How Exactly Do You Talk Dirty in IUPAC?

Now at first, I wasn't sure if I really should be publishing this on the internet, especially with so many eager minors reading...

But I guess we can let that slide, after all, it is Valentines Day. So here is a lovely photo for you all, even if you're not old enough to buy it for yourself yet...

Oh, and if you're wondering, the technical name for that, Alex, is [insert Jeapordy Music here] ...3-methyl-2,3-dibutene-1-al? OK I have no clue. Effing double bonds. Happy V Day everyone, and remember to use some (1-methylethyl)benzene!!!

Love and Lies

My lover lied to me. It was horrible. Truly horrible, as if my world was turned upside-down in an instant, and my stomach wished only to do the same. I couldn't belive it. Ever since we were but wee children in middle school and even only mildly acquainted, with no need for lies and deception, I always knew that if there was one thing about Chemistry that I could count on, it was the Octet rule. Sure, any elements beneath the 3rd row can expand octets, and Nitrogen (with its annoying odd number of valence electrons) is better off having less of a full octet than too many, but I always knew that if I wanted to draw a legit Lewis structure, I had to make sure that every atom had 8 electrons associated with it in order to be "happy." Well apparently, that was a lie. All my time spent trying to please my beloved and it was worth nothing, NOTHING! Hmph! All these years I've been decieved, lied to, mistreated, it's really quite unfathomable. To think that you have to draw out almost every possible resonance structure regardless of satisfying the octet rule or holding to the same formal charge, and to think that these could be considered legitmate and add to the stability of an atom. And the worst bit? They can even be counted when trying to determine the most stable product of a reaction. LIES! HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE LIES!

It's times like this if I really wonder if we have the strength to go on. I mean, can an infatuation, even one so deep and passionate as ours was, really make it in the real world beyond a few semesters? And the falsehood....Oh God, I can't even think about it. I have been betrayed, truly betrayed. But perhaps there is some hope for us after all, as if the Fates have stepped in to rescue us from our dishonest past and give us a new chance. Yes, a horrible truth was revealed this week, but it's also the week of Valentine's Day, and then we are finally starting nomenclature. Nomenclature: the reson I fell in the first place, the reason I strove so hard to get us here. It might be a quick fix to a long term problem, I know, but nomenclature, Oh Baby....

Mama, I Love You...

A not so famous psychiatrist once told me that in our romantic relaitonships, we are striving to correct problems we had with our relationships with our parents. (that's probably where Freud comes in.) I would just like to say that I honestly think that that is a load of bull crap. Yes, your parents are the first members of both genders you encounter, and from that you will learn what you like and don't like. But as you meet more people you will gain a more complex understanding of people, and you will gain a more complex view of what you want in a person. Freud says that we look for a partner that is either very similar to or the exact of opposite of our mother or father (depending on your gender and perhaps orientation) but surely this only works on a quality by quality level. Some qualities you might wish to be the same, others the opposite. To make a vast generalization for all of them is completely wrong. (OK i've met my fair share of guys with mommy-complexes, but that's not everyone. Thank God.) In addition, I don't think that people who were abused as children are into S&M, but that's just a hypothesis.

However, someone abused as a child might choose to not have kids so that they never become the evil parent they once had. I think that is the place where we truly seek to rectify the relationships we had with our parents: the relationships we have with our own children. Personally, the only time I find myself wondering about my future offspring or even wanting to create them is when I'm pissed at my 'rents, and I think this makes sense. For starters, how many times have you sworn under your breath that you'll "never do this to my kids." Furthermore, every parent wants to "give their kid what they never had" often times whether the kid wants it not. For example, a parent that felt their parent never gave them enough freedom will give their child far more freedom than they ever had. This child might then grow up to wish they had stricter parents in the long run, be strict with their kids, and the vicious cycle continues. It's like interlocking puzzle pieces of well intentioned compensation and overcompensation all forming the leaves of the family tree.

But back to the topic of relationships. Yup, it's that time of year again, peaches. It was about a month ago when I first took a stroll in target only to see everything from heart-themed dinner wear and kitchen utensils (wouldn't you only use them once a year anyway?) to candy packs from every decade to pretty much any product you could ever imagine in pink and red. I was just about to sigh and start the traditional oh-so-fabulous wallowing in self pity that goes along with the holiday when I realized: "Wait a minute, I really have no reason to be doing this, wtf?" Well that was an indicator if there ever was one. Bummer. (But maybe the mommy complex should have been a red flag after all?) Anyway, till then we can always celebrate Anti-Valentines Day (the 13th before the dreaded day for many) and revel in the color scheme and candy on the day itself just for kicks. Truth be told, I think this is going to be least eventful Valentines day I've ever had. I'm not emo about being eternally alone but there's really no one to make the holiday a total landmark occasion either. (And I already got into college, not that that wasn't fun last year) Oh well, I have a current fling going with all MA radio stations (seriously, they're amazing!) and TRUE Love lasts a lifetime....

Tomorrow bitches! and they BETTER still be dressed like that!!!

WWTvBD?

Perhaps I'm breaking the silence on some sort of unspoken truth amongst nerdy gamers everywhere, but you can tell a shitload about a person by thier Dungeons and Dragons character. The type of creature they are, each added little quirk of personality, the powers they choose, their weaknesses, all reflect (conciously or not) facets of major personalities in the creators own life, hyperbolized and made even more whimsical on the Fantasy RPG playing field.

So just who is Trixie "VonBadass"? I shant bore you with a long, deep, introspective rant. (As I essentially already have, though if you're in the mood OSKs blog will not fail you) but this is a question worth pondering. Come to think of it, I know alot about Trixie, she's been around for awhile. But who are my other characters? And furthermore, which one of them leapt up, cracked her back from lying low for so long, and started to dance around when I found myself sitting around a table of "mostly n00bs, but a few hardcore fantasy geeks and gamers" playing Dungeons and Dragons. Yes, I admit it, I played Dungeons and Dragons. And fuck you VH1, I loved it. Infact, I wish I had discovered it when I was nine (then again, coming up with your own fantasy world is ten times more fun than following someone elses rules, but if I was ever looking for something a little more surprising...and hey, maybe there's a direct correlation between D&D and math skills? I so could have used that.)

Oh, and for the record: Amelita Shinestone was born into an above average, very well to do clan of Pixies. She was a smart and talented young pixie, although a bit bizarre at times. She was unusually skilled with sharp weapons, which she practiced despite her placid parents' frightened disapproval. Her parents quickly grew concerned over her inherently violent nature and quick temper, turning her hair and eyes into a flaming vermillion hue unseen in any other of her kind. In addition, she had no sense of society's laws, morales, or values, especially those of the Pixies. Though she did not torture the weak for amusement, she took pleasure in a well earned victory, and definitley took no pity on those who could not keep themselves up to par. As she grew older, her small clan's persistant, good-intentioned concern for her well being only further agigtated her. When she was 15, after her dozenth brawl with one of her poor peer pixies, her parents sent her to the local PixieShrink. Just before he could utter his diagnosis from what little conversation he could glean out of her, he found himself knocked to the ground. Just before he lost all conciousness, a towering flame buzzing in the air over him in heated rage quipped "I don't need to put up with this shit." That was the last seen of Amelita by any of the clan. A few days later, news of a brawl in a neighbouring area came back to the group. No one knew exactly who was invovled, but when rumor spread that a Pixie had cleverly tricked the unfortunate loser only before attacking him in fiery rage , none of the clan were surprised, despite such an unbeleivable description of one of their own kind. And so she was, nolonger Ameltia Shinestone, but simply that violent trickster Pixie. Trixie: Pixie Barbarian.

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!

Twizzlers

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)

BFTSOBWUI

...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.

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.)

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.

MooLovin

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!

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?

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!