to describe it, there is no way that I could do that sight justice...suffice it to say that I added, and promptly crossed out the idea of seeing an inverted sunset in my mental list of life dreams. After that, everything was an aesthetic wonderland.

Sunsets last approximately seven minutes.Collapse ).

Everyone should go to the Tri-M recital on the 25th..Alex and I are playing Gershwin, and I'm probably going to play some Mendelssohn...just to mix things up..JKLOL! ITLL BE SWEET

4 didn't listen|tell me in person

I AM THE LIZARD QUEEN! [01 Apr 2005|06:01pm]
[ mood | Big League Chew ]

Conversation with Jamie Handley:
Jamie315316: damn i want to go to the kelly clarkston concert
Oh Darling827: SINCE U BEEN GONE
Jamie315316: i came along
Oh Darling827: hahah
Oh Darling827: i love that song
Jamie315316: a moment like this
Jamie315316: some people wait a lofe time
Jamie315316: for that one speacil kiss
Jamie315316: o i cant believe its happening to me
Jamie315316: some people wait a life time for a moment... like this
Oh Darling827: hahah
Oh Darling827: i can't believe you like her
Oh Darling827: do you really
Jamie315316: no
Jamie315316: lol

Heartbreaking...I know.

So I visited Wayne State today. I have two things to say: They have a Taco Bell on campus. and a waterslide.

Enough said.

1 didn't listen|tell me in person

This is goin' out to Mr. B. (Bau Bau) [19 Mar 2005|12:24am]
[ mood | touched ]

The only time a song ever sounds its best is at the climax of a performance. When everyone playing is breathing at the same time, and the notes dissappear from the page and begin circulating throughout everyone's bloodstream, arousing such a feeling of intensity and passion for music that for a split second the emotion conjured by the composer is manifested into the hearts and minds and souls and fingers and genes of the musicians.

That's what art is. And that's what good music is, no matter what genre. And that kind of passion never stops with the musicians, it goes out to everyone in the audience, and at such an orgasmic moment such as the one described above, the audience can forget about how a piece of fabric softener is sticking out of the pantleg of the first chair cellist, or how a single hair is consipicuosly sticking up on the conductors head...or how the trumpet never fails to come in too loud and ostentatiously. For one second, everyone in the audience who has any passion or affinity for music (and who isn't dosing off) will feel some of the original emotion of the composer being that is interpreted by the musicians who are reading it off of the paper, and absorbing it into their circulatory system....that for one moment this emotion being radiated and emanated off of the performers would waft, stream, float over the heads and through the ears of the audience, permeating the inner most trenches of their brains and sowing seeds of pleasant dreams in their minds.

This is what I wish orchestra was like.

tell me in person

Is this that voice that caused all those suicides? Murder suicides, honey. [17 Mar 2005|07:07pm]
[ mood | bored ]

If you can correctly guess what this picture is of I'll give you a cookie. Or a nickel, depending how generous I feel.

Note: You cannot be Alyssa..or Rita.

8 didn't listen|tell me in person

THE HARDEST MOVIE QUIZ EVER [15 Mar 2005|09:31pm]
[ mood | nerdy ]

I'll be impressed if you people know these:

1. "We're not the first dogs to be having puppies."
2. "Who are you? Moses?"
3. "It's a birthmark!"
4. "I came up with a new game-show idea recently. It's called The Old Game. You got three old guys with loaded guns onstage. They look back at their lives, see who they were, what they accomplished, how close they came to realizing their dreams. The winner is the one who doesn't blow his brains out. He gets a refrigerator."
5. "Anybody wanna waste some time?"
6. "This really looks like Hawaii."
7. "Now that I've met you, would you object to never seeing me again?"
8. "No! You've burnt me before!"
9. "You know, at one time, I used to break into pet shops to liberate the canaries. But I decided that was an idea way before its time. Zoos are full, prisons are overflowing... oh my, how the world still dearly loves a cage."
10. "Would your nanny goat go bazerk if you played hookie this afternoon?"
11. "If I hear so much as a mouse fart in here I swear by God and sonny Jesus you will all visit the infirmary. Every last motherfucker in here."
12. " I tried taking pictures, but they were so mediocre. I guess every girl goes through a photography phase. You know, horses... taking pictures of your feet."
13. "Knibb HIgh football rules!"
14. "I can't tell... if it's an "A sharp" or if it's a "B flat"!" "Heh, if you hit the wrong note, we'll all "B flat!"
15. "Jeweler, you failed."
16. "Hold on to your butts."
17. "We're goldfish people, we're antfarm people. We're not dog people."
18. "Yeah, but this year we're seniors."
19. "My God. I haven't been fucked like that since grade school."
20. "The script I'm starting, it's about flowers. No one's ever done a movie about flowers before. So there are no guidelines..." "What about "Flowers for Algernon"? "Well, that's not about flowers. And it's not a movie." "Ok, I'm sorry, I never saw it."

Knock yourselves out.



25 didn't listen|tell me in person

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