this is a call out

So. This might be my most vain idea yet, but I am going to open this blog up to something I've never done before.

I am asking anyone that reads this for a topic you would like me to address. Do you have a question about something I did years ago and want more information? I'll answer. Do you hate something I said in a previous entry? I'll debate. Do you just want to know my thoughts on a random topic? I'll ruminate.

If I get enough, I would love to make this another weekly installment like the Friday Five (Mailbag Monday? Thursday's Thoughts?), but we'll see. For now, leave a comment and I will do my best to churn out a thought-provoking, gutsy entry that will rattle your computer and send your mouse into spasms of joy.

Hey, a girl can dream.

Friday Five

Top Five Items Found While Cleaning My Room and/or Tim:

Because I'm sure Freud could find some deep meaning in the most frequently used and disposed items of my life

1. Bobby pins - Everywhere. On desks, in teacups, in sock drawers and in almost every single purse (except, of course, in the purse I'm currently carrying when I need them). I honestly think they grow legs, have little pin parties and multiply and then strategically place themselves around my room. Not that I don't appreciate the army of bobby pins, but I'm tired of finding them on my floor no matter how many I pick up.

2. Receipts - For some reason, I suck at throwing the damn things away. And it's not that I keep them to balance a checkbook or track my debit card, I just keep a vague running tally in my head that (more often than not) fails me. Every now and then I do save an important receipt, and those I keep in my drawer in an envelope. But Unos, Target, Claires and Books-A-Million? Let's just waste those trees.

3. Paper Scraps - I'll broaden this to include ripped pieces of notebook paper and the rogue sticky note (because those certainly dominate my turf), but it's really the scrapbooking paper scraps I'm referring to. I have a bad habit of working on a project, completing the project, and then half-heartedly putting away the supplies. And since every single little piece of scrapbooking paper can be used in one way or another, I can never justify throwing away anything, even as small as an inch. I guess I'm making up for those receipts.

4. Vitamin Water Bottles - Empty as well as in varying degrees of fullness. It's really sad, and I whole heartedly blame the Rices for fueling my addition. These mostly live in Tim, but often find their way into the house and my room as I enter, drinking out of one, and there they sit, forlorn, waiting til I carry five of them down to the recycling bin.

5. American University Sticky Notes - Elie will mock me, but they're everywhere. In bags, in Tim's dashboard compartment, in Tim's backseat, on my desk, on my shelves, in my planner. Little pads of them (mainly the ninja) that are just... everywhere. I had no idea I'd (ahem) picked up so many of them. At least, now I don't have to worry about running out over break.

they weren't there

There are some people you will never forget, no matter how much time goes by.

(and he wasn't my first)

I found the letter my best friend wrote to him while cleaning my room. Hidden under old birthday cards and school papers in the trunk that saw me through high school and my first year of college, I felt the inexplicable weight of the simply addressed envelope as I held it. I couldn't stop myself from sliding the pages out of the envelope and rereading those words for the hundredth time. The feeling didn't change - I felt all the wind sucked out of me and the panic of those memories. The words didn't change - the story of a girl who believed in me, who wanted to stand up for me, who wanted to validate me. And the outcome didn't change - I felt the questions creeping back in and all of those memories (theplaygroundworkmcdonaldsthestairsyourmotorcycle), but worst of all, the undeniable loneliness and my shame that I still miss him.

That relationship cost me my self-respect. It cost me a city and a job, a best friend and two years.

It cost me a lover.

He will probably cost me many more.

he was just the first.

if the world decides to catch up with me

I've got a goal for the coming months. I want to have conversations with people I don't know.

You wouldn't think that it's that hard to do, but it is. It's impossible! Everyone here sits around talking about jack, pretending they know everything and we never say anything that really amounts to anything. I want to sit with someone I don't know and have a brief moment that means something. I want that conversation to stay with me for the next week. I want that human to mean something to a stranger for a second, and I'd like to think that I could mean something to them as well.

Is that so much to ask?

It's a cold world, folks. I'm feeling it, every day. And I just want a little moment where I am refreshed and don't feel like it's me versus the world. I want to believe in humanity. I once asked Sovey if she thought that overall humanity was good and it was individual people that fucked up or if she thought humanity was the problem and only specific people were the good. She said the latter. I always said I believed the first.

But it's getting harder. Maybe I'm just getting tired. Or older. I don't know.

So this is my plan to combat it all. People are good, right? Humanity, relationships are worth fighting for.

Aren't they?

you know where I'll be - Tennessee

I thought of you all of yesterday.

I thought about what you looked like. I never got to see your dress, but I know you were the most beautiful bride ever. I wonder what your colors were and how your procession looked. I thought about your music and the food and every detail that you planned to make this day the most important one of your life.

I thought about your future life with him. I remember meeting him and sitting on my driveway at night. I hope he's the best man ever and will treat you as you deserve - but I'm pretty sure he will. You wouldn't have married him if he hadn't.

But I mostly think about how brave you are, and how I wish so much that I could be like you. I don't know how you found the delicate balance of courage, love and self-respect, but I am so sincerely proud of you. I don't know if I'll ever find it. I wish I could've been there to celebrate (because that's what weddings are for), but I know I'll see you eventually and we'll recap all the good and bad moments of your day.

I love you. Congratulations.

Friday Five

To celebrate being DONE with school!

Top 5 Things I Want to Do Over Break

1. Go snowboarding. I didn't go at all last season because of fucking South Pacific, and that will NOT happen again this break. I miss being on the mountain. And as lousy as I am at snowboarding, I still feel it's one of the only athletic things I am marginally successful at. I can only get better!

2. Clean Tim. If you haven't seen him lately, it's pretty disgraceful. I've got so much shit in my car, it's unbelievable. I could keep children in the back seat and no one would even know. I also plan to institute a "emergency bag" for Tim, consisting of those vital objects to survive if I needed to crash at someone's place and hadn't planned ahead.

3. Make my own stationary. I found the most beautiful paper that I'm going to use as a theme/color and I plan on making a set of notecards and envelopes that I will be able to whip out for those necessary thank you notes, as well as any items I might need to send to future employers, convincing them I am a classy person with classy stationary. Yes.

4. Play my guitar. I haven't touched it in literally months, which is depressing for such an expensive, gorgeous instrument. I've actually been mulling over writing a song lately, and for some reason I keep hearing it on guitar. We shall see.

5. Paint my room. I've been wanting to do this since I got my new furniture, but once school started, there was no chance in hell it would happen. I just need to find the right shade of blue...

my missed connection

title: I should've checked the door...

In Katzen, the women's room is on the left. In Bender, this is not the case.

I sincerely apologize for walking in on you, but I know I heard you laughing (whether out of embarrassment or amusement, I'm not sure).

Next time, I'll be more careful.

yes we can

Late for my group meeting for my final, I was finally on the road. I had worked all day at the Paper Source and barely said hello to my parents before I ran out the door. I had a list of five DVDs i needed to watch in the library (some full DVDs and others just clips) for tomorrow's final, plus I had to finish the study guide. I was trying to figure out how I would be able to photograph enough people and their tattoos to get my work submitted by this weekend. After I got off the phone with Leigh, I paid my toll, accepted my quarter, and got onto the Beltway.

That's when the tears started. I cried the whole way up, and it wasn't til I was about 15 minutes away from school that I got the sobbing under control.

It was quicksand - once I started, I kept bringing up every single thing that made me unhappy. Such topics included Kevin, David, my future (lack of) job, my supposed best friend, getting married and/or having children, my mom and stress over getting all the studying done.

I hate this. I hate doubting myself. I hate going to school, I hate this corporate University, I hate group projects. I'm so lonely. My half of my friends are leaving next semester. I miss having a boy hold me and hug me. I hate feeling like this is the rest of my life.

I'm so unhappy, and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix this. No matter what I try, it just keeps sucking. I don't know what to do to make it better, I don't know what adjustments s to search out to make it (and me) better.

It only hit me as I was nearing AU that I still clutched my quarter in my left hand. The irony of it made me laugh out loud. I had the change, but I sure didn't have anything to fucking believe in.

but you and i know the reason why

This was not a good semester.

And I've heard this from almost everyone at AU. I blame it fully on the election. We, as a nation and specifically as a college in D.C., became so focused on everything going on in the world (which I don't necessarily begrudge us) and the future and the promises that we forgot about the present. Then to remember we were here for school, to learn, threw us for a curve.

Maybe that was the case for them, anyway.

For me, it was just... I think it was living off campus. That marked the biggest difference between this semester and the previous two. And it wasn't a bad change, necessarily, in fact, it was a vital one. But not being on campus really hurt my mentality as far as being a "college student." Granted, I probably would've hurt someone had I lived on campus for much longer, but... still. There is so much to be said for walking to class from your room. It became an ordeal to go to school. My ever-changing luggage was so heavy because I had to pack everything for the whole day - I didn't have that blessed room to run back to and grab different books or take power naps (instead I took them in my car while wearing my coat and mittens). And even though I had two homes now, I felt pretty fucking homeless.

This semester was not the huge step and eventual triumph my first one was. Nor was it the second semester, marked mostly by the emotional highs and lows that comes with having your first boyfriend and breaking up with him at the start of finals. It wasn't even like the summer semester, intense and lived on a ghost campus doing photo till my eyes bled (not a bad way to go). It is its own entity, but one that lacks any distinct hallmark. It will be remembered for being forgettable. It was painful, stressful and I am still debating if this is worth it. I hate college because of this semester, and I hate AU.

I can think of three good things to come out of this semester. And I suppose that will have to be enough.

Friday Five

With my track record thus far, Jansy suggested I just make this the Saturday Six. I some how don't think I'd be any better at it, then it'd go to the Sunday Seven, then the Monday... Million, and in the end, it all leads to smoking.

Top 5 Named Items

1. Wheezy: My old 850 Volvo. He was a dark blue box on wheels, named for his particular wheezing sound he made on his right side when it was cold and I started him. We endured a lot together, and in the end, my parents made me sell him. I now drive a gay Altima. It's not the same.

2. Curtis: my iPod, who is currently in his reincarnated state since the original started speaking in Chinese and had to be replaced. Thus named after Kurt Cobain, who I sort of went crazy over for a time during high school - and also partially for Curtis Goodnight, who was one sweet kid. I couldn't have come up with a better name for my rock'n'roll iPod if I tried.

3. Brent: My old D70. When I did that summer theater thing at Herndon High, there was this kid named Brent who made the most amazing faces. I tried to capture them with my old manual camera, but it was impossible. I used Brent as evidence for my need of a new camera - and it worked.

4. Sirius: My little white mac. Partially named for Sirius (the character in Harry Potter since my PC (an HP) is named... Harry Potter), partially named so when I got frustrated with said mac (after being a PC user all my life) I could yell, "SIRIOUSLY?!" and laugh.

5. Queen Elizabeth: My Garmin GPS. She speaks in British English and is pretty good at getting me places. My dad calls her Lizzy- I wouldn't do that unless pissed because you know those British- that stiff upper lip and all.

i somehow find that you and i collide

Tonight, I picked a fight with a friend.

It's a lousy excuse, but this fighting is sort of the backbone of our relationship. I've known this kid since eighth grade, and never have I met a more frustrating, egotistical and in general ridiculous person in my life. I've never trusted his words and have always done my best to keep his ego in check by pointing out all his flaws and/or his shit still smells like everyone else's.

Some friendship, huh?

I'm not writing this because I'm proud of it, I'm writing because I'm at a loss and can't bring myself to admit that I did anything wrong right now. On a night where I am trying to generate a hint of our old relationship (because lately he has only used me when he needs an emotional backbone), and I'm out of this world stressed with the amount of work I have due in the next four days, he pulls the same old shit, talking about nothing but himself and not asking a thing about me. How his full ride scholarship wasn't covering things, how he hurt his knee, how his classes are hard and how he could've been at MIT wracking up even more debt. I'd had enough.

I told him I scoffed at his supposed debt, when I paid to go to a $43,000 institution and his complaint that UVA raising their instate tuition prices wasn't going to garner any sympathy. I reminded him he was wait listed at MIT (the first time around) and that he had no right to complain about school after one semester, when I've been going to college for the last, oh, four years.

I was nasty. I was also angry, and to a degree, still am. I was looking for someone to bear the brunt of my misery (which at the start of the night had nothing to do with him), and he played into it. He will never understand that I don't give a fuck about his supposedly genius IQ or the difficulties of his life because sure, though he has had it pretty rough, you can't use that shit as a fucking crutch for the rest of your God damn life. I care that he makes excuses, I'll never forget that night he forced me and that he never talks to me unless he needs something and the minute I show interest in being friends again, he'll disappear.

I was there too many times for him to deal with this bullshit. It's been a long time coming, and I'm not sorry it's over.

Friday Five

Here we go, with a slightly egotistical version of the Friday Five. For those of you who didn't read while I kept my old journal, jewelness, here is a smattering of entries that I, as a blogger, critic and human being happened to like.

My Top 5 Journal Entries

1. Covered in White Out - June 26, 2007

Just one of many entries about the asshole from Connecticut. This one makes the list, though, because though inspired by the boy situation, I think the entry itself spoke to a larger emotional issue that goes beyond my one time heartbreak.

2. I Can't Forget What Happened Here - January 22, 2006

This entry, obviously about my brother and his departure to college, rings true because it was sort of the culmination on my mini-series on the struggles of being his sister. I don't know if my parents ever knew how difficult it was (and sometimes, still is).

3. Photo Survey - October 11, 2005
I thought this was particularly amusing. Nothing deep, but we all need a break from the gut-wrenching entries.

4. The Process of Letting Go - July 20, 2003
Again, just one of many entries detailing my first painful fall into love. I wrote it after I went to prom.

5. You Don't Care A Bit - June 12, 2006
Of all the relationships, this one prompted (I think) the best writing. It went beyond journal entries and expanded into songs and poems as well. I suppose that means I should be grateful. I'm not.

come on down, to the bottom of the sea

I slept in a waterbed last night.

Aside from the almost constant motion through the whole night as I tried to sleep, it wasn't that bad of an experience. You certainly have to adjust for the fact that as soon as your right shoulder moves, some area near your left ankle will adjust for the redistributed water, and that when you first turn over, you're going to hit the bottom of the bed until the water evens out. It make you feel a little fat, to be honest, but then you're floating again and it's all good.

And sleeping in a waterbed after three drinks makes the game just a little more fun.

i'm so stressed by my stress i just want to up and vomit

I am absolutely losing it over how fucking STRESSED I am right now.

By this time next week, I need to have completed:

my research paper (which I haven't even started)

my director's book (which I've barely started) 

two CD reviews

a rough draft of my Adams Morgan story (with pictures I haven't taken)

preparation for my math exam

Today's entry, brought to you by the letter 'FUCK.'

Friday Five

I WIN.  Friday 5, on Friday.

Literally every single one of these things made me laugh out loud, at least once.

Top 5 Things that Amused Me This Week

1.  "You can't touch Daniel Radcliff, and you can't touch the animals!"  -Miranda, on a dinner conversation containing bestiality, pedophilia, zoos, "The Goat" and "Equus."  

2.  The Levi 501 commercial.  If you haven't seen this, go now.  Saw it while slightly inebriated - but just as funny, if not more so, when sober.

3.  My favorite Wikipedia find this week: The Hipster PDA.  I mistakenly thought it was a stroke of Adam's brilliance... not so much.  Make sure you read the sidebar on the right. 

4.  I unwrapped two Starbursts in my mouth.  I've done it before, but generally the wrappers come out a soggy, shredded mess, but this time, those wrappers were totally intact.  Yes, boys, I am available. 

5.  CraigsList.  HOLY EFF.  Remember the Boy Scout?  His crazy ex?  Well, here she is, for the win.  

That is the sound of me being validated. 

truth is a whisper

I have found my new favorite place at AU.

I stumbled on it last night, when I came over to find Adam in Katzen so we could do Tuesday Tradition.  He was working in 203, and as he was getting his bike, I strolled a few paces down the hallway and peeked into the next open door - 202.

I saw this huge, empty space of window, overlooking the stoplight and crosswalk between American University proper and Katzen.  It was perhaps one of the most amazing things I've seen in a long time - with just the glass, I felt like I was suspended from some incredible height, looking down into the world, hidden from everyone else.

I love this feeling.  I love being invisible, I love just watching the world continue to move while I try and stay as still as possible.  I love listening to the sounds of transportation, I love seeing people walking, I love none of them seeing me.  I love being able to see past myself and realize exactly how small I am in the world.  That my problems, when compared to the magnitude of the world - they're nothing.  So these issues with boys, stress over living arrangements, my ridiculous drive to be the most productive and strongest person I know - it doesn't matter.  

I like taking the time to be so quiet that I get past the noise of my own ego.

Heave your fiercest sigh

I've accepted the fact that I'm not skinny and thus, certain professions and or hobbies are out of the question.  I've made peace with the fact I can't be a supermodel, I'm okay that I'm not going to be a ballerina.  But my most recent realization of yet another occupation I will never fulfill has truly got me down.

I will never be a hipster.

(We all know that my main draw for being a hipster is to attract the hipster boys, so they see how sad and waif-like I look in my tight cords and come over and buy me a free-trade coffee or a PBR so we can bond over the newest awesome Joy Division inspired band that no one else has heard of.  But that is for another entry entirely, and I digress.)

Think about it.  When have you seen a fat, female hipster?  Like, a legit, dress wearing, wrapped in scarves hipster with the huge glasses and artsy, unsymmetrical hair?  NEVER.  Somewhere in page one of the Hipster Handbook it states that to be a true hipster, you need to look emaciated, like all your suffering and sorrow has manifested itself in your disdain for food.  (I, however, am a sincere fan of food, as well as beer, which we all know puts on the pounds.)

You would think that my being Asian would aide me in the quest to be a hipster (since we all know the Orient is popular in those underground, hip circles), but no.  My Asian genes have let me down because I, unlike the other 99% of the Asian population of the world, have totally uncharacteristic boobs and though I am short, which is a plus for the hipster game, I am compacted into five feet of the Asian Rice Belly.  Curse you, genes, for dashing all my dreams of hipster glory by giving me curves.

I can attempt the layering and striped shirts paired with leggings and berets, but the closest I can come to looking hipster falls somewhere closer to indie.  My penchant for food and generally "well-fed" look leaves me pining after swallow tattoos on my collarbone and the society that scoffs at Starbucks and gnaws on green beans.  But I like my collarbone the way it is, plus, I really dig gingerbread lattes.  

So I am left to try as hard as I can to fit in with the cardigan wearing mold... but I sincerely doubt I can pour this ass into a pair of skinny jeans and look even remotely tragic. 

Friday Five

Current Top 5 Activities

1. Use Genius to make playlists. Have you tried this feature? For some reason, I absolutely adore it. Now, I'm a huge mixtape snob and normally would turn my nose up at such a generic device that takes all emotion out of making a mix, but Genius is not half bad at knowing when to stretch the boundaries of similar music styles so I don't get tired of six acoustic guitar songs in a row.

2. Drinking in bars. No, I'm not an alcoholic. I'm hooked on the environment, the company, the good deals on food. Last conversation in a bar, I threw in the word "cartographer." I was pretty proud of myself.

3. Writing in my planner. Either one of them. I just love that feeling of writing in my .05 pens and recording history in my books. This speaks to the greater need of concrete memories and tangible artifacts to prove events and emotions are valid - but this is no place for that deep, after midnight philosophizing. This is just a quick list.

4. Sleeping. This is always a favorite. Lots of pillows, a few stuffed animals, a big bed and numerous blankets... it's excellent. I miss having a person to share said bed with, but my body pillow more or less does the trick.

5. Cleaning my room/Tim. Who ever would've thought I could ever list cleaning as one of my favorite activities? But I've realized I need a clean environment to function, and the current state of my bedroom is absolutely shameful. My dresser has so many teacups filled with jewelry stacked on top of one another, and I sneeze whenever I try to find a necklace. The sad thing is, with so many papers due Monday, I have no time to actually do the cleansweep I would like to. And give up going to IOTA Saturday to do it? Pshaw. I'm not that much of a koniophobic.

So THIS is how the world sees me...

I don't know exactly what it is, but it's here if you want to read the rest of it.

Korean woman is associated with Korean salads, rice, spices, kuksi noodles and dog meat. She is distinguished with narrow eyes, miniature, graceful and exotic beauty and cleanliness. Like Uigur woman she is engaged in trading at the bazaar, business in area of café, restaurants, clubs, shops, and for this reason she is rich. Her entrepreneurial success is promoted by diligence, accuracy, intellect, tenacity, pragmatism, dynamism. Depending on situation and character Korean woman can be both refined, subtle, tender, lively, wise and capricious, crafty and bad-tempered.

I'm associated with rice?  Really? 

if dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts

Life does not imitate art.

I've decided, instead, that art imitates the life we wish we led. Think about it. All successful art is based on the premises of practice and planning. And how are those ever really relevant in life? It's not like you get a test run of this being alive thing. You've got one shot! Sure, there are sometimes second chances, but it's not like in, say, a sketch that you can work on it, draft after draft, before finally releasing it. We, as humans, are published from day one.

And planning. I could talk forever about this illusive "planning" some of us strive so hard to accomplish. But really? Other than a lunch date here, a college there... how much are we really in charge of? SO LITTLE. What's even more frustrating is that we can do all the planning we want, and life will still come in and serve us something totally different. Think about art. What art is possible without months, sometimes years of planning? Look at movies, albums and theater. All of these are only feasible with considerable planning, and the ones that go on without - take Pollock for instance - ...well, they speak for themselves.

So art and life. Close- but not the same. Instead, I think that art is reflecting the level of perfection we as humans cannot attain because of our inability to plan and practice the game of life. If we did have a do-over? That's art. Think about how movies are scripted, costumed and scouted. Everything is so close to naturalism, but in the act of sitting and deciding, "I'm going to write about this," we've immediately changed it from life to art (hello, Heisenberg principle). I can sit on a bench and read a magazine while waiting for the bus. That's life. In a movie, I'll sit on a bench, reading a magazine, and the bus will either never come and I decide to walk to my destination and then meet the love of my life, or I get on the bus and we realize we're the targets of a terrorist organization that has a bomb strapped to the bottom of the bus that requires us to go a certain speed or we all DIE.

That's not life, guys. It's life the way we'd like to imagine it. It's life if we could plan excitement, romance and success just the way we like it served. Unfortunately, that's not the way the chips fall.

Every now and then, you meet someone that makes all that lack of planning and practice totally worth it. You start to hope that maybe life is better experienced without a trial run. You couldn't have planned it any better, and all the practice in the world wouldn't have prepared you for how the shit is going down.

Or maybe that's just what I tell myself as consolation that I have no idea how I ended up here, and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.

friday five

I apologize that this is not, in fact, posted on Friday.  But life happens.  You know how it is.

Top 5 Weird Jobs I'm Considering

1.  Wedding planner

For someone who is so vehemently opposed to getting near a big white dress and "I do," I think I would be perhaps the most phenomenal wedding planner to walk this earth.  I'm organized, I have a good eye for design and color and I can crunch the numbers to make sure the bride and groom stay within the budget.  I'm a multi-tasker - I can do hair, I've got loads of creative solutions for those last minute problems right before she walks down the aisle and I've got a great power walk and menacing upwards loom for any catering staff that would DARE to tell me they don't have enough of the lemon chicken we ordered.  

Brides would love me.  I'd probably end up hating all of them.

2.  Bartender

I've always wanted to bartend.  I'm not sure why.  Perhaps it's my general amusement by alcohol and those under its influence in the happy, safe and ridiculous kind of way.  My parents would be abhorred that their child would be one to perpetuate domestic violence and the general slide into immorality, but dude.  Bartenders, good ones, and even okay ones, can make bank.  And considering I'm a pretty good conversationalist, I've got great hair and I'm female, I think I would be one to make bank.

3.  Secretary

I know, how boring and blah and what a waste of all that creativity you have percolating inside of you, jewel... but really?  Think of me in an office, surrounded by paper clips, dry erase markers, calendars, sticky notes, manila folders, pens and a computer?  I think I'd basically fall over myself to sit in that swirly office chair.  Another bonus of a secretarial position is that you wouldn't "take the work home" with you.  You go, 9-5 with the envelopes, and then leave.  Free.

Maybe I should just work at Staples instead.

4.  Painter

Not like, in the artiste sort of way.  I mean an interior painter.  With rollers and Duron and co-workers who most likely don't speak English.  I don't know, this has always been my joking fallback option if being an actor didn't work out.  I like colors, and I always dream about painting my own room wacky and ridiculous colors, it'd be pretty cool to paint everyone else's instead.

5.  Personal Assistant

Now, Jamie warned me off of this, saying it was frustrating and you had to do the stupid jobs that no one wants to do, but I still think it would be really ridiculous to be a PA.  I'm totally down for getting dry cleaning, coffee, going grocery shopping or planning my boss's dinners with clients.  This kind of reads into the Wedding Planner, but my talent for multitasking and simply getting shit done would make me a phenomenal PA.  

The added bonus is that then I'd be so busy managing someone else's life, I wouldn't have the time to worry about mine.

employment

bwahahahaha!  my new source of income!

Paper Source

it's like crack for a paper lover.  i.e., me.

a day in the photo lab

This is how I spend my Tuesdays.

Caitlin, the unofficial lab assistant, needed to take a photo adaptation.  She chose Rosie.  In the second photo, note her take on "We Can Do It" and the balance of femininity and strength.



The latter is a more typical Adam face.  Here is a second look at Rosie, perhaps a more interesting image of today's feminism.

Adam stole the camera.  Look at the pretty modeling light.

This is actually a photo adaptation as well, though I don't know the original picture.  It's pretty hilarious, two people with white sheets over their heads.  So, this is Adam and I with Starbucks aprons smothered on our faces, inhaling the smell of photo chemistry for unhealthy, extended periods of time.  

WINNER FOR THE MOST INAPPROPRIATE QUOTE EVER

Adam, whispering in my ear in a very stalker-y voice as we smushed together:

 "I like it when we touch."

generations of epic

My grandfather was a hero.  

He served in World War II and got a Purple Heart.  He married a woman beautiful enough to be a movie star.  They had three kids, two girls and a boy.  His only son is my dad.

When I was about nine, my grandfather suffered a stroke.  It left him with speech and physical difficulties, but he kept going.  He died when I was about twelve or thirteen.  It was my first funeral.

I remember one visit to their house, he sat me down in the den.  And he began telling me, fighting through the speech problems, how when he was a young man, he voted for no one but a Democrat.  But later in life, he said he changed to voting for the Republicans because the Democratic values had changed, and he couldn't stay loyal to them any longer.

As a ten year old, I did my best to understand.  

Now as an almost-21 year old, I hope I understand.

Today was my first time voting in a presidential election.  And wow, talk about epic.  I stood in my little voting booth for a full minute just staring at my choices.  I even took a picture with my phone, which is currently set to my wallpaper, of that flashing "VOTE" button on the screen.  I don't understand how anyone could not vote.  

It's funny how numb I felt before today.  Right now I'm on fire, and I hope it doesn't change.

Papa, I hope you're proud.

it's time for greatness

It hit me today as I sat in class.

Tomorrow, we elect the next president.

Being in D.C., it's so easy to turn a deaf ear to the election and politics in general.  I get so inundated  with everything political at AU, I start to not care.  I forget that when I sit at my little table, analyzing the media's coverage of Sarah Palin and her pregnant daughter, when we look at the implications of Obama's "fist bump," we're not just discussing everyday politicians, we are looking at people that could be in control of perhaps the greatest country in the free world.

I forget that I am a citizen, not just a student.  I have responsibilities beyond midterms.  I have (however small) power, I have a voice outside the classroom.  And nothing should keep me from using that at this crucial time, no matter how certain I think this election is.

So with that in mind, despite the two papers I have due in less than a week, despite rehearsals every single night, despite losing hair, sleep and my mind, I will be driving home tonight so I can get up in the morning and vote.

Meiko - Good Looking Loser

See it live, here.

Guess who this song makes me think of.  The answer would be E) All of the above.

look what you've done

look what you have become

beautiful yet a fool and a thief

with my eyes closed

cause that's how it goes

everyone knew it but me

you're a good looking loser

and i'm the one who got away

with my eyes full of tears

and my hands in two beers

and the story is i am ashamed

should've been smarter

should've tried harder

should've been quick to your game

you're a good looking loser

and i'm the one who got away

nobody said it'd be different this time

maybe you're all the same

and i've had my doubts but i threw them all out

i had faith

that there'd be no price to pay

you're a good looking loser

and i'm the one who got away

i'm the one who got away

you're a good looking loser

and i will do what i have to do

i will try to find my place in the diary of jane

This acoustic version of "Diary of Jane" is one of the best I've ever heard.  Go to Imeem and find it if you're a Breaking Benjamin fan. 

So.  I turn 21 in basically a week.  Crazy, right?  Who ever would've thought I'd have made it this far?  Not me, for sure.  And technically, I could very well die of exhaustion in the week before I make it to 21 with the amount of work I have to do - but hey, we'll be optimistic for a change and say I'll make it.

In the meantime, I'm listening to acoustic rock tracks and debating the merits and consequences of pursuing a boy at school.  Along with a rehearsals, two papers, a director's book, plus the normal amount of petty homework... it's more than enough to keep me busy.

21, I'll see you soon.

Friday Five

okay, so i know it's not exactly friday any longer.  but today was spent teaching, getting a costume together, and then seeing a movie, so i couldn't exactly fit into the proper time frame...

Friday Five:  

Current Top 5 Favorite People

(in no particular order)

1.  Leigh - Leigh and I met in my African American Performing Arts Experience class (yes, that's a real class).  She correctly identified my Matt Nathanson shirt - can you say love at first sight?  She's really one of the most awesome people I've ever met, and I'm going to be really sad when she's abroad in Amsterdam next semester.

2.  Elie - I feel cheesy putting my best friend slash roommate down on this list, but really, it's pretty impossible for Elie not to be one of my current favorite people.  When you live with someone, you either love them or hate them, and I definitely love Elie.  She basically keeps me sane by letting me vent and then amuses me by one of her own tirades - you have not lived life until you've seen Ferocious Pez in action.  

3.  Adam - Perhaps one of the oddest people I've ever met - this boy carries a stack of index cards and calls it his "hipster PDA."  But he's not a hipster in that "I shit gold and wear my sunglasses 24/7" way, he's much cooler than that.  He loves polaroids and actually showed me how to make a picture frame out of an empty polaroid film container.  We tell each other riddles and are ridiculously snarky to one another.  I call him Jew, it's pretty excellent.

4.  Jason - Yes, my brother.  And though he really doesn't deserve to be on this list since he just told me he's playing a gig instead of flying home to celebrate my 21st birthday with me... I had already planned this list out before he told me that, so if I take him off, I'll have to think of someone else to take his place, and that's stupid.  So.  Yes he's on the list, but in the probation kind of way.

5.  Mrs. Rice - Another Rice to make the list!  But seriously.  She buys me my favorite foods, makes me breakfast every Thursday and doesn't mind me living in her house and leaving my shit all over the place.  It's absolutely incredible how selfless she is and how quickly she adopted me into the family.

Why technology will never be enough

We have come so far.

Consider the past hundred years.  Cars, planes, telephones, computers, the Internet.  Think about the past decade alone.  Mp3 players, mobile phones with internet, cameras that take videos and cars that tell you where to drive. 

I'm not that advanced technologically, especially compared to, say, my best friend-slash-roommate.  I don't follow podcasts, I don't read keynotes and I rarely watch tech TV shows or follow the blogs that would keep me toeing the cutting edge of where our society is headed- robots, gas-less cars, teleporting.

But tonight, the limits of technology really have hit me.  I've spent almost an hour in the photo lab trying to get these pictures to print, and the magnitude of difference from what I saw in my eye that night to what appears in my camera, to what goes on the screen and then becomes the physical print... it's insane.  Imagine living in color and then watching a video of yourself in black and white- the difference is shattering.  We pride ourselves on how we've come so far, how this camera's color gamut is extensive and this lens can let in so much light, but compared to the human eye, they still fall so terribly short.

I don't know how anyone can believe we formed out of a monkey, that there wasn't a Being who had all of us and our intricacies, our personalities, our flaws all in mind before pressing the "create" button.  Like, for real?

I may not be able to create a video, give traffic-avoiding directions or give any sort of tangible memory.  But my eyes and my ears can see and hear the most amazing sights and sounds that nothing any man makes will ever be able to recreate in their original glory.

We can keep trying, but we will never be God.

I'm waking up with a new sensation

I love academic advisors. 

Okay, so most of the time that's not true.  I really hate the restrictions they lay down, the courses they pick, all the doors they close because of "prerequisites."  I dislike the University, as it were, and academic advisors are basically the minions of said University.  So we don't always get along.

But all that changed today, my friend.  

So I go in to see Erin.  And we start laying out next semester's plan (can you believe it's already time to think about that?!), and she looks at my record, looks at me, and goes, "You've only got seven Comm courses and one Econ left."

EPIC WORDS.

I flipped my shit.

This means that after five courses in the spring, I only have 3 classes left.  One of those is an internship.  Two are "classes."  One internship, one media studies course, and probably that Econ.

And I'm free.

That brush of glory I was looking for?  It just showed up.

I always turn the car around

I am entirely unsatisfied with life right now.

I realized how boring I have become.  I don't have any glorious tales of college debauchery, depraved make-outs or even innocent mischief to entertain.  All of my time is spent doing homework or working.  Literally.  Save a few episodes of SVU (my newest addiction), I'm 100% schoolified.

I keep wanting that... brush of glory, the ridiculous story that provides enough fodder for a good week's of reliving.  A homeless man accosting me.  Getting it on in the dark room.  A food fight in the cafeteria.  Almost being hit by a car.  Seriously, anything to just relieve me of the paranoia tied to my planner.

I never thought this would be me, you know?  I was supposed to be the crazy, independent, music video fantasy, indie girl who would walk barefoot, play the piano and write horrible poetry.  Not the girl burdened by textbooks, a fucking Mac laptop and responsibilities to the corporate University! When did this happen?  How did I come to this?

There's got to be more.  Where are the corners to turn, the doors to open, the windows to crawl through?  Is 21 going to be the prize behind door number two?  Will the party really kick into high gear with presents, fire and the spiked punch?

Or am I pinning hopes on the donkey that are only going to leave me dizzy and totally missing the target?

I'm tired of getting even, let's get odd, odd, odd...

I first found Matt Nathanson when I was seventeen.  His album, Beneath These Fireworks, pretty much rocked my world.  As Elie and I were discussing on the way home from the show last night, his music became so much a part of my identity.  It also became my inspiration- to start writing music, to keep writing music, to keep trying to put these imperfect thoughts into perfect, cohesive words.  (Most of the time, I fail.)

My number one concert of all times was seeing him at Jammin Java for the double show, with my Matt.  Him, guitar, crowd.  It was religious and blasphemous and so fucking fantastic that nothing, nothing could ever touch that night.  God.  I honestly can't even begin to try to describe.

Last night's show was amazing.  I had some of the best people in the world around me, I shot the whole concert, he played Angel and a brand new song, Bottom of the Sea that ripped me up.  The transparency with which he played Falling Apart killed.  He was funny and obscene and everything he always is.

I've always disapproved a bit of those fans that abandon musicians when they achieve what every other person strives for in this world - success.  Success is not bad.  Success is what keeps your musician touring, my elite, music friends.  Your removed bitterness at "your" artist's climb to the top is shallow and meaningless.  I am thrilled for Matt that he is finally getting to show the world how fantastic he is.  The world is realizing real music still exists.  They're about to be inspired.

But.

I love it, I love him... but I'm never going to get another show like Jammin Java.  And yeah.  That makes me bitter.

I would cover myself in you

I love this song.

He said something when I interviewed him that really struck a chord with me.  We were talking about relationships, and while comparing that struggle to the fight with the record industry, he said, "You think that 'when I date someone that's amazing, beautiful and cool, it'll make me beautiful and cool.'  It's going to fill in all these places that aren't full."

I think that is one of the most beautiful sentiments ever crafted.

I think, deep down, I know that I wanted to date Kevin to fix myself.  I wanted to date him because he was so new, so different.  So unlike anything I'd ever seen, let alone had the chance to touch.  To mean something to.  He made me believe I was beautiful, and that's something I still haven't (and perhaps never will) believe.  He made me believe that out of a sea of people, a boy could pick me.

Maybe, in a way, I was looking for validation, but it was more a search for that missing piece of yourself.  The Origin of Love.  You think you recognize a part of yourself in someone else's eyes, you think that maybe if you could just communicate and find that soul-shattering love, it would all be okay.

I suppose that's what he was talking about.  What this song is about.

But I learned that the soul-shattering love isn't all that it's cracked up to be.  It hurts, it strangles and it leaves you so impeccably broken.  I learned there are some people the soul can never forgive.  I learned that even though there are days that I've realized I've made it through without thinking about Kevin, I will never repeat that experience.

I learned that he was right, and I was wrong.

Way to Normal

Today, I went out and bought my first CD in about a year.

It started out because I didn't want to spend money on music. It continued because I didn't have money to spend on music. It continued further because I started getting music from friends and the school for free. But it's finally stopped because I've started feeling guilty and now, though still a poor college student, I've established enough of an income that when I find an album worth purchasing, I'll splurge.

It's actually a delightful feeling, as weird as that sounds. I didn't download because I got a "rush" out of it, I did it because, well, I was lazy. But holding that CD in my hand, trying to rip the damn plastic wrap off with my teeth, opening it the way Tricia showed me... it took me back, I guess, to the old days of each CD being a little adventure. A complete packing of sound, graphics and words that would rock my world for weeks at a time, never leaving my side. Something about the tangibility, the solidness of the CD and the case and the unique smell of printing the CD insert and plastic just brought on this onslaught of absolute adoration for music. I felt 15 again, buying the Gutterflower and Say It Like You Mean It and GOODbye, Moon.

I haven't felt 15 in a long time.

She brought weekend boys home in her curls

I got a haircut today.

And if this isn't proof of my psychosis, I don't know what is...

I absolutely love it, but she cut it shorter than I anticipated.  Way shorter.  Though it's still long in the back, the top layers are barely skimming my shoulders.

I want to bawl.

The first day of fall

As I drove to school this morning, I realized tucked into my windshield wipers was a little gold and red leaf.  It was absolutely beautiful- this saffron, three pointed leaf with a generous sprinkling of cherry red.  I drove out of the Rice's neighborhood, and as I made the turn to Beach, it flew off my window.  

It occurred to me that in a book, someone made the comment that nothing ever looked as beautiful in death than a leaf.  Going out in flames, indeed.

It's hard to write the first entry in a brand new blog.  Most of you are probably surprised that I finally gave in to corporate blogging and am here, on blogspot.  I'm over it, I guess.  I still have every intention of going back to pitas and really working out that old journal, but for time's sake, here I am.  Last semester I laid out parameters for my new journaling home (frequent posts, less about me), and this is blog's first incarnation.  We'll see how it goes.

The title is referencing Matt Nathanson's EP after Some Mad Hope.  I think it's also a line from a DMB song, but I'm going to exercise my selective memory on that one.  The idea of "slow, but speeding" essentially sums up how I feel right now.  I'm growing up so fast.  Life is coming hard,  But at the same time, I feel like I'm stuck in this vortex of college, this massive pile of goo that just won't let me move.  It's a rough feeling.

So enjoy this, enjoy me, and I'll try to enjoy it, too.  I will see you tomorrow.