Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Task Force: Soul Exile

Mail voter registration form, fill out health insurance form, buy food, order medication, go to chiropractor, make ATM deposit, get printer ink, get cord for camera, get paper and pick up packet from copy store, go to the gym at some point, wash towel in preparation for guest, get shoes mended, plan out transtportation for next week, call nagging parental, and about 10 more tasks to boot. No ladies and gentlemen, I'm not a soccer mom, I'm a college student. (so at some point at the end of that list I have to add "work") I was just walking (grr, I am no longer a proud pedestrian, I want a car for this shit) to get some of this done when I had a slightly unpleasant revelation: When did I become my mother? It was fun enough when I was three, sitting in my booster seat in the back of the car while she went to the bank and Stop and Shop and ran countless other errands on a nice sunny day in the summer when I didn't have school. Now it's not that it's too much of a pain in the butt- it's nice to get off campus, and I firmly beleive that a solid to-do list can help give life more direction and focus, but this is taking over my life! Every day there's at least two other things that I add to the running task list I've had for the past month, and it never goes away! Being productive and accomplished is one thing, but this is seriously just stupid menial tasks that for some reason or another need to or should be done. This leads me to my theory: Remember how I associated errand running with my mother? You see at first, I liked running errands. I felt accomplished, like I was taking responsibility for my own life, and this was a good thing to a certain extent. But now errands are starting to consume my life, as the list gets bigger and bigger and more overwhelming. The ultimate result- the souless adulthood we all dread. As we get older, instead of focusing on things that give us great joy or put meaning in our lives, we become preoccupied and consumed with all these menial, "necessary" tasks. The result: Hey honey, how was your day? OK, dear, I ran to the bank, met with the kids' math teacher, got some of that pudding you like from the store and [insert suburbian soccor mom list here] Oh and did you call and thank the Jones' for that lovely dinner? How was your day at your dead end cubicle job? Oh sorry honey I forgot I'll do it first thing tomorrow. Well I finished the assignment that was overdue from last week, called up to get the copier fixed again [insert corporate peon to do list here] Oh and I forgot to pick up my dry cleaning, bummer! I like that cornflower blue tie!

*SHUDDER* This needs to change....Now!

Friday, January 25, 2008


99 Juicy filled posts on the wall, 99 Juicy filled posts.... But I am not just writing to commemorate that. You see, many years ago, a battle was fought between Juicy and a horrible Dragon, referred to by many as "The Dragon Most Vile." This infamous Dragon Most Vile pwned poor Juicy, as Juicy knew deep down within herself that she was not ready to conquor such a beast. Ergo, the Dragon Most Vile laid on her a strong and most frustrating curse, chaining her eternally to those around her who had conquored the Dragon, and limiting her movement accordingly. But over time Juicy matured as a fighter, training herself even within these ramifications, becoming even sharper and more alert. She knew that one day she must prove that she could conquor the beast once and for all, and finally win her freedom. Today, ladies and gentleman, was that day.

Today, after two brief glimpses at the possibility of prolonging the curse (mainly because her armor and sword were not registered properly) and two quick escapes to compensate, Juicy knew the time had come. The duel began. Juicy could have no help this time. No, this was an old score to be settled once and for all. It was just Juicy and the Dragon Most Vile, one on one, their purest powers raging against each other and undiluted by wavering external influences of chance. She was shaking with nerves, and almost turned back on several occassions, but she knew this had to be done.

She got off to a winning start, and stayed strong throughout the battle, but she knew the worst was yet to come. And then finally, it was upon her. The Dragon Most Vile suddenly stopped, paused for a brief moment, turned, and spoke. "Juicy," It bellowed, "The time has come...Choose a space and back in." Time froze. Juicy shuddered at the thought of her last battle, the deep disgrace of failure that was realized at this very point. But no, she could do this now. She was ready. No more dependency on others, no more waiting around, no more lack of respect. She looked around, gripping her sword even tighter, slowly aligning herself with the target. Deep, rhythmic music played in the corner of her mind as she gripped the sword's R symbol. And then, all in one swift defining motion of practiced perfection, she turned, checked, straightened, and parked. After straightening again just to be safe, The Dragon Most Vile said nothing. All of a sudden it let out a whimpering growl: "Get out of your armor and come inside."

Alas, joyous unrestricted Victory.
(with a cute picture)

Wednesday, January 23, 2008


...Yeah, bet you can't figure that one out! Haha actually you totally can. You, yes I'm talking to you. No no, not you, you. Wait, I guess I was just talking to you, I mean, having addressed you directly and all to tell you that I'm not talking to you.

Once upon a time Mary had a little lamb whose fleece was white as snow. Actually, she had the lamb of God, who contained both a shroud and a soul that were supposedly all white. (Though probably not all the time, what with dirt and the rough adolescent years and the sex. But hey, sex isn't a pagan sin, so it probably wasn't a sin back then either.) Yes, I totally just came up with that. Wow, I'm probably still so far behind.

Actually wait, I think I came up with that like 5 years ago and forgot, oh well.

Anyway, So do you want to hear about my life or not? No? Fuck you! I wasn't even talking to you in the first place! You do though don't ya? Yeah I knew it, you...OK. (It's funny of course that I was just talking about a little lamb, which is synonomous with the word Ewe and homophonic with both you and you.)

So today I found the coolest thing to do this summer ever (assuming it doesn't turn out to suck), then I ran errands and got my kickass new artsy sneakers (%5 of the profits went to some poor kid with malaria! Awesome! That's a whole like, $2! Go Corporate Converse! They're so self righteous about it too. The box was totally flaunting the chairty thing....How much did you pay the designer to come up with the funky look anyway? and add a bag and fancy metal studs? The box even said that it "deserved the chance to hold another pair of Converse. Recycle" Ha! So being cocky about your noble interests is one thing but that's just over the top, not that I can blame them for praising some pretty awesome shoes. But still.), then I bought books, and I was deeply scared by my orgo chem workbook. I openened it and though I knew I would someday deeply understand the scores of interlocked benzene rings before me there then came only a rush of deep, nervous panic. What the fuck had I gotten myself into? Anyway, long story short then I napped and talked to the parentals and had fantasticful mexican food for dinner, while I pwned a round of 20 (but no real limit) Questions with the answer "is it that guy who was with that girl with the thick eyebrows? Yes!" (Diego Rivera apparently...just demonstrating my kick ass knowledge of Art History and random details in Time Magazine) The rest of my day was good , involving pranks and Pink Floyd and sex novels and other things I don't want to waste space on.

Back to the Article in Time magazine. It was about Love, chemical aspects, developmental aspects, statistics, darwinistic approach, etc. Essentially came to the conclusion that even if we could scientifically figure out the exact details of love, we wouldn't want to believe it, and would always want to beleive in something special, destined and drawn by powers above us. Honestly, I thought it was a pretty crappy article. I mean, yeah I do a shitload of self analysis but I'm not that special, but I already guessed like everything in that article, they just backed it up with fancy names for areas of the brain and statistics. Hell even a Britney Spears song I once heard offered up essentially the same pieces of information as a section. Perhaps that goes to show that when one takes the time to analyze scientifically human emotions, etc. The science starts to fudge over into the humanities. In fact, come to think of it, the Humanities are just a really large chunk of science. I mean, they all seek to further understand the human experience by means of describing it. While science seeks to understand the human experience by drawing conclusions from numbers and observations, the Humanities are simply these observations, but beautifully elaborated. They can describe chains of events in humans like the path of energy flow during a chemical reaction. So really English (the main Humanity) just falls under the category of deeply detailed Sociology and Pyschology with a little History (the other Humanity) on the side, except there's so fucking much of it it managed to get its own major.

OSK mentioned song lyrics about being sick of being in love, and I get that. I wonder if there are any song lyrics about the frustration of not being in fucking love at all. (Come to think of it there
are and I probably own like half of them.) I shouldn't say that though, it's far harsher sounding than the truth. God I'm a bitch sometimes. I love my walls. What? Yeah, of course I sorta mean that too, you pervy english prodigy reading this. It pays to be picky for just that reason. Wait, that's you spouting ideas? I thought I lost you ages ago! Oh so now you care to listen, hmph. Well guess what? maybe I don't think you deserve to hear what I have to say after the way you treated me 3 paragraphs ago. Goodnight.

Sorry, you, we'll just have to find another time.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

The Dolphin's Cry?

So My roomate has just informed me about her hypersensitivity theory- that when you're high you have "hypersensitivity"- the ability to see people for who they really are. If this is true then we've learned two things: 1. My true persona is based on my not giving a shit about society's judgements and 2. I really need to start smoking more to attain said wisdom. Anyway, you know, it's a funny thing: beer. It either tastes fantastic and refreshing or it tastes like shit, and half the time this doesn't even depend on what kind of beer you're drinking.

Back on the topic of attaining wisdom. My general (soberly devopled but hopefully just as clever) theory is that people will spend the rest of their lives trying to relearn everything they were taught in kindergarten- you know, be nice to people, share, find inner peace and joy in life without being greedy and obnoxious, enjoy the now as a child does, be zen. I feel that I used to be far more in touch with this wisdom, my inner child too. Nowadays, it seems I could use a little more wisdom at every turn (though perhaps I'm less self-assured and not less savvy?) What should I do this summer? No fucking idea. How can I best find enjoyment in life, and feel less ennui and wafting lonliness? Should I go out in search of the next "big chunk" or has it been right here all this time? What should I focus on? Again and again, blank. Mmm...smells like adulthood. It's a pity when you think about it really- you only get one today, only one year this age, no redos. Before you know it, you're gonna be six feet under, and those short 70 odd years of singularities divided into several general chunks were all you had to define your entire life. Just one of each.

But why do people really want answers? People want the future read and cheat on tests because they're afraid of taking risks, and they want to maximize the best possible outcome for themselves without having to deal with harsh consequences of illy-informed decisions. The truth is, no matter what grade you get in the end, everyone knows the kid that really knows the material better is the one that did the reading and studied, and didn't just cram an hour before while peeking over as many shoulders as they could. Does all that knowledge really come in useful in the end? Again, fuck if I know. But hey, I guess it can't hurt. (And everyone knows the former feels so much more satisfying.)

"Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that ... shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass."- Ray Bradbury

Yeah, that's the spirit. Damn, Juicy, have more balls, what's happenning to you anyway? You know it's all about the experiences, you have no need to fret. Or maybe life is best lived like the crappy door to my room that keeps sticking: In order to open it, you have to push and pull at the exact same time. Some guarantees and cheat sheets are OK, so long as they don't exceed the amount of effort you're really putting into opening the door.

I know this much: This is the awkward stage, as it should be. I always question that which comes to quickly, and it has never failed me. Embrace the perspective, it will make the future that much more sweet and intruiguing. Yeah, I sound pretty trippy right now, but hey at least I'm not calling people up at 4am to talk about breaking down emotional walls Pink Floyd style. (Not that I didn't enjoy it. Epic? Arguably.)

Saturday, January 12, 2008

God, I Am Such A Whore For Nostalgia and Friendships...

There's something reassuring and pleasantly sound about waking up somewhere you've woken up countless times before, no matter how long ago the last time was. The other day I slept over with my best friend in 1st grade, whose house was essentially my weekend residence for the majority of grade school. We've since been out of touch, of course, having totally different circles in junior high and me going off to "the evil conformist prep school," but somehow despite our growing apart she has remained a fantastic friend and conversationalist. Of all my friends she is also the least likely to look like one of my usual friends too- Uggs, Coach bag, you get the idea, but it only makes the relationship more intruiguing. As is the case with another friend I once blogged about, we are no longer "joined at the hip" the way we were as kids, but I'm starting to think that that's more a product of age than detatchment. (Silly kids, why do they get all the fun?) Anyway, I guess it's nice to know that no matter how far away you get from a place, there's always a small way back. It won't be the same place you were before, but you can still approach it, and get just close enough to at least remember how nice it was.

A similar phenomenon happenned this week with the local diner. Twice, I found myself with different company but in the exact same booth, in the same diner that has been in my town for as long as I can remember. It's such a diner too- Greek, probably owned by immigrants, bright neon lights on mirrored surfaces remenant of the Art Deco of the 1980's, a counter for coffee, booths with cheap cut glass dividers. We used to go there after church all the time before my dad decided he liked to cook. Now I guess it's a popular hang out spot for my would-have-been classmates, or at least it provides food 24/7, which is always good. It's not that nothing's changed about the rest of our lives, God no, but the diner is still there, and ergo, so is one of the epitomes of my hometown.*

On the topic of friendships, another thing has been on my mind recently. What is it about the number four? With Friends being the only exception I can think of, it seems every sitcom based on the metropolitan lives of 20 or 30 somethings contains exactly four main characters: Four most tightly bound friends who live in the same vicinity and around whom the plot of the show revolves. Think: Sex and the City, Seinfeld, Will and Grace, Big Shots, Cashmere Mafia, Frasier (sorta), and countless others. Even my friend from the first paragraph proclaimed herself to be part of a foursome. While I highly doubt that life actually imitates art (or in this case, an over-used albeit sucessful sitcom plot formula) as time goes on and I approach this dream age myself with an ever growing pool of old and new relationships, I can't help but wonder who will make it to my "final four" (or I guess 3 if I'm one of em, whatever number it turns out to be) in life: The true buddies one eternally hangs out with in the last days of the prime of friendship, before marriage takes over, and before one sees the shadow cast on youthful living by a large white dress, even if it is a beautiful one.

But until then perhaps that could be a reality show within itself? Who Will Make It To My Fiinal Four?: Survivor meets real world meets sitcom. haha genius...NOT!!! (Even if I was somehow cool enough to attract that many fifteen-minute friends, I respect no one who follows too far in the footsteps of Tela Tequila)

* Another of these is the mall, which scarred me for life when I saw that Hot Topic had traded in its goth entrance that used to scare me as a young child (black gates with preserved insects in glass) with a peachy white brick exterior and bronze window, but hey, what can you do.

Friday, January 11, 2008


So I was eating today, like most humans do, and I realized just how horribly deprived life would be if Cows didn't exist. I don't think people realize just how critical this fantastic animal is to our daily existance. Think about it: If we did not have cows or any of their bovine relatives (eg. Buffalo) we would not have Beef. If we did not have Beef, we would not have burgers (American classic), beef burritos (Mexican classic), Brownstuff (my mother's own fantastic concoction), most types of chili (Spicy Food Lover classic), chili hot dogs, sloppy joes (Damn Tasty), filet mignion (Haute Cuisine classic), and most types of stew (Winter Classic). Those are easily some of the best, most popular, and most satisfying meals known to man, not to mention the majority of my favorite foods.

Now if for some reason you are under the impression that something cannot contain Beef but still be considered real food (psycho...) we find ourselves lacking another staple food source: Milk. This means no chocolate milk (sad deprived children) and far more importantly, no Cheese. No cheese means no Pizza (Student Classic, plus no job for JV and a starving triangle), fondue (Alpine Skiing Classic), cream cheese (making bagels worthless), cheese and crackers, cheese in a can, any other cheese based snack from kraft (there are hundreds), rather uninteresting pasta and sandwiches, and essentially denies us all italian cooking ever made.

And we owe it all to the Cow...I won't even get started on Leather products and pop culture (Cowboys). Long story short, the Hindus have it right. Yay Cows, you rock!

And now for some lovely photos:

Bovine Pride:

Lovely Sensuous Lady Cows:

And who could forget, Cow Parade!

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Now Only Four More Years Until The Apocalypse!

I was going to tell you all about the many ways I plan on improving the quality of my existence in 2008, but I doubt that would make for too fascinating reading material. (Not to mention the list itself has not solidified yet. There's something very unsatisfying about trying to scribe a life-changing document on a post-it note, which is all I have available at the moment.) I can however, guarantee you that this list will be put into effect. Though I do not think I have ever really kept any of my resolutions ever in life, hopefully the lingering feelng that I have essentially wasted an entire semester as well as a few precious months of my youth will give me the kick in the ass I need to live a more meaningful life. Note that this time I don't care how this relates to "productivity" per se, so long as I can find greater meaning an enjoyment in life instead of ennui.

Is it bad If I can only visualize things to/enjoy classical music if it was on Fantasia?

So anyway, I'm going to talk about something else that's been on my mind alot latley, and could possibly be considered relevant- this summmer. After all, it is the summer of '08. I know for a fact that this summer is going to be awesome, I just havent quite figured out how it will go about it yet. This is not, however, for lack of options. Sure, my dad giving me $2,500 bill come next september is not the most prime of situations, but I can make the best of it. (And the same goes for him being under the false assumption that he can still control my life as he has done in summers past)

Option A: Spend half the week in Sim town doing tech for OSK's play and practicing in hypothetical band, the other half working one or two jobs (one of which would be bartending- my dream summer profession that I am now legal for!) at home to pay for my car insurance. (but hey, at least I'll have a car) When the play ends, continue to work at home and hang out both with the triangle and old time friends. Perhaps travel with former roomate.

Advantages: deep triangualar bonding, being in a band (!), doing fun techwork, not at home for at least half the week.

Disadvantages: finding living arrangements in Sim town (after a certain point I'd really owe parents a little rent, it's rude to stay too long, plus things could get awkward if me or someone hosting me finds themself amidst a summer fling...though perhaps not) Also, as much fun as it is to hang with said geometric shape, could I really stand life in a never ending trek marathon? I'd like to say so, but we don't really know...Or perhaps weekdays are generally uneventful?

Option B: even though this idea was thought to have died due to lack of funding, it's back with a new twist. According to the parentals, hotels (especailly desperate Nantucket ones) are some times willing to offer lodging to their workers. (though I'm not sure if this applies to just chambermaids or waitresses or what) the point is, it is now possible to move out and get a guaranteed job without having to worry about paying rent, and actually make money. Also, so long as one can afford a plane ticket, the continental US and Canada may not limit our options. In the past, I have heard, friends have gotten jobs together and also lived together while working for hotels, and spending leisure time in whatever vacation spot they have chosen. This would last for the majority of the summer, though perhaps take a week off to travel with former roomate if possible.

Advantages: fleeing the effing nest already, could possibly be great to live in a vacation hot spot, did I mention fleeing the effing nest and no more being told what I can't do?

Disadvantages: the friends I choose to go with (if I can recruit them, that's another issue. I'd need serious canidates) are the friends I would be seeing all summer, and no one else. Given their ages, Koops and OSK are also immidiately out of the question (tear).

Any thoughts?