check out (this) receipt
"I wish i would have thought more about the day-to-day implications of my job. It's a great overall experience, but can be absolutely hell on a day-to-day basis. I have a little pie chart in Excel that calculates the time remaining on my contract. The F9 key updates it. Sometimes I open up that file and just hit F9 every few seconds. It seems very therapeutic, until I realize that I'm not only hitting F9 on my job, I'm also hitting F9 on my life!"
-Melissa Blakeley, Investment Banker, 22-
from "How to Delay the Real World" by Colleen Kinder my favorite person in the whole world.
i laughed. hard. in that o god, you just got kicked in the balls that sucks but its really funny kinda way.
even if it be on my final breath, i will die a hero to myself.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Monday, March 13, 2006
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
3 meals a day
3/23/04
"Miners Pool"
"It never rains in the Kimberley" - well that's one line I wont be using with this group. Well here at Miner's Pool after 5 days of preparing, traveling and waiting for the rain to stop, we spent a couple of days in the lovely Broome getting friendlier with snakes than many of you hoped to and watching the feeding antics at the croc park which might put even the hardiest person off of swimming in the Kimberley! But no fear we'll soon be enjoying sharing the water with the freshies who are more scared of us then we will ever be of them. Then it was off on our 24hour outback adventure (you always have to exagerrate the story when you tell it each time) fleeing the perilous cyclone of Broome.
Well we made it to Kununurra after many breakfast bars, savoury shapes, doritos, apples and pears later. We arose once again at a sparrow's fart only to be forced to spend a day in the hubbub of Kunurra due to inclement weather.
After gate-crashing the peacerful mall cafe for a few hours we headed back to the caravan park to learn to put up bomber tarps, relax in the enormous pool which was a couple of feet less water once we exited and make the afternoon of the rolo man who had been dreaming of his relazing afternoon by the pool. After some food ID and tips by Kevin we enjoyed dinner by the other group and headed to bed.
Well today after changing a flat tyre on the trail and jump starting the bus we were away and off in two groups to Miner's Pool with our gear not too far behind. The day ended well with John breathing a sigh of relief now that he'll be able to see for the canoeing section and it won't be a blur, and gado-gado, quesadillas and other snacks were enjoyed. We studied things we may have never imagined we wiped our butts with - believe me i will never look at a rock or stick the same way again.
-Karen-
The last one or two lines are cut off due to water and xerox errors, but somehow ending on that note is quite satisfactory. Karen was our Aussie instructor, native of Perth, WA. Even if she was an astute environmentalist, a champion swimmer, blonde and understanding and funny and australian...she can't write very well. At least i had one up on her. After a come to peace with yourself kinda trip, i really shouldn't admit that, but i feel honesty with oneself and others is your only pathway to peace.
If there was any rain besides the rain we were potentially flying into, i dont remember. I remember the heat inside that bus. I remember the heat always. I remember the frogs in the grass at camp while trying to pitch my mozzie and the take-away after the food ID. I remember Kevin talking about the difference between a bag of white powder (flour) and a bag of white powder (powdered milk). This makes me remember about 2 months down the line when i put parm cheese in my hot coco...actually wasn't bad...but that's what the field does to you.
I remember that mall cafe and being in love with Eric Vose, the astrologist with the shaggy hair. I remember seeing him and Betsy at the airport in Sydney. You could tell they were with NOLS and so could they. Because i was too stubborn and too scared to make the first move. He was reading Atlas Shrugged and i spouted off some line steve once told me about her being a femi-nazie becauase i wanted to sound smart. He later brought up another of her books and i believe i asked who ayn rand was or something of the like. Own what you say. Either way, i feel, i dont think and he was something mystical, something i missed and something not many of the other students had.
I remember Keely and Brad buying and wearing matching khaki shorts and blue button down outerwear....something of Keely's doing. Everyone wants a little love i suppose. After about 6 weeks being out in the field she slept with him. Very unsanitary if you ask me.
"Miners Pool"
"It never rains in the Kimberley" - well that's one line I wont be using with this group. Well here at Miner's Pool after 5 days of preparing, traveling and waiting for the rain to stop, we spent a couple of days in the lovely Broome getting friendlier with snakes than many of you hoped to and watching the feeding antics at the croc park which might put even the hardiest person off of swimming in the Kimberley! But no fear we'll soon be enjoying sharing the water with the freshies who are more scared of us then we will ever be of them. Then it was off on our 24hour outback adventure (you always have to exagerrate the story when you tell it each time) fleeing the perilous cyclone of Broome.
Well we made it to Kununurra after many breakfast bars, savoury shapes, doritos, apples and pears later. We arose once again at a sparrow's fart only to be forced to spend a day in the hubbub of Kunurra due to inclement weather.
After gate-crashing the peacerful mall cafe for a few hours we headed back to the caravan park to learn to put up bomber tarps, relax in the enormous pool which was a couple of feet less water once we exited and make the afternoon of the rolo man who had been dreaming of his relazing afternoon by the pool. After some food ID and tips by Kevin we enjoyed dinner by the other group and headed to bed.
Well today after changing a flat tyre on the trail and jump starting the bus we were away and off in two groups to Miner's Pool with our gear not too far behind. The day ended well with John breathing a sigh of relief now that he'll be able to see for the canoeing section and it won't be a blur, and gado-gado, quesadillas and other snacks were enjoyed. We studied things we may have never imagined we wiped our butts with - believe me i will never look at a rock or stick the same way again.
-Karen-
The last one or two lines are cut off due to water and xerox errors, but somehow ending on that note is quite satisfactory. Karen was our Aussie instructor, native of Perth, WA. Even if she was an astute environmentalist, a champion swimmer, blonde and understanding and funny and australian...she can't write very well. At least i had one up on her. After a come to peace with yourself kinda trip, i really shouldn't admit that, but i feel honesty with oneself and others is your only pathway to peace.
If there was any rain besides the rain we were potentially flying into, i dont remember. I remember the heat inside that bus. I remember the heat always. I remember the frogs in the grass at camp while trying to pitch my mozzie and the take-away after the food ID. I remember Kevin talking about the difference between a bag of white powder (flour) and a bag of white powder (powdered milk). This makes me remember about 2 months down the line when i put parm cheese in my hot coco...actually wasn't bad...but that's what the field does to you.
I remember that mall cafe and being in love with Eric Vose, the astrologist with the shaggy hair. I remember seeing him and Betsy at the airport in Sydney. You could tell they were with NOLS and so could they. Because i was too stubborn and too scared to make the first move. He was reading Atlas Shrugged and i spouted off some line steve once told me about her being a femi-nazie becauase i wanted to sound smart. He later brought up another of her books and i believe i asked who ayn rand was or something of the like. Own what you say. Either way, i feel, i dont think and he was something mystical, something i missed and something not many of the other students had.
I remember Keely and Brad buying and wearing matching khaki shorts and blue button down outerwear....something of Keely's doing. Everyone wants a little love i suppose. After about 6 weeks being out in the field she slept with him. Very unsanitary if you ask me.
Monday, March 06, 2006
sand under pressure
"I put so much pressure on myself i can't even write my name sometimes."
I crave an adventure. It's not death i fear, it's feeling dead while still alive. My map and pictures of australia face my eyes every morning. Maybe it's the missing it that makes me feel as though i've missed out, done it wrong again. That the experience only settled on my surface and i blew it away when i decided to hold the sand too tight. Sometime soon the pressure will whisper instead that we have so much work to do.
As a reminder, a present to myself, and a reunion, i'll be transcribing the group journal from NOLS AAU3/21/04, credit of the dinky-dis (the real thing).
3/24/04
"DAY UNO"
Word of the Day: Bonzer - "great" "ripper"
Today we began the canoeing all had been anticipating for the last week. We awoke late feeling well rested and excited. The river is amazing and to my surprise extraordinarily clean. I have never seen trees sprouting out of the water before and here on the Drysdale there are trees and long grass emerging everywhere.
After an early breakfast we went for a swim followed by sliding over a stick like a bunch of whales. Karen provided some humor by flailing around as she demonstrated a defensive swimming maneuver. After swimming we experimented in the canoes by flipping over and just having lots of fun in general.
After a hearty lunch of tortillas, potato cheese soup and some brown sugar pasta courtesy of Marshall and his thirst for intense flavors, we continued to learn more about canoeing on shore before testing our new found skills on the river. We quickly learned that paddling on the shore and in our minds was far easier than in real life. As we practiced gaining control of our watercraft, Steph and Lauren decided to go for a little adventure down the river as the current carried them along. After a couple of runs through a tree obsticle course we called it a day and relaxed a bit before dinner.
No one was too hungry but afterr our various meals were cooked they mysteriously dissapeared within a couple of minutes. While we chose our menus Tyler, a member of Marshall's group, asked only that brown sugar not be included in whatever was made.
As the sun set hundreds of fruit bats flew overhead hopefully devouring the mosquitos that have been bothering us every waking moment. After dinner we gathered around candlelight and played a game of two truths and one lie, learning some things about each other. When i get back to the states I know where i can get some gas pumped, some lumber, or where i can go if i ever need a bull castrated.
We ended the long incredible day by starring up at the brilliant stars. I am so happy to be out here and it is so peaceful and wonderful and awesome to be self sufficient. I think i speak for everyone in saying that today was a real bonzer.
-Graham-
I remember learning how to put my gaiters on. I remember realizing how hard it was to steer that boat. I remember cole and i getting personal from behind 2 sheets of mozzie netting. I remember touching down in that 10 seater plane after picking out cascades between deep cut green covered rock from the clouds. I cant remember where that potato soup came from. I remember shitty tarp assemblages. Athough i dont recall, i dont doubt for a moment that Marshall put brown sugar on pasta. I remember log rolling (feet down river unless you're able to roll over, get on your stomach). I remember the rain delay from camp before the plane and asking Graham (Neilson) what an eddie was. I remember realizing how much i was going to learn. I can still feel those god damn PFDs. I remember those stars and i remember that game but other than the bull i dont know what the hell that gas and lumber is about. I remember Graham not being excited about writing the first journal entry but he volunteered to get it out of the way. i remember that space we camped in. I remember stading around and watching other groups from a distance, watching them in threes and fours do the same things in 12 different ways.
I also remember Brad, that jumped-up bastard from the Crocs that stole our journal and got it all wet so the pages fell out and out of order. I say this cuz this is the second entry in the book, not the first.
little words pack a big punch
take responsibility for yourself
take responsibility for your own learning
risk saying what you think
own what you say
if it needs doing, do it
if you dont understand, ask
enjoy your surroundings
maintain a sense of humour
help others learn and succeed
be kind
push yourself
admit your mistakes
if it is not safe for the group, dont do it
participate and observe
learn from your experiences
I crave an adventure. It's not death i fear, it's feeling dead while still alive. My map and pictures of australia face my eyes every morning. Maybe it's the missing it that makes me feel as though i've missed out, done it wrong again. That the experience only settled on my surface and i blew it away when i decided to hold the sand too tight. Sometime soon the pressure will whisper instead that we have so much work to do.
As a reminder, a present to myself, and a reunion, i'll be transcribing the group journal from NOLS AAU3/21/04, credit of the dinky-dis (the real thing).
3/24/04
"DAY UNO"
Word of the Day: Bonzer - "great" "ripper"
Today we began the canoeing all had been anticipating for the last week. We awoke late feeling well rested and excited. The river is amazing and to my surprise extraordinarily clean. I have never seen trees sprouting out of the water before and here on the Drysdale there are trees and long grass emerging everywhere.
After an early breakfast we went for a swim followed by sliding over a stick like a bunch of whales. Karen provided some humor by flailing around as she demonstrated a defensive swimming maneuver. After swimming we experimented in the canoes by flipping over and just having lots of fun in general.
After a hearty lunch of tortillas, potato cheese soup and some brown sugar pasta courtesy of Marshall and his thirst for intense flavors, we continued to learn more about canoeing on shore before testing our new found skills on the river. We quickly learned that paddling on the shore and in our minds was far easier than in real life. As we practiced gaining control of our watercraft, Steph and Lauren decided to go for a little adventure down the river as the current carried them along. After a couple of runs through a tree obsticle course we called it a day and relaxed a bit before dinner.
No one was too hungry but afterr our various meals were cooked they mysteriously dissapeared within a couple of minutes. While we chose our menus Tyler, a member of Marshall's group, asked only that brown sugar not be included in whatever was made.
As the sun set hundreds of fruit bats flew overhead hopefully devouring the mosquitos that have been bothering us every waking moment. After dinner we gathered around candlelight and played a game of two truths and one lie, learning some things about each other. When i get back to the states I know where i can get some gas pumped, some lumber, or where i can go if i ever need a bull castrated.
We ended the long incredible day by starring up at the brilliant stars. I am so happy to be out here and it is so peaceful and wonderful and awesome to be self sufficient. I think i speak for everyone in saying that today was a real bonzer.
-Graham-
I remember learning how to put my gaiters on. I remember realizing how hard it was to steer that boat. I remember cole and i getting personal from behind 2 sheets of mozzie netting. I remember touching down in that 10 seater plane after picking out cascades between deep cut green covered rock from the clouds. I cant remember where that potato soup came from. I remember shitty tarp assemblages. Athough i dont recall, i dont doubt for a moment that Marshall put brown sugar on pasta. I remember log rolling (feet down river unless you're able to roll over, get on your stomach). I remember the rain delay from camp before the plane and asking Graham (Neilson) what an eddie was. I remember realizing how much i was going to learn. I can still feel those god damn PFDs. I remember those stars and i remember that game but other than the bull i dont know what the hell that gas and lumber is about. I remember Graham not being excited about writing the first journal entry but he volunteered to get it out of the way. i remember that space we camped in. I remember stading around and watching other groups from a distance, watching them in threes and fours do the same things in 12 different ways.
I also remember Brad, that jumped-up bastard from the Crocs that stole our journal and got it all wet so the pages fell out and out of order. I say this cuz this is the second entry in the book, not the first.
little words pack a big punch
take responsibility for yourself
take responsibility for your own learning
risk saying what you think
own what you say
if it needs doing, do it
if you dont understand, ask
enjoy your surroundings
maintain a sense of humour
help others learn and succeed
be kind
push yourself
admit your mistakes
if it is not safe for the group, dont do it
participate and observe
learn from your experiences
Sunday, February 19, 2006
HAHAHA
have another mistress, have another.
i bowled a 186 on friday. highlight of my week...maybe even the whole month!
i bowled a 186 on friday. highlight of my week...maybe even the whole month!
Saturday, February 18, 2006
theres a silence in my blood
something that moves me
to defend you
there's a silence in me
to make you doubt
when im watching you
have you an invite
have you given something
from birth
from sisterhood
from soul
from sound.
this is the silence that moves me
beneath the floorboards
of the oldest house
beyond the patterns
of the first doubts
tell me
tell me please
soft
tell me when
just tell me
i'll know you when
i knew you before
tell me
look look love
you'll never
smile
ill exchange when silence pleases.
to defend you
there's a silence in me
to make you doubt
when im watching you
have you an invite
have you given something
from birth
from sisterhood
from soul
from sound.
this is the silence that moves me
beneath the floorboards
of the oldest house
beyond the patterns
of the first doubts
tell me
tell me please
soft
tell me when
just tell me
i'll know you when
i knew you before
tell me
look look love
you'll never
smile
ill exchange when silence pleases.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
theme song
I had a dream last night. It was very espionage-esk. There was a group of us girls, not dressed in amazon clothes but formal gowns for a political rally of sorts. There were many rooms.
We had to figure out who kept taking the pictures of the dead people hanging from the ceiling and who was killing them too. I spoted her first. Blonde without the mask. No one believed me. I remember the conversation about protecting my innocence. I laughed. Ha. Ha.
Pieces were missing from there, but i found her hiding place. I tried to ask Mrs. Bartlett for information but she wouldn't have me. Bitter first lady, dealing with the amatures. I understood.
I remember pinning her to the ground. The bloody photographer, not the first lady. She squirmed like a slippery congressman. I managed to clam her down and get both her legs and right arm under my knee. She confessed. I asked, "what gives?" She told me about the times she was in control and everything was perfect at 76th and 127th st. A moment of silent inquiry...my old bus stop. Everything was perfect until i came along and Cole Balogh shifted his aim.
Professionalism fell to shit after that remark becacuse i laughed for hours about how this all came from a gradeschool crush and what a stupid ass world this is and then she pointed out that i didn't understand politics so i walked home in the rain and somewhere around the Crestwood Ice Arena i got picked up by the motorcade.
(Cole, if you're reading this for some reason....i dunno either...i just needed something to write about today ;)
We had to figure out who kept taking the pictures of the dead people hanging from the ceiling and who was killing them too. I spoted her first. Blonde without the mask. No one believed me. I remember the conversation about protecting my innocence. I laughed. Ha. Ha.
Pieces were missing from there, but i found her hiding place. I tried to ask Mrs. Bartlett for information but she wouldn't have me. Bitter first lady, dealing with the amatures. I understood.
I remember pinning her to the ground. The bloody photographer, not the first lady. She squirmed like a slippery congressman. I managed to clam her down and get both her legs and right arm under my knee. She confessed. I asked, "what gives?" She told me about the times she was in control and everything was perfect at 76th and 127th st. A moment of silent inquiry...my old bus stop. Everything was perfect until i came along and Cole Balogh shifted his aim.
Professionalism fell to shit after that remark becacuse i laughed for hours about how this all came from a gradeschool crush and what a stupid ass world this is and then she pointed out that i didn't understand politics so i walked home in the rain and somewhere around the Crestwood Ice Arena i got picked up by the motorcade.
(Cole, if you're reading this for some reason....i dunno either...i just needed something to write about today ;)
Friday, February 10, 2006
dimensions of a 10ft bridge by means of 2X4s
really?
you fall for men that are "smart?"
did you think i was smarter?
sit. sit here and feel what you've put into yourself for the hopes of something greater and write. Hoping is stupid if you're stunted by the simplicity of greatness.
no, go. go and fix the problems that you've created in abscess, in the thoughts that provide. come around again and grab the keys to fix the problems created with words by saying more again and thinking less.
leave, leave now. Leave now while the feelings are suspended and the spirits are high and blind to doubt. Leave now before the fatal connection is made, between the lips, between the eyes. Leave now before you question who wants it more and who wants it less.
go again, go. find something else. find a better place to be. ride out the high of perfect timing. search for someplace good, but not too good. keep the edge of pessimism, but dont drown in paranoia. find the one, the group who can bring this by making phone calls, by writing digital messages.
surge, surge ahead. ride out the urgency in which you park and exit your car. dont notice where you are, keep focus on what is to come. remind yourself of the visions you had days ago about the plans that you made for tonight. this is the night, because this is the night.
talk yourself up. this is not the climax, stay relaxed. wait patiently. get another drink. occupy your hands. remind yourself to smile. keep coaching, keep on. stop looking, start talking. make a better connection, break through. come on. come one.
hi. hi. giggle while the friend falls down on you. giggle again and excuse everthing. make a smart remark. forget it when it's missed. keep smiling, it's ok to feel awkward. drink. watch him leave. watch. if a friend is there, they will nudge you. they will say smile. you'll get angry at the fact that you were really trying. think about what it took to get a friend there.
what did i think of you before i knew? hard to say, i care about you now. is this when? is this when i had my own thoughts...since they're gone now because you've shared.
ever warn someone before they date you? she asks.
if there were ever a chuckle so sincere.
i can see you from a distance. I can see that you are man or woman. I can see that you are tall or short. I can see that you are fat or thin. I can see that you your hair is long or short. I can see that your skin is dark or light. I can see that you stand on the other side of this bridge and that is all i can see.
I see the bridge is wet. I see the bridge gets darker with rain, i see the wood makes a difference and i dont know how to say that. I see between the planks that have been cut somewhere else that i can't see, that i can see a river beneath. I can see my shoes misplaced and my hands archaic on a rope given to give steady. And then i see you.
Your hair is not dark or light, but red and short. Your eyes are brown. Your skin is filled with curves and shadows. The bags under your eyes make you seem sad. You are taller than me. The hair that grows underneath your chin and down your neck is uneaven and sparce. You have freckles on your arms and a tattoo on your right wrist. You are missing your left pinky finger. You wear two rings, silver. Your eyes are brown.
there is not much to make you come. the air is wet, the bridge wood is damp and the soles of our shoes are artificial. Saving something chivalrous, i escort my hand to lead the way. At your back, i look to the side of the bridge at which you once stood. I take my shoes off. Remind yourself to smile.
Strike Box Matches, 250 count.
you fall for men that are "smart?"
did you think i was smarter?
sit. sit here and feel what you've put into yourself for the hopes of something greater and write. Hoping is stupid if you're stunted by the simplicity of greatness.
no, go. go and fix the problems that you've created in abscess, in the thoughts that provide. come around again and grab the keys to fix the problems created with words by saying more again and thinking less.
leave, leave now. Leave now while the feelings are suspended and the spirits are high and blind to doubt. Leave now before the fatal connection is made, between the lips, between the eyes. Leave now before you question who wants it more and who wants it less.
go again, go. find something else. find a better place to be. ride out the high of perfect timing. search for someplace good, but not too good. keep the edge of pessimism, but dont drown in paranoia. find the one, the group who can bring this by making phone calls, by writing digital messages.
surge, surge ahead. ride out the urgency in which you park and exit your car. dont notice where you are, keep focus on what is to come. remind yourself of the visions you had days ago about the plans that you made for tonight. this is the night, because this is the night.
talk yourself up. this is not the climax, stay relaxed. wait patiently. get another drink. occupy your hands. remind yourself to smile. keep coaching, keep on. stop looking, start talking. make a better connection, break through. come on. come one.
hi. hi. giggle while the friend falls down on you. giggle again and excuse everthing. make a smart remark. forget it when it's missed. keep smiling, it's ok to feel awkward. drink. watch him leave. watch. if a friend is there, they will nudge you. they will say smile. you'll get angry at the fact that you were really trying. think about what it took to get a friend there.
what did i think of you before i knew? hard to say, i care about you now. is this when? is this when i had my own thoughts...since they're gone now because you've shared.
ever warn someone before they date you? she asks.
if there were ever a chuckle so sincere.
i can see you from a distance. I can see that you are man or woman. I can see that you are tall or short. I can see that you are fat or thin. I can see that you your hair is long or short. I can see that your skin is dark or light. I can see that you stand on the other side of this bridge and that is all i can see.
I see the bridge is wet. I see the bridge gets darker with rain, i see the wood makes a difference and i dont know how to say that. I see between the planks that have been cut somewhere else that i can't see, that i can see a river beneath. I can see my shoes misplaced and my hands archaic on a rope given to give steady. And then i see you.
Your hair is not dark or light, but red and short. Your eyes are brown. Your skin is filled with curves and shadows. The bags under your eyes make you seem sad. You are taller than me. The hair that grows underneath your chin and down your neck is uneaven and sparce. You have freckles on your arms and a tattoo on your right wrist. You are missing your left pinky finger. You wear two rings, silver. Your eyes are brown.
there is not much to make you come. the air is wet, the bridge wood is damp and the soles of our shoes are artificial. Saving something chivalrous, i escort my hand to lead the way. At your back, i look to the side of the bridge at which you once stood. I take my shoes off. Remind yourself to smile.
Strike Box Matches, 250 count.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
String Cheese Incident
I can't tell stories.
He says i'd be better off if i tried.
I think he may be right. Or maybe not.
I went to an abs class last night at the rec. 30 minutes of "attack position". Jackie our instructor said that we accomplished something tonight. It was the best thing ive heard all month.
I believe that half hour meant more to me than all the years ive been in school. Perhaps not the first year and a half. Why? Because i was doing something. I was using my hands. I was engaged in the process.
I can talk endlessly about the things i have done. The things i did for a period of time; the things i got to know. I've stopped doing and started thinking. Suddenly everything has become intangible, everything has become some byproduct of an everlasting headtrip. Tell me how to tell stories about that.
If i could just believe that all but one is a waste, then i would be OK.
There are eight (if i am not mistaken) individual swimming events at the high school level.
I was pretty good at all of them (except for 100 back. I do not believe that asking someone to float around on their back is conducive for proper competition...weirdos)
But I was not stellar at one of them. I asked myself time and time again if it was worth it. Was it worth it to be pretty good at all of them? To be considered versatile is more valuble than being a champion?
I said it was but i was just trying to make myself feel better. Thats some painful shit for it not being worth it.
(But i could split a 25 in fly and damn they to believe that they could take back those yards after brennan and i got done with them. Who Dey.)
I think i will exhaust life as i know it, as it comes to me. I do not decline opportunities to experience something that i have not yet experienced and i will never walk away from a conversation where i can learn something new. But i cannot stay there forever. so i must therefore get to know this uncomfortable feeling of patience, versatility, and the speed at which it all passes me by.
I'm not ending on that because that's just damn cheesy.
A coconut is the largest known seed in the world. Once a coconut falls from a palm tree, it takes about three years for this seed to take root and sprout into a new tree.
I'm moving to San Diego becuase its freaking snowing here.
And i dont give a hoot that its still January.
All in favor of spitting into the wind?
eye.
He says i'd be better off if i tried.
I think he may be right. Or maybe not.
I went to an abs class last night at the rec. 30 minutes of "attack position". Jackie our instructor said that we accomplished something tonight. It was the best thing ive heard all month.
I believe that half hour meant more to me than all the years ive been in school. Perhaps not the first year and a half. Why? Because i was doing something. I was using my hands. I was engaged in the process.
I can talk endlessly about the things i have done. The things i did for a period of time; the things i got to know. I've stopped doing and started thinking. Suddenly everything has become intangible, everything has become some byproduct of an everlasting headtrip. Tell me how to tell stories about that.
If i could just believe that all but one is a waste, then i would be OK.
There are eight (if i am not mistaken) individual swimming events at the high school level.
I was pretty good at all of them (except for 100 back. I do not believe that asking someone to float around on their back is conducive for proper competition...weirdos)
But I was not stellar at one of them. I asked myself time and time again if it was worth it. Was it worth it to be pretty good at all of them? To be considered versatile is more valuble than being a champion?
I said it was but i was just trying to make myself feel better. Thats some painful shit for it not being worth it.
(But i could split a 25 in fly and damn they to believe that they could take back those yards after brennan and i got done with them. Who Dey.)
I think i will exhaust life as i know it, as it comes to me. I do not decline opportunities to experience something that i have not yet experienced and i will never walk away from a conversation where i can learn something new. But i cannot stay there forever. so i must therefore get to know this uncomfortable feeling of patience, versatility, and the speed at which it all passes me by.
I'm not ending on that because that's just damn cheesy.
A coconut is the largest known seed in the world. Once a coconut falls from a palm tree, it takes about three years for this seed to take root and sprout into a new tree.
I'm moving to San Diego becuase its freaking snowing here.
And i dont give a hoot that its still January.
All in favor of spitting into the wind?
eye.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
ive found a secret, of course
punctiliousness
I. Need to convince myself that i matter. Because i cannot tell everyone else what i know.
megan, i love you.
I. Need to convince myself that i matter. Because i cannot tell everyone else what i know.
megan, i love you.
Dear Future Me,
Hello. How are you? I am fine. I am happy.
Let this be a reminder to your worthless entity.
I'm filling out applications to schools again. I'm getting excited. The majority of this excitement comes from having something to do today. When you dont feel like doing anything and you start to resent school again, please remember that i am here feeling joyous because i am filling out school applications.
You choose.
I'll be in touch.
-Jerry
Let this be a reminder to your worthless entity.
I'm filling out applications to schools again. I'm getting excited. The majority of this excitement comes from having something to do today. When you dont feel like doing anything and you start to resent school again, please remember that i am here feeling joyous because i am filling out school applications.
You choose.
I'll be in touch.
-Jerry
Thursday, January 05, 2006
i have previously posted 69 times
and the jokes never die.
i keep thinking about what to write next and then i forget to write and then i just forget altogether.
fact is im tired of the things im thinking about because i whine and complain and i apologize for it which only makes people get the sad brow and reassure me which then just pisses me off because i start thinking about gender sterotypes and how women are and how its not really true which just brings me back to second guesssing myself and twisting my brain tighter into the knot of which it is circular thinking.
but lets try this.
I, Meredith Lobsinger, solidified in identity by the script on her nametag, am:
no.
haha, nevermind, im drinking so i dont want to go there right now.
there are just too many options every moment of the day.
dont study english. you can get all tripped up on anything else and how many options there are but at least you can still talk about them. When you study speech, you become inhibited to talk about how you talk about speech.
maybe i do freak myself out but for freckles sake i lose my words. I wish i didn't have to. i wonder if sign language has a word for "front" or "assonance" or "autonomy".
there is nothing without language.
i gotta start doing something im good at or ill bust. I can't stop myself from thinking about all the stupid shit ive done.
I hit Jenny Rounds in the back of the head with a softball during warm ups when Mr. Dillon made me catch for the first time.
I got involved with a pyriamid scheme because i was desperate and thought that my manipulation skills would really pay off this time (fantasy/reality...o you have no idea)
I told Ferk that i hoped he was proud of me during his retirement party and ill never ever be able to get the image of his face out of my head for as long as i live. And so long live the frustration.
well ok. thats it really. God forgive me for those, this is blogger therapy.
fact is there's nothing wrong with me. That's a scary fact. Give up get married go to church and get a job. Buy a couch, some laundry detergent, a potato peeler.
I'm afraid of originality. I'm afraid that i dont have any. I dont want to listen to anyone else. I dont really want to go look it up on the internet. O im rolling now.
Today while i was at the rec rocking my elyptical machine and silently competing against the girl next to me without looking like i was trying...
i stare at the construction workers building the new ice rink from the windows. I'm not really thinking of anything but i try to. I wanted to drape a sign from the scaffolding about our insane "health concious" culture and i was wondering how i could get up there or how i could hang some large cloth banner and i immediately thought of the internet.
of course, i can go look it up on the internet.
i hate the internet.
but thats where i am aren't i?
and so are you.
i keep thinking about what to write next and then i forget to write and then i just forget altogether.
fact is im tired of the things im thinking about because i whine and complain and i apologize for it which only makes people get the sad brow and reassure me which then just pisses me off because i start thinking about gender sterotypes and how women are and how its not really true which just brings me back to second guesssing myself and twisting my brain tighter into the knot of which it is circular thinking.
but lets try this.
I, Meredith Lobsinger, solidified in identity by the script on her nametag, am:
no.
haha, nevermind, im drinking so i dont want to go there right now.
there are just too many options every moment of the day.
dont study english. you can get all tripped up on anything else and how many options there are but at least you can still talk about them. When you study speech, you become inhibited to talk about how you talk about speech.
maybe i do freak myself out but for freckles sake i lose my words. I wish i didn't have to. i wonder if sign language has a word for "front" or "assonance" or "autonomy".
there is nothing without language.
i gotta start doing something im good at or ill bust. I can't stop myself from thinking about all the stupid shit ive done.
I hit Jenny Rounds in the back of the head with a softball during warm ups when Mr. Dillon made me catch for the first time.
I got involved with a pyriamid scheme because i was desperate and thought that my manipulation skills would really pay off this time (fantasy/reality...o you have no idea)
I told Ferk that i hoped he was proud of me during his retirement party and ill never ever be able to get the image of his face out of my head for as long as i live. And so long live the frustration.
well ok. thats it really. God forgive me for those, this is blogger therapy.
fact is there's nothing wrong with me. That's a scary fact. Give up get married go to church and get a job. Buy a couch, some laundry detergent, a potato peeler.
I'm afraid of originality. I'm afraid that i dont have any. I dont want to listen to anyone else. I dont really want to go look it up on the internet. O im rolling now.
Today while i was at the rec rocking my elyptical machine and silently competing against the girl next to me without looking like i was trying...
i stare at the construction workers building the new ice rink from the windows. I'm not really thinking of anything but i try to. I wanted to drape a sign from the scaffolding about our insane "health concious" culture and i was wondering how i could get up there or how i could hang some large cloth banner and i immediately thought of the internet.
of course, i can go look it up on the internet.
i hate the internet.
but thats where i am aren't i?
and so are you.
Dear Jodo,
early this morning, i ate a 36$ steak with my fingers while standing in front of my refrigerator completely blitzed out of my mind.
so no, i dont think im quite ready for culinary school and professional chefdom
but thanks for the encouragement.
i believe that people who say that they do not care what other people think of them
are liars.
so no, i dont think im quite ready for culinary school and professional chefdom
but thanks for the encouragement.
i believe that people who say that they do not care what other people think of them
are liars.
Friday, December 02, 2005
what secrets have you recently realized in private?
this ones mine:
RAINBOW SWISS CHARD
yes, the tag. but this was the only photo i could find that truly came thru for this wonderful child of the beet.
hahahaha.
yea for produce.
RAINBOW SWISS CHARD
yes, the tag. but this was the only photo i could find that truly came thru for this wonderful child of the beet.
hahahaha.
yea for produce.
Monday, November 28, 2005
how to show me without you
Its hard to see through this windshield. I can’t seem to remember on which side of the glass heat needs to be applied or whether it is required on both. Among other things, I can’t seem to remember that I have half of the option.
Polaroids of the Dead by Douglass Coupland have been keeping the company of thoughts drifting in and out of each chapter, much like the snow drifts I wish the end of November would bring in place of this cold needy rain. My hands are gripped in ten and two and im ashamed at what ive brought myself to. The road is no longer a thrill of freedom. The road is judgement, resentment, and the stubbornness against regret. I’ve grown old.
Paranoia creeps up from the tail-end after the sun dies away. It presses into the back of the brain without resistance from a headrest. It’s the phatom fear you gave yourself when you were seven; a present from the dead, inches away from grabbing your heels as you run up the dark basement stairs. Polaroids from the dead. The glare from the headlights ahead don’t push or creep, but come screaming threats of tires turned sideways, rain being pushed away like tears from the dead velocity of the windshield. I wish for the road to be empty, to be alone, but instead I brace the wheel, a tighter shade of white, waiting while moving forward. I think of the moment before car hits car, internal life collides with internal life. A moment where time stands still and is nothing like a moment at all, but a silence. In my head is a small voice, smothered somewhere down beneath it all. It pardons the silence with an “o shit”. I am the idiot crashing into me. I am disrupting the internal life. I am awakened to the fact that it is not my life at all.
I practice speeches I wish to give to other people on behalf of solving some formula for rest. I think how i laughed when you said that words are all we have. I'm laughing now, again. I think of them like those little ovular dolls that fit inside of each other. I think of how many dolls ive created, how many ive talked into swallowing something identical, but slightly smaller than themselves. It’s satisfying, the way they fit inside of one another; a family of one, sitting and smiling with painted knowing smiles. You can see one smile. Bone and calcium and teeth all framed in a jaw; one face, one smile. It’s the same one you’ll find on the last doll, the smallest doll farthest from the outside. It’s the smile you find laughing at the end of how important you think your life is.
I guess the thing about today is I spent it alone, not with you. Are you the person I’m thinking about right now? Maybe you are. Where are you? Where did you go? The day is fading and I’m wondering about my next life, tomorrow and I wish it was with you.
We all have a you in our life; someone out there who spent the day with us, but then went away for some reason. That special you is not here now nor is the sun inside the green bottles of the graveyard wall, nor is the sun reflecting on the angelfish now fluttering in black waters. The sun has fallen into the world as I have fallen into the world, but the sun will not be judged for falling where as I will judge myself. And tomorrow when I will rise with a new sun and a new light I will redeem myself and I will find you and you will be here in my light and we will walk the islands roads together.
Anyway, I have an enema in five minutes and I need that time to readjust my attitude.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Ooogy Wawa!
i almost forgot...
Berbere Sauce with Beef Tenderloin
Zucchini, Onion and Yellow Squash with Blood Orange sauce over Rice Pilaf.
and maybe some lettuce or something.
Pomegranate Martinis.
RSVP please if you're reading and i like you.
Welcome to November's All Indulgent Cheers to my Mouths Feast and such and so good.
Berbere Sauce with Beef Tenderloin
Zucchini, Onion and Yellow Squash with Blood Orange sauce over Rice Pilaf.
and maybe some lettuce or something.
Pomegranate Martinis.
RSVP please if you're reading and i like you.
Welcome to November's All Indulgent Cheers to my Mouths Feast and such and so good.
it's happened, Judy Blume!
ahhh
on the day of pillow hugging, sheepish sleep till 4...
on the day that required no scarf and smelled distinctly of summer air...
on the day where Shakespeare brilliance and Jeffrey eugenides succulence still floated between my ears...
i fell in love.
and i watched it come.
it came to me in creeping thought, like a daydream i didn't know i was having. But then it was there! Clear and piercing, like the remembrance of a missing object. As in greater pursuit of a hidden sock or key, I ran around to finish my job, my lowly waitressing job, but the last of the tables seemed to speak in a drunken slow motion; their mouths uttering more and more requests at half the normal speed, a monstrous depth scraping away at the ankles of my lovely condition.
alas, my dear companions said with sweet jealous eyes, "I will take them! You must go!" and as they waved their dirty dishrags like limp white handkerchiefs, i departed to ascend the dim lit sky and the summer air growing ever the more sweeter.
with anxious eyes, i peered left down the brick but my hesitation told me no, follow your heart! Never erase the first bubble you choose! Go child, seek your destiny! And so to the right i turned knowing in all the worlds movements this one was indeed, right.
He was inside and just a few steps below many a drunken nights i spent wandering in a balcony overlooking a show as desperate and disgraceful as myself. And the name, green as i have ever envied it before feeling worthy, spoke to me as love speaks true; a height as high as lovers do but in the end, will i burn you?
Ah, no matter! True love, may it be so, grow cold on a deathbed of one or both lover's choosing! Better to taste before the smell grows cold!
Hi, it's just me, am i dressed alright? A Cinderella in scrubs. They lead me in with gentle smiles. I know he's here. Which would you like? I choose again, the table plain of linen dressings, exposed raw of finished oak, dark red and round. My taste is acknowledged like a suitor given blessing. Yes, here on this night, she is the one. Fine choice madam.
He approached but i was not too give in too quickly; for my virtuous knight remains to endure my fight.
Good evening.
Oh his voice, baritone but trilled...could i say he was nervous? Resorting quickly to his notes as i look upon his face...ah delight! A challenge for my love!
Just water for now, is this the wine list? (Hoping that the fruit of his swoon would be all the sweeter!)
Smoking Loon...Viognier (dont look at me with such eyes, you ninny, of course i know how to pronounce it) please.
O the purest of pure, but none could quench my thirst...
i knew the moment was on the horizon, the brilliance of his love would soon pour light into me like a cantata's fluorescence, dissolving my thoughts with his words between scenes of Mozart's piano concerto #21...
Grilled Swordfish
ah piano...
with an asparagus and shitake mushroom
crescendo, crescendo.....
risotto
forte! FORTE!!
all in a red pepper glaze
glory! Yes yes yes! Fortissimo at his finest! Caesar! No, Balsamic vinaigrette! We've robbed the rubato!
I equate the following to thus:
Senses + Sharing = Life
Life - Language = loneliness
loneliness + Senses = Desire
Desire + Life = Love
mix those around a few times.
Thank you Austin for letting me fall in love with you...
for loving the man is simply loving what he brings to your table.
cheers.
on the day of pillow hugging, sheepish sleep till 4...
on the day that required no scarf and smelled distinctly of summer air...
on the day where Shakespeare brilliance and Jeffrey eugenides succulence still floated between my ears...
i fell in love.
and i watched it come.
it came to me in creeping thought, like a daydream i didn't know i was having. But then it was there! Clear and piercing, like the remembrance of a missing object. As in greater pursuit of a hidden sock or key, I ran around to finish my job, my lowly waitressing job, but the last of the tables seemed to speak in a drunken slow motion; their mouths uttering more and more requests at half the normal speed, a monstrous depth scraping away at the ankles of my lovely condition.
alas, my dear companions said with sweet jealous eyes, "I will take them! You must go!" and as they waved their dirty dishrags like limp white handkerchiefs, i departed to ascend the dim lit sky and the summer air growing ever the more sweeter.
with anxious eyes, i peered left down the brick but my hesitation told me no, follow your heart! Never erase the first bubble you choose! Go child, seek your destiny! And so to the right i turned knowing in all the worlds movements this one was indeed, right.
He was inside and just a few steps below many a drunken nights i spent wandering in a balcony overlooking a show as desperate and disgraceful as myself. And the name, green as i have ever envied it before feeling worthy, spoke to me as love speaks true; a height as high as lovers do but in the end, will i burn you?
Ah, no matter! True love, may it be so, grow cold on a deathbed of one or both lover's choosing! Better to taste before the smell grows cold!
Hi, it's just me, am i dressed alright? A Cinderella in scrubs. They lead me in with gentle smiles. I know he's here. Which would you like? I choose again, the table plain of linen dressings, exposed raw of finished oak, dark red and round. My taste is acknowledged like a suitor given blessing. Yes, here on this night, she is the one. Fine choice madam.
He approached but i was not too give in too quickly; for my virtuous knight remains to endure my fight.
Good evening.
Oh his voice, baritone but trilled...could i say he was nervous? Resorting quickly to his notes as i look upon his face...ah delight! A challenge for my love!
Just water for now, is this the wine list? (Hoping that the fruit of his swoon would be all the sweeter!)
Smoking Loon...Viognier (dont look at me with such eyes, you ninny, of course i know how to pronounce it) please.
O the purest of pure, but none could quench my thirst...
i knew the moment was on the horizon, the brilliance of his love would soon pour light into me like a cantata's fluorescence, dissolving my thoughts with his words between scenes of Mozart's piano concerto #21...
Grilled Swordfish
ah piano...
with an asparagus and shitake mushroom
crescendo, crescendo.....
risotto
forte! FORTE!!
all in a red pepper glaze
glory! Yes yes yes! Fortissimo at his finest! Caesar! No, Balsamic vinaigrette! We've robbed the rubato!
I equate the following to thus:
Senses + Sharing = Life
Life - Language = loneliness
loneliness + Senses = Desire
Desire + Life = Love
mix those around a few times.
Thank you Austin for letting me fall in love with you...
for loving the man is simply loving what he brings to your table.
cheers.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
Able to Snot
His name will be john. I am sure of it.
She asked me who is the perfect man?
I didn’t know.
So.
If infidelity means disloyalty then an infidel is a disloyal person? Yes?
I’m watching sense and sensibility since im too stupid to understand the written verse.
Feeling slightly uninspired so im to paint my face white and call me an invalid because as it is always, it is about me.
She asked me who is the perfect man?
I didn’t know.
So.
If infidelity means disloyalty then an infidel is a disloyal person? Yes?
I’m watching sense and sensibility since im too stupid to understand the written verse.
Feeling slightly uninspired so im to paint my face white and call me an invalid because as it is always, it is about me.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
O BTW
dont give a cynic
unconditional love
and money they'll never have to pay back.
there's a counter thought to that.
unconditional love
and money they'll never have to pay back.
there's a counter thought to that.
i dunno metric
but that's a lot of jack
shit on my mind.
ever realize that you just can't be what you want to be?
ha!
we grow up, yes. We realize things, yes.
I will never go to Stanford U on a full scholarship for swimming (unless i have one eye and carry the towels).
I will never be on a stage (a real one) performing (musically) in front of millions.
I will not be in or have returned love for or by Devon Sawa circa "Casper". (Thank god, that would be legally wrong.)
(The funniest part about all of this is that i have not thought about these dreams for a very very long time.)
This is because ive been thinking about the dreams that i never considered dreams at all.
There is either a hierarchy of dreams or i am always incredibly self-destructive.
Once a realization of truth occurs, the hope/goal becomes a dream. Untouchable.
This is all getting out of hand...which is incredibly funny for the point that is about to be made.
I just wrote a film review for the amusement...something i havent done in some time. What i've realized is that i could never be a journalist, or write something that matters. I just can't make a clear point. Or give facts. Or organize myself in a way that presents useful information.
this is not a tough bone to chew for me so dont go verbally slapping me around....you. this just reiterates my life philosophy. tell it like you see it. be personal. be open. be scared.
if you want facts, resort to a textbook which, btw, is IN according to The Amusement. Reading Miami Quarterly is OUT.
thank god.
anyhoot.
i had something else to talk about but its about relationships and im working on convincing myself that i dont want one so that something comes my way.
this is pretty hard to fake.
even for me.
Ghost in the Shell is on.
goodbye and goodnite :)
shit on my mind.
ever realize that you just can't be what you want to be?
ha!
we grow up, yes. We realize things, yes.
I will never go to Stanford U on a full scholarship for swimming (unless i have one eye and carry the towels).
I will never be on a stage (a real one) performing (musically) in front of millions.
I will not be in or have returned love for or by Devon Sawa circa "Casper". (Thank god, that would be legally wrong.)
(The funniest part about all of this is that i have not thought about these dreams for a very very long time.)
This is because ive been thinking about the dreams that i never considered dreams at all.
There is either a hierarchy of dreams or i am always incredibly self-destructive.
Once a realization of truth occurs, the hope/goal becomes a dream. Untouchable.
This is all getting out of hand...which is incredibly funny for the point that is about to be made.
I just wrote a film review for the amusement...something i havent done in some time. What i've realized is that i could never be a journalist, or write something that matters. I just can't make a clear point. Or give facts. Or organize myself in a way that presents useful information.
this is not a tough bone to chew for me so dont go verbally slapping me around....you. this just reiterates my life philosophy. tell it like you see it. be personal. be open. be scared.
if you want facts, resort to a textbook which, btw, is IN according to The Amusement. Reading Miami Quarterly is OUT.
thank god.
anyhoot.
i had something else to talk about but its about relationships and im working on convincing myself that i dont want one so that something comes my way.
this is pretty hard to fake.
even for me.
Ghost in the Shell is on.
goodbye and goodnite :)
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