Why I Can't Blog.

If you wander around the internet, you inevitably come across a blog or two about someone's reaction to the events of their life/the world. They are all filled with emotion and exclamation points or ellipses or semicolons, whatever the author's favorite punctuation mark is. They aren't usually boring, but they aren't particularly stimulating, and I only read them to waste time or learn about my friends' ridiculous lives, or find out about what's going on the indie music scene.

I don't have a ridiculous or particularly interesting life. Nothing that crazy really happens to me. I am cautious, and when I'm not I don't tell people about it. That's because I don't want to feel embarrassed/slutty/stupid about what I've done. And I don't want you to think less of me. I have these blocky things in my brain that push things out after a while. I bet you wish you had those. I can literally forget anything I want. And then it never happened. If you are always reminding me of it though, I can't forget. See? It's pretty cool.

I don't have the authority to comment on music, except to say whether or not I liked it, which is helpful to... well... NO ONE unless they have the exact same taste as me.

I don't want to contribute to the wasting timeness of the world. There are many more important things you could be doing with your life. Like getting it together. So I took the link off my facebook (I'm pretty sure no one clicked it anyway) and this may or may not be my last blog entry.

At least until things get more interesting/noteworthy. Or maybe I'm not paying enough attention...?

3:33 am

Why am I still awake? Sleeping all day is definitely not conducive to sleeping right now. Nor are crusty, gaping, throbbing holes in the back of my throat. Holes where my tonsils used to be. Even if my throat didn't hurt, I would still be afraid to eat because food would definitely get stuck in these blackholes and who knows where it would go next? Ew. Sorry, enough grossness.

So I guess this is as good a time as any to explain Charlotte, North Carolina, as I have come to know her.

Everybody talks to you here. Not like the homeless guys on 3rd who yell things at you when you pass, but sane people. Or, seemingly sane people (I believe everyone is a little crazy) that are home-ful, yet still don't know you at all. I don't know how to deal with this. I'm a nice person in new york, but I don't think this translates here. First of all, I don't know you, I don't care. Secondly, why do you care? I don't think you do. So let's save us some time, and let me carry on my merry way. I have gotten good at avoiding these probing types but sometimes its inevitable. ie.) the dentist office. I have frequented the dentist office this week, in addition to the doctors and the hospital. (I never recommend avoiding your medical appointments for 3 years, there is hell to pay) Anyways, my dentist, and the assistant, and the hygienist, all asked what I'm doing with my life, and expect me to know! and my answer that I'm majoring in international business only leads to, "hmm interesting, what do you plan on doing with that?" Now, even if I knew the answer to this question, I couldn't tell them because they have already stuffed plastic wedges and cotton tubes in my mouth, and begun to make me feel guilty about my flossing habits. So they continue to talk about me while a I lay completely conscious, but completely mute.

Which leads to my unconscious experience of today. Anesthesia is the weirdest thing ever. It hits you before you even know they have switched your IV tube, and then you wake up with no idea that anything has happened. You especially don't realize that someone has stuck a tube down your throat to videotape the tiny incisions they are making. This is what the nurse told me, pre-surgery, after asking what I was doing with my life, of course.

The radio here is a pretty even blend of County, Top 40 hip hop (that bleeps out swear words like "drugs" and "crap") and Praise music. And in December, about half of these stations transform into the respective Christmas version of themselves.

The grocery store here is called Harris Teeter. I don't get the name, but I do like that they have sliced mini samples of all produce. The delicatessen gives you little slices of cheese before cutting up a whole pound, as if to sample the aroma, like wine.

The streets here are all named something to do with Providence. I live in Providence Plantation, off of Providence Road, off of Providence Lane. The name of the school I would have gone to if I ever really lived here? Providence. I am lost 70% of the time. Thank goodness the bros have their licenses and these drugs officially forbid me from driving.

Charlotte has a "booming down town". All seven blocks have banking buildings and newly developed condos. Condos I have had the pleasure of touring over Thanksgiving Break with my parents when they were baiting me into living here. This promptly led to a minor panic attack where my attempts to swallow my tears in front of the realtor caused me to cry more, and my skin to get all white and pink-polka dotty. (which was reflected magnificently on every surface of this glowing tower) They were beautiful shiny new buildings filled with white people in pastel polos all between the ages of 24 and 30. 2nd street has never been so perfect to me as it was in this moment.

snowday

Today was the first snowfall in Manhattan. Most people think that snow is pretty and festive, at least until Christmas. I have never thought this. Being in the snow in the city means stepping in mysterious gray piles, that may actually turn out to be two-feet-deep freezing puddles, and developing knots in your back because you can't unclench your freezing muscles. Also, it seems my skin has developed an allergy to cold air in recent years, so the snow actually gives me hives. According to DrGreene.com, I am not alone in this condition.

"Some people develop hives on the skin when they encounter cold temperatures. This condition, called cold urticaria, is the most common type of hives caused by a physical condition. The hives are produced by a rapid release of histamine brought about by IgE antibodies and eosinophils (a type of white blood cell often involved in allergic reactions) in response to the cold. Rapid cooling, as from the evaporation when one gets out of a swimming pool, can trigger cold urticaria even on a warm day. For people with cold urticaria, swimming in very cold water is quite dangerous, sometimes even causing death."

Interesting. I will be sure to avoid diving in the arctic from now on.

But today, I welcomed the cold! Sometimes, when a lot of things happen in not a lot of time, I can't figure out whats going on, how I feel, or what to do next. I need to process things in pieces. I dissect all details, and the but-what-abouts and the maybe-sos until my ability to make decisions is replaced by a heavy, gray fog matter. But when you wake up to a world that is different than the one you fell asleep in the night before, you are granted a gracious helping of perspective. And if thats not enough, the cold will certainly slap you hard in the face an knock some of the gray out of your brain.

if you always get up late...

What an awful awful awful show the Real World is. Not only are all the people on the show completely ridiculous (except for Cohutta, he's so cute and nice and not a complete asshole), but it makes me stay up later and later because I care SO MUCH about what's going to happen with retard #1's stupid temper, or retard #2's gullibility and sluttyness. I have officially finished watching all the episodes from this season so far, and I did it over a matter of 5 days after the hour of midnight. PATHETIC. So as a result of the Real World Sydney, at least 3 bad things have happened to me:

a) I am sick with a stuffy nose and throat
b) I am so tired because I force myself to wake up early even after staying up past 3 or 4 or 5 or 6 a.m.
c) I don't actually get anything done when I wake up early because I'm too tired, so I lay around and then try to make myself stay awake but end up taking naps and complaining about how much of a waste I am

Getting motivated is impossible when nothing is due until December 11th. That's more than a week away. Too bad I am going to Dublin this weekend and definitely will not get anything done while I'm there. I need to do things TODAY and TOMORROW or forever hold my peace, but it just doesn't seem urgent enough yet to actually get off my bed for. So I think I will take a nap. My roommate is sleeping anyway. Might as well follow suit.

Prague-y Christmas

Today was our "christmasday" (all one word because it's not Christmas Day, but a day for doing Christmas related things). We woke up early (at least tried), went to brunch at Red Hot & Blues (which was disappointing by the way. Sucky cappuccino and so-so breakfast burrito), went ice skating in some old wooden barn looking place, watched the tree-lighting ceremony in Old Town Square and are about to start making sugar cookies while watching Love Actually. Cute, I know. The tree-lighting thing was funny and lame and awesome. They had people on stage from Radio Cityyyy! (this Czech radio station I listen to in the darkroom) and some brass band from Slovakia. I was making up the words to what they were saying since I couldn't understand them. "Welcome, Honza, to Old Town Square! Look at all those teenage girls yelling and pushing everyone around them! Typical Prague behavior. Anyway, let's all talk at the same time! The Christmas tree is real and it's 25 meters high! Countdown! 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Lighting malfunction! Oh maybe not! There go the red lights!" and so on. This is what their spastic yelling conversation through huge old microphones sounded like to me. After that relatively anticlimactic lighting (I don't know why I expected something more amazing, like fireworks or people jumping off buildings, but it didn't seem that cool to just push a button and watch some lights go off on this giant Christmas tree), we went to the fried dough stand where I got a fried dough with garlic, ketchup (yes, Heinz ketchup) and shredded cheese. Nasty sounding, but SO amazing. I inhaled that thing. Never order anything with that much garlic and/or ketchup when you are starving. That's why I cannot move from a horizontal position on my bed right now. Gross. I'm such a fatty. And I don't care! Woooo Prague!!! Happy christmasday :)

you may see me...

You may see me when I'm on the run
You may see me when I'm all undone
You may see me smoking a cigarette
You may see me and try to forget
But you won't forget

You got the eyes to look for what you saw
And when you don't win or lose i guess you draw
I had to leave i guess you had to stay
Don't come looking babe
Cause if you look too hard
I might just look away

You may see me but you never know
You may see me in Ohio

You got the eyes to look for what you saw
And when you don't win or lose i guess you draw
I had to leave i guess you had to stay
Don't come looking babe
Cause if you look too hard
I might just look away

Don't come looking babe
Don't come looking babe
Cause if you look too hard
You'll find me in the wrong place

You got the eyes to look for what you saw
And when you don't win or lose i guess you draw
I had to leave i guess you had to stay
Don't come looking babe
Cause if you look too hard
I might just look away

You may see me when I ain't got a thing

~GP

pocahontas

Is it possible to be all the heroins at once? I suppose thats what all little girls want--to be the princess in every story. I actually would like to add an additional option: Megara from Hercules!! But alas, for now I am Pocahontas. Thats cool though, I would enjoy learning to paint with wind-colors.

Ariel
[x] Your parents expect a lot from you
[ ] You really try to follow the rules, but it’s hard for you
[ ] You’re a bit of a trouble maker
[ ] You’re the youngest in your family
[ ] You have a lot of sisters (over 3)
[ ] You collect something
[x] You have/had long, hair
[x] You have/had a pet fish
[x] You’re extremely curious
[x] You believe everything people tell you/you’re a bit gullible
TOTAL: 5

Snow White
[ ] You know that you’re beautiful
[ ] Sometimes it seems like your mom is jealous of you
[ ] You’ve almost been killed
[x] You have at least seven good friends
[ ] You’ve had food poisoning
[x] You have/had short hair
[x] You get along with almost everyone
[x] All of your friends are different
[x] You love to have a good time
[x] You’re happier when you’re out of the house than in
TOTAL: 6

Mulan
[x] You can be a tomboy sometimes.
[ ] People wish you could be a bit more girly
[x] You’ve pretended to be someone you’re not
[x] You’ve had a physical fight with someone
[x] You have/had considered running away from home
[ ] Your parents try to plan your life out
[ ] A lot of your friends are boys
[x] You sometimes find yourself in bad situations
[x] You love your family so much that you’d do anything to protect them
TOTAL: 6

Sleeping Beauty
[x] You live/have lived with someone other than your parents
[ ] You almost died at a very young age
[x] You are gentle, loving, and/or thoughtful
[x] You have a decent singing voice
[x] You like to sleep in late on the weekends
[x] You spend most of your time outside
[ ] You’re adopted
[x] You have/had long hair
[ ] You’re very romantic
[ ]Pink is one of your favorite colors
TOTAL: 6

Pocahontas;
[x] You love to walk around and explore your city
[x] You are more spiritual than religious
[ ] You’ve been in an interracial relationship
[x] One of your family members is dead (mom, dad, sister, brother, grandma, grandpa)
[ ] Your parents are very protective of you
[x] Someone you know has been in war
[x] You love nature
[ ]You have/had black hair
[x] You would love to move somewhere exotic and beautiful
[x] You’re very adventurous
TOTAL: 7

Pricesses ALWAYS make everything better. Thanks Nicole :)

This was fun, but I tied on Belle, Ariel, Sleeping Beauty, and Pocahontas. Umm....? I am definitely not Belle or Pocahontas. Ariel is kind of stupid, sooo I want to be Sleeping Beauty. She's the prettiest/best. Your turn!

Belle
[x] You’ve been with someone your friends didn’t like
[ ] You’ve been lost in the forest
[ ] You love to read
[x] You are not shy at all, and not afraid to speak your mind
[x] One of your family members is a bit weird
[x] You have done volunteer work
[x] You have a wild imagination
[ ] You love to take care of people in need
[x] You’ve had guys like you only because they think you’re pretty
[x] You’ve rejected at least one person when they’ve asked you out
TOTAL: 7

Cinderella
[ ] One of your parents is dead
[ ] You are expected to do a lot of chores
[x] You love to dress up
[x] You love animals
[x]You are waiting patiently for your Prince Charming
[ ] Your mom is really strict
[ ] You have sisters who seem kind of jealous of you
[ ] You’re afraid to speak your mind sometimes
[x] You have left your shoes at a friend’s house before
[x]You have blonde hair
TOTAL: 5

Jasmine
[ ]Your dad is very rich
[ ] You are very clever
[x] You’ve been with someone way different from you
[ ]You’re unique and different from everyone else (this is stupid and I'm not answering it)
[x] You’d never marry someone just because they were rich
[x] You have set a lot of goals for yourself
[ ] You don’t have a lot of friends
[x] You’re independent
[ ] You are wealthy
[ ] Your parents try to control your life
TOTAL: 4

Ariel
[x] Your parents expect a lot from you
[x] You really try to follow the rules, but it’s hard for you
[ ] You’re a bit of a trouble maker
[x] You’re the youngest in your family (does half sister count?)
[ ] You have a lot of sisters (over 3)
[ ] You collect something
[x] You have/had long, hair
[x] You have/had a pet fish
[x] You’re extremely curious
[x] You believe everything people tell you/you’re a bit gullible
TOTAL: 7

Snow White
[ ] You know that you’re beautiful
[ ] Sometimes it seems like your mom is jealous of you
[ ] You’ve almost been killed
[x] You have at least seven good friends
[x] You’ve had food poisoning
[x] You have/had short hair
[x] You get along with almost everyone
[x] All of your friends are different
[x] You love to have a good time
[ ] You’re happier when you’re out of the house than in
TOTAL: 6

Mulan
[ ] You can be a tomboy sometimes.
[ ] People wish you could be a bit more girly
[x] You’ve pretended to be someone you’re not
[x] You’ve had a physical fight with someone
[x] You have/had considered running away from home
[ ] Your parents try to plan your life out
[x] A lot of your friends are boys
[x] You sometimes find yourself in bad situations
[ ] You love your family so much that you’d do anything to protect them
TOTAL: 5

Sleeping Beauty
[x] You live/have lived with someone other than your parents
[ ] You almost died at a very young age
[x] You are gentle, loving, and/or thoughtful (most of the time?)
[x] You have a decent singing voice
[x] You like to sleep in late on the weekends
[ ] You spend most of your time outside
[ ] You’re adopted
[x] You have/had long hair
[x] You’re very romantic
[x]Pink is one of your favorite colors
TOTAL: 7

Pocahontas;
[x] You love to walk around and explore your city
[x] You are more spiritual than religious
[ ] You’ve been in an interracial relationship
[x] One of your family members is dead (mom, dad, sister, brother, grandma, grandpa)
[x] Your parents are very protective of you
[x] Someone you know has been in war
[x] You love nature
[ ]You have/had black hair
[x] You would love to move somewhere exotic and beautiful
[ ] You’re very adventurous
TOTAL: 7

I'm sorry, but that's mine.

I need to write a new post so that everytime I open this blog I don't see the last post. Sometimes I can think about him and be fine. I can say that he still thinks about me every day like I think about him and in 3 weeks or less he will call me and tell me that I'm the only one he will ever love. Other times every single song that we ever listened to together start playing through my head simultaneously, especially the really sappy lyrics like "I keep dreaming you'll be with me and you'll never go, stop breathing if I don't see you anymore," and I start crying uncontrollably and can't get the stupid lyrics OUT of my head. It's not actually uncontrollable crying. As soon as I listen to some upbeat girl music, like Cyndi Lauper or Blondie or Katy Rose or Alanis Morissette I'm fine. And then I can pretend to forget about my broken heart for at least an hour until Nickelback or Augustana or O.A.R. creep back into my thoughts. Stupid and annoying. I want my heart back. I want him to say, here, I'm sorry for ruining your semester abroad. I'm sorry for worrying about you cheating on me every single second of every day. I'm sorry for making you cry when you couldn't call me from another country because your phone wouldn't make outgoing calls and your hostel didn't have Skype. I'm sorry I didn't try harder to contact you or send you letters or emails. I'm sorry that I tricked you into giving me your heart when I knew I couldn't handle it in the first place. Here, you can have it back.

Thanks.

what i miss most

• when you say that you'll scratch my back if i scratch yours, but then you always make me scratch your back first until you fall asleep.
• when you tickle me until i can't breathe.
• when you make sentences using every spanish word you know, even though they make no sense.
• when you wake up in the morning and your hair is all messy and soft.
• when you come home from work late at night and jump on me and kiss me all over to get me to wake up.
• when you get really angry about the existence of illegal mexicans.
• your lips.
• when you tell me how pretty i am.
• when you wrap your long arms around me and i feel my whole body get warm and tingly.
• when you let me hold your hand in public.
• when you talk about how much you miss your parents.
• when the sweat drips down the base of your spine.
• when i try to make you dinner and you complain about how i eat weird food and then you try it and actually like it.
• when you tell me you want to be with me for the rest of your life.
  
• when you drink caffeinated beer.
• when you don't understand what i'm talking about, but still pretend to so that i feel better.
• when you pretend that nothing exists except your own imperfect existence.
  
• when you tell me "everything will be okay, baby."
  

are we falling or flying?

I guess we'll never know....

Is it weird that this song was playing in my iTunes when I opened our blog? Maybe I should believe in signs after all. That has to means we are sisters or something right?

And as your sister, you can believe me when I say everything WILL be ok. Really, really it will. You have been strong to endure all the highs and lows of your relationship so far, and you will be strong enough to get through whatever may or may not happen next. And when you think you aren't, I'll be there. It's like Beaches. I'm the wind beneath your wing that keeps you flying when you think you may fall. But you wont. It will be ok.

Sometimes I hit a wall and I fall and I can’t stand up and somebody says, “Hey, it’s gonna be ok.”

The Night I Stayed Up Until 7:00 a.m.

I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to stay up until 7 a.m. I don't think it was so much about whether or not it was a good idea, but more that it wasn't a bad idea. I used to do things only if they benefited me in some way, but now more and more I do things because I see no good reason not to. This is bad because a) I waste much more time that I used to and b) it makes my morals and values go even further down the drain so my conscience doesn't know how to come up with any sort of quality logic. I'm kind of embarrassed to admit this, but Prague has not only made me dumb down my language so Czech people can understand me, but it's also made me feel like the worst kind of goody-goody there is. I have not been any kind of goody-goody since 6th grade when I decided to get rid of my glasses and start flirting.

Okay, that's not the point. The point is that I learned a lot the night I stayed up until 7 a.m. For example, I learned:

• It's okay to think about sex a lot, like a boy, because it makes it better when you actually do it since you have thought about exactly what you want to do and how you want things to go.
• I like TV shows so much because it makes me feel better about my own life when I have someone else's fucked up story to follow.
• Sometimes you can love someone with every inch of your whole entire body and still want to be with other people.
• It's hard to admit that you're an attention whore. But if you lose the attention of one person and find yourself trying desperately to get it from anyone else who will talk to you, then what does that make you?
  
• Sometimes talking about it makes it so much better.
• Sometimes talking about it means nothing. You just have to do it already.
• If you have ever had feelings for someone in the past, they will probably never go away unless you do something about it and your feelings change.
  
• Watching the sun rise can suck sometimes.
• Your own feelings can make other people's not matter at all. If you want something bad enough it doesn't matter if you kill others along the way. Now I finally understand that.
  

November 14, 2007, 12:36 am

i feel like i am falling in love with every boy i meet

you are
stop that

i fall so quickly in and out
its bad

its okay. you're like that with everything

afraid. so WHAT?

And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

- Anais Nin

Sometimes its hard to say things out loud because the act of forming the words makes them real. Whats even harder is writing down these things we think. Putting thoughts and plans on papers means they are real. We have thought those thoughts, planned those plans and now we have something to be held accountable for.

I guess what I am trying to say is its natural to be a little afraid of these thoughts, but we cannot hide. We should use this as a tool. By voicing what we want in this life we are not jinxing ourselves, rather enforcing ourselves. Strengthening our belief in ourselves and giving ourselves a mark to measure up to.

Here I'm allowed. Everything. All of the time.

I am in a weird mood. A crazy, caffeinated mood that is making me think things I normally wouldn't, shouldn't. I want a tattoo. Right now. The parlor is only one block away, I could go. I want to jump and dance around. Actually I did, behind the locked bathroom door below this coffee shop. I also want to have sex. Spontaneous, passionate sex. I guess I could do this too. I am a girl and their are guys in this coffee shop... but I wouldn't even know how to go about initiating that sort of thing. This is a good thing because one more sip of coffee and I would start acting on these ideas.

In New York City you can get anything you want anytime you want it. The fast paced nature of the city and the short attention span of most New Yorkers make this a place of instant gratification. But what about when you want more than that? What about when you want to be touched, held, loved by someone else? Someone who will be there for more than just tonight. Can you get that here, here in this city of self-involvement?

Its easy to blend into the crowd here. Not because of how diverse it is but because no one looking at the crowd cares too much about singling anyone else out. You can do, wear, say anything and still appear relatively normal and anonymous compared to everyone else. You're allowed to do anything you want, anytime.

This is not a city for those lacking in self-control। No one else cares what you do, so if you can't control your life no one will stop you from getting carried away. I guess I am feeling on edge. The edge of control and just letting go. What stops me from giving in to these spontaneous urges?

Breath. Control. Live. Love.

avoidance

Sometimes I feel like writing in this blog just to avoid writing other things. This makes no sense to me. Whether I am writing here or writing a paper my fingers/eyes/body do the exact same thing. If I can make myself focus on this screen and type this, why can't I write my philosophy paper? It's not even a boring subject, its about treating animals morally. Maybe if I started drafting my paper here I would be more productive, but I would not want to subject anyone to 1750 words of my rambling. Instead I will list for you all the other things I have done today in an effort to avoid the end of the weekend:
Baked cupcakes (with funfetti icing, the best)
Tie-died (many things, including my sheets and Ron's clothes)
Cleaned, alot
Ate Pizza and popcorn. This was after eating cupcakes.
Watched many episodes of Law & Order thanks to USA marathons
Played with Marley, kept him from jumping in pots of tie-die
Video chatted with Colleen even though we were sitting on the same couch
Read 3 articles about Dumbledore's newly exposed sexuallity
and finally this wandering blog posting

Things I have not done today:
Written my paper.

still.

Addiction.

n. 1. compulsive physiological and psychological need for a habit-forming substance: a drug used in the treatment of a heroin addiction.
2. the condition of being habitually or compulsively occupied with or involved in something: had an addiction for fast cars.

According to yourdictionary.com, the word 'addiction' has a relatively straight-forward definition (although the examples they give suck and don't give you any indication of what the word actually means. maybe because it's a word that most everyone understands the meaning of?). The best part about looking up this word on yourdictionary.com is the Google ads that show up above it:

Adult Treatment Program.
End the Addiction Cycle: End cravings, depression, anxiety. A natural approach to rehab.
Non 12 Step Addiction.

(click on any of the above and pay 2 months salary to see results!)

Does the fact that I am looking up the definition to this word that seemingly everyone is trying to find a solution to mean that I should click the links get some help? Obviously not, because it's not like I actually have an addiction problem. Especially when it comes to Gmail.

I am not addicted (habitually or compulsively occupied) to Gmail because:

I don't get nervous tension when I don't check it for more than 2 hours.
I don't compulsively organize, delete, star, and respond to every single email I receive.
I don't open the Gmail window/hit refresh every 3 seconds to see if someone has sent me anything.
I don't look forward to Gchatting more than I look forward to seeing my family.
I don't fall into the trap of getting all the extra gadgets associated with Gmail and Google (Picasa, iGoogle, blogger, etc.).

Hmm... right.

So what's the difference between an 'addiction' and an 'obsession'? Shall we consult the loyal and handy yourdictionary.com? (am I the only one who uses this site?)

n. 1. compulsive preoccupation with a fixed idea or an unwanted feeling or emotion, often accompanied by symptoms of anxiety.
2. a compulsive, often unreasonable idea or emotion.

Above the definition is the Google ad for 'OCD Symptoms: Signs of Obsessive Compulsives Compare All the Signs of OCD obsessive-compulsive-symptoms.org'

Great. We need people to go on this web site and analyze their behavior, unprofessionally dubbing themselves as a victim of OCD, and actually becoming obsessively compulsed to believe that they have OCD. I really love when people comment about their 'OCD behaviors' or the fact that they really really think they do have perhaps a 'mild' form of OCD. Look, just because you wash your hands a lot or have to check the lock three times before you leave the house does not mean that you have OCD.

I started writing this post a long time ago. It's still true. I go into stores and pick out 20 things and try them on in the dressing room. I want all of them. I leave most of them with the girl in the dressing room with all the plastic numbers and start carrying the chosen ones to the register. 'You don't need these. You have no money. You are fat. You could be spending this money on traveling/eating/drinking.' Nothing works; I keep walking toward the register and take out my credit card while I'm in line so I don't change my mind. Compulsive physiological and psychological need for a habit-forming substance? New clothes? What?

I'm sick of this font.

what happened?

... i wanna be forgotten
and i don't wanna be reminded
i said please don't make this harder...

I find myself hiding, or trying to hide, all the time. I learned my roommates' morning schedules so I can try to wake up at a time when they are either sleeping or not home. I rush out of the building to catch the tram that most people don't take to class with my iPod headphones in my ears and pretend to still be sleeping so I don't have to make conversation with anyone. I rush in and out of class, hoping they will think I'm in some kind of a hurry and don't have time to chat. I am constantly searching for small dark cafes to read and do my work in. I go in the single person darkroom and lock the door and take off my clothes so I can develop negatives naked. What happened?

I have this skin tab. Just one. I think skin tabs are the most nasty unnecessary things in the whole world. What the hell are they? Little ugly flaps of skin that just sit there. They don't do anything for you, but they don't hurt you either so there's really no reason to do anything about them unless you're me and think they should all burn in hell. Anyway, I have this skin tab. And it came out of no where and began growing over the summer. I looked at it every day. I thought it had stopped growing, until Sunday when it hurt. I thought it was something else that hurt, maybe one of the bruises I get out of no where all the time, so I looked at it. It was huge and swollen and red like a pimple. I threw up in my mouth. I put some cortisone cream on it, because that cures everything, and googled 'skin tab.' Apparently they are benign tumors. Sweet, I now have a tumor. Nothing said anything about them being painful, unless they are on the anus, which mine is definitely not. The next day, yesterday, I noticed it wasn't as big or as painful. What the fuck. I said, Freddy, remember that skin tab I have? He knows about it because I obsessed about it over the summer just like I'm obsessing about it now. He said Yeah, what about it? Well I told him the story and he said Maybe you need to get it removed. Fuck. I didn't want to go to a Czech doctor, or be subjected to knives or freezing of any sort. Who knows what they will do to me. I'll give it 2 more days. This morning I woke up and it was gone. It was a small red scab. It wasn't even a raised scab. What happened?

Hopefully I didn't will some doctor to come into my room in my sleep and cut it off. Hopefully it just knew how much I hated it and felt underappreciated and left. I mean that's what I would do.

100 Things

I am in class that makes me think about me and my goals and dreams. Its very fun but not as easy as you would expect. For example, I had to think of 100 things to do in my life time. That may not seem like very many things to do before you die, but when you have to think about the 100 things you want to invest your life and time and sweat in, its a little harder. I have 61 and counting. Suggestions are welcome.

1. Keep up with a blog for more than two months
2. Keep a journal if I get lazy about the blog, and write in it everyday
3. Fall in love
4. Climb El Cap mountain in Yosemite National park
5. Serve in the Peace Corps
6. Run in a marathon and run the last 8 miles with my dad
7. Get certified to teach yoga
8. Live in India
9. Live in New Orleans, Washington DC, San Francisco, and Sydney for a bit
10. Love my job
11. Work for an organization that makes a difference in this world
12. Work for a music festival
13. Run an environmentally friendly, traveling, band merchandise and photography business for festivals with Jess
14. Open my own café with delicious fair-trade coffee, excellent music, open mic nights, board games, and generally awesome patrons
15. Stop biting my nails
16. Sleep on a beach all night. Sleep outside in the mountains all night.
17. Go on a blind date
18. Eat healthier
19. Get flat abs, successfully complete a pull-up
20. Get married once and forever
21. Learn to cook Indian food
22. Visit Dubai, Prague, Morocco, Greece, Ibiza, Ireland, Egypt, Sierra Leone, Kenya, Chile, Bolivia, Croatia, Cuba, and counting
23. Become more spiritual
24. Get a doggy
25. Visit both of my brothers at college
26. Be “cool aunt Liz”
27. Be a Maid of Honor, and plan an awesome bachelorette party
28. Learn to play guitar
29. Write love songs for my guitar.
30. Go to a Bruce Springsteen concert with my dad
31. Work on a political campaign
32. Meet Barack Obama
33. Learn to bartend
34. Get a masters degree, in international undecideness…
35. Be financially independent
36. Learn to do my own taxes
37. Float the River, go to Austin
38. Climb and hike in Joshua Tree National Park
39. Give a really good, powerful speech
40. Be supremely happy
41. Make someone else supremely happy
42. Make my parents proud
43. Inspire a child to learn and let them know being a nerd is ok
44. Keep in touch with friends and family, write Christmas cards every year
45. If I have kids, I will have two and I will take them camping once a year. I will raise them overseas and teach them French. I will take them to Keuka Lake and teach tem to water ski. I will plant trees with them and take them berry picking.
46. Read more, a lot more.
47. Be on the Amazing Race, be on Cash Cab
48. Volunteer at the Olympic Games
49. Make out in pouring rain
50. Save someone’s life
51. Get another tattoo
52. Ride in a hot air balloon
53. Drive from San Diego to Alaska
54. Attend an Indian wedding and bhangra dance
55. Learn to be more patient
56. Learn to let go
57. Write my own theme song
58. Work for the UN
59. Figure out what I am supposed to do in this life
60. Love someone else unconditionally
61. Matter.


I hope I am getting an A in this class... would a B- mean my dreams are just satisfactory? I think my list is pretty sweet, it is mine, after all. Your turn!

The Daily Commute

Given my new single status, that is to say, my best friend-roommate-commiserator left me for exciting and foreign horizons, I have been walking to school alone. It's amazing all the things you notice when you walk the same blocks day after day....

I leave the apartment, checking three times for my keys, wallet, and phone and running back downstairs at least twice. Outside, I immediately realize how much hotter it is on the street than on our patio—a phenomenon I am sure can be explained somehow by global warming. Walking passed the assisted living home, large black men greet me with Spanish words I have come to accept as terms of endearment, i.e.) mamasita and si si senorita. Then the homeless man on his chair outside of Adinah's tips his hat and exclaims, "Hello Darling!" and I nod in response.

Walking on, I cross avenue C where the light never changes and pedestrians always have the right-of-way. I now pass the Peach Blossom garden where the late and great Ms. Juanita Rivera used to sit daily and watch over her community. Now the lovely community of the Murray Itzkowitz house has set up a memorial to honor Ms. Rivera and her lawn chair.

Passing the firehouse between C and B, I stop to see which puppies the boys are entertaining today. Then it's the restaurants I wish I could afford to eat at everyday, Il Baggato and Supper. I also wish I had the time to just sit outside and sip wine like all the skinny hipsters. Now I am on A where the best deli in the city sells beautiful, colorful bouquets all year round. Between A and 1st avenue is a long block. Wide, and always splattered with dog poop. I really should consider another route. At 1st I turn up to go to Kudo Bean and get my iced Hawaiian hazelnut coffee. (Except, now it goes by “The Bean” and I have switched to green tea. Shocking!) Walking down 3rd st, I always smile at Ms. Reese who has gotten a new sign that reads "Physic Reader" but she is still just as lurking an top heavy. Next, I pass the Pak Punjabi deli where I like to buy Bollywood VHS's because it's cheaper than renting them. (Or else, I misunderstood the pricing rules…) I love 2nd avenue. Mostly because the little white man stays white for so long and I never have to run to avoid being hit by a cab. However, Bowery is not so accommodating. I always get stuck on the dirty median, smelling that lovely diesel aroma and definitely sweating. The only thing I can say about 3rd between Bowery and Lafayette is that it has been under construction since I got here. That is over 3 years! I hope they are hiding some sort of building masterpiece behind the wooden facades. Lafayette is great because you can always jaywalk and it results in my 2nd firehouse walk-by on my way to campus. Mmm. Now, can you believe I am already at Broadway? Well I can because I have 4 minutes to make it to class on the fourth floor. You always have to wait for the little man on Broadway, unless you want to die. Once upon a time, I may have stopped here to visit Bath and Body Works and applied extraneous amounts of lotion and shimmer samples to my body, but this act is not as amusing solo. I run down 3rd, around truck beds and more construction, to climb the back, secret stairs to Gould Plaza. I look all over for my ID card, find it in my hand, and rush into the building and up the stairs. Success! I sit, and sweat some more, and class begins....

That is just a little taste 2nd street for ya. Miss it yet??

Re: Love handles

Love handles are called such for a reason. Handle (n.): Something you clutch, hold on to, keep. Love (1.v.): To like, cherish, adore. (2.n.) The act of connection, intimacy, sex, pleasure. So add this all together and love handles are a good thing. If anyone objectsto my reasoning they should give holding and loving a try.

it wasn't me, it was my fat.

today at yoga i was feeling really good. i had eaten really healthy food all day, got a really good night's sleep last night (ahem 14 hours to be exact) and was in a perfect state to be working out. i was sweating a lot and moving effortlessly into the poses and balancing better than usual. and then we went from warrior one into warrior two into reverse warrior. and i starting pushing deeper into the stretch. and it felt fine. and then the teacher came around and started moving and twisting my body and trying to push me even deeper like she usually does. but i couldn't go any deeper because my love handles were in the way. my fat love handles were keeping me from perfect reverse warrior! how/when did this happen? when i got to prague and started eating sausages and and cheese and drinking beer all the time. but wait, i actually haven't done that in weeks. i haven't even gone out in prague in weeks because i would rather eat food and chocolate than try and fit into my citizens. when did THAT happen? when i stopped caring about what other people thought of me and started wearing sweatpants to class. don't get me wrong, i am not actually a cow. i do still fit into all my clothes. but i can tell i have put on weight and as much as i want to be skinny i don't actually care that much because i would always rather eat new foods and drink new wines, and if that means i have to go to the gym a lot and not go out and binge drink every night then FINE! i guess i have my priorities straight. at least for now...

Pivo: The Key to Happiness

Update: I figured out how to make blogger in English again. Success! My computer is no longer smarter than me.

In other news, I have learned that Czech beer has some outstanding properties that trigger the endorphins in your brain to make you happy. I wonder if they ever thought about marketing it that way. Drink pivo! It's the key to happiness! It will make you feel and act like a teenager again, without the raging hormones! Bliss!

Despite the truth (beer here is just much stronger and much better tasting), having a beer was my savior this past weekend.

After a long night of 'I'm too sexy for my ____' (fill in the blank), Beastie Boys, Vanilla Ice, Madonna, and other quality 90s music, I had accumulated a pair of sore quads, four hours of sleep, and a pounding headache by Saturday morning at 9 a.m. At least someone was motivated. My roommate woke me with the sound of snapping fingers next to my face and Feist's 'The Limit to Your Love.' She knows I hate being woken up by ANYONE in ANY WAY but if you ARE going to wake me up then good loud-ish music is the best way. We made it to the bus station, past the money collecting man, and into some relatively cozy blue-orange-yellow patterned fabric seats. Off we were. And off to dream land I was.

I woke up to shaking and yelling. "JICIN!" I guess we were there. The lifeless tone and the empty roads around us gave it away. This was supposedly 'bohemian paradise,' but all I could think about was how my eyelids wouldn't leave my cheeks and how badly I had to pee. I still can't really figure out why they make you pay to use the public bathrooms. It's not like they use it to pay for a cleaning lady, and it's not like they ever have soap or toilet paper for you to use, so I think it's just sitting there waiting for some bum to break the lock and take it all. I guess he could use it more than I could.

According to a very small and disproportionate map, we were supposed to go West to get to the hiking trail. Someone had the brilliant idea that if you point one of the hands on your watch to the sun and one to something else you have a compass or something. So we started walking. And walking. And walking. And we found a bus stop! Supposedly there was a tourist bus that takes you to the top of the hill and then there's the trail, so we stopped and stared at the timetables for a long time. They mean absolutely nothing I swear. Luckily, some jolly men across the street were yelling in our direction. They were working on some holes in the pavement and one spoke Russian so we could actually understand each other and they drew us a map that looked just like this:


Sweet, I know. What was sweeter was their uninhibited smiles and their desperate attempts to help some foreigners who they had never even seen before and would never see again. No one in New York would do that. And then I saw the Gambrinus empties on the edge of the driveway. Pivo!
On one of the tours I went on they told us about how they didn't have clean water in Prague for such a long time, like longer than other countries, so they only drank beer and wine until they introduced the water pump. Beer soup for breakfast. Mmmm. Everyone had a buzz all the time! Everyone was happy!

It was five kilometers, fresh plums, apples, and pears off the trees, and some sandstone rock formations that made me realize it was going to get dark at some point. I also assumed someone with a chicken and a cheese grater would be coming after us any minute for eating their week's salary from the trees. Maybe people don't realize this, but I have about 38 different fears, one of them being walking in a forest in the dark and getting raped/eaten by ogres. So I realized that at this point it was too late to make it back before the sun went down, considering the time it took us to get there, so I made a decision for the group: pitstop.

I never ate so much meat. Or so many different types of meat. And by that I mean that since I have been in Prague I have taken up eating sausage because I actually want to be fat, and I have no idea what kind of meats they put into the huge hot dog/kielbasa I had just ordered OR what they put in the ketchup and mustard to make it taste soooo gooooood. I also don't know whose idea it was to take a square slab of cheese and deep fry it to make gooey salty crunchy deliciousness. Maybe the reason everything was so orgasmic was that I had basically chugged a Staropramen because I was so damn thirsty from all the 'hiking.' I see what they mean about not drinking water. Why spend $1.50 for a .2 liter bottle of water when you can spend $1 on a .5 liter of beer? Talk about opportunity cost...

As I said before, but didn't say to my hiking buddies, the reason I wanted to make the pitstop was to get beer. I needed it for two reasons: A. I wanted to be tipsy so I wouldn't be scared of getting raped on our trek home in the dark, and B. it was getting really cold as the sun was setting so I needed the warm tinglies I always get as soon as alcohol hits my tongue. The worst part, and possibly the only negative side effect to drinking pivo, is it makes you pee. And we all know about breaking the seal. Had I been with only my roommate this wouldn't have been an issue, but it was the boy in the group that made me feel extremely manly and embarrassed of my small bladder as I frolicked off for the second time to find a bush that would hide my white ass as I held all my stuff in the air and tried not to pee on my shoes.

I don't know if it was the asking for directions, eating the fruit off the trees from other people's yards, the kielbasa/fried cheese, or the potty stops that made us miss the last bus back to Prague. I was using my knowledge of the Secret and my long gone practice of Paganism to try to get a bus to appear in front of us as we sat on the benches shivering. Just as we had accepted the fact that there weren't going to be any more buses that night, fireworks began to boom and crash above us, creating spastic flashes of multicolored light as if to welcome us to an evening in Jicin. I huddled into my roommate's skin as the moon rose above us and realized the combination of pivo-induced events and the beauty of the bohemian paradise made it an unforgettable journey, even if we were forced to find shelter in a bowling alley hotel.

The adventurers looking to the top of the mountain... we had a long way to go...

Tony Duchacek & Garage

First of all, I am in the Czech Republic and my computer is too smart for me and making this blogger site all in Czech. I know how to say hello, goodbye, how much is this, beer, wine, and where is...? but that's about it. Blog lingo in Czech is not a walk in the park. Annoying! Anyway I have recently taken an adventure to the outskirts of Prague where the rattlesnakes slither and the black widows bite...
Just kidding. It's nothing like Arizona here.
As I stepped off the 109 bus from Palmovka it felt like an old man was humbly chuckling right in my face. Not a total slap in the ass, but nothing all that comforting. All I could see were fields of long wild grass and some dirt and some pavement. Nothing that resembled the type of music festival I was used to in the states. Usually there were hippies and a Walmart and a lingering smell of tobacco and marijuana. I didn't even hear a drum beat, which is usually the best indication of something musical happening.
"Kde je festival?" I asked the overalled gas station attendant across the street. "Kakoi festival?" he said. Which festival? I don't know, the one that's supposed to be right off the god damn bus stop you idiot. He and his redneck friends quickly realized I didn't speak Czech, nor had I ever been anywhere outside of Prague. They started pointing in different directions and talking over each other until finally the one sitting down, who I trusted because he spoke softly and didn't get too excited, pointed and said to go straight and then right. Sweet, I understood that. I was silently thanking my brain for retaining some of the Czech nonsense I had learned at 10 in the morning for 5 days straight 2 weeks before.
So I was off, hand in hand with my roommate who was clearly regretting getting on that bus with me. It was clearly a residential neighborhood and there were no indications of any kind of festival going on here. Luckily, my idea to follow several CAMPING signs was a good one, and I finally began to see some dredlocked hippies in front of us. I wished that I had dredlocks or hadn't showered that day or wasn't dressed in such a bright colored shirt. Then maybe I wouldn't look so American and people would stop staring at me. I KNOW I am out of place here damnit leave me alone.
And then we heard it... the drum beat! Although it wasn't a drum beat, it was something else. A trash can beat! A good sign nevertheless. We walked through an iron gate and into a wide open park, across a bridge and into a circus tent. Ahh pivo (beer). And vino (wine). One glass of red wine cost about a dollar. Two glasses later the band I came to see had finally started and I was feeling much more comfortable, awake, and so excited about seeing my bald headed teacher get on stage with a guitar. He speaks slowly and often without purpose in class, so I wondered if he would like many quiet musicians I know. They generally are able to open up as soon as they pick up their instrument and step onto the stage. Unfortunately Jan was not one of those types, as he played supporting guitar and stood way off to the right and sort of in the back. He looked the same as he did in class, except his head was bouncing up and down with the beat of the drum set and he kept his mouth shut. Besides his small presence on stage, I also noticed the lead singer did not come up to the microphone without a cigarette between his fingers. He also seemed shy and would only stick his neck out to reach the microphone rather than walking straight up to it. Maybe it was so that he was far enough away to take drags between verses, or maybe they were just a bunch of dorky old guys who happened to know how to make good music.
After the first half hour of standing on the top floor of the warehouse/gutted church/crumbling haunted house where Garage was playing, the random mush of food in the plastic bowls that everyone was carrying around looked really good. So we spent about 3 dollars and got a bowl full of Indian inspired deliciousness and a crunchy circle thing that resembled a potato latke, but filled with spices and other yummy things. We didn't ask what we were eating, we just pointed to what looked good, similar to the little vegetarian Indian shops on 1st street. It was no doubt one of the best meals I've had since I've been here in Prague, and I'll probably never know what it actually was. Sad.
Now we were downstairs with all the hippies and the dogs. They were allowed everywhere and rarely had leashes. (am I talking about the hippies or the dogs? you can decide for yourself) One of them was so horny he kept mounting every dog he could get his paws on. I was trying not to get caught in the crossfire so I stayed close to the stage, closed my eyes and tried to make up the words as they sang in Czech. Though they weren't necessarily the best performers I've ever seen, the lead guitarist had some amazing solos, and the saxophonist reminded me of the one from O.A.R. I loved that he played in almost every song, and when he wasn't playing was rocking back and forth with his sax, which he held like a woman.

Before long everyone was dancing, or at least bobbing their heads and swaying back and forth. I was in the front with my camera in one hand and pivo in the other staring at the bass player who was quite cute. Pathetic that I'm now thinking 40-something men are 'cute,' but that's what happens they pick up their guitars and start rocking out.

The time i saw two rainbows

It was even better than one.

Crash

Crash will never, ever get old. Since it came out two years ago, I have seen it about 30 times. (This is a very flattering fact as I can rarely sit still for the duration of a movie and if I do sit down I promptly take a nap.) The movie intertwines the lives of twenty unrelated individuals in Los Angeles. It is harsh, beautiful, sad, and so hopeful, all at the same time. Each character is forced to interact with someone who they would never typically consider a friend and each interaction brings with it a new understanding. As I watched, I couldn't help but think how relevant each character and each lesson is to all of us.

Everyone in the film seemed to have a second chance to right a wrong or the opportunity to forgive someone later. Life is not always like this. We usually are only given one chance, the first chance, in all that we experience. We will never have the power to control the world around us, but we can choose how we react to the situations we are faced with. We will never entirely understand someone else's circumstance but how we treat another person will have an affect on them. Crash reminds me that there is still hope in a world full of imperfect people. While we have all passed judgment on someone else, we also have the astonishing capacity to accept someone else with compassion.

First, we must remind ourselves that how we act towards others IS significant, no matter how minute a relationship may seem. We could impact the rest of their day, their life, and the chain reaction of events that happens on this earth if we wanted to. Then, we must accept the actions of others and attempt to understand what they may be feeling. We must believe that what they do stems from a deep, shared, greater good. And finally, we must hope that these harsh, beautiful collisions continue to happen because without them life would be mundane. Movies would not be made, songs may never be written and stories never told. Human interaction is a powerful and creative force. On that note, I believe we have some people to meet...

Soul, Soul, Soul, and Music All Around...

The best thing about live music is definitely the opportunity it gives you to dance. When else can you sway, spin, and shake with total strangers in perfect, blissful synchronization? And what better place to do so than in the middle of Central Park on a sunny, August day?
The band Galactic, of New Orleans, brought their smooth, funky jazz to the Summer Stage yesterday afternoon. New Yorkers seized this occasion to throw of their shoes and dance all around to Galactic's deep, soulful, and fun sound. With very few lyrics, it didn't matter if the crowd knew the words or not. Everyone could feel the beat and the energy radiating from the performers and audience. Many let go completely, allowing the melodies of the sax or guitar to posses their bodies and be translated into movement. The performance was spiced up with numerous guests from the Soul Rebel Brass Band, the Golden Eagle Mardi Gras Indians and the sexy sounds of John Cleary on the sax.

No New Orleans Celebration would be complete without feathers and beads, so to conclude, Galactic welcomed three, larger-than-life, colorful birds on stage to jam with the already bouncing crowd. All and all, great day, fun people and hot, hot music. - L

Anchor

I never formally introduced myself. I use that cliche only in hopes that it serves as some sort of intro, as blogs seem to be the most informal form of expression today, and I am still getting used to how they work. I do realize that any attempt I make to describe myself here will seem like little more than what I want you to think about me but I will say that I value openness and honesty above any other qualities. Assuming that you ever read this, I think you may get to know me better through my candid posts, but I would like to explain a bit about what this is before you go on to read my rambling critiques of the world around me.

When embarking on our quest to review the many forms of culture that surround us everyday, we did so hoping that it would give us an opportunity to write for fun, something I haven't had a chance to do since middle school. And to pretend, that we, in some ways, are like William in Almost Famous, bright-eyed and truth-speaking.

However, I now see potential in this writing to build and anchor. A place to save my experiences forever in a world that is changing around me always. Like living on an escalator, change does not come at us unexpectedly, but it does come quickly and entirely. I am used to living in anticipation. Preparing for what comes next without valuing what is happening. I refuse to admit that this is the "time of my life" but I do think it's a pretty good, mostly great, time and I want to be HERE as it happens. (Well not sitting at this computer, but all present in what goes on around me.) I think that people change as much as their surroundings and I am making a change now. I will record and reflect the nougats of life that intrigue me and save them for a rainy day.

I warn you now that I may not have the best spelling or grammar, and use far to many commas, but I am entrusting my best friend to be my life-long editor. We think quite alike on most things, so at times, it may be difficult to decipher who is talking, but I hope you will find us entertaining, and maybe even insightful. She is one person who has not changed in my life over the past three years. This, to me, is a very long time.

Which leads me to our final reason in writing the Keuka Files: we will grow and change and learn a lot a long the way, but no matter what, we will always have a place to share.

The Problem with Road Trips...

The problem with road trips is the food. Driving along deserted interstate 8 West on the way to San Diego, I felt a humbly rumbly in my tumbly. Not to mention the gas meter shows less than a quarter of a tank left (and after too many hours of overexposure to the scorching Arizona sun we are 3/4 empty, not 1/4 full). We're at least halfway to our Pacific beach destination, and neither of us wants to stop because hours feel like years when you're staring at sand dunes and splattering bugs on the windshield. Good thing we don't really have a choice.

Finding a gas station on this lonely excuse for a highway is like finding an armadillo on the streets of New York. Lucky for us, the desert has opened up into something spectacular, something amazing, something we haven't seen in over three hours... a Chevron station! Not only could we fill the little red's gas tank for thirty dollars, we could also stock up on delicious snacks. I choose a small bag of Smartfood and a bottle of water after staring at the Doritos, Chex Mix, Sobe drinks, and gummy Lifesavers, all of which are delicious, but have too many unnecessary calories. It wasn't even 6:00 pm, and we had dinner reservations for later that night, but we didn't want to cancel them and stop for a real meal. Even if we did, we would not have been able to find anything besides Mama's Authentic Mexican Cafe where no one could even speak English. So Chevron Gourmet it was. The man in my life chooses a large can of Red Bull, a bottle of Coke, a big bag of jerky, two different types of fruity candy, and a Twix bar. All I could think of was how glad I was to not be paying for this horrific vat of junk, and how ridiculous the sugar rush/crash would be.

At least we had each other. It was his bobbling artificially sweetened head and my inability to decline a good wad of high fructose corn syrup that kept us awake for the remainder of our journey.

Three hours later we were entering downtown San Diego with sugar-hangovers strong enough to punch through a 50 foot mountain of sand, but we made it to our fabulous Best Western in northern San Diego and practically crashed against the pillows. That's what we get for having no money and forgetting to pack snacks.

The flamingos and gorillas the next day made all the traveling worth it. As did the thirty-minute conversation with a cop on a bike. And I'm not talking about a motor bike, I'm talking about an actual road bike. I've seen this of course, but it's really hard to take those guys seriously, especially when they are stopping people for smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk next to the beach. You could drink alcohol in the ocean (as long as it was in cans not glass bottles) but you couldn't smoke a cig on the boardwalk. Not that I wanted to see or smell anyone smoking, but it just didn't make much sense. After a few margaritas and Adios Mothaf*ckas (a blue or sometimes green cheap alcohol infused drink they apparently only serve on the western side of the U.S.) on the beach, it was time to get the car from the $5 an hour parking lot down the street. We were paying so much to park the car that we couldn't afford to order a better quality alcohol or a less fried version of seafood for dinner.

After a night of tasting the pacific beaches, I was up with the roosters in the morning, if San Diego had roosters. Really it was the sounds of suitcase wheels on the bumpy pavement outside our hotel window that sounded like hurricane Bob that woke me. I wanted to get out of the room before the obnoxious cleaning ladies came by and pounded on room 318 like their life depended on it, so I rolled the boy out from under the covers, packed up our junk, and drove little red down I-5 to Mission Beach. It was relatively quiet when we got there, and the surfers were everywhere even though I found the waves to be less than impressive. I guess anyone will have their surfing time and eat it too, at least until 11:00 am when they have to move to the other side of the checkered flag.

The highlight of the day, besides the salad from 7-11 (even more fabulous road trip food), was the cutest little kid in a yellow and black jump suit. His brilliant blue eyes were bigger and more vibrant than anything I've ever seen and he just could not stop bouncing and smiling! His little round face made the early wake up call worth it.

Even though we got pulled over for blowing an invisible stop sign, ended up in Mexico because I took the wrong highway out of San Diego, and had to eat Taco Bell for dinner, the road trip to San Diego was enlightening and culturally stimulating for everyone, even Freddy, who had never been out of the country before.

~j

Disclaimer.

So, I never thought I would fall prey to world of blogs. I will admit I once had a livejournal, but after I couldn't even get myself to reveal the details of my silly nightmares to the livejournal (a cyber diary that I didn't tell anyone about so no one would ever read it), I realized that 'diaries' were meant for padlocked notebooks, not the web. Unfortunately, web logging has taken over our online universe, and I am repeatedly asked to search blogs for content at my job! How absurd. What makes the next Bud Light sipping fool any smarter or more worldly than myself? Apparently, nothing. Yet we still believe the rambling words of millions of bloggers every single day.

Of course none of this matters now, as I am sitting in front of a fifteen inch monitor sipping Pinot Noir and rambling myself. (At least I am working on my speedy typing skills.) Alas! I am at the unmerciful grubby virtual hands of the tens of millions of web users who surf the net every second!

Whatever will I do?

Continue typing of course, and listen to the (truly) idealistic words of my loyal roommate that this is indeed a good idea. And I watch movies with subtitles so I am forced to stay focused. And I hope that I can handle the harsh criticism of everyone who also thinks that I am just another boozing stupid blogger.

And so it goes...


~j

Cleavage

Summer in the City
Means cleavage, cleavage, cleavage
And I start to miss you, baby, sometimes
I've been staying up, and drinking, in a late night establishment
Telling strangers personal things.
- Regina Spektor

This song has been stuck in my head for over a week now, except the only line I actually knew was "Cleavage, cleavage...", which is not exactly something you can sing out loud on repeat. Its funny how your brain kinda just fills in the blanks when you crave to know something, no matter how far off the thought that you think of to fill it in may be. Some may say its lying or exaggerating but i kinda like to think of it as filling in the holes. Explaining something temporarily until you can learn more.

What made me want to learn more was an article about going to the MoMA to see Roy Lichtenstien's "Girl with Ball." This is a very fun painting and I recommend looking at it whenever you feel sad or wintery. - L


photo: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/27/arts/27moma.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

Testing testing 1 2 3

Yay! our first blog entry!

and it's even in garamond!