Thursday, December 16, 2004
I'm too lazy to rehash my latest adventures for y'all, so here is a message I just sent to Sara (mildly edited, you know, to take out the racy stuff).
My dearest darling Sara,That was not actually in the e-mail, but you get the idea.
Yo, dude. It is me, busy Meg. Well, not so busy right this second, which is why I’m writing now and not earlier. But you probably won’t even get this until you get home, which does not really help entertain you at work, so I’m sorry. Read it anyway!I am bossy.
I ordered some fingerling potatoes. They should be on my stoop when I get home today. Yay! I haven’t gotten Christmas presents for anyone. It’s starting to freak me out. That is my mission for this weekend, I think. Also art. We arting on Sunday? LACMA may be crowded, if people are into Arts and Crafts like me, but who knows. I can’t decide on Getty or LACMA first. The Getty is nice in the afternoon, but I have never been there earlier than 2, I think. Maybe I will flip a coin.What did I read? Sandman.
The seminar yesterday was actually a ton of fun, which was a really nice surprise. I decided to be extra-super customer service girl, and since I had all the answers Where are the bathrooms? When is lunch? What do I do with this form?) I could just totally pretend that I wasn’t shy. It was cool. There were about 700 people there, and I’m sure I talked to at least half of them. And then I got to go home at 1:30 (I had to get there at 6:30 a.m., it made me cry). That was great, although I was so tired I just laid around and read.
It keeps bothering me that I haven’t done any Christmas decorating. I feel like I’m not really getting into the spirit of anything. I mean, I like the holidays, I like decorating and listening to cheesy music and stuff, but it’s like it’s too much effort to make for just me (and Trigger) so I haven’t done anything and now Christmas is a week away and it feels like any other time of the year. I dunno, maybe I should stop worrying about it.See how spastic I am when I write normally? Generally when I post on this 'ere blog, I think about what I'm saying before I hit the "publish" button. You know, because I love you all. All TWO of you.
I had a nice talk with my mom the other night. She may start teaching at my old high school, which is weird, but cool. Mom has this habit of re-working actual events to suit her when she tells people about them, but it was nice to hear that everyone at my school still remembers and loves me and wants to know how I’m doing (even if that is not exactly the case).
I think I’ll steal some of this for my blog. If you mind, then POO to you =] Maybe I will see you online tonight.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
I cannot even tell you how happy this makes me. The drawings change frequently, and I don't think they're archived past a week, so if you don't see a happy little man dancing, YOU LOSE.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
I seriously have some disease where I cannot use the microwave. Every night for a week, I've heated up a mug of water to make tea, and then forgotten it. Every night. Sometimes I realize I've forgotten it, and reheat it, and then forget it again. Some nights (yes, more than once) I have repeated that little tragedy THREE TIMES and then given up. It's like the done-ding! has no effect on my ears. It does not shake my cochlea. I need an ankle bracelet that shocks me when the microwave finishes, that'd fix me right up. Or maybe I should hide the microwave from myself, and just use the stove. Or I could just PAY ATTENTION. Oy.
Current Music: rain, rain, wash my car
Current Mood: garlicky
Current Music: rain, rain, wash my car
Current Mood: garlicky
Friday, December 03, 2004
So today I got my Kaiser Permanente packet at work. My health care is now FREE for as long as I'm at Spidell. And they had white chocolate raspberry espresso at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf. And my box of organic produce was waiting for me when I got home. And I got a letter I'd written to myself in 9th grade. And I'm hiking in the park and visiting Pasadena this weekend. And I love my cat. As far as I can tell, she loves me back.
SO HAPPY.
SO HAPPY.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
So during the recently concluded presidential campaign, I got SICK SICK SICK of hearing about "undecided voters." Apparently I was not the only one: http://tinyurl.com/4yka3
That cartoon's from the Washington Post, and says it all, really.
That cartoon's from the Washington Post, and says it all, really.
Saturday, November 13, 2004
I've been reading. I'm not sure what finally nudged me to go get a library card the other day, some random meeting of opportunity and caprice, I guess. Having a library (albeit a teeny tiny one) within walking distance is amazing. I had the libraries of USC close by for four(ish) years, but their fiction collection is pretty thin, and I rarely read other types of books, despite my best intentions. I'm not a person who does well without things to read. Books can make me deaf and blind to the world for hours and hours at a time, but at least those are hours not spent moping, or buying things on the internet, or robbing banks or whatever. I always had a book close by when I was younger — literally, I would walk around with one in hand most of the time, holding my place with one finger.
So what am I reading? Ah, I'm so glad you asked. *squints accusingly at non-existent audience* My first two books (I could only take two, until I got my actual card, which came today) were Coraline, by Neil Gaiman, and The Golden Compass, by Phillip Pullman. Now, I didn't remember until I read the dustjacket, but I was once profoundly irritated by a Phillip Pullman book, years ago. It was called The Ruby in the Smoke, or something like that, and right at the end of the book my favorite character got killed off. She was just a supporting character, a plucky orphan, I think, but I liked her, and just at the end of the book, when the bad guys had been thwarted and things were winding to a close, someone grabbed her and disappeared into the fog. The end. I scanned the other two books in the series to see if she'd resurface, but never found anything. Why would an author just dispose of a character like that? Grr. Anyway I won't say too much (in case someone reading this hasn't read Golden Compass but wants to)(and you should, it's a fine book in most ways) but a very similar thing happens at the end of this book. Just poof, character dead, move on. The main character of the book is something else, though. She really is admirably spunky. And Coraline was fascinating, an incredibly creepy, tight little story. I wonder if writing for comics helped Gaiman hone that skill (of which I am incredibly jealous) of compact storytelling. I don't really know how comics are written for, if it's like screenplays or what. Where could I find that out, I wonder?
Current Music: Kate Bush, Army Dreamers (I had a really cool idea for a little music video for this song last night, maybe I will do something with it)
Current Mood: headachy, and WORDY
So what am I reading? Ah, I'm so glad you asked. *squints accusingly at non-existent audience* My first two books (I could only take two, until I got my actual card, which came today) were Coraline, by Neil Gaiman, and The Golden Compass, by Phillip Pullman. Now, I didn't remember until I read the dustjacket, but I was once profoundly irritated by a Phillip Pullman book, years ago. It was called The Ruby in the Smoke, or something like that, and right at the end of the book my favorite character got killed off. She was just a supporting character, a plucky orphan, I think, but I liked her, and just at the end of the book, when the bad guys had been thwarted and things were winding to a close, someone grabbed her and disappeared into the fog. The end. I scanned the other two books in the series to see if she'd resurface, but never found anything. Why would an author just dispose of a character like that? Grr. Anyway I won't say too much (in case someone reading this hasn't read Golden Compass but wants to)(and you should, it's a fine book in most ways) but a very similar thing happens at the end of this book. Just poof, character dead, move on. The main character of the book is something else, though. She really is admirably spunky. And Coraline was fascinating, an incredibly creepy, tight little story. I wonder if writing for comics helped Gaiman hone that skill (of which I am incredibly jealous) of compact storytelling. I don't really know how comics are written for, if it's like screenplays or what. Where could I find that out, I wonder?
Current Music: Kate Bush, Army Dreamers (I had a really cool idea for a little music video for this song last night, maybe I will do something with it)
Current Mood: headachy, and WORDY
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
I was at a seminar on graphic design basics all day today. The hotel it was held at is only three miles from my apartment, so naturally I was fifteen minutes late because I got lost and could find neither the hotel nor parking. Naturally. Anyway the seminar was kind of silly (buy these things this company also makes! BUY THEM!) but I got out at 4, and it was GLORIOUS. It makes me wish SO HARD that I worked that close to home. I mean, a ten-minute commute? I could handle that up, down, and sideways. I got groceries, took out the trash, cooked dinner, got a library card (finally) and some books, and it's only just now about the time I usually get home.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
Post #101: The Passivest Activists
I just noticed that my last post (lo, those many weeks ago) was number 100. So yay me. In other news, Sara and I are STRIKING BACK at the Evil Empire. How are we doing this, you ask? Why, by saving the planet, of course. We're writing letters! Joining groups! Donating money! Building houses! Cleaning beaches! And every tree planted or homeless person fed is a big FUCK YOU to Bush and his cronies. We were going to move to Canada, but
Send me your mailing address and I will send you a non-denominational WWF winter holiday card.
Current Mood: filled with righteous wrath, and lunch
I just noticed that my last post (lo, those many weeks ago) was number 100. So yay me. In other news, Sara and I are STRIKING BACK at the Evil Empire. How are we doing this, you ask? Why, by saving the planet, of course. We're writing letters! Joining groups! Donating money! Building houses! Cleaning beaches! And every tree planted or homeless person fed is a big FUCK YOU to Bush and his cronies. We were going to move to Canada, but
- that's a pain in the ass and
- it's our country too, dammit.
Send me your mailing address and I will send you a non-denominational WWF winter holiday card.
Current Mood: filled with righteous wrath, and lunch
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Fixing me
With fewer major things (failing school hate everything no money waah!) bothering me, I can now focus on other things. The little things. For instance, why am I 22 and still suffering from constant acne along my lower jaw? Anyone? I was pondering this the other night and thought "A dermatologist. That's what I need."
Then I started to wonder what a dermatologist would do. Give me some cleanser to use every day? Sell me some special cream? I have these things, I realized. The problem is not my skin, it's me. I forget to use my acne stuff on a regular basis. It's not more stuff I need, it's better habits. A dermatologist won't give me those, no matter how much I pay.
The longer I live, the more I realize that there are no magic solutions. Whether that's good or bad, I'm not sure.
With fewer major things (failing school hate everything no money waah!) bothering me, I can now focus on other things. The little things. For instance, why am I 22 and still suffering from constant acne along my lower jaw? Anyone? I was pondering this the other night and thought "A dermatologist. That's what I need."
Then I started to wonder what a dermatologist would do. Give me some cleanser to use every day? Sell me some special cream? I have these things, I realized. The problem is not my skin, it's me. I forget to use my acne stuff on a regular basis. It's not more stuff I need, it's better habits. A dermatologist won't give me those, no matter how much I pay.
The longer I live, the more I realize that there are no magic solutions. Whether that's good or bad, I'm not sure.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
I do the bog-womp.
Do you have mondegreens? Come on, you know you do.
http://www.physics.ohio-state.edu/~wilkins/writing/Resources/essays/mondegreens.html
For years I was convinced that that song "Under the Boardwalk" was actually about some kind of dance involving swamp creatures. Really.
Do you have mondegreens? Come on, you know you do.
http://www.physics.ohio-state.edu/~wilkins/writing/Resources/essays/mondegreens.html
For years I was convinced that that song "Under the Boardwalk" was actually about some kind of dance involving swamp creatures. Really.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
OMG ROFLMAO — yeah, you heard me. Postmodernism Generator! Read the bottom, kids.
What's up with everybody dying lately? Do famous people have some sort of inborn obsolescence requiring them to all croak at once? Yeah, I just said obsolescence. Try to cope. I always feel vaguely guilty when people I've heard of die, as though I should have made better use of them during their lifetimes. Jacques Derrida is one of these — I'd heard his name, I'd heard of deconstructionism, but that's the extent of my knowledge. I was talking to Luke on AIM when he heard the news over the radio and said, in his particularly Lukeish way, "Shit! Derrida is essential." He told me what pancreas is in Russian, some polysyllabic nightmare I've since forgotten (Mssr. Derrida died of pancreatic cancer, and Luke is currently in Moscow, so there you go). Anyway, in an effort to educate you, the masses, I offer a link: http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,1325283,00.html. Go read what some "experts" have to say.
Some are undoubtedly jacqued at his passing; others were probably happy to get derrida him, no matter what they say out loud.
What's up with everybody dying lately? Do famous people have some sort of inborn obsolescence requiring them to all croak at once? Yeah, I just said obsolescence. Try to cope. I always feel vaguely guilty when people I've heard of die, as though I should have made better use of them during their lifetimes. Jacques Derrida is one of these — I'd heard his name, I'd heard of deconstructionism, but that's the extent of my knowledge. I was talking to Luke on AIM when he heard the news over the radio and said, in his particularly Lukeish way, "Shit! Derrida is essential." He told me what pancreas is in Russian, some polysyllabic nightmare I've since forgotten (Mssr. Derrida died of pancreatic cancer, and Luke is currently in Moscow, so there you go). Anyway, in an effort to educate you, the masses, I offer a link: http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,1325283,00.html. Go read what some "experts" have to say.
Some are undoubtedly jacqued at his passing; others were probably happy to get derrida him, no matter what they say out loud.
Thursday, October 07, 2004
Lately I've been nostalgic for fall. The golden light in the late afternoon, the cool mornings when I drive to work — those are lovely, but they're making me miss actual seasons. Fall was my favorite in Virginia. It combined the excitement of starting school with the expectation of holidays and sort of padded it with colorful leaves and pie: pumpkin pie. It started out as a Turkey Day thing with my family, then sort of bled over to Christmas and Halloween. Anyway. I was just listening to Vivaldi's "Four Seasons," and it made me remember how nice rain can be. Don't get me wrong — fall can mean a lot of cold, gray skies, and crappy weather — but the occasional rain was nice. Specifically, being warm and dry inside a raincoat is nice, and blowing clouds with your breath while you wait for the bus (which you know will smell like damp rubber but will let you snooze and watch wet trees pass by) is not bad either. I'd like to wear a coat and crunch through some leaves. Maybe I should corral some other displaced east-coasters and arrange a coat-and-leaf-crunching party? Hmm.
I redid the links on the left. This is merely a temporary thing, since I plan to collect graphical links for all my comics, but I am lazy, and must take a half-step at a time. Hover over them and read the alt text, if you are retarded like me and enjoy things like that.
Current Music: il quattro stagione (ooh! I am so fancy.)
Current Mood: daydreamy
I redid the links on the left. This is merely a temporary thing, since I plan to collect graphical links for all my comics, but I am lazy, and must take a half-step at a time. Hover over them and read the alt text, if you are retarded like me and enjoy things like that.
Current Music: il quattro stagione (ooh! I am so fancy.)
Current Mood: daydreamy
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Today I'm a little off-kilter. It's as though someone is standing just out of view, with a pipe organ, playing the same minor chord over and over. How do you hide a pipe organ? Don't ask me, I just work here. I had a sudden attack of the can't-sleepies last night, and then I didn't want to get up. I'm worried about the Bush-Kerry debate tonight. I wish I had a TV, so I could watch it, but I will have to settle for the radio, unless I can find it streaming somewhere online. In the first-ever televised presidential debate, people who listened to it on the radio thought Nixon had won, but people who watched it on TV thought Kennedy won. What if I get the wrong impression because I can't see what's going on? And I need to fix my car. If you know why, good for you, you are in my inner circle. If not, then I clearly don't love you. Or, I love you less than those in the know. Or, I just haven't told you for one reason or another. Or you are a stranger. I like it when strangers read my blog and say hi. It stokes my vast, firey ego. Are you reading "Ultimate Nightmare"? If you are not, then shame on you. You are making Warren Ellis cry.
Current Music: damn you, hidden pipe-organ man
Current Mood: meh
Current Music: damn you, hidden pipe-organ man
Current Mood: meh
Thursday, September 23, 2004
Just after I've had coffee in the mornings, I get very chatty, in my brain. Here, I will relay some of that chatter to you. This paragraph, it needs more commas, I think.
One of the most satisfying things about my job is when I point some grammatical faux pas out to someone, and he or she says "Oh you're right, that makes a difference, doesn't it?" Maybe I just like to be right? Actually I think it has something to do with my being an approval whore. Sometimes I feel like I spent large parts of my childhood trying to get my dad to compliment me on something I'd done, hoarding the rare, rare successful occasions like ... something precious. (I've been having simile issues lately, forgive me.) So there's Megan's Personal Revelation of the Day. I'll really try to keep that kind of crap to a minimum, hey?
Here at El Workplace, we were starting to think that Gil, the ad guy, had died. He mentioned something about his stomach feeling rotten, and he's been missing for 45 minutes. The bathroom next to his office has been closed, however, and the fan is on inside. Finally we called his cell, and discovered that he's not even in the building. What's going on in the bathroom? It is a mystery for the ages.
I've found a new comic to share. It is called "A Lesson is Learned, But the Damage is Irreversible," and you can read it here. Be sure to scroll down to the bottom to read the rambly, metaphysical newsposts. If you're into that sort of rhetorical wandering, you should see my-friend-Jason's-friend-Dave-who-I-met-once's blog. Dave once made a daring escape from indentured servitude in Korea.
Do other people have blogs? I know Jason does. If people give me links, I will add a blog section to the link bar on the left. That would be spiffy.
One of the most satisfying things about my job is when I point some grammatical faux pas out to someone, and he or she says "Oh you're right, that makes a difference, doesn't it?" Maybe I just like to be right? Actually I think it has something to do with my being an approval whore. Sometimes I feel like I spent large parts of my childhood trying to get my dad to compliment me on something I'd done, hoarding the rare, rare successful occasions like ... something precious. (I've been having simile issues lately, forgive me.) So there's Megan's Personal Revelation of the Day. I'll really try to keep that kind of crap to a minimum, hey?
Here at El Workplace, we were starting to think that Gil, the ad guy, had died. He mentioned something about his stomach feeling rotten, and he's been missing for 45 minutes. The bathroom next to his office has been closed, however, and the fan is on inside. Finally we called his cell, and discovered that he's not even in the building. What's going on in the bathroom? It is a mystery for the ages.
I've found a new comic to share. It is called "A Lesson is Learned, But the Damage is Irreversible," and you can read it here. Be sure to scroll down to the bottom to read the rambly, metaphysical newsposts. If you're into that sort of rhetorical wandering, you should see my-friend-Jason's-friend-Dave-who-I-met-once's blog. Dave once made a daring escape from indentured servitude in Korea.
Do other people have blogs? I know Jason does. If people give me links, I will add a blog section to the link bar on the left. That would be spiffy.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
I was eating lunch at Starbucks, as I am wont to do (coffee for breakfast + coffee for lunch = baaaad things), and just as I was leaving, I heard the awesomest song ever. They were playing some kind of Ray Charles-related CD, and this lady was singing about all the places she had the blues: mailbox, breadbox, wheelbarrow, shelf, etc. It was so entertainingly random. Now I must find out what the hell it's called, and who sings it. Check this space for updates! (because I know all four of you reading this are super curious)
Tonight I go to the Hollywood Bowl, for Lord of the Rings music and other geekery. Whee!
Current Music: "I got blues in my wheelbarrow, blues upon my shelf/ I got blues in my bedroom, 'cause I'm sleeping by myself"
Current Mood: doo be doo, editing copy
Tonight I go to the Hollywood Bowl, for Lord of the Rings music and other geekery. Whee!
Current Music: "I got blues in my wheelbarrow, blues upon my shelf/ I got blues in my bedroom, 'cause I'm sleeping by myself"
Current Mood: doo be doo, editing copy
Thursday, September 16, 2004
I should really update my links, eh? I've been reading sooo many webcomics lately, all of them good. Be sure to check out Kelly Vivanco's comic, "Patches," about two hamster/gerbil/vole things, and see her beautiful bird paintings here. Also read read the deliciously creepy, Gorey-esque "Ballad," at www.deadmouse.net. Then there is the strangely charming "Goats," the pixel-tastic "Diesel Sweeties," and "Questionable Content," to name a few. A bunch of these sites also have forums, where you can read reasonably coherent discussions about webcomicry, music, and the world in general. For more good reading, see www.diepunyhumans.com, Warren Ellis' blog. Voila!
the filthy monkey, it plans
the filthy monkey, it plans
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
On Sundays, in the afternoon, I like to drive down PCH to the marina mall thing, and get coffee at Starbucks and sit outside, watching people pass by and feeling vaguely like a consumer whore. The particular attraction of this Starbucks is that it's next to a very nice Barnes and Noble. Sometimes I'll wander around the store, fondling books in an attempt to feel like I haven't driven all the way out there just for overpriced coffee. One of the side effects of this is that I read a lot of dustjackets, and end up wanting more books than I have time or money for. I'll go to the library one of these days, I swear. They just make it difficult for me, with their odd hours. No, really I have no excuse, apart from that walking the two blocks there would disrupt my ass-widening routine. Ahem. I yearned for one book in particular for about three weeks until I finally broke down and bought it a few days ago ... it was on the "staff recommendations" shelf, which has yet to steer me wrong, so it had that going for it before I even started to read. It's marvelous. I've been reading for hours today, at lunch, at the DMV, at home with Trigger sleeping on my feet ... I'm stopped about halfway through, at the start of part two, which has the unsettling title of "A Drop of Blood in a Bowl of Milk." Oh, right, so the book is called "The Time Traveler's Wife," and it's a sort of love story. It takes place simultaneously across decades, and I'm fascinated at thow the author juggles all the details without dropping the plot. Henry, the main character, keeps ending up in several places at once, or several whens at once, and I haven't gotten confused yet. Also, it's beautiful. I picked out this quote, see if you don't love it:
"My mother dying ... it's the pivotal thing ... everything else goes around and around it ... I dream about it, and I also -- time travel to it. Over and over. If you could be there, and could hover over the scene of the accident, and you could see every detail of it, all the people, cars, trees, snowdrifts -- if you had enough time to really look at everything, you would see me. I am in cars, behind bushes, on the bridge, in a tree. I have seen it from every angle, I am even a participant in the aftermath: I called the airport from a nearby gas station to page my father with the message to come immediately to the hospital. I sat in the hospital waiting room and watched my father walk through on his way to find me. He looks gray and ravaged. I walked along the shoulder of the road, waiting for my young self to appear, and I put a blanket around my thin child's shoulders. I looked into my small unconprehending face, and I thought ... I thought ... I should have died too."
"My mother dying ... it's the pivotal thing ... everything else goes around and around it ... I dream about it, and I also -- time travel to it. Over and over. If you could be there, and could hover over the scene of the accident, and you could see every detail of it, all the people, cars, trees, snowdrifts -- if you had enough time to really look at everything, you would see me. I am in cars, behind bushes, on the bridge, in a tree. I have seen it from every angle, I am even a participant in the aftermath: I called the airport from a nearby gas station to page my father with the message to come immediately to the hospital. I sat in the hospital waiting room and watched my father walk through on his way to find me. He looks gray and ravaged. I walked along the shoulder of the road, waiting for my young self to appear, and I put a blanket around my thin child's shoulders. I looked into my small unconprehending face, and I thought ... I thought ... I should have died too."
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
The office manager came to see me today. She closed my door, looked at me, and asked, "How do you like your job?" And I thought "Holy shit, I'm getting fired!" I told her I loved it, fighting panic, and she nodded and said "Well everyone here loves you. I've heard only good things from everybody, and I wanted to tell you you'll see an increase of a little over a dollar an hour on your next paycheck." A raise! I got a raise! "A little over a dollar an hour" may not sound like much, but I did the math: I'm now making $30k a year! Yes folks, that's THIRTY THOUSAND DOLLARS. Yaaaaaay me!
Current Music: Elvis (Costello, that is)
Current Mood: buoyant
Current Music: Elvis (Costello, that is)
Current Mood: buoyant
Sunday, September 05, 2004
I just wrote a really good post, and then Blogger ate it. Why, Blogger, why?! *heavy sigh* I'll try to redo it, but I'm not promising quality:
It's 101 degrees outside. Holy Moly! I wondered why my apartment felt like an oven. Poor Trigger is passed out on the floor. I think an iced coffee would solve this problem. Of course, for that I'd have to get up, and it's really too hot for crazy things like movement. Ugh.
Yesterday I drove down to Lori's and we went kayaking on Newport Harbor. It was beautiful, but surreal — gliding silently through forests of boats, surrounded by seabirds. We saw some really pretty houses, but I'm not sure living in that area's really worth it. The houses are crammed together like conservatives at a Bush fund-raiser, and Lori said they start at about $4 million. We passed some tiny beaches hemmed in by mansions, and I thought of all the motor oil and gas that must be in the water as I watched children splashing around. Also we saw some dolphins, which was cool. They'd surface periodically with a soft breathing sound, and then disappear for several minutes. I think they must have been hunting, because we saw some fish leap out of the water too.
God, it's hot.
swelter swelter
It's 101 degrees outside. Holy Moly! I wondered why my apartment felt like an oven. Poor Trigger is passed out on the floor. I think an iced coffee would solve this problem. Of course, for that I'd have to get up, and it's really too hot for crazy things like movement. Ugh.
Yesterday I drove down to Lori's and we went kayaking on Newport Harbor. It was beautiful, but surreal — gliding silently through forests of boats, surrounded by seabirds. We saw some really pretty houses, but I'm not sure living in that area's really worth it. The houses are crammed together like conservatives at a Bush fund-raiser, and Lori said they start at about $4 million. We passed some tiny beaches hemmed in by mansions, and I thought of all the motor oil and gas that must be in the water as I watched children splashing around. Also we saw some dolphins, which was cool. They'd surface periodically with a soft breathing sound, and then disappear for several minutes. I think they must have been hunting, because we saw some fish leap out of the water too.
God, it's hot.
swelter swelter
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
I have formulated one of the Laws of Cats: if you lie down near a cat, sooner or later that cat will end up leaning on you. This has been tested in the laboratory setting of my bed. Most of the time, I didn't even notice Trigger moving, but she always ended up touching me. Mysterious, the ways of cats are. I snuggled with Trigger for an hour last night because I know it sucks to be lonely and sick. She really seemed to be into it. Today I had to drag her to the vet, which is conveniently four blocks from me. I liked how the building is unmarked except for a banner that says "visit our website! lbah.com" and in the middle of the longest block ever, so I had to run across four lanes of traffic with a cat carrier to get to it. Oh well. Trigger seems to be feeling peppier, at least. I thought she'd never forgive me for letting people stick needles in her, but she seems to be really glad that I wasn't getting rid of her. You know, cats are like children. Once you get one, you talk about it endlessly, and probably bore non-cat people to death. =] Muahaha!
mew
mew
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Today I sat for awhile on the patio (that's what I'm calling my piece of alley in the back) and read my giant "American Elf" book (hit that link, on the left). I'm slowly chewing my way through it. A fair number of the strips are about James wondering why he keeps doing the diary; how hard it is to come up with something worth recording every day, and the nagging question of whether it's really worth anything. As a reader, that question is easy to answer. The diary comics, taken as a whole, represent something larger than just day-to-day existence. They show the rhythm of a person's life. It's beautiful, taken out of context. I can't help but feel that having a record like that, one that people read and experience on a thousand different levels, give James' and Amy's and their friends' and family's lives a depth of meaning that others lack. I like reading and watching movies because they take me out of myself, to somewhere else. I caught myself staring off into space today, thinking of walking through the snow at dusk somewhere. Suddenly I was back in my apartment, sitting on the floor with a numb butt. What gives meaning to a person's life? Is it sharing it with other people? Is it doing the things you dream of, but maybe fear? I like my job. I like my cat, and my little apartment. I'm content, and for the first time in ages I'm hit by random waves of happiness, rather than despair. Still, am I going to be sitting alone on the floor in a year, thinking of somewhere else?
it's an existential comedy
it's an existential comedy
Saturday, August 28, 2004
Got my car smog-checked today. I passed! I was expecting to. The mechanic said I was high on some rating or other, though, and that next time I might not pass. Anyway, I can register my car now. Oh, yeah. This interests you, I know. Keep reading, it gets better.
In the late afternoon, I made a snap decision (snap!) to go see "Hero," that new Jet Li movie. It was very pretty. I liked it better than "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," which is the last fancy Chinese movie I saw. During one of the fights, in a forest filled with yellow leaves, I thought "this movie looks so good, I'd like to put it in my mouth." Eh? I dunno, it looked delicious. Nice colors, and shapes. Then I thought about the Foo Fighters. My brain is too antic to focus on one thing ever, so sometimes when I watch movies, I have something completely different going on in the back of my mind, even though I'm paying attention. Do you believe that? It sounds better than "I have the attention span of a gnat."
I also got some sharp provolone cheese at the deli, for sammiches. In Amsterdam one time I got some old provolone, and was grossed out. Here in America we don't know what old cheese is, really, so this "aged" provolone is a little more edible to my savage palate. Also the little old lady behind the counter called me "sweetie," which is always nice.
People were good to me today. I'm not sure why. I've started noticing this problem where salespeople and cashiers like to ignore me, which pisses me off, but today was special. Even strangers smiled at me. I read my horoscope while waiting at Starbucks. It said, "Everyone likes you today." Which makes sense, I guess.
Current Music: the crickets, they serenade me
Current Mood: sleepy
In the late afternoon, I made a snap decision (snap!) to go see "Hero," that new Jet Li movie. It was very pretty. I liked it better than "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," which is the last fancy Chinese movie I saw. During one of the fights, in a forest filled with yellow leaves, I thought "this movie looks so good, I'd like to put it in my mouth." Eh? I dunno, it looked delicious. Nice colors, and shapes. Then I thought about the Foo Fighters. My brain is too antic to focus on one thing ever, so sometimes when I watch movies, I have something completely different going on in the back of my mind, even though I'm paying attention. Do you believe that? It sounds better than "I have the attention span of a gnat."
I also got some sharp provolone cheese at the deli, for sammiches. In Amsterdam one time I got some old provolone, and was grossed out. Here in America we don't know what old cheese is, really, so this "aged" provolone is a little more edible to my savage palate. Also the little old lady behind the counter called me "sweetie," which is always nice.
People were good to me today. I'm not sure why. I've started noticing this problem where salespeople and cashiers like to ignore me, which pisses me off, but today was special. Even strangers smiled at me. I read my horoscope while waiting at Starbucks. It said, "Everyone likes you today." Which makes sense, I guess.
Current Music: the crickets, they serenade me
Current Mood: sleepy
Thursday, August 26, 2004
Ant apocalypse!
I am she who is called "Meg, smusher of ants." I woke up this morning, walked into the kitchen, and realized that the floor was literally crawling with bugs. Ack! I was already late for work, so I just stepped on as many as I could get to, and ran out the door. All day I had visions of a tide of ants overwhelming poor Trigger and carrying her off. Oh, Trigger is my cat. Surprise! Her owner (sara's friend erica's dad) died suddenly, and somebody needed to take care of her, so ... yeah. Anyway, she was still in one piece when I came home, but the cheeky ants were walking all the way through my apartment to get her food. I walked over to the garden store and got some "orange spray" that claims to be safe to use around pets and food. "Don't spray directly on water," it says. Good thing it warned me, because I was totally going to pour myself some water and ant-proof it. The bottle says it kills and repels ants, and will stick around for several weeks. Sounds good to me. The jury's still out on whether it's doing anything other than smelling tasty.
Oh, and go look at this. It's a diary comic, like other diary comics, but with zombies.
I am she who is called "Meg, smusher of ants." I woke up this morning, walked into the kitchen, and realized that the floor was literally crawling with bugs. Ack! I was already late for work, so I just stepped on as many as I could get to, and ran out the door. All day I had visions of a tide of ants overwhelming poor Trigger and carrying her off. Oh, Trigger is my cat. Surprise! Her owner (sara's friend erica's dad) died suddenly, and somebody needed to take care of her, so ... yeah. Anyway, she was still in one piece when I came home, but the cheeky ants were walking all the way through my apartment to get her food. I walked over to the garden store and got some "orange spray" that claims to be safe to use around pets and food. "Don't spray directly on water," it says. Good thing it warned me, because I was totally going to pour myself some water and ant-proof it. The bottle says it kills and repels ants, and will stick around for several weeks. Sounds good to me. The jury's still out on whether it's doing anything other than smelling tasty.
Oh, and go look at this. It's a diary comic, like other diary comics, but with zombies.
Friday, August 06, 2004
Metaphorrible
The bathroom smells like ass, and I totally am not responsible. But ... I was sitting there, doing the things one does in a bathroom, and found myself thinking: "I am adding notes to the symphony of stench!" Truly, I am a master of figurative speech. Or really awful jokes.
It stinks! (thank you, Jay Sherman)
The bathroom smells like ass, and I totally am not responsible. But ... I was sitting there, doing the things one does in a bathroom, and found myself thinking: "I am adding notes to the symphony of stench!" Truly, I am a master of figurative speech. Or really awful jokes.
It stinks! (thank you, Jay Sherman)
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
On the way home from work today, I was sitting at a stoplight, and I looked out my window. There in the sky was a big heart. Not a cloud, but skywriting. It was like a valentine from a stranger. I drove for a while, and at the next stoplight I looked up, and poof! Another heart. A little plane was finishing this one off as I watched. It was great. I drove all the way home with a stupid grin on my face. How bad can things be, when the sky loves you?
one of these days I should really buy food
one of these days I should really buy food
Monday, August 02, 2004
Blogger is messing with my font options, dammmit. I guess if that's the worst of my troubles, then I'm doing well. Anyway, so as not to deprive anyone of the inanity that is my blog, here's a harrowing account of my C2 encounter:
I wanted a soda with my lunch (a pseudo-ham and cheese wrap, essentially a half-pound of melted cheddar in a tortilla ... mmm), but I always feel gross after drinking a whole root beer (eating a wad of cheese fazes me not at all). "I'll try one of those new Cokes," I thought. I get free soda at work. It's a perk. Anyway, there was only one C2 left in the fridge, and I know the customer service girls in the front office drink them, so it was a conundrum. Not of whether I should leave it for them to fight over, but of how to abscond with it without being noticed — I'm evil. I slunk off to my office, Coke hidden behind my cheese wrap. The can is currently hiding behind one of my speakers. The soda? Less tangy than the Coke I know and love, but without that awful aspartame taste. I think it'd be more worth my while to get some sugar-free Hansen's sodas, if it's that big of a deal.
lamest post ever
I wanted a soda with my lunch (a pseudo-ham and cheese wrap, essentially a half-pound of melted cheddar in a tortilla ... mmm), but I always feel gross after drinking a whole root beer (eating a wad of cheese fazes me not at all). "I'll try one of those new Cokes," I thought. I get free soda at work. It's a perk. Anyway, there was only one C2 left in the fridge, and I know the customer service girls in the front office drink them, so it was a conundrum. Not of whether I should leave it for them to fight over, but of how to abscond with it without being noticed — I'm evil. I slunk off to my office, Coke hidden behind my cheese wrap. The can is currently hiding behind one of my speakers. The soda? Less tangy than the Coke I know and love, but without that awful aspartame taste. I think it'd be more worth my while to get some sugar-free Hansen's sodas, if it's that big of a deal.
lamest post ever
Sunday, August 01, 2004
Because it is almost my bedtime, and I am lazy, but would still like to post something, here is part of an IM conversation I had tonight:
Master Abernathy: there was a cute boy working at Blockbuster, but I figured he was probably in high school
Sphynxcat29: tsk tsk. Are you limiting yourself?
Master Abernathy: to people older than 18? yes.
Master Abernathy: "above the age of consent," that's my motto
Sphynxcat29: You are too picky
In other news, I moved to Long Beach. I have an adorable tiny apartment with hardwood floors and walls that I can't puncture because of the asbestos. I don't bother the asbestos, and it doesn't bother me. Sounds like a plan, yes? I have a similar relationship with the ants on my stoop. There is a constant flood of ants crossing my second step, but they never seem to come inside. For that, I'll leave them alone.
*yawn*
Master Abernathy: there was a cute boy working at Blockbuster, but I figured he was probably in high school
Sphynxcat29: tsk tsk. Are you limiting yourself?
Master Abernathy: to people older than 18? yes.
Master Abernathy: "above the age of consent," that's my motto
Sphynxcat29: You are too picky
In other news, I moved to Long Beach. I have an adorable tiny apartment with hardwood floors and walls that I can't puncture because of the asbestos. I don't bother the asbestos, and it doesn't bother me. Sounds like a plan, yes? I have a similar relationship with the ants on my stoop. There is a constant flood of ants crossing my second step, but they never seem to come inside. For that, I'll leave them alone.
*yawn*
Friday, July 09, 2004
It's all about the important things in life, you know? I just looked at the selection of stories on Google News: the terrorism report was released (nah, boring, heard it on the radio), a swimmer broke a world record at the Olympic trials (read it yesterday), people are getting killed in Iraq (as usual) ... What?! David Bowie had emergency heart surgery?! Must read!
In other news, my mom's visiting this week. Is it wrong that I love her and all, but I'm mostly glad she'll be able to help me with the administrative stuff I hate doing, like getting my car checked on and dealing with the DMV? This is what moms do, I think.
Speaking of strange priorities, I've been singing in my car lately on the way home from work, which makes me check the back seat compulsively to see if anyone snuck in there. It's not so much that I worry about being robbed/raped/killed, I just don't want anyone to hear me singing.
la la la LA
In other news, my mom's visiting this week. Is it wrong that I love her and all, but I'm mostly glad she'll be able to help me with the administrative stuff I hate doing, like getting my car checked on and dealing with the DMV? This is what moms do, I think.
Speaking of strange priorities, I've been singing in my car lately on the way home from work, which makes me check the back seat compulsively to see if anyone snuck in there. It's not so much that I worry about being robbed/raped/killed, I just don't want anyone to hear me singing.
la la la LA
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
Today I wrapped up the third issue of the "Elder Client Planner" (trade journal thingy for old people's tax preparers — you know it excites you) and sent it off to the printer. Woot. It may be only a fraction more interesting than our other publication, the "California Taxletter," but it's ALL MINE. *preen* *preen*
Sara and Lori helped me shlep some of my stuff to the new apartment yesterday. The place smells strongly of wood varnish. Which I guess is good, since it means they've varnished. Can't have an under-varnished floor, nuh unh. I opened the windows, but was overcome by a sudden fear of burglars, so I closed them before we left. Now all my books probably smell like varnish. Oh well. Pictures of swingin' new bachelorette pad to follow.
pity tha fool
Sara and Lori helped me shlep some of my stuff to the new apartment yesterday. The place smells strongly of wood varnish. Which I guess is good, since it means they've varnished. Can't have an under-varnished floor, nuh unh. I opened the windows, but was overcome by a sudden fear of burglars, so I closed them before we left. Now all my books probably smell like varnish. Oh well. Pictures of swingin' new bachelorette pad to follow.
pity tha fool
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
I washed my multivitamin down this morning with coffee. Do you suppose the vitamins and anti-vitamins will have an epic battle in my belly? I think I can feel them warring as we speak.
Day by day the resemblance between the loathsome VP of my company and the boss in that BBC show "The Office" grows. He's an overbearing, micromanaging tard, is what. And, true to form, he seems to have no idea how irritating he is. He keeps trying to be friendly, but he's awful, and I'd really prefer he go back to his front office and do whatever it is he gets paid to do. Today he told me a joke about "hebonix" (because jews are hilarious! ha!) and one about pig tits. Pig tits.
But then me and Nathan and Claudia and Joey had a private bitch session in the back, so I felt vindicated. Working in an office rocks. Who needs soap operas?
Day by day the resemblance between the loathsome VP of my company and the boss in that BBC show "The Office" grows. He's an overbearing, micromanaging tard, is what. And, true to form, he seems to have no idea how irritating he is. He keeps trying to be friendly, but he's awful, and I'd really prefer he go back to his front office and do whatever it is he gets paid to do. Today he told me a joke about "hebonix" (because jews are hilarious! ha!) and one about pig tits. Pig tits.
But then me and Nathan and Claudia and Joey had a private bitch session in the back, so I felt vindicated. Working in an office rocks. Who needs soap operas?
Friday, June 25, 2004
Welcome to the World of Stock Photography
I have to find pictures for a display my company's taking to a CPA (accountant) show in New York. What I've discovered is: stock photography is stupefyingly expensive. Corbis is the biggest company and has some of the best photos, but they want around $1,250 for each picture, depending on the rights attached to it. Who knew that something so intangible could be so expensive?
And then there's illustrations. WTF, mate?
Man putting money into coin bank shaped like a giant handshake, high over Earth
Current Music: Etta James
Current Mood: I'd rather be editing copy
Update! His name is Hank McCoy. It's a true story, I swear.
I have to find pictures for a display my company's taking to a CPA (accountant) show in New York. What I've discovered is: stock photography is stupefyingly expensive. Corbis is the biggest company and has some of the best photos, but they want around $1,250 for each picture, depending on the rights attached to it. Who knew that something so intangible could be so expensive?
And then there's illustrations. WTF, mate?
Man putting money into coin bank shaped like a giant handshake, high over Earth
Current Music: Etta James
Current Mood: I'd rather be editing copy
Update! His name is Hank McCoy. It's a true story, I swear.
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
Last week I found a heads-down penny on the floor of a parking deck and, thinking "I'll give someone good luck," I left it heads-up on a stripe between parking spaces. Since then, I've been finding heads-up pennies everywhere. Everywhere. Coincidence? Most likely. But you never know, maybe my penny karma is out of control.
my two cents
my two cents
Sunday, June 20, 2004
Blame the sky
Cloudy days are all well and good when I'm at work, because it's nice not to bake in my car on the drive home. On the weekend, though? Clouds, get off my sky. I feel all blah. Last night I got kind of a headache watching TV, so I went and hid in my room to read, but then I couldn't focus my eyes right. So I've either developed glaucoma, or it was a migraine. Or I'm just crazy, who knows.
Do you think packing up and moving to a new apartment ASAP is a viable alternative to screaming at Lori to JUST PICK UP AFTER HERSELF, FOR ONCE IN HER GOD-DAMNED LIFE? I feel like I'm constantly babysitting a surly teenager. It's just too much. I mean, really, how often can you ask someone to put their dirty dishes in the sink before you feel like their mom?
Current Music: Suzanne Vega, Tom's Diner
Current Mood: complainy
Cloudy days are all well and good when I'm at work, because it's nice not to bake in my car on the drive home. On the weekend, though? Clouds, get off my sky. I feel all blah. Last night I got kind of a headache watching TV, so I went and hid in my room to read, but then I couldn't focus my eyes right. So I've either developed glaucoma, or it was a migraine. Or I'm just crazy, who knows.
Do you think packing up and moving to a new apartment ASAP is a viable alternative to screaming at Lori to JUST PICK UP AFTER HERSELF, FOR ONCE IN HER GOD-DAMNED LIFE? I feel like I'm constantly babysitting a surly teenager. It's just too much. I mean, really, how often can you ask someone to put their dirty dishes in the sink before you feel like their mom?
Current Music: Suzanne Vega, Tom's Diner
Current Mood: complainy
Monday, June 14, 2004
So am I right in thinking "Yeah, so I'll see you ... sometime," is code-speak for "I'm bored with you, now move along"? Or something of that nature? Because I'm pretty darn sure it is. No, you don't get any exposition. It's a secret.
Current Music: zilch
Current Mood: a tangy mix of sad and confused
Current Music: zilch
Current Mood: a tangy mix of sad and confused
Sunday, June 13, 2004
Why aren't you reading Scary Go Round? Right now? No, really, I want to know. Surely curiosity would have made you click that link by this point. So either you're already familiar with the comic, or you're boring. My mom told me it's rude not to click links people give you. I mean, unless they're strangers. Then they probably want to take all of your money and break your computer. But we're not strangers, right? We're all friends here.
Just click the damn link.
I just want to educate you
Just click the damn link.
I just want to educate you
Friday, June 11, 2004
Mmm, delicious ignorance
"I have to confesses that I've never waded my way through Ulysses, but I'm hugely proud that we have produced a writer who's esteemed internationally," Laura Weldon, the national co-ordinator of the [Bloomsday centennial] festivals, told BBC World Service's The Ticket programme.
"So I think that's a great thing."
--
Bloomsday, as I'm sure everyone knows, is June 16, 1904. It's the day James Joyce set the monumental "Ulysses" on, chosen because he could think of no more ordinary date.
So let me get this straight. The "national co-ordinator" of the Bloomsday celebration has not only never read "Ulysses," but hasn't heard of, say, Oscar Wilde, Samuel Beckett, Johnathan Swift, Thomas Moore, George Bernard Shaw, W.B. Yeats, Seamus Heany, and a bunch of others I can't think of because I'm too irritated.
I see stupid people ...
"I have to confesses that I've never waded my way through Ulysses, but I'm hugely proud that we have produced a writer who's esteemed internationally," Laura Weldon, the national co-ordinator of the [Bloomsday centennial] festivals, told BBC World Service's The Ticket programme.
"So I think that's a great thing."
--
Bloomsday, as I'm sure everyone knows, is June 16, 1904. It's the day James Joyce set the monumental "Ulysses" on, chosen because he could think of no more ordinary date.
So let me get this straight. The "national co-ordinator" of the Bloomsday celebration has not only never read "Ulysses," but hasn't heard of, say, Oscar Wilde, Samuel Beckett, Johnathan Swift, Thomas Moore, George Bernard Shaw, W.B. Yeats, Seamus Heany, and a bunch of others I can't think of because I'm too irritated.
I see stupid people ...
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Confessions of a Clothes Whore
When I was a wee thing, I had lots of little dresses. I vaguely remember liking to stand at my closet and admire them. After my parents got divorced, Mommy didn't really have the time or money to outfit me as before, so for years I wore whatever I wanted (bad idea! bad! I have pictures ...). It was the 80's and early 90's, which is kind of an excuse, but still, yuck. Late in high school I decided that looking good was something that could apply to even me, and I started paying more attention to the stuff I put on myself so as not to be naked. Then, sophomore year in college, there came another epiphany. "Hot damn! Stores that don't end in "-Mart" sell things I'd actually want to wear!"
So, what can I say? I have good taste. And now, thanks to my new job, I also have a lot of nice pants. And a skirt. And a little sweater set. And some short-sleeve oxfords. Some day I'm going to find this J. Crew person, and I'm gonna marry him. In the Banana Republic. *giggle*
Current Music: The Shins, Saint Simon
Current Mood: worky worky ... or writey in bloggy, take your pick
When I was a wee thing, I had lots of little dresses. I vaguely remember liking to stand at my closet and admire them. After my parents got divorced, Mommy didn't really have the time or money to outfit me as before, so for years I wore whatever I wanted (bad idea! bad! I have pictures ...). It was the 80's and early 90's, which is kind of an excuse, but still, yuck. Late in high school I decided that looking good was something that could apply to even me, and I started paying more attention to the stuff I put on myself so as not to be naked. Then, sophomore year in college, there came another epiphany. "Hot damn! Stores that don't end in "-Mart" sell things I'd actually want to wear!"
So, what can I say? I have good taste. And now, thanks to my new job, I also have a lot of nice pants. And a skirt. And a little sweater set. And some short-sleeve oxfords. Some day I'm going to find this J. Crew person, and I'm gonna marry him. In the Banana Republic. *giggle*
Current Music: The Shins, Saint Simon
Current Mood: worky worky ... or writey in bloggy, take your pick
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Paycheck! Paaaaayyyycheeeeck! Money!
Oh, I got paid today. What's your excuse?
Current Music: doo dee doo, la la la
Current Mood: acquisitive
Oh, I got paid today. What's your excuse?
Current Music: doo dee doo, la la la
Current Mood: acquisitive
Monday, June 07, 2004
This is a post about not having much to say. I don't do much, so there's little to talk about.
But.
For some reason, I'm happy. I'm contented without knowing why. It's so far the opposite of what I've felt like for a million years (three? five? a decade?) that I don't really know what to think. The thought of my future was so terrifying to contemplate for so long that there are times now when I look up from my work and marvel. I'm tired. I have just a few hours to myself each day, which I generally spend resting. But I'm happy. That's all I ever really wanted.
also I'm boring
But.
For some reason, I'm happy. I'm contented without knowing why. It's so far the opposite of what I've felt like for a million years (three? five? a decade?) that I don't really know what to think. The thought of my future was so terrifying to contemplate for so long that there are times now when I look up from my work and marvel. I'm tired. I have just a few hours to myself each day, which I generally spend resting. But I'm happy. That's all I ever really wanted.
also I'm boring
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
I'm so tired. It takes me 25-30 minutes to get down to Anaheim in the mornings, but I have to get up at 6:30. Then I sit in traffic for AN HOUR to get home. Every fucking day. It's killing me, I swear. My good humor ("Yay! No more work!") can only sustain me for 45 minutes or so of creeping northward at 20mph. After that I start screaming obscenitites at people. Not that they don't deserve it. Yesterday a man whom I honked at for drifting partly into my lane went apeshit (I could see him gesturing at me and shouting) and proceeded to chase me down the I-5 for several miles. CHASE ME. What the fuck is wrong with people?! So my days are fine, really, until I leave work. I can't even enjoy being at home because I'm residually pissed at every other driver in the Southland, and then there's Lori moping around joblessly. So bipolar, these days.
Current Music: Frou Frou, Let Go
Current Mood: vaguely bitchy, in an exhausted, passive way
Current Music: Frou Frou, Let Go
Current Mood: vaguely bitchy, in an exhausted, passive way
Monday, May 31, 2004
It's such a good feeling when your best friend basically tells you that it's not worth the effort needed to see you. Yes, sit and mope because your man is away, after you asked us to hang out with you. Good Plan.
no, it's okay, my feelings are fine
no, it's okay, my feelings are fine
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Hey! It's me! I've been really busy with the JOB I JUST GOT, and too pooped to party blog-style most nights. Anyway, life has taken a definite turn for the better. I got the job with Spidell, and I've only worked two days so far, but I love it. Everybody is incredibly nice, and the work is exactly the kind of thing I'm good at. Well, my graphic design skills need some work, but there's time for that. I gotta say, getting up at the crack of dawn and working all day does take a lot out of a girl. All I want to do when I get home is eat, play some Final Fantasy, and sleep. I understand Sara a lot better now -- she hasn't gotten boring, she's gotten a life! Jason P. and I discussed that very topic this evening. Good to know I'm not the only one. Anyway, more on this later. I've got some sleeping to do.
crack of dawn *snicker*
crack of dawn *snicker*
Saturday, May 15, 2004
I had to get a new QuarkXPress book this morning because the one I had might as well have been written in Korean (I'm not an advanced user ... yet). They ought to specify the user level more clearly on these things! Oh well. But this new book is great, albeit 900 pages long. Here is a quote from the preface:
Requirements
To take advantage of all these great new features in QuarkXPress, you need, at a minimum, a dual-processor G5 or a 9 Ghz Pentium VI computer with 4 GB of RAM, a 120-gigabyte hard drive, a 600 MB magneto-optical drive, a 32-bit color drum scanner, a high-res imagesetter with a PostScript 3 RIP, a 1200-by-600-dpi laser printer, a 23-inch Barco color monitor with 24-bit video and graphics accelerator cards, and, of course, an NTSC video capture board and genlock control panel.
Just kidding! You can actually get by with some pretty limited hardware.
My heart stopped about halfway through the second line there. Bastard =P Anyway, it's amusing, for a computer book.
I also went to look at another apartment in K-town today, only to discover that it was not much bigger than my current bathroom. Like a closet you put a bed in. Noooo, thanks.
Okay, back to work.
Requirements
To take advantage of all these great new features in QuarkXPress, you need, at a minimum, a dual-processor G5 or a 9 Ghz Pentium VI computer with 4 GB of RAM, a 120-gigabyte hard drive, a 600 MB magneto-optical drive, a 32-bit color drum scanner, a high-res imagesetter with a PostScript 3 RIP, a 1200-by-600-dpi laser printer, a 23-inch Barco color monitor with 24-bit video and graphics accelerator cards, and, of course, an NTSC video capture board and genlock control panel.
Just kidding! You can actually get by with some pretty limited hardware.
My heart stopped about halfway through the second line there. Bastard =P Anyway, it's amusing, for a computer book.
I also went to look at another apartment in K-town today, only to discover that it was not much bigger than my current bathroom. Like a closet you put a bed in. Noooo, thanks.
Okay, back to work.
Friday, May 14, 2004
MY HEAD IS EXPLODING. That's all, thanks.
Thursday, May 13, 2004
Okay, so, here's the deal: I applied for a job today at Spidell Publishing Inc., a company that publishes tax information for tax preparers. Not exciting, right? But it's a copy-editing job, so whatever. Twenty minutes later, I get a call back from the managing editor, who says I sound like I'm perfectly qualified for the job. I explain about how I'm not graduating, and he's cool with it, so that's good, and then he tells me the pay is between $30k and $35k a year. (!) I was like "oh, wow," and he laughed. I'd asked for "at least $20,000 annually" in my cover letter. Anyway, it was good, and he asked me to come in Monday to demonstrate my skills. Fantastic. But he also wants a portfolio, and here's where things get exciting. On my resume, I said I'm "proficient" with Dreamweaver MX, Flash MX, and Photoshop. Now, this is a mistake a copy editor ought not to make, but apparently I'm retarded. I thought proficient meant "I can use these things," but I looked it up in the dictionary after the call and found out it's a synonym for "masterly" and "highly skilled." Woo-ee. Okay, so I can definitely use these programs. I've been toying with Flash and Photoshop for years now ... but masterly? Right, so I've got three days, and I've got three books (one on Photoshop, one on Dreamweaver, and one on Quark, just in case). I've got to make sure I know these programs like the back of my hand, and put together some things for a portfolio. But I can do it, right? Because I want this job. I need it. Let's all hold hands and pray for me, now.
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Speaking of jabbing Lori with things ... new comic! Yeah, this time you gotta go to my page, suckers. Just scroll down to the bottom, you'll see it. I used a different scanner this time, and I'm not sure what I think of the results. Input, anyone?
Also today I made my first post on Craigslist. Ooo, I am such an edgy hipster! The rants/raves page is a little raucous today (the pro-Bush and anti-Bush factions are duking it out), but maybe someone will read my musing and be amused. Let me just state for the record that I LOVE CRAIGSLIST. Need a job? Apartment? Someone to adopt your ferret? A place to complain about the naked man who lives across from you? It's all there. Woot.
Aaaand, I added some links on the left today. Also I got rid of the Onion (if you don't know where that is already, there's no hope for you) so now it's all webcomics. Well, that one link is to Spike's blog, but she's entertaining (she mummified her rat!) and her comics are linked from there.
Current Music: Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World
Current Mood: I was really grouchy, but then I had coffee, so now I'm better
Also today I made my first post on Craigslist. Ooo, I am such an edgy hipster! The rants/raves page is a little raucous today (the pro-Bush and anti-Bush factions are duking it out), but maybe someone will read my musing and be amused. Let me just state for the record that I LOVE CRAIGSLIST. Need a job? Apartment? Someone to adopt your ferret? A place to complain about the naked man who lives across from you? It's all there. Woot.
Aaaand, I added some links on the left today. Also I got rid of the Onion (if you don't know where that is already, there's no hope for you) so now it's all webcomics. Well, that one link is to Spike's blog, but she's entertaining (she mummified her rat!) and her comics are linked from there.
Current Music: Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World
Current Mood: I was really grouchy, but then I had coffee, so now I'm better
Sunday, May 09, 2004
New Blogger! New! It is The Good. And you know what else? I like caffeine. It makes me happy! Whee! So here is a story that Sara's Kirby told me: You know NYX? No, you don't. I'm the only one who reads it, I know. Anyway, I've been waiting for issue 4 to come out since FOREVER, and now I know what the holdup is. Apparently the little prostitute girl with the claws at the end of issue 3 was actually a character from the X-Men cartoon, and the TV people didn't like seeing her turned into a whore, so there were legal things ... BUT WAIT -- there's more! Seems the series' writer attacked an airport guard in Tokyo, and has been sitting in jail for three months, where he found God. He's saved! So who knows, maybe number 4 will never come out now. The series wasn't selling well anyway, and they were gonna cut it off at eight, so it's not such a big loss. I only liked it for the art, anyway. I need something funny to happen, so I can draw a new comic. At this rate, I'm going to have to start making stuff up. Maybe I should think of some clever ways to prod Lori into saying funny things. *sharpens a stick, heads off to prod Lori*
Current Music: Fighting Gravity, Bend the Light
Current Mood: prod at your peril
Current Music: Fighting Gravity, Bend the Light
Current Mood: prod at your peril
Friday, May 07, 2004
So I've been looking for a job, right? One of the things about job-hunting on the internet is that you find a lot of weirdos (as opposed to the rest of the internet, where everyone is normal). And, well, some of these job postings are just silly. So here, for your entertainment and education, I present...
Stupid job postings, part 1
Knowledge of the area and computer skills are a must. Some baking ability. <-- eh?
PROFESSIONAL SIGN HOLDER NEEDED <-- I'm all over this one.
Personal assistant needed. PLEASE BE A CAPRICORN. <-- DAMN, I'M A TAURUS.
NOT A CONDOM STUDY <-- ... oh, good.
Mystery Shoppers needed. Thanks and we are doing the Indian Rain dance for you! God Bless, Paul <-- Thanks Paul! I love you!
L.A. based Escort Agency now looking for reliable drivers to help get our Dancers to and from their shows. <-- and you have to drive an SUV, and it can't have any dents. Strippers gotta travel in style, you know.
Petsitting my Cat in your home <-- yeah, this one pays EIGHT WHOLE DOLLARS a day, and you have to drive the cat around
Models Wanted For Foot Fantasy Party <-- beyond weird. Look here to see this sucker in its full glory.
What are you doing next Tues in Burbank???CALL NOW <-- is it a job, or a date?
--
Yeah okay, that's enough of that. Sara's brother Theo is coming over tonight so he'll be ready for Lori to turn him into an elf for her sfx makeup final tomorrow. Good times. Well, except that I'll be living in a cardboard box shortly if I don't find a job. Other than that things are fantastic.
just shoot me
Stupid job postings, part 1
Knowledge of the area and computer skills are a must. Some baking ability. <-- eh?
PROFESSIONAL SIGN HOLDER NEEDED <-- I'm all over this one.
Personal assistant needed. PLEASE BE A CAPRICORN. <-- DAMN, I'M A TAURUS.
NOT A CONDOM STUDY <-- ... oh, good.
Mystery Shoppers needed. Thanks and we are doing the Indian Rain dance for you! God Bless, Paul <-- Thanks Paul! I love you!
L.A. based Escort Agency now looking for reliable drivers to help get our Dancers to and from their shows. <-- and you have to drive an SUV, and it can't have any dents. Strippers gotta travel in style, you know.
Petsitting my Cat in your home <-- yeah, this one pays EIGHT WHOLE DOLLARS a day, and you have to drive the cat around
Models Wanted For Foot Fantasy Party <-- beyond weird. Look here to see this sucker in its full glory.
What are you doing next Tues in Burbank???CALL NOW <-- is it a job, or a date?
--
Yeah okay, that's enough of that. Sara's brother Theo is coming over tonight so he'll be ready for Lori to turn him into an elf for her sfx makeup final tomorrow. Good times. Well, except that I'll be living in a cardboard box shortly if I don't find a job. Other than that things are fantastic.
just shoot me
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Ohh, the heat, and the boredom. It took me about five hours total today to play through Samurai Jack. I really wanted to like the game -- some of the art was pretty cool, much like the show, and the fact that the character voices were the same was a nice touch, but jeez. Polygons, polygons, polygons. And the stupidest design I've ever played: kill kill KILL next level kill kill KILL next level kill kill KILL game over. I suspect the game was designed for small children. But I kept playing, because I figured it wouldn't take long and I might as well finish it. Well, five minutes into the last battle with Aku, the game froze. That thing is lucky it was a rental, otherwise I would have thrown it into the pool. So that's it for Samurai Jack. *grumble*
The rest of today was restless and useless. I keep putting off the calls I have to make, because ... I don't know. I don't like talking to people? My descent into total failure is a self-fulfilling prophecy? I see disaster looming, but I'm too complacent to avoid it. I'm burning the bridges I've not finished crossing.
and other such metaphors
The rest of today was restless and useless. I keep putting off the calls I have to make, because ... I don't know. I don't like talking to people? My descent into total failure is a self-fulfilling prophecy? I see disaster looming, but I'm too complacent to avoid it. I'm burning the bridges I've not finished crossing.
and other such metaphors
Tuesday, May 04, 2004
Well, today was something. I had my interview with E! (freelance? oh, it's kind of a temp position that just doesn't go away. and no benefits.) and was so wound up it hurt. I guess it went well, I couldn't really tell. I talked to the HR lady (she liked me), who then passed me off to the media center supervisor (he seemed vaguely amused but unsure of me), who said I'd have to wait for a call from the other supervisor. If I get that far. I don't know if I will. Once all the dust had settled (with the crying, and the self-recriminations, and the nap followed by phone call with my mom) I realized that I don't really want that job. All I can see is a slick gray hell of junior power-broker hipster wannabes with God complexes and Gucci sandals. Yeah. I wanted a nice quiet library job, and what they're offering is another stint at Blockbuster video purgatory of the damned. I need to call BRP and demand that they hire me. I'll do that tomorrow morning. My only regret is that I won't be able to afford that cute apartment in Koreatown, the one at the Versailles. I mean, maybe I could, but I would have just barely enough left over to live on. And I'd have to commute to Marina del Rey all the time. Blah, commute. I am spoiled. To think I had an hour bus ride to and from school every day just a few years ago, *pfft*.
Oh and let's not forget the PARKING TYRANT! When I went to my car at the E! parking deck, there was a very angry little man waiting for me. "You blocked that other car when you parked," he said. I looked around, confused, to see that not only had my car been moved, but it was now blocked in by cars on all sides. I'd never seen anything like that, but Lori says it's common here, where there just isn't enough parking. The rows of cars had 4 cars in each. Apparently you're supposed to leave your keys with the office when you go so they can let people in and out. Well, I couldn't convince this guy that I'd never seen such an arrangement, and I certainly hadn't meant to block anybody's car. He went on, and on, and on, lecturing me about how inconsiderate it was, and what a problem it had caused everybody, etc. No amount of apologizing on my part satisfied him -- it's almost like he wanted to make me cry or something. "Now how are you going to get out? We don't have the key to that car behind you." he finally asked, smugly. By that point I'd had enough of being berated, so I just fixed him with my Steely Gaze of Doom and said "You moved my car with no key, so move that car. I have places to be." And he huffed and puffed, but stormed off and eventually somebody came and moved the car behind me. My diagnosis is but two words: SMALL PENIS. Yeah, you hear me, nasty little parking man?! You heard what I said! Go pick on somebody else!
I still need a hug
Oh and let's not forget the PARKING TYRANT! When I went to my car at the E! parking deck, there was a very angry little man waiting for me. "You blocked that other car when you parked," he said. I looked around, confused, to see that not only had my car been moved, but it was now blocked in by cars on all sides. I'd never seen anything like that, but Lori says it's common here, where there just isn't enough parking. The rows of cars had 4 cars in each. Apparently you're supposed to leave your keys with the office when you go so they can let people in and out. Well, I couldn't convince this guy that I'd never seen such an arrangement, and I certainly hadn't meant to block anybody's car. He went on, and on, and on, lecturing me about how inconsiderate it was, and what a problem it had caused everybody, etc. No amount of apologizing on my part satisfied him -- it's almost like he wanted to make me cry or something. "Now how are you going to get out? We don't have the key to that car behind you." he finally asked, smugly. By that point I'd had enough of being berated, so I just fixed him with my Steely Gaze of Doom and said "You moved my car with no key, so move that car. I have places to be." And he huffed and puffed, but stormed off and eventually somebody came and moved the car behind me. My diagnosis is but two words: SMALL PENIS. Yeah, you hear me, nasty little parking man?! You heard what I said! Go pick on somebody else!
I still need a hug
Monday, May 03, 2004
It's been quite hot today. So hot, in fact, that I fled my apartment in the early afternoon and lounged around at Starbucks with Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics and a venti (read: big) iced white mocha until the temperature dropped to a manageable 91 degrees Fahrenheit. The heat has put me a little on edge, and I burst into UNCONTROLLABLE RAGE when Lori tried to play my new video game before me. Now, it was kind of a crappy thing for her to do, and she later said she was just kidding (though I strongly suspect that she just said that because of my reaction), but I did get a little gonzo. Oh well.
I keep finding places I want to live or work, only to have my hopes crushed because I can't get in touch with anyone. Call me back, you bastards! At least I have an interview with E! Entertainment tomorrow (I had no idea what the company was when I applied for the job, the ad was anonymous, so I was kind of shocked/pleasantly surprised when they called). The job is a freelance swing-shift library assistant position, whatever that means. I'd be working strange hours, but I'd make enough to live on and then some, which is priority #1 right now. Plus I couldn't get any more qualified for the job, what with my library and Blockbuster experience. So, yeah. Think good thoughts.
But I still need an apartment. *sigh*
Current Music: I have that california raisins song stuck in my head, god dammit
Current Mood: *pant pant pant*
I keep finding places I want to live or work, only to have my hopes crushed because I can't get in touch with anyone. Call me back, you bastards! At least I have an interview with E! Entertainment tomorrow (I had no idea what the company was when I applied for the job, the ad was anonymous, so I was kind of shocked/pleasantly surprised when they called). The job is a freelance swing-shift library assistant position, whatever that means. I'd be working strange hours, but I'd make enough to live on and then some, which is priority #1 right now. Plus I couldn't get any more qualified for the job, what with my library and Blockbuster experience. So, yeah. Think good thoughts.
But I still need an apartment. *sigh*
Current Music: I have that california raisins song stuck in my head, god dammit
Current Mood: *pant pant pant*
Saturday, May 01, 2004
Another day, another website. Thanks to the lovely and talented Jason Gutierrez for letting me host my comic of questionable quality on his site, cinematographic.net! The link on the left will now take you to the ad-free comicy goodness. You should read Jason's blog too, his art is gooder than mine. I'll post a permanent linky link on the left when I'm not so ... zzz ... zz ... *drool*
I'd have dreamweaver mx's babies
I'd have dreamweaver mx's babies
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Extra! Extra!
Tales from the Real now has its own webpage, so you can see all the parts together. Sorry about the ads -- someday they'll restart Blogspot Plus and I'll be able to host the page here.
Tales from the real, pt. 5
Also, I wrote a haiku:
Hello, truck driver!
Please refrain from hitting me
while I cross the street.
But wait! There's more! I finally sent my resume to somebody last night, so maybe I'll get a job soon. Now I just need to send it to more somebodies. And if I get the job in Marina del Rey, I found the COOLEST apartment -- or should I say aboatment? I think living on a sailboat would be keen, don't you? So cross your fingers.
Current Music: The Shins, Chutes Too Narrow
Current Mood: sailboat!
Tales from the Real now has its own webpage, so you can see all the parts together. Sorry about the ads -- someday they'll restart Blogspot Plus and I'll be able to host the page here.
Tales from the real, pt. 5
Also, I wrote a haiku:
Hello, truck driver!
Please refrain from hitting me
while I cross the street.
But wait! There's more! I finally sent my resume to somebody last night, so maybe I'll get a job soon. Now I just need to send it to more somebodies. And if I get the job in Marina del Rey, I found the COOLEST apartment -- or should I say aboatment? I think living on a sailboat would be keen, don't you? So cross your fingers.
Current Music: The Shins, Chutes Too Narrow
Current Mood: sailboat!
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Well, today was my 22nd birthday. I got flowers from my mom and Lori's mom, which was very sweet. Although, Lori's mom also gave me a $100 bill, which I haven't the faintest idea how to thank her for. "Thank you" would work, I guess. It's just ... wow. My parents gave me that much. Um, yeah. Anyway I lounged around and finished reading my book, Magician's Ward by Patricia Wrede (I started reading it when I was 10 and just got around to finishing it -- I like to take my time with these things), and then Lori's mom, who was visiting for Lori's gallery opening yesterday and softball game today, came by to take us to the beach. We rode the roller coaster (the "West Coaster," ha ha) at the Santa Monica Pier and then drove out to Melrose and went to what we thought was an Italian restaurant. It had a red, white and green awning, and it was called "Antonio's." Sounds Italiany, yes? But the flag colors and name are shared by both Italians and Mexicans, so we had really good Mexican food instead. Mole! I can't believe chile-infused chocolate sauce tastes so good. It's just wrong. And then we wandered over a few blocks to the tiny park where Lori's church softball team was playing the team from the natural history museum. It was soooo nice there. The sun was setting, so the heat slacked off a bit (above 100 today) and there was a breeze, and soccer children and their moms everywhere. Lori got a run at the very end of the game, so that was exciting. And now I'm home. Ta da!
it's pronounced MO-lay
it's pronounced MO-lay
Saturday, April 24, 2004
Just when I think I'm doing fine ...
I went to Starbucks for something cold to drink because it's hot outside and I was feeling kind of blah, and I decided to be daring and order a new "cafe vanilla" frappuccino. The store was packed, mostly people studying for exams I guess. Anyway the guy put a white drink on the counter but didn't say who it belonged to, and it just sat there for five minutes until he came back, looked irritated, picked it up and shouted "MEG!" And I was like "hunh?" but I went up to him and ...
me: I ordered a cafe vanilla
guy: that's it
me: no, cafe vanilla
guy: that's it right there
me: but there's no coffee in this
and then the guy just turned away, and I could feel everyone looking at me, so I took the stupid plain vanilla frappuccino and left. And then I cried, all the way home. Because I wanted coffee.
I hate everything
I went to Starbucks for something cold to drink because it's hot outside and I was feeling kind of blah, and I decided to be daring and order a new "cafe vanilla" frappuccino. The store was packed, mostly people studying for exams I guess. Anyway the guy put a white drink on the counter but didn't say who it belonged to, and it just sat there for five minutes until he came back, looked irritated, picked it up and shouted "MEG!" And I was like "hunh?" but I went up to him and ...
me: I ordered a cafe vanilla
guy: that's it
me: no, cafe vanilla
guy: that's it right there
me: but there's no coffee in this
and then the guy just turned away, and I could feel everyone looking at me, so I took the stupid plain vanilla frappuccino and left. And then I cried, all the way home. Because I wanted coffee.
I hate everything
Friday, April 23, 2004
Woo! I got Gmail! Thank you, blogger.com! They have some kind of partnership with Google (see that ad bar at the top of this page?), so I get to be a Gmail beta tester. Gmail, for those of you currently residing under rocks, is Google's new e-mail service, or it will be soon, anyway. There's a lot of buzz around it, one because it's Google, and two because you get A GIG (yes, that's 1000 megabytes) of storage. "Never delete messages again," says the site. Drop me a line!
mlasswell (at) gmail.com <-- note that my last name is spelled correctly, unlike my usc account
I've been downloading a lot the past couple of days. It's great. You've gotta pay attention to it, and tweak things periodically, but c'mon, it's FREE STUFF. It's like shopping, only for free! Which really makes it stealing, but let's not argue semantics. Anyway my defense is that I'm downloading things that aren't available to buy. Really the only people I'm ripping off are the comics resellers, and in a couple of cases I've actually gone and bought old issues of the comics I really liked, so there. Mmm, free.
Yesterday I saw an ad for lawn fertilizer, and I was suddenly overcome by the desire to tend a lawn of my own someday. Whatever keeps me around, I guess.
Current Music: Frou Frou, Let Go
Current Mood: larceny-tastic!
mlasswell (at) gmail.com <-- note that my last name is spelled correctly, unlike my usc account
I've been downloading a lot the past couple of days. It's great. You've gotta pay attention to it, and tweak things periodically, but c'mon, it's FREE STUFF. It's like shopping, only for free! Which really makes it stealing, but let's not argue semantics. Anyway my defense is that I'm downloading things that aren't available to buy. Really the only people I'm ripping off are the comics resellers, and in a couple of cases I've actually gone and bought old issues of the comics I really liked, so there. Mmm, free.
Yesterday I saw an ad for lawn fertilizer, and I was suddenly overcome by the desire to tend a lawn of my own someday. Whatever keeps me around, I guess.
Current Music: Frou Frou, Let Go
Current Mood: larceny-tastic!
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
They just keep coming! I am a font of comedic genius!
Tales from the Real, pt. 5
In other news, I had to move my car early this morning for street cleaning, and I was headed to Starbucks when I was waylaid by a craving for actual food. This has never happened before, so I was mightily confused. I think it's an evil republican plot!
mmm, thank you denny's
Tales from the Real, pt. 5
In other news, I had to move my car early this morning for street cleaning, and I was headed to Starbucks when I was waylaid by a craving for actual food. This has never happened before, so I was mightily confused. I think it's an evil republican plot!
mmm, thank you denny's
Monday, April 19, 2004
Well I got a complaint about not posting my thoughts on Young Adam, Ewan McGregor's latest flick, rated NC-17, so here is a shout-out to my homeboy Rick. I have to admit that I really only went to see it because of the rating and the fact that Ewan's in it and I happen to know he has no problems getting nekkid on camera *blush* but you know, whatever. At least I'm honest about it. There was not a whole lot of plot to speak of, but that wasn't really the point of the film. It was a quietly atmospheric character study focused on a shiftless young Glasgow barge-worker. The cinematography was beautiful, and Ewan's acting was great, although it consisted mostly of looking inscrutable and having sordid sexual encounters. Tilda Swinton, though, was incredible as the bargeman's wife, toughened by her hard life but still wanting to be wanted. Anyway I enjoyed it, but I'd only recommend it if you'd want to see it for the same reasons I did, namely because OMFG Ewan McGregor is so hot. (ahem)
And then there's tonight's little adventure, wherein I went to see the first screening of Coffee and Cigarettes, the latest work by Jim Jarmusch (Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai, Dead Man, Down by Law, etc.). He's been doing these little vignettes, which are each about five minutes long and take place over, yes, coffee and cigarettes, since Saturday Night Live funded the first one in 1986. There are 11 of them now ("enough songs for an album," said Jim), and they've been collected in this movie. It's odd pairings of various semi-famous people, basically. The conversations were scripted, but there's a lot of improvisation also. It's an absolutely brilliant thing, much like Jarmusch's earlier film, Out of the Blue. One of my favorite scenes was with Cate Blanchett and her "cousin," who I found out was also actually Cate. The acting in that scene is just, wow. You'd think they split Cate in two and had her talk to herself, the performances are so nuanced and responsive. The original SNL-funded one, with Steven Wright and Roberto Benigni, is also great. "I like to drink a lot of coffee before I go to bed," says Wright. "It makes me dream faster." And then there was a Q-and-A, which I have to say was a lot cooler than the one with Kevin Smith. Jim Jarmusch fans are just cooler than Kevin Smith fans, I guess. Maybe it's because he's not as well known. Anyway Jim's hilarious, and he just seems like the neatest person ever. I need to go see more of his movies now.
Ooh, and at the end, Jim was like "I'm going to embarrass some people in the audience now: Wim Wenders, (some guy I'd never heard of), and Eddie Izzard are here tonight," and everybody started peering around excitedly. Now, I don't know what Wim Wenders or that other guy look like, but as I was walking out I totally passed like 5 feet from Eddie Izzard. Woo! I'm the coolest kid on my block.
Current Music: nada
Current Mood: la, la, la
Jan Vermeer's best painting, "Girl with Dead Bill." 'Nuff said, I think.
And then there's tonight's little adventure, wherein I went to see the first screening of Coffee and Cigarettes, the latest work by Jim Jarmusch (Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai, Dead Man, Down by Law, etc.). He's been doing these little vignettes, which are each about five minutes long and take place over, yes, coffee and cigarettes, since Saturday Night Live funded the first one in 1986. There are 11 of them now ("enough songs for an album," said Jim), and they've been collected in this movie. It's odd pairings of various semi-famous people, basically. The conversations were scripted, but there's a lot of improvisation also. It's an absolutely brilliant thing, much like Jarmusch's earlier film, Out of the Blue. One of my favorite scenes was with Cate Blanchett and her "cousin," who I found out was also actually Cate. The acting in that scene is just, wow. You'd think they split Cate in two and had her talk to herself, the performances are so nuanced and responsive. The original SNL-funded one, with Steven Wright and Roberto Benigni, is also great. "I like to drink a lot of coffee before I go to bed," says Wright. "It makes me dream faster." And then there was a Q-and-A, which I have to say was a lot cooler than the one with Kevin Smith. Jim Jarmusch fans are just cooler than Kevin Smith fans, I guess. Maybe it's because he's not as well known. Anyway Jim's hilarious, and he just seems like the neatest person ever. I need to go see more of his movies now.
Ooh, and at the end, Jim was like "I'm going to embarrass some people in the audience now: Wim Wenders, (some guy I'd never heard of), and Eddie Izzard are here tonight," and everybody started peering around excitedly. Now, I don't know what Wim Wenders or that other guy look like, but as I was walking out I totally passed like 5 feet from Eddie Izzard. Woo! I'm the coolest kid on my block.
Current Music: nada
Current Mood: la, la, la
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Jan Vermeer's best painting, "Girl with Dead Bill." 'Nuff said, I think.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
Tax day! Oh joy! No, actually, um ... *vomits on your shoes*
Yeah. And stuff. My mother made me call to tele-file a form 4868, so I'll have until August to get my shit together and file for real. At least I don't have to actually pay anything this year. I'll just get a refund check, come summer. Whee. I think I'll buy a camera. A Fuji Finepix S5000, to be precise. Mmm.
Of course, I'll be living in a box downtown by that point, so I'll have to take a break from selling my body for crack to go over to Samy's Camera on Fairfax. Won't that be fun?
Current Music: The Shins, Saint Simon
Current Mood: ... "god damned IRS muthafuckas"
Yeah. And stuff. My mother made me call to tele-file a form 4868, so I'll have until August to get my shit together and file for real. At least I don't have to actually pay anything this year. I'll just get a refund check, come summer. Whee. I think I'll buy a camera. A Fuji Finepix S5000, to be precise. Mmm.
Of course, I'll be living in a box downtown by that point, so I'll have to take a break from selling my body for crack to go over to Samy's Camera on Fairfax. Won't that be fun?
Current Music: The Shins, Saint Simon
Current Mood: ... "god damned IRS muthafuckas"
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
I'm too lazy by far to write this all out again. I went to see a showing of "Clerks" at the Arclight theater Tuesday. There was a Q and A with Kevin Smith and friends afterward for the 10th anniversary DVD of the movie, which'll be out in October.
Master Abernathy: so I saw kevin smith
Master Abernathy: and jason mewes
Anakin722: was he clean & sober?
Master Abernathy: he may not have had anything to drink, but man, he was
acting strangely
Master Abernathy: very, very ill at ease
Anakin722: so how was it?
Anakin722: kevin is usually very funny
Master Abernathy: he was great
Master Abernathy: but man, almost all of those people asking questions
... oy vey
Master Abernathy: it makes me feel very cool and well adjusted
Master Abernathy: kevin pretty much took it in stride, though
Master Abernathy: I hope they keep the part where he told one idiot to
"go sit the fuck back down"
Anakin722: what was that in response to?
Master Abernathy: the guy just wouldn't shut up
Master Abernathy: you know, typical class-clown type, doesn't care if he
sounds retarded or that everyone hates him, as long as people are
watching him
Master Abernathy: and then there was the dumpy middle-aged woman dressed
entirely in black, with a black beret and a giant wad of curly red hair
Master Abernathy: "oh kevin, how did you get so cute? you're like a big
teddy bear!" ... that was her question.
Anakin722: what a GREAT question
Master Abernathy: kevin was like "um, I eat a lot of twinkies? it's not
cute, it's fat."
Anakin722: did you use my question?
Master Abernathy: no, somebody asked that, but then most of the crowd
was like "read the box!"
Master Abernathy: kevin said dante is basically who he was, and randall
is based on his friend brian, which is who he wanted to be
Master Abernathy: did you know he actually worked in that quick stop at
the time?
Master Abernathy: he'd work there during the day and then they'd film
all night
Anakin722: yeah
Anakin722: so what did you ask?
Master Abernathy: oh, nothing
Master Abernathy: I sat quietly and watched the sideshow
Master Abernathy: man, kevin was tearing into those people
Master Abernathy: not that they didn't deserve it
Anakin722: I'm sure someone asked the inevitable sequel question
Anakin722: or whined for a return to the Askew-niverse
Anakin722: while complaining how Jersey Girl sucked
Master Abernathy: nobody mentioned jersey girl, actually
Anakin722: I still want to see JG
Master Abernathy: they threatened us on pain of death that all questions
had better be clerks-related
Master Abernathy: and somebody did ask the sequel question, and kevin
was like "well, what do you guys want?" and everybody cheered, and he
said "so, yes"
Master Abernathy: ooo! NAVY seals!
Anakin722: "how much is this?" (big 99 cent sign pointing to it)
Master Abernathy: "I could do without the customers at the video store"
Master Abernathy: "which ones?"
Master Abernathy: "all of them"
Anakin722: "what's your cat's name?"
Anakin722: "annoying customer"
Master Abernathy: so I saw kevin smith
Master Abernathy: and jason mewes
Anakin722: was he clean & sober?
Master Abernathy: he may not have had anything to drink, but man, he was
acting strangely
Master Abernathy: very, very ill at ease
Anakin722: so how was it?
Anakin722: kevin is usually very funny
Master Abernathy: he was great
Master Abernathy: but man, almost all of those people asking questions
... oy vey
Master Abernathy: it makes me feel very cool and well adjusted
Master Abernathy: kevin pretty much took it in stride, though
Master Abernathy: I hope they keep the part where he told one idiot to
"go sit the fuck back down"
Anakin722: what was that in response to?
Master Abernathy: the guy just wouldn't shut up
Master Abernathy: you know, typical class-clown type, doesn't care if he
sounds retarded or that everyone hates him, as long as people are
watching him
Master Abernathy: and then there was the dumpy middle-aged woman dressed
entirely in black, with a black beret and a giant wad of curly red hair
Master Abernathy: "oh kevin, how did you get so cute? you're like a big
teddy bear!" ... that was her question.
Anakin722: what a GREAT question
Master Abernathy: kevin was like "um, I eat a lot of twinkies? it's not
cute, it's fat."
Anakin722: did you use my question?
Master Abernathy: no, somebody asked that, but then most of the crowd
was like "read the box!"
Master Abernathy: kevin said dante is basically who he was, and randall
is based on his friend brian, which is who he wanted to be
Master Abernathy: did you know he actually worked in that quick stop at
the time?
Master Abernathy: he'd work there during the day and then they'd film
all night
Anakin722: yeah
Anakin722: so what did you ask?
Master Abernathy: oh, nothing
Master Abernathy: I sat quietly and watched the sideshow
Master Abernathy: man, kevin was tearing into those people
Master Abernathy: not that they didn't deserve it
Anakin722: I'm sure someone asked the inevitable sequel question
Anakin722: or whined for a return to the Askew-niverse
Anakin722: while complaining how Jersey Girl sucked
Master Abernathy: nobody mentioned jersey girl, actually
Anakin722: I still want to see JG
Master Abernathy: they threatened us on pain of death that all questions
had better be clerks-related
Master Abernathy: and somebody did ask the sequel question, and kevin
was like "well, what do you guys want?" and everybody cheered, and he
said "so, yes"
Master Abernathy: ooo! NAVY seals!
Anakin722: "how much is this?" (big 99 cent sign pointing to it)
Master Abernathy: "I could do without the customers at the video store"
Master Abernathy: "which ones?"
Master Abernathy: "all of them"
Anakin722: "what's your cat's name?"
Anakin722: "annoying customer"
Monday, April 12, 2004
So I spent the past couple of days holed up in my apartment, playing video games. Well, game, actually. I got Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance 2 from Gamefly the other day. Funny how, if you play 9-12 hours a day, it only takes three days to beat the game, can you imagine? Me and my moon-elf necromancer tore it up, and now I'm playing through again in extreme mode, because I'm a sick, sick puppy. I grew really fond of my character after a while -- he's grouchy, and used to be evil, but lost his memory in a battle with his tutor and now wanders around keeping the world from ending. I started another character, a drow priestess of some sort, to play a game with Lori (she, of course, is a dwarf, haha) (I'm mean, don't listen to me), but she's kind of a bitch. My drow, not Lori (well, unless she hasn't been fed recently). I guess that's what one should expect from those dark elf types. Right, so I have no life. Moving on ...
This drawing thing gets easier the more I do it. I'm sure that comes as a shock to no one but me. I live in hope that if I keep at it, someday I'll have developed a marginal talent. In the meantime, I've been scoping out tons of webcomics. Man, there are a lot of crappy comics out there. What interests me, though, is what makes a good comic. Some of the coolest -- White Ninja Comics, explodingdog -- have very simple art, and others -- The Repository of Dangerous Things -- have art that's iffy but sincere, backed by great storylines. Some comics are just pretty, and I like them despite the fickle writing. The bad ones, though ... oh man. They can be summed up with one word: PRETENTIOUS. Clearly, the author/artist thinks they're great. Too great for, say, spell-checking and plots, things of that nature. I don't want to be like that. Spike (see link to yer left) remains my favorite to date. That girl is sharp, man, and no mean talent artistically, either. Also she was really nice when I met her at Comic-Con, and answers her mail (brownie points).
This is going to be the longest post ever. That's what happens when I don't write for five days.
Lori and I went to see Hellboy again, because it's such a fun movie. I went in expecting very little from it the first time, because the trailers looked really schlocky, but I kept hearing good things about it, so I didn't write it off completely. It was clearly Guillermo del Toro's version of the story, but it did what it did very well, I thought. People who haven't read the comics didn't like it. People who expected it to be completely true to the comics didn't like it. I was expecting crap, and instead got a tongue-in-cheek ode to an amazing series. I hear somebody's thinking about making a Preacher movie, how cool would that be? Well, it could be terrible, but that's the risk you run.
god damned zombie pirates!
This drawing thing gets easier the more I do it. I'm sure that comes as a shock to no one but me. I live in hope that if I keep at it, someday I'll have developed a marginal talent. In the meantime, I've been scoping out tons of webcomics. Man, there are a lot of crappy comics out there. What interests me, though, is what makes a good comic. Some of the coolest -- White Ninja Comics, explodingdog -- have very simple art, and others -- The Repository of Dangerous Things -- have art that's iffy but sincere, backed by great storylines. Some comics are just pretty, and I like them despite the fickle writing. The bad ones, though ... oh man. They can be summed up with one word: PRETENTIOUS. Clearly, the author/artist thinks they're great. Too great for, say, spell-checking and plots, things of that nature. I don't want to be like that. Spike (see link to yer left) remains my favorite to date. That girl is sharp, man, and no mean talent artistically, either. Also she was really nice when I met her at Comic-Con, and answers her mail (brownie points).
This is going to be the longest post ever. That's what happens when I don't write for five days.
Lori and I went to see Hellboy again, because it's such a fun movie. I went in expecting very little from it the first time, because the trailers looked really schlocky, but I kept hearing good things about it, so I didn't write it off completely. It was clearly Guillermo del Toro's version of the story, but it did what it did very well, I thought. People who haven't read the comics didn't like it. People who expected it to be completely true to the comics didn't like it. I was expecting crap, and instead got a tongue-in-cheek ode to an amazing series. I hear somebody's thinking about making a Preacher movie, how cool would that be? Well, it could be terrible, but that's the risk you run.
god damned zombie pirates!
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
a lame comic extravaganza
I keep doing these, for some reason. My life is so amusing I have to share, I guess. I feel better when I record events that don't suck. Anyway, Lori and I went to see Hellboy with Sara's little bro Theo -- he's exceptionally cool, for a 14-year-old -- and I've drawn him much smaller than he actually is because I was trying to make him look young. He's about half an inch taller than me, now. Grumble grumble whippersnapper. Part four concerns a certain ill-fated sandwich of mine.
Tales from the real, pt. 3
Tales from the real, pt. 4
Current Music: Fiona Apple, A Mistake
Current Mood: somewhat less awful
I keep doing these, for some reason. My life is so amusing I have to share, I guess. I feel better when I record events that don't suck. Anyway, Lori and I went to see Hellboy with Sara's little bro Theo -- he's exceptionally cool, for a 14-year-old -- and I've drawn him much smaller than he actually is because I was trying to make him look young. He's about half an inch taller than me, now. Grumble grumble whippersnapper. Part four concerns a certain ill-fated sandwich of mine.
Tales from the real, pt. 3
Tales from the real, pt. 4
Current Music: Fiona Apple, A Mistake
Current Mood: somewhat less awful
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
I hurt so bad, in the middle. I want to cry all the time, but I don't, so there's this teary ache behind my eyes that won't go away. My dad called five times Saturday before I turned my phone off so the ringing wouldn't drive me crazy. Crazier. There are irritated e-mails in my inbox from my parents and advisor, asking what I'm going to do and why I won't talk to them. At least, I think that's what they say. I can barely bring myself to look at them. Pretending I'm fine, trying to act normal -- it's wearing me so thin, I can't even convince myself anymore that I'm getting better. Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like, little windows of hope surrounded by this dragging, scraping hurt?
Current Music: Mum, Finally We Are No One
Current Mood: ouch
Current Music: Mum, Finally We Are No One
Current Mood: ouch
Friday, April 02, 2004
time for a poem of dubious quality:
Devourer of Worlds
The moon turned, its face drawn
I ate the stars, then, one by one
Their light burned, was soon gone
I think that next I'll eat the sun
Its ember, too, will quickly die
And leave here just the moon and I
In the cold, empty sky
---
I had a vision last night of myself as the wolves of Ragnarok, crashing over the earth in a wave of darkness. My metaphors are muddled, but my intentions are good.
says me
Devourer of Worlds
The moon turned, its face drawn
I ate the stars, then, one by one
Their light burned, was soon gone
I think that next I'll eat the sun
Its ember, too, will quickly die
And leave here just the moon and I
In the cold, empty sky
---
I had a vision last night of myself as the wolves of Ragnarok, crashing over the earth in a wave of darkness. My metaphors are muddled, but my intentions are good.
says me
Thursday, April 01, 2004
I went and saw "Dogville" today, partly because I was in Pasadena and it happened to be playing and partly because of the subway in Paris. When I was there last spring it was full of posters for the movie, endless Nicole Kidmans staring blankly at me as I hurried past to wherever. The movie was like a profoundly disturbing dream, one that wakes you suddenly in the middle of the night, mouth dry, heart racing. I can't describe it, really. It was incredible, and I never want to see anything like it ever again. And then I was on the 110 heading back to LA and I had a panic attack, which is not the best thing to experience while driving 70 mph down a twisty, narrow-laned road at night. All at once I understood what claustrophobes must feel like -- it took all of my concentration not to cover my eyes and start screaming, because the entire world was folding in on me.
Also it rained a lot, briefly.
and that was my day
Also it rained a lot, briefly.
and that was my day
Monday, March 29, 2004
Tales from the real, pt. 2
Or, another comic of questionable quality. This one is also something that actually happened -- I'm too funny for my own good, really. Now if I could just learn to draw ...
Current Music: Elliot Smith, Waltz, No. 2
Current Mood: clever
Or, another comic of questionable quality. This one is also something that actually happened -- I'm too funny for my own good, really. Now if I could just learn to draw ...
Current Music: Elliot Smith, Waltz, No. 2
Current Mood: clever
Sunday, March 28, 2004
It's getting so that whenever anybody mentions graduation or post-college plans, I want to scratch their eyes out. Or alternately, vomit on their shoes. What is it about my alleged "graduation" that's making everybody so darned nosy? And that's not the worst. The worst is when people only ask about graduation as a segue to talking about themselves. Note to the world: I don't care how stressed or excited or fearful you are of your thrice-damned graduation. You know in "Two Weeks Notice" when Hugh Grant asks the big black lady when her baby's due, and she's like "What baby? WHAT BABY?!" -- that's totally me. I should start shouting "WHAT GRADUATION?!" when people ask me. Oh, the bitterness.
I have too much time to think. Especially on gorgeous days like today, when it's hot and sunny and the world just begs me to come outside, but I don't go because I can't think of anything to do. I've done it all, you see: beach, zoo, parks, museums, shopping, movies, driving aimlessly -- you name it. I'm tempted to venture further afield, like San Diego, but wtf? I can't just wander around forever (not that I wouldn't enjoy it). Eventually, money will have to be made, not spent. I finally beat out a resume, but I've been sitting on it. I know you can't just send your resume to people and wait for a job, but writing cover letters for all these jobs I've been looking at? Gah, it took me a month to do the resume, which is not even so hot. See, because you have to sell yourself in cover letters, and I'm a bad investment. I can't tell people I'm a brilliant worker and I'd be the best hire ever, it just feels like lying. I couldn't apply to William and Mary back in the day (like my parents wanted me to) because I'd rather have eaten my own thumbs than go there -- could you imagine me writing that in my essay? I doubt sending newspapers my resume with a note saying "I SUCK SO BAD AND I HATE MYSELF so hire me" would work very well at all.
So here I sit, with a stupid look on my face, wondering what's to become of me.
Current Music: Seatbelts, The Egg and I
Current Mood: staring into space again
I have too much time to think. Especially on gorgeous days like today, when it's hot and sunny and the world just begs me to come outside, but I don't go because I can't think of anything to do. I've done it all, you see: beach, zoo, parks, museums, shopping, movies, driving aimlessly -- you name it. I'm tempted to venture further afield, like San Diego, but wtf? I can't just wander around forever (not that I wouldn't enjoy it). Eventually, money will have to be made, not spent. I finally beat out a resume, but I've been sitting on it. I know you can't just send your resume to people and wait for a job, but writing cover letters for all these jobs I've been looking at? Gah, it took me a month to do the resume, which is not even so hot. See, because you have to sell yourself in cover letters, and I'm a bad investment. I can't tell people I'm a brilliant worker and I'd be the best hire ever, it just feels like lying. I couldn't apply to William and Mary back in the day (like my parents wanted me to) because I'd rather have eaten my own thumbs than go there -- could you imagine me writing that in my essay? I doubt sending newspapers my resume with a note saying "I SUCK SO BAD AND I HATE MYSELF so hire me" would work very well at all.
So here I sit, with a stupid look on my face, wondering what's to become of me.
Current Music: Seatbelts, The Egg and I
Current Mood: staring into space again
Friday, March 26, 2004
Tales from the real
This is what Lori and I are like when we're not infuriating one another. Well, the infuriating is really more a constant, mutual thing actually. Oh well. Behold my comicy goodness!
This is what Lori and I are like when we're not infuriating one another. Well, the infuriating is really more a constant, mutual thing actually. Oh well. Behold my comicy goodness!
Thursday, March 25, 2004
sometimes I'm angry that I feel so angry
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
frustration
There's this asshole on a motorbike who's always driving up and down the street I live on. Lots of bikes go by every day, but this guy gets a little way down the street and then REVS HIS MOTOR like he thinks he's racing someone, and goes tearing down the street. Lori once thought something had exploded outside when she heard it. I've complained about this to her before -- I always say that I'm going to corner the bastard one day and beat the shit out of him. Well, today I was riding my bike down the street, and there he is, talking to some guys on the sidewalk. I'm like, "oh, this is going to be great." So Mr. Man says something to his pals, then REVS his damn bike and screeches in a little circle for them, and they're like yaaay! And I shout at the guy, "THAT IS SO FUCKING OBNOXIOUS! PEOPLE LIVE ON THIS STREET, YOU JERK!" And what does fucker do? He laughs, revs the bike again, and goes tearing off toward campus, while his jackhole friends just laaaugh and laugh.
Admittedly, I should have expected as much from FUCKING RETARDS, but ...
I'm angry, and I'm embarrassed, and I get home and run into the living room to share my tale of woe with Lori, and she fucking laughs at me! What the fuck?!?! She goes APOPLECTIC all the time about the STOOPIDEST stuff, but I listen to her -- I even act like I'm interested, most of the time (which, in general, I'm not. terrible? yes.). GAH!
So, later, she comes by and apologizes, and says I should've expected that and those guys will always be assholes. I'm sure they will, I just didn't expect her to be one, too. I didn't say that, though. The good comebacks only come later. I'm feeling kind of lame.
consider my feelings officially hurt
There's this asshole on a motorbike who's always driving up and down the street I live on. Lots of bikes go by every day, but this guy gets a little way down the street and then REVS HIS MOTOR like he thinks he's racing someone, and goes tearing down the street. Lori once thought something had exploded outside when she heard it. I've complained about this to her before -- I always say that I'm going to corner the bastard one day and beat the shit out of him. Well, today I was riding my bike down the street, and there he is, talking to some guys on the sidewalk. I'm like, "oh, this is going to be great." So Mr. Man says something to his pals, then REVS his damn bike and screeches in a little circle for them, and they're like yaaay! And I shout at the guy, "THAT IS SO FUCKING OBNOXIOUS! PEOPLE LIVE ON THIS STREET, YOU JERK!" And what does fucker do? He laughs, revs the bike again, and goes tearing off toward campus, while his jackhole friends just laaaugh and laugh.
Admittedly, I should have expected as much from FUCKING RETARDS, but ...
I'm angry, and I'm embarrassed, and I get home and run into the living room to share my tale of woe with Lori, and she fucking laughs at me! What the fuck?!?! She goes APOPLECTIC all the time about the STOOPIDEST stuff, but I listen to her -- I even act like I'm interested, most of the time (which, in general, I'm not. terrible? yes.). GAH!
So, later, she comes by and apologizes, and says I should've expected that and those guys will always be assholes. I'm sure they will, I just didn't expect her to be one, too. I didn't say that, though. The good comebacks only come later. I'm feeling kind of lame.
consider my feelings officially hurt
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Today in Dear Abby's column there's a letter from some woman who wants to know if she should ask her boyfriend to split the cost of her birth control pills, and Abby's response is that the woman's boyfriend has "been getting a free ride for too long." Is it just me, or is that sooo dirty? Dear Abby's like my grandma! Eew!
In other news, I had an overwhelming urge to eat a whole clove of garlic today. I am one freaky chick.
peep
In other news, I had an overwhelming urge to eat a whole clove of garlic today. I am one freaky chick.
peep
Monday, March 22, 2004
Another sunny day. They follow one another here, day after day after day. I start to long for a downpour; gray skies have become comforting, where in Virginia they were opressive. Just the promise of rain, that's all I want. Traces of moisture in the air, a hint of the sea on the breeze.
I haven't written in a while because I've been busy entertaining Luke. It's immensly satisfying to know that we did everything I could possibly think of to do in L.A., and then some. We overlooked nothing. It was exhausting, and exciting, and wonderful. I've spent so long shut in my room feeling sorry for myself that being outside all day, exploring and talking and drinking endless cups of coffee, has been a revelation. I think I can safely say that my cloudy days have passed, for now. Not that anything's changed with my situation, that's still pretty fucked up, but it no longer feels like the end of the world. Just the end of the world as I know it.
Current Music: Luigi Boccherini, La Musica Notturna Delle Strade Di Madrid No. 6, OP.30
Current Mood: ambivalent
we are the kissers, we are the holders of hands -- we are the make-believers
I haven't written in a while because I've been busy entertaining Luke. It's immensly satisfying to know that we did everything I could possibly think of to do in L.A., and then some. We overlooked nothing. It was exhausting, and exciting, and wonderful. I've spent so long shut in my room feeling sorry for myself that being outside all day, exploring and talking and drinking endless cups of coffee, has been a revelation. I think I can safely say that my cloudy days have passed, for now. Not that anything's changed with my situation, that's still pretty fucked up, but it no longer feels like the end of the world. Just the end of the world as I know it.
Current Music: Luigi Boccherini, La Musica Notturna Delle Strade Di Madrid No. 6, OP.30
Current Mood: ambivalent
we are the kissers, we are the holders of hands -- we are the make-believers
Friday, March 12, 2004
There are so many things that I think of to write about over the course of a day, and then I sit down at night and can't remember a thing. Humph.
Spring break (break from what? shut up, you.) begins tomorrow, and Luke is coming to visit. Luke is one of my favorite people ever. I've been cooking up plans for us, and collecting things to cook, so I think I'm ready. I feel a little bad because Kevin was supposed to come too, but I had to ask him not to at the last minute. My mood has been so fragile lately, and just the thought of entertaining two COMPLETELY and UTTERLY different people for a whole week was enough to make me hysterical. He hadn't bought a ticket yet, anyway, and it would have cost a fortune. Rationalize, rationalize. We had sort of a fight about it, actually. Well, sort of. I felt so bad about telling him not to visit that I couldn't come right out and say it, so I kept mentioning that I was having panic attacks when I thought of break, and finally he suggested that he stay home. "I think you should," I said. PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE. He kept saying he'd be supportive and hang around in the background though, and I kept trying to convince him that wouldn't work, and finally he said "I wish you'd trust me on this" and I blew up, silently, for 45 seconds. As in, "It's not a matter of trust, you jerk, it's a matter of I don't want to have a nervous breakdown!" is what ran through my head, but I bit my tongue. Because why? Just because. I'm really a terrible person, but for some reason it doesn't bother me. Perhaps because I'm terrible.
The cool kids kept me up until 3 a.m. with their partying last night, but today they're all gone off to Cabo san Lucas or Jamaica or wherever cool kids spend spring break these days. I love the relative quiet on my street and the stillness on campus. Two years ago, when I still worked at the library, I found I could work a ridiculous number of hours over break because the other student helpers were gone. It was the best week there ever, because it was so quiet, and I spent a LOT of time there because, hey, easy money. I always thought the library was better without patrons coming in and touching the books, moving them all over and wanting questions answered. It was the same at Blockbuster, which would have been a lot better without all the customers. I hate customers. No, wait, I hate everything. Maybe I should make a list of the things I don't hate, that would be constructive.
Current Music: Autechre, rettil ac
Current Mood: still
Spring break (break from what? shut up, you.) begins tomorrow, and Luke is coming to visit. Luke is one of my favorite people ever. I've been cooking up plans for us, and collecting things to cook, so I think I'm ready. I feel a little bad because Kevin was supposed to come too, but I had to ask him not to at the last minute. My mood has been so fragile lately, and just the thought of entertaining two COMPLETELY and UTTERLY different people for a whole week was enough to make me hysterical. He hadn't bought a ticket yet, anyway, and it would have cost a fortune. Rationalize, rationalize. We had sort of a fight about it, actually. Well, sort of. I felt so bad about telling him not to visit that I couldn't come right out and say it, so I kept mentioning that I was having panic attacks when I thought of break, and finally he suggested that he stay home. "I think you should," I said. PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE. He kept saying he'd be supportive and hang around in the background though, and I kept trying to convince him that wouldn't work, and finally he said "I wish you'd trust me on this" and I blew up, silently, for 45 seconds. As in, "It's not a matter of trust, you jerk, it's a matter of I don't want to have a nervous breakdown!" is what ran through my head, but I bit my tongue. Because why? Just because. I'm really a terrible person, but for some reason it doesn't bother me. Perhaps because I'm terrible.
The cool kids kept me up until 3 a.m. with their partying last night, but today they're all gone off to Cabo san Lucas or Jamaica or wherever cool kids spend spring break these days. I love the relative quiet on my street and the stillness on campus. Two years ago, when I still worked at the library, I found I could work a ridiculous number of hours over break because the other student helpers were gone. It was the best week there ever, because it was so quiet, and I spent a LOT of time there because, hey, easy money. I always thought the library was better without patrons coming in and touching the books, moving them all over and wanting questions answered. It was the same at Blockbuster, which would have been a lot better without all the customers. I hate customers. No, wait, I hate everything. Maybe I should make a list of the things I don't hate, that would be constructive.
Current Music: Autechre, rettil ac
Current Mood: still
Thursday, March 11, 2004
Today I discovered that all I really need to be happy is a vast, parklike estate with three galleries and a library. I'm easy to please, really. The only bump in my day, which I spent at the Huntington in Pasadena, was in the desert garden, where I learned an important lesson: if it falls off of a cactus, and looks fuzzy, FOR GOD'S SAKE DON'T PICK IT UP. There are no fuzzy cacti, I found; they're just covered in miniscule barbs that burrow into your skin and then break off. It was really pitiful -- I felt like a curious dog that had met its first porcupine. OUCH.
In other news, I'm looking for rhubarb for a recipe, but haven't found it yet. It always makes me think of the time I watched my dad make a rhubarb pie and he explained to me, in great detail, how rhubarb leaves are poisonous and what will happen if you eat them. I like my vegetables deadly, yes sir.
p.s. it involves all your vascular cells breaking down at once and you bleeding to death internally, apparently
dad's a weird one
In other news, I'm looking for rhubarb for a recipe, but haven't found it yet. It always makes me think of the time I watched my dad make a rhubarb pie and he explained to me, in great detail, how rhubarb leaves are poisonous and what will happen if you eat them. I like my vegetables deadly, yes sir.
p.s. it involves all your vascular cells breaking down at once and you bleeding to death internally, apparently
dad's a weird one
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
"the most insidious enemy there can be"
Fighting clinical depression is inevitably a lonely struggle. What could be less conducive to compassion than a disease that makes you whine? Laymen and loved ones tell you to get a grip. They make you feel ashamed to be sick. Even if they're more enlightened about the disease, they can't help but harbor a secret, naturally human, belief that you are suffering a failure of will rather than biochemistry. Meanwhile, the doctors consider little but the neuro-soup and turn you into a shambling medical experiment, testing pharmaceutical nostrums on you that are as blunt as the mind is subtle, though just as unpredictable. But, for you, life just trudges on. It remains, despite whatever visible signs of well-being - wonderful spouse, great kids, well-located house, etc. - a purgatory of uselessness, barren of joy and meaning. Love, incoming or out-going, becomes something you think, not feel.
-- John Perry Barlow, from his blog.
APPRECIATIONS
By VERLYN KLINKENBORG
Published: March 10, 2004
Listening to Mr. Gray, we did what audiences so often do -- we believed that the show was being put on just for our benefit. We liked to hope that his fears and despair were really exaggerated just to make us laugh and to let us off the hook for laughing. Again and again, Spalding Gray wondered whether he would make it, and the wonder was both fearful and real. Through to what was always the question for him. "If you live long enough," he wrote, "I find that it all comes full circle." The troubling word is "if."
copyright 2004 The New York Times
Current Music: the baby pigeons are squeaking outside
Current Mood: hard to be gray when the sky is so blue
Fighting clinical depression is inevitably a lonely struggle. What could be less conducive to compassion than a disease that makes you whine? Laymen and loved ones tell you to get a grip. They make you feel ashamed to be sick. Even if they're more enlightened about the disease, they can't help but harbor a secret, naturally human, belief that you are suffering a failure of will rather than biochemistry. Meanwhile, the doctors consider little but the neuro-soup and turn you into a shambling medical experiment, testing pharmaceutical nostrums on you that are as blunt as the mind is subtle, though just as unpredictable. But, for you, life just trudges on. It remains, despite whatever visible signs of well-being - wonderful spouse, great kids, well-located house, etc. - a purgatory of uselessness, barren of joy and meaning. Love, incoming or out-going, becomes something you think, not feel.
-- John Perry Barlow, from his blog.
APPRECIATIONS
Spalding Interrupted
By VERLYN KLINKENBORG
Published: March 10, 2004
n "Swimming to Cambodia," Spalding Gray quotes his mother, who committed suicide when she was 52 and who always said, "Think of the starving Koreans." When his obsessions begin to overtake him in that monologue, he reflects on "the therapeutic joys of living in New York City. It always works. As soon as you think you're crazy, all you have to do is look over your shoulder." But at a certain point for Mr. Gray, it was no longer possible for him to look over his shoulder for someone worse off than he was. Starving Koreans no longer did the trick. They never do if you're as depressed as Mr. Gray was for much of his life. He disappeared on Jan. 10, and his body was found in the East River on Sunday.
No one really knows what's in the mind of a person who commits suicide, yet Mr. Gray had spent years telling us just what was on his mind. The image that will stay with most of us is a picture of Mr. Gray talking and talking, anchored by a plain table, with a sheaf of notes at hand. It's conventional to think of Mr. Gray as relentlessly autobiographical. And yet the real autobiography in his monologues wasn't what he said so much as the way he connected what he was saying. Profound suffering was only an ellipsis away from comic anxiety.
"And so" is the kind of phrase he used a lot, because it allowed him to go anywhere he wanted in his monologues. It allowed him to weave a story around the story he found impossible to tell, the one without language that led him to take his own life.
Listening to Mr. Gray, we did what audiences so often do -- we believed that the show was being put on just for our benefit. We liked to hope that his fears and despair were really exaggerated just to make us laugh and to let us off the hook for laughing. Again and again, Spalding Gray wondered whether he would make it, and the wonder was both fearful and real. Through to what was always the question for him. "If you live long enough," he wrote, "I find that it all comes full circle." The troubling word is "if."
copyright 2004 The New York Times
Current Music: the baby pigeons are squeaking outside
Current Mood: hard to be gray when the sky is so blue
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Okay, kids! It's time for a history lesson! And/or some sniveling, self-obsessed navel-gazing. I was going to post a "me at 16/me now" photo comparison for Tim, but I don't have access to a digital camera, and I don't know when I will. Oh well. At any rate, when I picked this photo out the other night, it got me thinking (that's all I do these days, you know: read comics, listen to weird electronic music, and think). History does repeat itself, and I'll tell you how. First, the picture:
Tracy was the first friend I ever made in high school. We were tight. She and I, and her/our friends Ryan and Luke, hung out together all the time. We called ourselves the Posse (yeah okay, it's retarded, whatever). Anyway my high school was really small, so I knew everyone else who went there, but Tracy, Ryan and Luke were the only friends I had there who meant anything to me -- for THREE YEARS. Looking back, I probably should've expanded my social circle a little, but I'm not psychic. Tracy started dating Ryan at some point, to the exclusion of all other interests, and I was a little miffed, but she was my friend, so I stuck around. Then, senior year, I hit my first big iceberg of depression (oh! the metaphors! my brain hurts!) and stopped talking to people. All people. It's what I do best, really. When I finally opened up some to Tracy, we had a stupid little fight and have NEVER SPOKEN SINCE.
Four years later, my academic career is kaput, and I haven't spoken to what I thought was my best friend in weeks. I don't want to, really. That's how the story goes.
QED
 | Tracy Hamm and me, sometime in the second half of sophomore year, 1998 |
Tracy was the first friend I ever made in high school. We were tight. She and I, and her/our friends Ryan and Luke, hung out together all the time. We called ourselves the Posse (yeah okay, it's retarded, whatever). Anyway my high school was really small, so I knew everyone else who went there, but Tracy, Ryan and Luke were the only friends I had there who meant anything to me -- for THREE YEARS. Looking back, I probably should've expanded my social circle a little, but I'm not psychic. Tracy started dating Ryan at some point, to the exclusion of all other interests, and I was a little miffed, but she was my friend, so I stuck around. Then, senior year, I hit my first big iceberg of depression (oh! the metaphors! my brain hurts!) and stopped talking to people. All people. It's what I do best, really. When I finally opened up some to Tracy, we had a stupid little fight and have NEVER SPOKEN SINCE.
Four years later, my academic career is kaput, and I haven't spoken to what I thought was my best friend in weeks. I don't want to, really. That's how the story goes.
QED
Monday, March 08, 2004
I've been thinking today about one of my favorite parables. It has to do with monkeys. See, there were these monkeys, and they hated the rain. Whenever it rained, they would sit in the trees, wet and grouchy, and talk about what they ought to do. "Let's build a hut," said one, "a hut we can sit in when it rains. Then we'll be dry." The other monkeys thought this was a fantastic idea, and they got right to work on planning a hut. Just then, though, the sun came out and the rain stopped, and all the monkeys ran off to enjoy the good weather while it lasted. Come next storm, they sat in the trees again, and complained. "We should really get to work on that hut." "Yeah, we should." But the sun kept coming out, and the hut kept not getting built, and the monkeys stayed wet in the rain forever and ever. That's why monkeys don't rule the world. Well, not really, but you get the point.
I'm a monkey.
I fell asleep last night wishing I were dead, as I have most nights for the past two months. But, you know, if wishes were fishes, blah blah blah. (Interesting side note: I keep thinking it would be funny if I just dropped dead one day from wishing so hard, but if that were the case I'd have been able to fly for years already.) Anyway, I keep telling myself I'll call somebody. "Tomorrow," I think. "I'll do it tomorrow." And this morning I woke up, and the sun was shining, and it was warm, and I thought "Hey! I don't hate everything as much as I did last night! I'm cured!" Mm hmm.
ook ook ee EE EE
I'm a monkey.
I fell asleep last night wishing I were dead, as I have most nights for the past two months. But, you know, if wishes were fishes, blah blah blah. (Interesting side note: I keep thinking it would be funny if I just dropped dead one day from wishing so hard, but if that were the case I'd have been able to fly for years already.) Anyway, I keep telling myself I'll call somebody. "Tomorrow," I think. "I'll do it tomorrow." And this morning I woke up, and the sun was shining, and it was warm, and I thought "Hey! I don't hate everything as much as I did last night! I'm cured!" Mm hmm.
ook ook ee EE EE
Sunday, March 07, 2004
It figures that the day of the LA marathon, we'd have the hottest weather since October. Winter (what there is of it here) sublimated directly into high summer, and the traffic went nuts. I did my part for global warming by cruising down most of Santa Monica Boulevard, soaking in the heat and sights. SMB's amazing, really. If you follow any road in this city long enough, you'll see the ebb and flow of neighborhoods, but within the space of a few miles I toured Beverly Hills (pretty houses), West Hollywood (pretty men, in pairs), North Hollywood (Russians), and several other areas I'd never seen before, including little Armenia, which I thought was in Burbank. Maybe there's Armenian overflow.
I just walked to campus to scan a photo (you'll see why soon). I thought about riding my bike, but the day was so nice I thought I'd take my time, and anyway, it's still 800 degrees outside. I had to change clothes after getting back from my drive, because my shirt was literally soaked with sweat. I'd use the air conditioning, but not while gas is still $1.80 a gallon.
Current Music: Arovane, Atol Scrap
Current Mood: I am an island. I touch no one, and no one touches me.
I just walked to campus to scan a photo (you'll see why soon). I thought about riding my bike, but the day was so nice I thought I'd take my time, and anyway, it's still 800 degrees outside. I had to change clothes after getting back from my drive, because my shirt was literally soaked with sweat. I'd use the air conditioning, but not while gas is still $1.80 a gallon.
Current Music: Arovane, Atol Scrap
Current Mood: I am an island. I touch no one, and no one touches me.
Friday, March 05, 2004
I just cut five or six inches of my hair off. It was getting really ratty at the ends, and who wants to pay $12 for a haircut when you can do it yourself? I figured it couldn't look any worse. I gave myself some bangs, too, and discovered that now I look like I'm about 16. Not what I looked like when I was actually 16 -- then my youth was only obvious from a certain awkwardness and oiliness -- but maybe what I would have wanted to look like. I've always looked (and acted? perhaps it's been more a matter of demeanor) older than I am, so this is a little strange. I would ask people what they think, but it's been a while since I talked to anyone.
Current Music: silence is golden
Current Mood: meh (shrug)
Current Music: silence is golden
Current Mood: meh (shrug)
Monday, March 01, 2004
Today I got myself a "news aggregator." It allegedly picks up RSS feeds from places (news sites, mostly) that I select and displays them on one page for me. Much handier than the Drudge report, and probably more reliable (wink, wink). Now, since I've been reading news all day, I give you "Funny Headlines I Made Up But Have No Use For":
Jackson, Waters puzzled at low "I Love Tyrants" t-shirt demand
Maxine Waters defends "personal friend" Aristide, shoots puppy
UN: Flawed elections a sign Aristide needed to go -- Bush another matter entirely.
"He has nuclear weapons," says Annan.
Jackson, Waters puzzled at low "I Love Tyrants" t-shirt demand
Maxine Waters defends "personal friend" Aristide, shoots puppy
UN: Flawed elections a sign Aristide needed to go -- Bush another matter entirely.
"He has nuclear weapons," says Annan.
