Beach Blogging

Thank god I have internet this vacation. I can't imagine how I once survived for a whole fortnight without the joys of facebook and the blogosphere to keep me amused in between hour stretches of extensive nothingness (albeit the best kind). But things are different this vacation, different in a way that makes me wonder how long it will be before I simply opt out all together and just spend New Years at home freezing cold but happy in the company of friends.

Where am I exactly? I'm on the quaint, somewhat agrarian little Island of St. Croix in the USVI (This is fortunate, because I left my passport at college. Thank god for my Card Of Shame) where my grandpa owns a condoe in a nice little complex on the beach. It is on this beach that there resides a beach shack, and this is where our tales often begin.

But dear Bobby (canadian man who owns the place, bitchy and fabulous in the best way, actually witnessed Studio 54 in the 70s!) passed away over the course of last year. My bartender buddy JJ (great to talk to, grew up in Saudi Arabia, speaks funny possibly from all the drugs he used to do) has been MIA for at least 4 years, perhaps learning to be a gunsmith on the mainland. The cook Dawn (former hippy, always wears tie-dye greatful dead shirts and pigtails) was also nowhere to be seen today, but there is still hope for tomorrow. The shack was still open, run by some other people we know at the complex, but I doubt I will ever again spend my afternoon hours bonding with the shack crew.

This leaves me with Maggie. We apparently used to play together in the pool as toddlers, but I have no recollection of this. I do however, remember that the first time we re-met as pokemon obsessed 5th graders, we insisted on spending every moment together and actually cried when we had to part. Each year since (excluding last and maybe one or two others) we have remet again, and it's always been an interesting progression. The first year she was a hardcore tomboy, and we both just hung out obsessivley and played gameboy and pretend games on the beach. A year or two later she had opened up a bit more to skirts and purses, looked down on video games, and enjoyed talking to trees (spiritually) and running barefoot in the woods even in winter. Another year or two, her parents had seperated, and her mom had come out of the closet. The last time I saw her two years ago, she gave me a mind opening talk about gender expression v. gender, hinted at being bisexual, and stopped shaving. Today we picked up just about where we left off: sitting under a tree debating the real v. mythological nature of the female vaginal orgasm.


But once the catching up was done and the intellectual conversation lost its cause, I wondered exactly how far we had come from our inseperability of five plus years ago. Though we still both seem to genuinely enjoy the others companionship, even if it's simply for walking on the beach or reading, things may well never be the same again. When we first re-met in 5th grade, our lives seemed to run parallel to each others, making the thread that bound them even stronger and many times closely wound. But now we've both branched off and developped in about 10 different directions, and like I said, we will probably never be as close. I've seen this happen to many of my friends over the years: some things never change, some do. Reunions are always welcome and great fun, but unlike our early gradeschool friendships- we are no longer bound at the hip and have become all too seperable. And with what little wisdom I've acquired over the years I can't help but wonder- Will this happen to the friends I have now?

It's a scary thought: Only seeing those I now consider as part of my extended family only once or twice a year for a brief catch up session over coffee. I'm sure I'll have made new friends, but to think that years of quality times and deep bonding could be reduced to that. It's almost sad.


But until then I do have some good news to speak of. When Maggie has left in two days I will simply spend more time doing what I did this afternoon, and what the tropical vacation was truly engineered for: getting drunk on the beach. (shout outs to the beautiful sign at the beach shack telling anyone under 18 they cannot consume alcoholic beverages) And when that gets old, well, I guess I'll see you back home in the snow next New Years, and we better not just be catching up over coffee.

Notes from the Head of the Kids' Table

...Well, actually, I ended up ceding the space of honor to a small blonde girl who wanted to sit next to my cousin, but you get the idea. I didn't actually mind sitting at the kids' table- what with the 8 year olds and their burp jokes, it's not so bad. And then of course on the way home my Dad starts talking about how he looks forward to spending holidays with my future family, but the past three hours of familial chaos have almost fully convinced me to never, ever reproduce. Christmas morning was lovely too, in the traditional manner. I got up on time (according to me) but late (according to my mom). My dad came early so I didn't get to open any of my presents. Instead, I was in the bitchiest mood ever and ended up shouting at him because he didn't tell me he was coming early and generally never gives me any respect in life. At first he tried to dodge my aggressive blows with "C'mon, Juicy, It's Christmas!" to which I responded several times "I Don't Care!" And I gotta say, I really didn't.

Maybe it's because the joy of Christmas is half in the hype, and I got home one day before Christmas and one day after crazy finals week. Maybe it's because I now sadly lack the childish imagination to really get into the holiday spirit. Maybe it's because I find it hard to see anything beyond a huge commercialistic enterprise. Maybe it's because I didn't get to open my presents. Maybe because after years of thinking something unusually good might happenn just because it's Christmas, and after nothing particularly fantastic ever occurring except for the odd good gift, I've just given up all together. (And yes, I tried watching Love Actually, and not even that did it.) What did I do on Christmas Eve? I went to a nursing home and ate my aunt's cooking with my other aunt. (who can barely talk but when asked about politics can magically and unmistakenly yell "Giuliani!") I then came home and bitched about my family online with OSK. (one big thing to look forward to in maturity: spending Christmas Eve with friends) Yup, Happy Holidays. I think I am now an official Fesitvus convert- I simply see no reason to celebrate Christmas, nor derive any deep joy from doing so except for opening presents. Is it best, then, that I stop celebrating it all together?

And here's another thing: on Christmas Eve and on the Day I had some wine to attempt to get myself feeling a bit more cheery, and I gotta say, for the first time, I actually genuinley liked it.

Let's Talk About Sex: Part II

I should really talk about finals, and pass on the lessons I've learned to you younger folks about pretty much everything not to do the week you have final exams, (eg: rediscover that you and OSK share a great skill for talking on the phone, and do this for 3 hours until your cell battery dies in lieu of studying for chemistry, or invert your sleep cycle, or leave off a paper so late you spent all your finals time writing that instead of studying, or realizing, once you've turned in said paper, that you forgot about another entire page of lecture notes, the double sided one observing the middle chunk of the lecture.)

But let's talk about something else in this short BFTSONDW (see my recent comments)

Let's talk about the state of my life at the moment, particularly, my affairs with the opposite sex. For starters, I think it can now officially be said that I have a bump buddy/fuck buddy/ bitch. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this. Secondly, despite being massivley inexperienced (though since I'm a girl we can put a euphemistic spin on that and call it "virginal and innocent") I still find myself fighting the skepticism that I have developed throughout my entire life. infact, the more I see of the dating world, the more I find myself dissillusioned (not that I ever really was "illusioned") and deterred by the massive amount of Bullshit it entails. I've always had an incredibly low tolerance for bullshit, So I guess me and dating don't mix. I guess we'll find out at some point in the next few years, and if we don't, well at least I'll have really, really good chemistry grades. Here's an example of said bullshit:

Guy that wants to get with Juicy: oh I know that girl, she's wierd
Juicy: oh yeah I know her too! she's like one of my best friends!
Guy: Oh yeah well like, she's cool...

Seriously. it's funny how much stuff you can magically find in common with someone when they want to feel you up. Can anyone be trusted, then? who knows. My mom (who I find myself continually shouting out as I get older and more cynical) once told me that a guy will say anything to get laid. Point apparently proven. She also once told me (due to sortof awkward circumstances involving a family friends wife leaving him that I'm sorry she had ot endure come to think of it) that guys have needs, and not to feel special just because you are in a conveniant location to fullfill them. Enter drunken college social life- yup, also true. Now let's add to this area of intensely concentrated cynicism in which I was raised a divorce, a shaky relationship with my dad, experience with boys from like 1st-3rd grade that would scare me for the rest of my life (don't ask), and a general lack of trust in all people. Result: I think I have issues showing emotion. Like, real emotion. You know those extra nice girls that can just run around and hug everyone and become BFFles after like five minutes? I appreciate them and all, they're nice and make good ice breakers, but at first they always make me feel like such an isolationist dork because I could just never be that comfortable around so many people after five minutes to the point where I'm hugging them. The same goes with the flirts. You know, those girls that, if watching a movie or doing some other sort of relaxed activity, will immidiately attach themselves to the (most attractive, if its a plural) guy present and insist they cuddle/walk arm in arm/hold hands, or something like that. Like seriously, I'm not sure whether to oggle their smooth flirtational skills (which I lack, if you haven't noticed based on like, this entire entry) or just laugh at their desperation/need to maximize contact with the opposite sex. Either way- I still feel more isolationist, awkward, and dysfunctional.

Now, despite the previous paragraph and previous logic (which held that I might have a few scarce relationships, and then either marry or die alone with my 9 cats), I have still managed to accumulate a fuck buddy, a short list of admirerers, and a professed romantic Interest. You would think that given the previous paragraph, I should consider myself lucky to have this fuck buddy, list of admireres, and especially the professed romantic interest, and return the favor. But as life goes on and finals get even more stressful, I find myself incredibly nonchalant about this enitre situation. How is it that after attending a women's college for an entire semester, I still feel there is an excess of uncesseary testosterone that pervades my existance? Maybe I have too many close guy friends, or maybe it's just cuz i'm extra ballsy, who knows. I should probably go paint my nails or something, and shave.

I once read about a girl that didn't actually achieve orgasm during sex until years after she started. (Scary thought) I also read somewhere that girls get off easier sometimes when just doing it themselves, or when doing it with each other. (No, my college has not yet turned me the other way) Conclusion of all this: Men- who needs them?


PS- triangle, obviously you are needed, but you do inevitibly add 2 to the penis count (Yes, I just insulted one of you but I can't decide which...) Sorry if this entire article wreaks of TMI, but hey, it's 2am and I have been studying for days straight. I'm feeling pretty wreckless.

WikiLove (also known as "Adderoll Anyone?")

Normally when I feel like wasting time on the internet and avoiding productivity at all costs, my options are clear: facebook, blogosphere, email, and (as a last resort) text twist. Usually these activities expend themselves in about an hour or two, and thus force me into getting started with my workload. That's what I though would happen tonight, when I came to the library at 9 haveing already gotten my need for internet amusement out of my system (or so I thought) and ready to write the paper due four days ago. (Don't worry, the prof doesn't do lateness points, I'm not that much of a nonchalant dumb ass)

Oh, but I was wrong, was I ever. You see, I was in the process of doing legitimate research on Wikipedia regarding the state of the Lebanese government and its relation to Hezbollah (like honestly, I was actually trying to do work!) but then I thought: I have been working awful hard, and the internet is oh so quick and easy, it'll only take a few minutes, and I have always wondered if I could understand the finer points of the Schrödinger equation....

But it didn't stop there. Schrödinger became Schrödinger's cat, became quantum mechanics, became physics, became astrophysics and physical cosmology, became M theory, became Hamiltonian mathematics, became it's been 40 minutes what the fuck am I doing, became Syria, became Hezbollah, became The Cedar Revolution, became Basher Al Assad, became I have enough info now really, so let's take a break and look up...Mario Galaxy, became The Wall, Became The Wall: The Album, became Dazed and Confused, became Slackers, became The Breakfast Club, became The Wall again, the entire plot this time, became my old school, became my hometown, became my highschool, became "this room will be closing in fifteen minutes", became it's 2 am and I still haven't written my paper. WTF?


But if you have any detailed quesitons about any of the fascinating topics listed above, feel free to ask. I might just have found a new hobby.

...And You Bet She Liked It!

Yes ladies and gentlemen, in the spirit of the great miracles of Hanukkah, I got a B+ on my math midterm. I have no idea how that happened. She must've done the math wrong (not that that's her specialty or anything...) but hey, I'm happy. Perhaps this great miracle was meant to replace that of Hair Hanukkah, because I have been forced to switch shampoos (Color Treated!!! : D ) but I still have the relic and await to continue its consumption once my dad notices the slight coloring, and combines it with poor grades to deduce that I am turning into a hippy bum.

But Here's the major thing on my mind at the moment: Do you want to hear a secret? Of course you do, why else would you be reading my blog if you weren't interested in all the Juicy details of life I have to offer. So here it is: Do you know what my favorite thing to do is? I like to lie on my bed, anytime of day will do, close my eyes, cover them up, get comfortable, maybe loosen up some clothing....and do nothing. I am dead serious. Maybe this is embarassing, but one of my favorite things to do is absolutley nothing. I relish in it. If I don't actually have anything to do and am not just procrastinating, that makes it even better. During summer, I will do this for at least 2 hours every day, or any time I'm left undisturbed and feeling especially uninspired. If I have time on weekends, I will wake up, then lie in bed for an hour or so doing exactly this.

Now, as you can see, my (really lame, I am totally aware of this) favorite activity doesn't really take much effort, and is made available to me anytime I am in proximity to my bed. (which is very often when you go to boarding school or live at college) If anything, it only goes to show you that despite the ocassional over-achieving tendency, I am probabaly one of the laziest people I know. But here is my concern- usually, I will only do this once or twice a day, and for no longer than an hour or 30 minutes depending on how much time I can devote to it. But recently, I feel like it is all I do. It's most definitley not for lack of other things to do though, in fact if anything, it's more like the opposite. I have so much to do but I am so internally opposed to being productive (lord knows why) and so ingrained with apathy that all I want to do is perform the great escapism of doing absolutley nothing. This, along with the incurable and dangerous apathy that has been coalescing my existence for the past few weeks, is what deeply concerns me. I am finding it hard to really care about anything with the exception of talking to friends, music, and blogging. I am probably going to fail one of my classes, but I have accepted this. I am going to get late points taken off on my HW, but I have accepted this. My room is disgusting and needs serious cleaning, but I don't care to do anything about it. I probably should update my senate board, but I haven't, and I don't care. I haven't gone to classes in over a week and they end tomorrow. Hmm.

Now I recently read JV's post about just the opposite- finding something to do so as to avoid doing just this at all costs, and I've definitley been there. Infact, I've been there every night or so for the past week (in that position, not at JV's...) but once the day rolls around, forget it. I'm an apathetic log. Should this concern me?

Oh Yeah, Well I Used The Convergence Test on Your Mom... Last Night!

Ok, I know there have been many times in my life when I have proved the chunky, yet fluid nature of my intelligence. By that I mean sometimes it's really there, and sometimes it's really, really not. I can normally tell it's not there, because it's when my Madre gives me a look as if to say (or just blatantly says) "You take advanced classes and get such better grades than I did, but do you actually have any common sense whatsoever?" Instances of this include: me lacking any sense of direction and still not knowing how to get to places I've been millions of times, cleaning by essentially relocating dirt, and running into those big concrete pillars in the mall that some silly architect thought it would be beneficial to put right in the middle of the hallway. (Seriously- who does that? And especially when everyone knows the mall was half made for socializing. I firmly uphold that people should be able to talk to their friends without the perpetual fear of being rendered unconcious by a stone pillar that could just as easily have been put somewhere else.)

I'm not really sure if today was one of those days- but it definitley feels like one. After pulling an all nighter (a sucessful one this time, I might add) to study to finer points of series, infinite sums, and power series (really cool stuff, by the way) I go to take the math midterm I forgot I had, not only to muddle up the most basic method of determining convergence, but also confusing it with the divergence test, and referring to it as that the entire time. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, ask koops, he's probably wiki'd it already). Luckily I realized I had no idea what to do, and used probablity to answer accordingly, but we can still safely say I'll be lucky if I passed. The worst bit is- if I hadn't confused this incredibly simple principle, it really would have been the easiest exam we've had yet by far. And now if I don't get an A on the final, then I quite possibly just threw away an A in the easiest class I've had all semester.

I shant continue to bore you with the details of my academic life, or how, like an infinite series with partial sums that continue to increase (which apparently means, I should probably now add, that it might infact still converge) it seems to be diverging off into the world of infinitley bad. But since I already feel like enough of a * in that regard, lets look at a few other thoughts on my mind, and maybe I can reap what few infintesimally small grains of grey matter I have left, and share them with my devoted (?) readership. I always liked a good English class, so let's make this like a vocab list:

Antimatter- the equivalently massive but oppositley charged particle of every particle in our known universe. Whenever antimatter gets in contact with actual matter, in reacts to form a photon, and then essentially dissapears. For some unknown reason, when our universe was being created, matter had a tendency to be produced far more than antimatter, and so everytime antimatter was created, it dissapeared. But I can't help but wonder- given the proposal made by string theory, that there are many dimensions in existance far beyond our comprehension, in addition to my Madre's Spiritualist New Age babble, could this actually be a scientific definition for heaven? Given that, as I said before, Antimatter will immidiatly react with matter (like, surrounding air for example) to form light, and that in the Bible Jesus in his heavenly form was described as a light so blinding one could barely look it him (in addition to the idea of light that surrounds alot of other spiritual entities) is it possible that he was just presenting himself (albeit at the slight risk of self anniahlation, but hey he's Jesus) in his antimatter form that exists free from matter in the other dimension that is actually the "other side" And what about ghosts? What are they made of? They're supposed to be detectable by disturbances in the electromagnetic field, and isn't light an electro magnetic wave? It makes sense also that their presence in this world would be a weak and futile one, if once they appear in it they need to worry about not quickly reacting away to nothingness.

Big Brother- Orwell long predicted that as time progressed, the government would start peering more and more into our personal lives. But with the advent of reality TV, facebook/my space stalking, and internet blogs/journals, is this really what we want after all? Is it an added sense of security for the author? Or perhaps it's more driven by the masses that are intruiged to read it? Never mind the government, are we becoming Big Brother ourselves?

Cosmeceuticals- (Sp?) A word I heard in an infomercial around 4 or 5 am- clearly demonstrates the direction of society without any further analysis from yours truly.

Eighteen to Drink, Twenty-One to Buy- So the days are long gone when I realistically dream of toasting to the end of the drinking age in America, but this is my proposed compromise: Make it illegal for anyone under 21 to buy alchohol, but not illegal for anyone over 18 (or an even lower age, younger the better) to consume it. You see, if we were to follow the current law (which over 90 percent of the population disobeys anway- isn't that reason enough to reasses the situation?) then people would technically have full access to all the alcohol they wanted at 21 with no actual drinking experience. This, as anyone who remembers their own "first time" knows that this is not a very good thing. By making the age to buy alcohol older than the age required to drink it, the government would ensure that there is most likely someone older and more experienced aware of what is going on, and also ensure that by the time people are old enough to buy for themselves, they will not lose control or go overboard. This would also prevent government money from being spent on frivolous law suits against teenagers and college students, not to mention save college students a shitload of disciplinary trouble which- let's face it- is never actually going to stop college students from drinking in the majority of our country's higher institutions. Plus, our driver's licenses are graduated, why not the drinking age?

Married With Children- My guilty pleasure. It seems that no matter how old or fem-nazish I get, there is something classically good about a "NO MA'AM" (National Organization for Men Against Amazonian Masterhood) or life/wife hating, "Peg, make me a sandwhich" joke at 3 am. True, the majority of the stuff probably flew over my head back when I watched it at the age of 7 (and has probably scarred me for life in ways I really don't even want to think about now) but it's still somehow just as entertaining...go figure.

Roswell- Hmmm....a bunch of short, flat eyed life forms are found dead in a desert on a vehicle with "heiroglyphic style" writing right after WWII let out and the government stopped forcing Asian people into their Japanese "Internment camps"...hmm...yes, definitley Aliens. And it would make perfect sense for the government to try and cover up the existence of extraterrestrial beings too. I mean, essentially all releasing the information would do would be to increase nationalism as a planet/country thus rallying more populist support, and give them another reason to make us feel like we need to depend on them for security. Yup, that would be horrible for them. Like I said, definitley Aliens that the government is trying to cover up.
(If I don't blog for awhile, the unmarked white van came...I'll miss you all)

The Eight Months of Hanukkah

In the spirit of the holiday season upon us, I have decided to recognize a little miracle I take for granted everyday. No, it's not my family, friends, socio-economic status, or good health; it's my shampoo.

You see, back in high school I went to boarding school. This is great if you want to wear skirts and ties everyday, conform, and please "The Man," but a very unfortunate circumstance when you need to procure basic necessities (such as shampoo) and lack a car. Around April or early May of this year, I managed to persuade (and by that I half mean blatantly manipulate, but hey it did him lots of good too) my licensed day student friend (JV) to do my grocery shopping.

It has been about eight months since that excursion. The food has been consumed, the shower poof thing has disintegrated, and I'm pretty sure I went through the body wash and the conditioner. But yes pious followers, even throughout these tough and freakishly extended times, the shampoo still remains. In fact, despite retaining the same cleanly habits as always, I still have over 1/3 of the bottle left. As much as I don't want to jinx this great, cost efficient phenomena, I simply cannot understand it. Never have I known a product that I used so much excess of on such a regular basis to last this long. The only explanation- a miracle: The Miracle of The Hanukkah Shampoo.

Now as in the case of all great, holy relics, even though we cannot understand their miraculous preservation, we can learn from them by letting them remind us of things on a daily basis. Here, the message is clear:...Ok, maybe not so much, unless you count "keep clean hair." But whatever it is, if my math serves me correctly, it is also teaching us something else: that the great spirit of Hair Hanukkah is not limited to its eight months, but quite possibly, a celebration that should be kept in our hearts all year long.

Head Banging Hora anyone?


(While both technical difficulties and religious authorities prevent me from actually photographing the holy relic, here is a quality imitation) :

Journey To El Dorado

I would just like to announce to you al, comrades, that I have infact, found the fountain of Youth. (Well, actually it's more like the fountain of productivity, but it's all about accomplishment and ability in the end, isn't it?)

First, comrades, you must go deep into the caves of mystery (the library basement) and find a quiet, private space inwhich to practice this ritual. When you feel your deep exertions starting to catch up to you, you must take a break and travel. On your quest, you must procure the drink made from the mystical buzz-giving bean (coffee) and consume it. This is to be accompanied by a tasty, sugary snack.

When the caves of mystery nolonger produce their artificial light by which you work, journey back to your place of residence. Here, you will briefly rest your mind and body by means of gossip, in preparation for the long night ahead.

Around 1 am, you must travel again downwards- this time, to El Dorado, also known as the realm of residential relaxation (TV room), and begin to forge that which you designed in the caves of mystery. Here, ladies and gentleman, is the great discovery of our time: Hockey Games and VH1. With such amusing, musical, yet essentially mindless noise being emitted from the box of hypnosis(TV), your mind will not be tempted to wander in the ways it might wish to in the wee hours of the morning. While the plush couch accomadates comfort, you will be immune to your bed's tempting call. When combined with the mystical buzz-bringing bean's more condensed potion of stamina (an energy drink), some great phenomenon in the very essence of this programming will keep you running and focused until the wee hours of the morning. Even when 6 am comes, not once will you have felt the urge to run down the path of cowards into the land of the dormant. Instead, you will be amazed at your own abilities. At 7, a refreshing trip to the warm springs that fall from the ceiling (a shower) will have you energized, purified, and ready for the day to come.

But here comrades, is where even I failed. Alas, I stole too much from the Great Golden City. I was too productive, did too much. Had I finished my work even an hour later, I would not have wondered what to do with these odd two hours before class. I let my eyes rest, I was concious at first, so concious....but No. I failed you comrades, I failed you all. Though I saw with my own eyes the chronological arrival of my intellectual commitments ("The Man") I instead defected to the dark land of the dormant. For this, I am deeply sorry, and only hope you can forgive me, and that you shall have better succes than I in the journeys to come.

Funny Nose People*

Most teenagers and children eagerly await the day that they will smile infront of a digital camera at the DMV (without a hat or dark glasses) and get their inevitably shitty picture taken. But as is often the case, my life has taken an unusual and somewhat dysfunctional twist. Yes ladies and gentleman, as of thanksgiving break, I now own a Non-Drivers Identification Card. (AKA an easy way to spot a loser.)

Now, we have before us a very bittersweet situation if there ever was one. On one hand, I got this card because I turned 18 (and thus, legally became a person) and need to prove this regularly without lugging around my passport, or using my year old highschool student ID. Yay adulthood! On the other hand, it only continues to rub in the fact that after 2 years of practice and procrastination (namely the latter) I STILL CAN'T FUCKING DRIVE! Seriously, if I need to ask my parents for a ride somewhere one more time I might just die of shame. And here's another thing: it looks exactly like a driver's license, so much to the point where I actually temporarily forgot I didn't have one and got exceptionally giddy, only to be reminded I'm just not that cool yet.

If this event was any indication, When I actually get my license I swear to God I will sleep with it on my pillow and cuddle it all night long for at least several days. (By the way, that date has now been pushed up to January)

As for other things going on in my life? Not much to a sad degree. The lack of recent posts is due to my laptop having been swiped clean because it got a virus and my inability to get it back on the network, in addition to a horrendous workload that overnight when from unbeleivably easy to kicking me in the ass. (perhaps this is because I don't go to class, but that's just a guess) In short- I cannot wait for this semester to end. And just when I thought things were already bad: My lover raped me. legitimatley. It was horrible. I would post a picture of it but my webcam is on my laptop which...you know. (not to mention it's a little graphic)

Screw my lover, I need winter break, NOW! And here's another thought on that: The other day I realized that the majority of my favorite Christmas Songs ("and so this is christmas?", "do they know it's christmas time at all?") are sad ones. How does that reflect on my character? I dunno, the other ones I really like either don't really have audible words ("Silver Bells" preferably the electric guitar version) or are cutesy ("All I Want for Christmas Is You"), the latter of which mainly just makes me feel depressed because I don't really want anyone at the moment that much (with one possible exception, but he's Jewish so I guess I don't have to worry about the season.) Also on that parenthetical note- my room has now turned into Hannukah (sp? like anyone can...) land. Thank you my deeply jewish roomate. (Mmmm....latkas)



* what my mom calls what most would refer to as "snowmen" eg- I love those funny nose people!