Rime Or Reason

A Glimpse Into Why I Love Jackson Rathbone

2010-07-29T10:04:00.001-07:00

Not Quite What The Fuckery

2010-07-12T23:01:00.001-07:00

What I want to know is, WHERE WERE ALL THESE PEOPLE IN THE 80S? DID NONE OF THEM SEE LABYRINTH? DO THEY KNOW WHO DAVID BOWIE IS?

He definitely should've been in this commercial.

You Know?

2010-07-01T12:59:00.001-07:00

Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.

I Swear To God!

2010-05-27T18:07:00.000-07:00

"What's gonna happen if I lie? Nothing!"

Someone Explain This Shit To Me Right Now

2010-05-25T19:46:00.001-07:00

"It's not emo, and it's not goth." My ass, it isn't!

Kind of a disappointment in terms of seriousness

2010-05-25T14:54:00.001-07:00

Dear parents, this is what I want to do with my life:

BRAAAAAIN SCIENCE!

2010-05-19T20:35:00.000-07:00

I Have 56 More Minutes of Being A Teenager

2010-05-15T23:03:00.000-07:00

I mentioned to my dad today that it was my last day as a teenager, and he said, "...Oh. Right. I always thought that being a teenager stopped at 18." Bear in mind that my father is a very smart man; he has a PhD and is a mathematical genius. However, when it comes to intuition or anything having to do with... emotions, he is borderline retarded.

Birthdays have always been important in my life in that most of them have been TERRIBLE. The worst was my eighteenth, when I got pneumonia, received no antibiotics, missed prom, my birthday, and the Dresden Dolls—I'm the most broken up about this, to be honest— and spent a week on the couch thinking that I was going to die. Last year, I did nothing. All my friends were still gone or studying for finals, and the only thing "special" that happened was I went to a show. Which, if you know me, you know isn't at all special.

So now I'm turning twenty in 45 minutes. To me, this means I have to put away childish things and genuinely be an adult (though I've been doing that since I was about 16). In general, I feel a bit ripped off. I never really got to enjoy my childhood, I don't think. I learnt too early that the world is an awful, unfair place and there is so much to WORRY about.

It's a strange adage that people say, these are the best years of your life, usually referring to high school or college. If this is the case, I won't be sticking around to see it get worse. On the other hand, certain friends of mine remind me that things can only get better. So with this contradictory information, I sit drinking on train tracks. I've got enough alcohol in my system that I'm considering lying back and waiting for the train to come, but not so much that I don't know what a terrible idea that is.

I would like to note, THAT IS A METAPHOR. My death certificate is not going to read "Cause of death: ripped asunder and decapitated by train." Hopefully. I don't even know where any train tracks are around here.

Anyway, I'm getting off point. In 32 minutes, I am no longer a teenager. Am I wrong in considering 20 the cut-off for stupidity? Maybe a different kind of idiocy. Also, I don't have any plans for tomorrow, or the day after, or the next week.

Happy fucking Birthday to me.

Alright, so here's the actual video I wanted to post

2010-05-07T10:07:00.000-07:00

I was challenged by @dboling03 to "write/record a song using only voice and everyday household items as instruments. Not real ones" - Challenge completed!

I'm on a cute-British-boys-who-are-witty-and-sing bender, alright?

So It's Almost My Birthday

2010-05-06T21:16:00.001-07:00

Really, this is all I want. Either the song or a cute British boy. Both work.

Sometimes...

2010-05-06T21:11:00.001-07:00

I just want to Kill Monsters In The Rain.

(Thanks to Tiffany for the assist.)

Oh, Hardcore

2010-04-26T13:05:00.000-07:00

This is my Point.

2010-04-26T09:26:00.001-07:00

Ah, the good old days. Well, the old days, anyway.

2010-04-19T18:36:00.000-07:00

A Matter of Present and Future

2010-04-15T12:09:00.000-07:00

It is a tragedy and a travesty, in my humble opinion, that a mind with so much potential for brilliance is going to waste due to the utter BOREDOM it is subjected to.

I've never been one to explicate on my own genius— that's just not how I think— but since the commencement of my attending college, I have grown lazy and progressed in deep, unadulterated BOREDOM with academic life. I've been on the Dean's List for all three semesters and have exerted exactly no effort in attaining such a laureate. Every day I sit in a class and either stare off into space, creating greater products than those I am forced to churn out and turn in, or am outraged at the utter STUDPIDITY of content, verbiage, and company that occurs.

I don't declare it often, but the events of the last year and a half have slammed the truth into my face repeatedly so that, barring flagrant denial, I cannot ignore it: I am brilliant and that is wholly uncommon. The common man is a imbecile and a fool and I am completely BORED by him.

In theory my aspirations are not terribly high: learn something every day, never stop, and start an at-least moderately successful band with whom I could tour the country and, with time, the world. Most would view this last as idealistic and whimsical.

However, aside from my intelligence that goes vastly ignored, I also possess a certain amount of talent, which also sadly goes underappreciated. I learnt to sing from Freddie Mercury, Roger Daltrey, and John Lennon. Through many a chorus, musical, and memorisation of CD, I expanded my taste and vocal range. My heart, however, remains firmly rooted with rock and roll.

Here, however, my dilemma elucidates itself. I'm still in college, with no degree to speak of. I'm not learning much of anything, but to get a decent job, I need a degree, and to support a band, I need a job. There are no contemporary music schools with the programs I desire in the Bay Area. I have discovered some in New York, Hollywood, and Orlando, but none are San Francisco. Thus I must either compromise my one true desire and put a dream on a shelf, or abandon the city full of such fascinating people and communities for another far away where I will know no one.

No one can make this decision but me, and I flounder and panic and shut down when faced with life-altering decisions. Honest advice would be appreciated, but please, keep your selfish intentions. Twofacedness will only push me further in the direction of leaving.

I Don't Remember When I Stopped

2010-03-23T21:32:00.000-07:00

"The first God I remember was a Santa Claus God,
who you only turn to around
Christmas time, who you tried to butter up,
and you got mad at if you didn't get what you wanted.

That didn't make sense.

I knew if there was a God, he could see through us,
like we were made out of cellophane, like he could stare directly into our hearts,
the way we look into an aquarium,
like he'd know what was floating around in there,
like he were the one feeding it.

Then there were those people who used god to threaten you,
saying "you'd better be careful- God's watching,"
like God was some badass hillbilly sitting on some cloud,
with some binoculars, a cotton candy beard and a shotgun.

Then there were those people who had God's name on a bumper sticker,
like he was running for president.
And sometimes those people would cut you off on the freeway and give you the finger,
which is very different than lending a hand.

Then there were people on television,
dressed in weird clothes and scary make-up,
SWEARING that they had the secret to God,
like god was a keyhole their eye was pressed to it,
and if I gave him some money they'd let me look,
and I could see God just hangin' around in his boxers,
and though I liked the idea of spying on God,
I began to wonder if the world would be a better place if the Romans had just put up
with Jesus and let him die of old age...

And then there were the football players,
kneeling down in front of everybody, thanking God,
like he was their best friend,
but then they'd jump up and spike the ball yelling, "I'm number ONE!!",
and that confused me,
for if you're number one,
then what number is God??

Then I saw politicians trotting God out on a leash,
like a racehorse they wanted to hop on and ride to the finish-line.
But if they lost, it would be GOD's fault,
and God would be the donkey they'd pin their problems on,
and that was very nice of God,
to be both a racehorse
and a donkey.

And then there were those who said,
"You'd better be good on earth, if you wanna get into heaven,"
Like heaven was the United States, and the Earth was Mexico,
and angels were the Border Patrol.
Like when you die,
you sit in a parked car on the outskirts of Heaven, the engine idling,
your soul in the back-seat in one of those kennels used to carry small dogs on an airplane,
as you listen to the radio,
hearing the voices of all the people you ever wronged testify against you.

And then there's the church which was like this cafeteria,
where they serve God to you on these very un-Godlike plates,
but I wanted my God PURE, not watered down by humans.
So I had one of those catastrophe gods- you know, the one you called in an emergency,
like God was the National Guard you call on to clean up the earthquake of your life.

So I got drunk one night,
drove home, passed out behind the wheel,
and woke up, going 60mph straight at a brick wall.
I slammed on the brakes, my heart banging like a wrecking-ball in my chest,
staring at death's face,
close enough to see that we had the same cheek-bones.

Now I have a God who's like a mechanic who can fix anything.
So, when I wanna chew somebody's head off like a salt-water taffy,
or amputate my DNA, or open my wrists like windows that have been painted shut,
I just put my soul into a box, like a busted computer, and haul it in.
And He never asks to see my paperwork,
or says that my warrenty has expired.
And I walk out feeling better.

And I don't care if He doesn't exist.

-Jeffrey McDaniel"

I quote the Matches at least once a day

2010-03-16T16:19:00.001-07:00

A clawed karmic kafuffle
What can you compromise besides everything?
Your pride, your goals, your fetish for faux-fettering footwear
Your sidewalk, your sanity, your satiable sonic serenade
But should you?
Should you give up happiness for bragging rights?
You might have a college degree, but it’s still useless.
You might have a year less than your peers,
But where’s the point if you’ve got no drive or ambition
Damning dereliction of destroyed deities
Don’t think you’ll ever grow up

What am I doing with my life?

I Do Know HTML...

2010-03-10T21:32:00.001-08:00

you are seagreen
#2E8B57

Your dominant hues are cyan and green. Although you definately strive to be logical you care about people and know there's a time and place for thinking emotionally. Your head rules most things but your heart rules others, and getting them to meet in the middle takes a lot of your energy some days.

Your saturation level is higher than average - You know what you want, but sometimes know not to tell everyone. You value accomplishments and know you can get the job done, so don't be afraid to run out and make things happen.

Your outlook on life can be bright or dark, depending on the situation. You are flexible and see things objectively.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

If I had an iPhone

2010-02-27T22:28:00.000-08:00

I'd do things like look up the 23 flavours in Dr. Pepper!

1. Amaretto
2. Almond
3. Blackberry
4. Black Licorice
5. Carrot
6. Clove
7. Cherry
8. Caramel
9. Cola
10. Ginger
11. Juniper
12. Lemon
13. Molasses
14. Nutmeg
15. Orange
16. Prune
17. Plum
18. Pepper
19. Root Beer
20. Rum
21. Raspberry
22. Tomato
23. Vanilla

...Tomato? Really?

Bitches Ain't Shit But Hos And Tricks

2010-02-09T18:24:00.001-08:00

"Casual Sex"

“As far as I’m concerned, being any gender is a drag.” - Patti Smith

"Like the Matches. On crack."

2010-02-07T11:56:00.000-08:00

Got this from Heather. My reaction: "It's perfect! It's bizarre and awesome and fantastic and a little disturbing! I love it!"

Also:

I'm Just Hopelessly Hopeful

2009-12-19T19:40:00.000-08:00

I hate quoting Fall Out Boy. It makes me feel like either one of those sad, loser teenage bags of useless or an incredible fangirl, neither of which I'm a huge fan. But sometimes it's the only verbalisation that makes sense.

Something just hit my switch
To make me not care about anything
The point where staying awake isn't worth
The heartbreak my head gives
Sleep isn't the problem
It's the getting there that's hard
Don't make me think about me
Make your life the only one in mind
The questions and comments just rile me
I can't stand the confrontation
Make my decisions for me
Before I spill my guts over the table
The words make my skin itch
At where my head adjoins my neck
Where I could peal off my face
And you could see the real underneath

I want to get to the point where I can do this

2009-12-18T00:06:00.000-08:00

I am an accident waiting to happen

2009-12-17T23:38:00.000-08:00

I can't pick a single lyric, so just listen to the whole song.

The Dresden Dolls: Truce

You can have Washington, I’ll take New Jersey
You can have London but I want New York City
I should get Providence – I’ve got a job now
Los Angeles – obvious – that's where you belong now

You can have Africa, Asia, Australia,
As long as you keep your hands off Cafe Pamplona
We can split Germany right down the middle
You'd hate it there anyway
Take Berlin and we’ll call it even

You can take all of the carry-on baggage
I'll trade the saskia jokes for the alphabet language

And special occasions we'll split between parents
Who forced us to hate them on alternating weekends

You call it over and I call you psycho
Significant other?
Just say we were lovers and we'll call it even
We'll call it even

I am the ground zero ex-friend you ordered
Disguised as a hero to get passed your borders
I know when I’m wanted, I’ll leave when you ask me to
Mind my own business and speak when I’m spoken to

I am the tower around which you orbited
I am not proud, I am just taking orders
I fall to the ground within hours of impact
I hit back when hit
And attack when attacked

You get Route 2 between Concord and Lexington
I want Mass Ave from the square to my apartment

And if we should meet through some misunderstanding
I’ll be very sweet, very patient, and forgiving
(Now get off my side of the state)

And if we should see one another in passing
Despite these techniques, there is sometimes no avoiding
(There must be some kind of mistake)

We'll raise high the white flags and bow heads and shake hands
Declaring the land we're on un-American
We'll call it even
We’ll call it even

I am the tower around which you orbited
I am not proud I am just taking orders
I fall to the ground within hours of impact
I hit back when hit
And attack when attacked

And I am an accident waiting to happen
I'm laughing like mad while you strangle the captain
My place may be taken but make no mistake
From a little black box I can say without shame
That you've lost, that you’ve lost
Do you know what you've lost?

So take whatever you'd like
I'll strike like the States on fire
You won't sleep very tight
No hiding
No safe cover
Make your bed and now lie
Just like you always do
You can fake it for the papers but I’m on to you, I’m on to you

So take whatever you'd like
I'll strike like the States on fire
You won't sleep very tight
No hiding
No safe covers
Make your bed and now lie
Just like you always do
You can fake it for the papers but I’m on to you
I’m on to you
I’m on to you
I’m on to you

Remind me to use this.

2009-10-22T14:11:00.001-07:00

I Want To Be Somewhere In Between..

2009-10-22T13:55:00.001-07:00

...But What Will They Say?

2009-10-05T18:48:00.001-07:00

Why Are You Wearing That Stupid Man Suit?

2009-10-04T17:27:00.000-07:00

Nothing

2009-09-30T21:24:00.000-07:00

Every Avenue // Nothing

Things That Reek of What The Fuckery #4

2009-09-16T14:52:00.000-07:00

Alright, so this is mostly for the muso— which I am told is the proper term for a music-o-phile— in me. I generally succeed at my attempts to be an open-minded, all-types-welcoming person, and I admit sometimes I fall several football fields short of that goal when it comes to music, but Jesus tap dancing Christ! If you can get through that whole video, either your ears, eyes, and brain all have hemorrhaged or you have no common sense and taste in sounds.

Because in actuality, that scarcely qualifies as music. There is a reason gangsta rappers and hardcore bands stay very far away from each other. When the first thing heard on your song is a synth playing a strangely Indian-inspired riff, the second thing should NOT under any circumstances be a screamer/growler/whatever the fuck noise you're ripping your vocal cords apart to make, and it should go without saying the third thing should not be a white boy rapping about being an a club "looking at a sexy now."

What the fuck does that even mean, you whiny twerps? Who are all those women, your ex-girlfriends who realised that you're borderline mentally retarded and dumped your genre-confused asses? The only thing that made sense about this video was the guy in the pig suit, and that says something.

All that's a lot of me being offensively-defensive of two things I love: music and intelligence. It can easily be summed up in seven words:

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK, STOP.

A Big Batch of Duh

2009-09-08T09:43:00.000-07:00

From "Why They're Hot". Yes, it's exactly what it sounds like.

Thank you, Google.

2009-08-25T21:42:00.000-07:00

Makes me wonder a little bit where our priorities lie on the internet.

All Things... Depressing, actually

2009-08-19T10:47:00.001-07:00

Elitism and the new Cobra

2009-08-04T10:46:00.000-07:00

I am currently listening to the new Cobra Starship record "Hot Mess" and on the eighth track, I have yet to be impressed. I wasn't crazy about the album art when Gabe and Ryland and Alex and Victoria all showed it to their twitzombies. To be honest I think it's ugly as fuck and that woman is going to regret that tattoo for the rest of forever (though depending on how much of that picture was her and not being costumed up, maybe she won't.)

Don't get me wrong. I love Cobra Starship. I think Gabe Saporta is incredibly clever in his own very strange mixed-up way. You could conceivably even call me a fan and I wouldn't argue too much. But this summer has been one of phenomenal releases and musical ventures. I went to Bamboozle. Blink 182 got back together. Third Eye Blind, All Time Low, and Green Day put out new music.

So after all of that and more, this pales greatly in comparison. It seems... mediocre or less. Not to mention Saporta is playing up the asshole-rockstar-getting-laid-so-much-I-have-to-rap-about-it persona. I don't like that Gabe. I like the funny, sweet, nearly-gentlemanly Gabe I met outside the Fillmore.

I'm on a song called "Move Like You Gonna Die" and the chorus of girls calling out numbers is kind of annoying me. It's sad, but I can't wait for this song to be over. I don't quite feel that way about the album as a whole, but it's easily ignorable, like something you could put on at a party and everyone would talk over it.

In terms of the first half title, I don't want anything I enjoy to fall short. I want to be impressed. I generally keep low expectations so I'm never disappointed, but here I stand, feeling just a bit salty about this space of time.

I'll have to go back and listen again. Maybe find something I can love about this album.

~

Instead of moping about how disappointed I am, I am going to be happy. Why? you ask. Because Modest Mouse never fails me, and their new video was directed by Heath Ledger. And it's clever.

King Rat

There's a man in my head

2009-07-31T22:43:00.000-07:00

Actually, there are several, but one in particular is prominent at the moment. He is a brooding poet lounging on his fainting couch, pondering the misery of life. In actuality, he is a woman masquerading as a man, feeling lost in the world, but right in her breeches and tailcoat.

He wears this shirt beneath...

...this coat, and black and white vertically-striped pants, having kicked off his boots and left them somewhere in the house for the servant to put away. He is greatly revered as a poet and admired by both men and women for being of great beauty. The written word is his true love, however.

My, How Times Change

2009-07-14T18:06:00.000-07:00

"I'm usually the bad guy. That's how it always seems to be," explains the guitarist to MTV News. "I've tried not to read a lot of the comments our fans have been making about this, because I really hope they don't think it was me who caused the split. We were all just going in different directions, musically. That's it."

"The photo was taken a couple of weeks ago — I do remember, believe it or not. I'm not gonna tell you whose house it was at, but yeah, there was a party the night before, and I slept on the couch, and we took a picture. I didn't even really know [the cocaine] was there."

Ryan, Ryan, Ryan... What the hell happened to you? You used to have such personality and pizazz and...NOT be a moron. I blame your questionable taste in women (as seen in this photograph) and that time you spent in a cabin in the woods. I think it drove you insane—I use "the piano knows something I don't know" as evidence. Sure, it's a good line, but you sound mad as a balloon.

Shame, really. I used to be in love with that kid. Ah well.

We Live in a Strange World

2009-07-08T18:26:00.000-07:00

We live in a strange world, where not only will people—yes, human beings, the self-proclaimed most intelligent race on the planet, and in some cases the universe—will make ridiculous things so pointless that other people will be fascinated by said items for years and years, but where other people will buy these ludicrous products.

I have one such product at my disposal for exposition. Now, you've all heard of the Magic 8 Ball, correct? Well, I have something better! ...In some definition.

Yes. The Answer Me Jesus. As if Magic 8 Balls weren't weird enough, let's shape one like a god and saviour and throw some heresy into our fun! Not only is the thing Peptobismal pink enough to make anyone uncomfortable, but I have to admit that it has an incredible amount of detail in the design.

But of course, since it's a Magic Religion Satire, it has to have a polygonal die with "answers" floating in blue water on the inside. And it does. Such sayings include, "I still love you", "I died for this?", "Repent!", "I would!", "Resist the Devil", "Have faith," and my personal favourite, "Let me ask my dad."

Aside from the utter glee that this brings to the wholly paganistic former-Catholic part of me, it fills me with a feeling that just makes me go "....bwaaah?" Really, there's no other way to describe it. It whizzes past confusion laughing maniacally at its own ridiculosity—and the fact that it's fucking pink—and dances around like something out of a Monty Python sketch.

Found at a rummage sale by my stepmother, purchased as a gift for a friend. Find your own on the internet, another magical land of weirdness.

What is up with everything dying?!

2009-07-06T11:41:00.001-07:00

Las Vegas quartet Panic At The Disco have officially been cut in half: As of earlier today, guitarist/primary songwriter Ryan Ross and bassist Jon Walker have departed from the group. Ross and Walker have issued the following statement regarding the split on their website:

"Ryan Ross and Jon Walker will be leaving Panic at the Disco to embark on a musical excursion of their own. Though the four of us have made music together in the past, we've creatively evolved in different directions which has compromised what each of us want to personally achieve. Over the years, we have remained close and honest with each other, which helped us to realize that our goals were different and that parting ways is truly what is best for each of us. We are all excited for the future, you should be too.

-Ryan & Jon"

The band's website also says a message from vocalist Brendon Urie and drummer Spencer Smith will be coming shortly, and that the band's upcoming tour dates with Blink-182 will still go on as scheduled.

So... pretty much my good day is a little bit ruined. I love Panic(!) at the Disco, and yes I refuse to let the ! die because it made them so interesting. But I suppose it's good Brendon and Spencer are staying together and Ryan and Jon are staying together. STILL!

Things That Reek of What The Fuckery #3

2009-07-01T10:13:00.000-07:00

I never thought I'd have regular segments on a blog, but so it seems. And this one's a doozy.

Westboro God Hates The World Music Video - Watch more Funny Videos

I'm... near speechless. I don't think I've ever heard anyone say the phrase "fag beasts" much less sing it. But seriously, they're ruining music, one of the purest expressions of love and human emotion, with your disgusting, relentless hate. I don't see how they can justify preaching this. I thought the New Testament God was all about love and forgiving your neighbour and such. Or maybe I misunderstood for thirteen fucking years of my life.

That little girl at the end makes my chest hurt. Her parents do not deserve to procreate.

Classy Victorian Cross-Dressing Prostitute

2009-06-19T15:46:00.001-07:00

That pretty much describes what I'm about to display, all of which I love. But the classy is the most important part.

As I said to a friend of mine when I saw it, I want to get married in this dress, or one like it.

Then I came across this, and I must admit I wouldn't mind getting married in this either. See, when I was little I never thought about ~my dream wedding~ like a lot of girls. I was too busy playing with legos.

I was also a fan of this one, mostly for kicking around being bloody fantastic in, or perhaps going to some swish party. I also like the grey one.

And this just because it's fab.

I have wanted a tailcoat for as long as I can remember, and here it is, the perfect one!

Since I am human, I enjoy shiny things. I enjoy this shiny thing very, very much.

...Yes, I know; I am obsessed with music and cross-dress too often. But you can't hate me for it. It's what makes me awesome. Hopefully.

All of these things— if you wanted to check out more yourself or maybe purchase something for me as a gift— can be found at this lovely website.

Dear Mister and/or Missus Sender

2009-06-07T21:33:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about gender and sexuality recently (recently here having the meaning of "pretty much since I hit high school and realised it was an issue"). A lot of the process involves wanting to know more about... well, everything, because I feel that I've taken more things for granted than I should.

Let's take these one issue at a time, shall we?

Gender first. I've always distinguished the point between sex and gender because there's a huge difference: how you view yourself versus what you've got to work with. For me, it's never been an issue, and that's because I never questioned it. I had internal sex organs, so my parents bought me dresses and bows and pretty things and grew my hair long, but they never mentioned it; nobody ever said explicitly "you are a girl and this is how girls are". I never thought to challenge the assumption that "female" on the outside matched "female" on the inside. Thus, the truth of it is that I don't think of myself in terms of gender. I am a human being that happens to have internal sex organs, breasts, and what are considered more feminine psychical features. It's external. Internally I might as well be air.

The exception to this truth— because for me, it is reality— is when I find myself attracted to a guy, which brings me to the second issue. I went to Catholic school growing up, but I also lived in San Francisco, so it brought about an interesting juxtaposition in terms of sexuality. I knew that there were men who were attracted to men and women who were attracted to women and both attracted to both (the whole "there is no such thing as bisexual" argument is bullocks), but nobody ever talked about it. The Church views homosexuality as a sin—which is one of the reasons I do not put stock in organised religion, but that's another argument— so I never really learned about it. When I went to high school, I learned some, mostly through experience. But all of everything I know about sexuality and sexual orientation is theory, except for that sick desire to... I still haven't really figured it out. I wouldn't know what to do with a boyfriend or girlfriend. All I know is that something in me urges me to try and be close with someone.

However, I've been questioning more. Why should I limit myself to a label and a social norm just because other people say it's right? I see beautiful women all the time and appreciate all of them. I see beautiful men all the time and appreciate them as well. And no, I will not change the adjective for genders, because I don't think I should have to. When I look at someone, I see a person. Not a male or a female or a transsexual. Not gay, straight, or otherwise.

I've gotten away from an idea here that I meant to bring up, so I'll backtrack. I never think of myself in terms of female until I'm attracted to someone (and I mean enough to make me question the whole meaning of existence as to why I feel that way). It happens most with guys because that's happened more often. When I'm into a guy, I have to think about the outside: how messy my hair is, how much skin I'm showing, how much makeup I'm wearing, whether I'm wearing makeup, how my body looks in my clothes, covering up the parts about myself I hate. It all makes life complicated because of three things. I'm trying to impress someone enough to pay attention to me and look at me in terms of something I don't even believe in. I don't give a flying fuck about impressing people the rest of the time; if someone doesn't find me interesting, that's their problem. I have to pretend I think I'm worth paying attention to. It's hard to camouflage the things about yourself you hate when there's nothing about yourself you like.

That's my little shpeal. Anyone reading will probably try to fit me into a niche so they can pretend they understand what I mean. I don't fit into one of the usual "sexual" orientations. I don't fit into a "usual" gender. I don't see what good it will do me or anybody else to try to transmogrify myself to fit into a cookie cutter. I wish I could make someone understand, but that would be as futile as explaining how a voice sounds in your head: no translation or explication will ever be good enough.

I don't enjoy having questions and no answers. Maybe it's just that I want somebody to acknowledge this. Asking for understanding is too vast a desire. Nobody feels how you feel, because even if they've felt something similar, it's completely unique to you.

And I can't tell if that makes me brilliant or impossibly lonesome.

I Am Still Not Getting What I Want

2009-05-28T21:22:00.000-07:00

Is it enough to have some love
small enough to slip inside a book
small enough to cover with your hand
because everyone around you wants to look

it is enough to have some love
small enough to slip inside the cracks
the pieces don’t fit together so good
with all the breaking and all the gluing back

and i am still not getting what i want
i want to touch the back of your right arm
i wish you could remind me who i was
because every day I’m a little further off

but you are, my love, the astronaut
flying in the face of science
i will gladly stay an afterthought
just bring back some nice reminders

and is it getting harder to pretend
that life goes on without you in the wake
and can you see the means without the end
in the random frantic action that we take

and is it getting easy not to care
despite the many rings around your name
it isn’t funny and it isn’t fair
you’ve traveled all this way and it’s the same

but you are, my love, the astronaut
flying in the face of science
i will gladly stay an afterthought
just bring back some nice reminders
and i would tell them anything to see you split the evening
but as you see i do not have an awful lot to tell
everybody’s sick for something that they can find fascinating
everyone but you and even you aren’t feeling well

but you are, my love, the astronaut
flying in the face of science
i will gladly stay an afterthought
just bring back some nice reminders

yes you are, my love, the astronaut
crashing in the name of science
just my luck they sent your upper half
it’s a very nice reminder
it’s a very nice reminder

and you may be acquainted with the night
but I have seen the darkness in the day
and you must know it is a terrifying sight
because you and i are living the same way

All of this has meaning to me. And somehow nobody seems to take notice.

Something To Do With Nothing

2009-05-25T21:35:00.001-07:00

Nothing, I just like her.

Things That Reek of What The Fuckery #2

2009-05-23T18:47:00.000-07:00

Maybe this'll become a regular segment. Who knows.

Seriously. What the fuck?

The Despair Factor

2009-05-21T22:00:00.000-07:00

I'm afraid of being right.

Who Wants To Live Forever?

2009-05-16T09:43:00.000-07:00

Today is my nineteenth birthday.

No existential angst, thanks. I had a moment of that last night. Mostly I'm just trying to look forward to today and tomorrow. I get to see a bunch of East Bay friends, some of whom are performing.

Very excited Cbot.

These feelings tend to leave me with a hole in my chest

2009-05-14T16:26:00.000-07:00

So... yes.

Busy busy busy.

No, not really. Mostly I've just been throwing myself onto the bandwagon that is Twitter. It's a tad easier than dragging out Constantine, finding an internet connection, and word-vomiting out a post. Usually by which time I've forgotten what I was thinking. (Constantine, for the record, is my laptop. Unusual, considering I named my hard drive Eris Kallistrate many months ago when I got it. Two separate entities. Does this perhaps mean Constantine is a transsexual? Curious.)

Transgendered technology regardless! Today this has come to my attention:

I love Eddie Izzard, and putting him together with Lego animation, well. The heart rightly squeals in not-so-girlish delight. I believe that there should be more Lego-influenced media. That White Stripes video simply isn't enough.

Speaking of delight, my birthday is in two days. For those of you who are familiar with my history of birthdays, you're wondering why the hell I'm excited. I am never excited for my birthday. This year, however, I don't care about presents really. My mind is more preoccupied with the show I'm going to at Blake's in Berkeley. Please Do Not Fight, Django James and the Midnight Squires, and Jon Devoto of the Matches are playing, and they're all sterling chaps— and lovely lady, Erin— with whom I've hung out and of whom I enjoy the company immensely. Plus those crazy Dizzy Balloon kids are going to be there, as well as all my other favourite East Bay/music scene people.

The mind boggles.

However, before that (tomorrow as a matter of fact) I have to present a piece of poetry for my communications class. Slam poetry isn't my usual medium, and it's not one I claim to have any knowledge about aside from that it's harder than it looks. Why did I write the assignment in this way, you ask?

No clue. Moment of insanity.

I also have to turn in a portfolio of bullshit assignments for my social anthropology class. Call me an overachiever for doing the take-home final mere hours after it was assigned, but I call it laziness: I am not going in next Wednesday to turn it in. I have better things to do. Like lunch with certain people who've been in bloody Maine for three months.

Urgh, that reminds me. I have another paper to write before Monday and a huge fuck-off final in Music History to study for. Both things I will do later. And not now.

Procrastination is the great equilizer.

Good morning, desolate

2009-05-02T10:17:00.000-07:00

It's unusual being the only one awake in the house at 10.22 on a Saturday. My mother, usually awake around six or seven, fell asleep on the couch again a few minutes ago and the rabbit... no, I take that back. Asphodel just hopped up to my feet, but he was asleep under the dresser a second ago. However, my mother spoke— at unusual length, considering when I got home— about the terrible migraine and illness that overcame her yesterday. Yeah yeah, she already made the swine flu joke, but it's slightly more serious since drive-a-spike-through-my-head-to-make-the-pain-stop migraines were my first symptom when I had pneumonia last year.

So where does this leave me? I had a frozen waffle— yes, still frozen— a while ago, and I really have no other interest in eating except maybe a cup of tea. Which I can't make because I don't want to wake up my mother. Instead, I am sitting at the computer, frequently getting lost in thought as I write to no one about nothing and listen for probably the 50th time to the Dresden Doll's "Boston." No mean feat considering it's seven minutes long.

I had so much intention for this post; talking about how I hate the traffic going across the bay, how we trekked maybe half a mile around Berkeley in the rain, how everything in an unnatural state, including my hair, must revert to a natural state. But all of this somehow seems unimportant and not even worth expanding on to nobody now. It would be terrible for my sleep cycle, but I feel like going back to bed. I was having an alright dream; no bitches encouraging certain alcoholic guitarists to sluttery, no being covered in gallons of blood.

"Don't worry who all these jokes will be lost on. Come back to bed, my darling. There is nothing in the world we can count on. Even that we will wake up is an assumption." I couldn't have said it better myself, Miss Palmer.

Fuck it. I have a witch to burn.

Results for Once

2009-04-28T10:30:00.001-07:00

Apparently being angry, hungry, headachy, and sleep-deprived creates results. Those results happen to involved shower rooms, slutfuck bitches, and Josh Randall, but hey, it's some result.

...My mind is a very strange place. I know. You don't have to tell me.

God damn it.

2009-04-27T21:59:00.000-07:00

I am hungry and angry and my head hurts like a motherfucker.

But none of that matters, because I'm just going to go to bed now and try not to wake up in the morning.

Q&A

2009-04-26T18:10:00.000-07:00

Q: Don't you ever dream of some place better where the lights shine brighter?
A: Quite often, and more and more often as the days pass.

Q: Have you ever wanted to disappear?
A: Only every day of my life since I was five.

Q: Don't you ever feel like you've been destined for something bigger than your skin?
A: I have too large of an imagination and dreams that cannot be contained. Don't give me a messiah complex too.

Q: If I put this revolver to my head, will god turn against me instead of taking pity on a broken man?
A: Likely, though it depends on which god we're talking.

Q: Does this deafening silence mean nothing to no one but me?
A: I know how you feel.

Q: There's a sick little suicide in all that we do. Which one's for you?
A: I have pick only one? Multiple causes mean hedging my bets.

Q: Why do you sing to everybody but me?
A: I don't sing for anyone, love.

Q: Why do I let it go on?
A: Lack of alternatives.

Q: Are we the waiting unknown?
A: If you have to ask, you'll never know.

Q: Where is your boy tonight?
A: I don't know where or who, but I hope he is a gentleman.

Q: Where were you when I needed you most? Why did you leave me alone?
A: I was right here. You just weren't looking properly. And I never left. You did.

Q: Have you heard of my religion? It's called the Church of Hot Addiction.
A: Preaching to the choir, baby.

Q: Can you keep a secret?
A: Too, too many.

Q: Why do I wear sunglasses in the home when the sun went down about an hour ago?
A: One word: migraines.

Q: You've got standards, girl. What the hell are you doing with me?
A: I like you. You can stay.

Day #6908

2009-04-14T12:33:00.000-07:00

Today I have been alive for 6908 days, and it is the first day, I believe, that I have been officially alone. My parents and half-sister, along with her grandmother, have gone off to the Grand Canyon until Friday. I was left fifty dollars to buy food and told "Try not to spend it all." For the record, we have no bread, no milk, no cheese, no tortillas, no vegetables, no meat, nothing I would want to put in my mouth in the freezer...

Yeah, I'm going to be dead in two days.

Speaking of which! I also have to take care of my stepmother's cats, which admittedly isn't too bad-- just set out food for the vagabonds, make sure there's water-- but I have the sinking feeling that the old one is going to die before people get back. I mean, she's nearly 18 years old. That is a plenty long life for a cat. Problem is, if she does kick, I'm going to be blamed for it. Not to mention that I have no idea what to do with a dead cat. All terrible jokes aside.

So... we'll see what happens. I'm not having a great string of... weeks anyway. This might be the cherry that drives me into the loonybin.

Ignorance Is the Leading Cause of Death

2009-04-10T15:33:00.000-07:00

...Not officially, but it's probably up there, at least for things that lead to situations like this:

April 9, 2009 - An 11-year-old Massachusetts boy, Carl Joseph Walker-Hoover, hung himself Monday after enduring bullying at school, including daily taunts of being gay, despite his mother’s weekly pleas to the school to address the problem. This is at least the fourth suicide of a middle-school aged child linked to bullying this year.

Carl, a junior at New Leadership Charter School in Springfield who did not identify as gay, would have turned 12 on April 17, the same day hundreds of thousands of students will participate in the 13th annual National Day of Silence by taking some form of a vow of silence to bring attention to anti-LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender) bullying and harassment at school. The other three known cases of suicide among middle-school students
took place in Chatham, Evanston and Chicago, Ill., in the month of February.

"Our hearts go out to Carl’s mother, Sirdeaner L. Walker, and other members of Carl's family, as well as to the community suffering from this loss," GLSEN Executive Director Eliza Byard said. "As we mourn yet another tragedy involving bullying at school, we must heed Ms. Walker’s urgent call for real, systemic, effective responses to the endemic problem of bullying and harassment. Especially in this time of societal crisis, adults in schools must be alert to the heightened pressure children face, and take action to create safe learning environments for the students in their care. In order to do that effectively, as this case so tragically illustrates, schools must deal head-on with anti-gay language and behavior."

Two of the top three reasons students said their peers were most often bullied at school were actual or perceived sexual orientation and gender expression, according to From Teasing to Torment: School Climate in America, a 2005 report by GLSEN and Harris Interactive. The top reason was physical appearance.

"As was the case with Carl, you do not have to identify as gay to be attacked with anti-LGBT language," Byard said. "From their earliest years on the school playground, students learn to use anti-LGBT language as the ultimate weapon to degrade their peers. In many cases, schools and teachers either ignore the behavior or don’t know how to intervene."

Nearly 9 out of 10 LGBT youth (86.2%) reported being verbally harassed at school in the past year because of their sexual orientation, nearly half (44.1%) reported being physically harassed and about a quarter (22.1%) reported being physically assaulted, according to GLSEN’s 2007 National School Climate Survey of more than 6,000 LGBT students.

In most cases, the harassment is unreported. Nearly two-thirds of LGBT students (60.8%) who experience harassment or assault never reported the incident to the school. The most common reason given was that they didn’t believe anything would be done to address the situation. Of those who did report the incident, nearly a third (31.1%) said the school staff did nothing in response. While LGBT youth face extreme victimization, bullying in general is also a widespread problem. More than a third of middle and high school students (37%) said that bullying, name-calling or harassment is a somewhat or very serious problem at their school, according to From Teasing to Torment. Bullying is even more severe in middle school. Two-thirds of middle school students (65%) reported being assaulted or harassed in the previous year and only 41% said they felt very safe at school.

Carl's suicide comes about a year after eighth-grader Lawrence King was shot and killed by a fellow student in a California classroom, allegedly because he was gay.

STOP THE HATE, PEOPLE.

Why I want to be Amanda Palmer when I grow up

2009-03-31T19:31:00.000-07:00

Things That Reek of What The Fuckery

2009-03-27T11:09:00.000-07:00

http://laist.com/2009/02/23/anti-gay_westboro_baptist_church_pr.php

It's the picture that gets me. Apparently this group protests military funerals too. What the hell, guys? Why not just protest individual people? Stand outside their house and yell, "Boo! Down with Alex!"

My brother and I were going to get some friends together and protest another of our friends once. It would have made about as much sense as these fucking people.

Deity of the Day for Tuesday 24 March 2009

2009-03-23T22:50:00.001-07:00

ACAT
From Mayan Mythology

ACAT: God of Tattoos and Tattooing. And we don't mean military ones.

The Maya often decorated themselves with body art which was of deep mystical significance. No cheesy anchors or "I luv Prudence" tattoos for them — they favored designs of the utmost Godliness. Having the symbol of a God tattooed on their flesh would, they believed, give them just the faintest whiff of Godly essence themselves.

Tattooing can be a nerve-wracking business. It's all very well scribbling a wobbly picture of Marilyn Monroe on someone's elbow, but what if you're inscribing the utterly holy face of a God and get the nose wrong? It's enough to make anyone's hands shake.

Luckily tattoo artists can call upon ACAT for assistance. He blesses the ink, the needles, the skin, and the funny buzzing machine. More importantly, he guides the hands of the tattooist at every stage of the operation — for perfect results every time.

We know several tattoo artists who would greatly benefit from ACAT's advice. So if you're thinking of getting a tattoo, make sure you visit a reputable establishment that's a member of the A.C.A.T. Guild. It's your skin.

~

Who else thinks that's awesome?

We Can Be All I Said Once In Your Head

2009-03-17T10:37:00.000-07:00

libation \ly-BAY-shun\, noun:

1. The act of pouring a liquid (usually wine) either on the ground or on a victim in sacrifice to some deity; also, the wine or liquid thus poured out.
2. A beverage, especially an alcoholic beverage.
3. An act or instance of drinking.

Gee, I wonder why this is the word of the day. It may have something to do with this unnecessary excuse for America to get shitfaced today known as St. Patrick's Day. I'm convinced that no one actually gives a damn about being Irish or heritage or what have you.

The girl next to me in Anthropology class yesterday said that she loves this day because she's Irish. I asked if she wasn't Irish every other day of the year. She said that, well yeah, but today's the day she can really show her pride in it. I asked if she needed an excuse to be proud of who she is. She didn't answer--just shrugged-- and the guy behind me called me cynical. I turned, looked at him, and shrugged.

I am cynical. I'm not going to deny it because it's who I am, and I believe you should have pride in who you are regardless of what day it is.

I've been thinking about Twitter a lot recently. (I know I have no segue, but I couldn't expound one.) On the one hand it's pointless, as are most things on the internet, and I'm certain that I'd become hopelessly addicted to it, updating on every damn thing that comes to mind. On the other hand, however, I like the idea of telling people the random thoughts that run through my head. Isn't that what this is for, though? Isn't Twitter just microblogging? Why should I microblog when I already blog? Why the hell is "blog" a verb?

To further alienate myself from "normal" non-music-obsessed society, I need to rock right out of this hole and go. Also my back needs to stop hurting, but that's due to sitting on the ground leaning up against a wall. My posture is usually better.

Someone just tripped over me. Assholes, I am far from invisible, even if I'm sitting down.

~Edit: 13.15~

10 Tips to Survive the Road (from our friends of Dizzy Balloon, who cannot spell)

1. Floor is good. Carpet is great. Couch is best
2. Drink lots of water, because not only is it healthy it's free!
3. Let your facial hair grow when playing 21+ shows
4. Don't sit next to the sick guy in the van
5. Don't let guitarists drive
6. College meal cards from friend are awesome
7. Be prepared when playing with a band called Shrimp
8. Red Bull gives you wings
9. When driving through the desert trust the GPS
10. Go with the flow, the road is unpredictable

Forever's Not So Long

2009-03-12T22:18:00.000-07:00

Forever's Not So Long from garrettmurray on Vimeo.

I don't know about you, but I came here to dance

2009-03-11T08:20:00.000-07:00

ululate \UL-yuh-layt; YOOL-\, intransitive verb:

To howl, as a dog or a wolf; to wail; as, ululating jackals.

I don't know about you, but I think that's one of the best words ever. Say it to yourself. Yooooo-yuh-late. Ululate, as in, I mentally ululated when I dropped my waffle on the kitchen floor. Hello, gravity, you old shitbastard.

For some reason I find myself annoyed when I get up and get ready to go to class and then discover that it's been cancelled. Usually I discover this by the time I'm already in the city and on campus, but today I was lucky enough to check my email before leaving. So now I have time to have a nice cup of tea and not have to rush out the door to dozingly half-pay attention in class.

Watching a movie in my second class though. I will be out like a light in the back.

Also, my brother just got a Twitter. WHY DO I HAVE THE INESCAPABLE URGE TO UPDATE PEOPLE ON EVERY FUCKING THING I DO? THERE IS SOMETHING ROTTEN IN THE STATE OF DENMARK.

Again also, when did Batman cartoons start ripping off King Arthur? And why did they just drop the Green Arrow off a cliff? And why did Morgan Le Fey turn Merlin to stone? WHY DID BATMAN AND THE GREEN ARROW JUST PULL EXCALIBUR FROM THE STONE? WHAT IS THIS FUCKERY?!

Writers are liars and thieves

2009-03-05T10:27:00.000-08:00

And to be truthful, we're kind of proud of that. Except for the writers of Heroes. They're just shameless, idea-deprived bastards. Anyway, back to my point, I'm stealing an idea for a post from my honeybuns, Justy Rae.

parry \PAR-ee\, verb, noun:

1. to ward off; turn aside (as a thrust or weapon)
2. the act of warding off

Parry, as in, I REALLY WISH I COULD HAVE PARRIED SLIPPING IN THE FUCKING MUD THIS MORNING. (Not a perfect use, but good enough for government work.) Gods. I hate this; my right leg and left knee are still soaking wet even though it happened about 2 hours ago, and I have to sit through another class with muddy jeans. I must look disgusting.

I'm pretty sure I smell like dirt and grass, too.

I hate the smell of dirt.

And I'm allergic to grass.

Also if another fucking person steps on me, shit will go down and I am not going to clean up that much blood again. Or at all.

~Edit: 15.56~

I love Amanda Palmer. If I have to grow up, I want to be her.

Forget To Want

2009-02-24T22:29:00.000-08:00

Like I'm going to tell you how I am.
You know you don't really care.
That nicety is hollow and wants something more.
That's how I am.

I've got so much hate roiling inside me
Though you'll never see a drop of it.
If it's just me,
I'm the only one I have to hate.
Forget about me; we'll both be better off.

Forget what you were taught.
Forget what you know.
Forget what you think.
Right now, in the place you’re at,
Thinking’s just going to dig you in deeper.

Stop and breathe.
This was just a nightmare
Tattooed into your mind
Burning on your lips.

Don't complain about the things you couldn't change
Or the things that were never yours to start.
Be good, get better, or give up
Your only choices or to go home.
If you can find that at all.

It doesn't hurt here.
I don't want to be in pain.
I don't want to be miserable.
I don't want you to hate me.

Well, you can't always get what you want.
I need a reason to believe.

You'd Think With An IQ like Mine I'd Be Smarter

2009-02-11T08:46:00.000-08:00

Well, shit. I'm sitting at the cafe on campus I usually sit at and little oblivious me just noticed that it started raining. And what am I wearing? Well, currently a t-shirt and vest, but I'm sitting on my leather jacket. You know, one of those ones that have no hood? I also have no tie to do up my hair for when I turn into a fuzzball.

Today's gonna suck, I can tell.

I've Got A Feeling

2009-02-03T08:43:00.001-08:00

A bad one. Well, I'm not exactly sure if it's for Bad for certain. For a minute or three I thought that it was that feeling I get when I know I've forgotten something, but then I realised that I don't need a lot of stuff today. So now it's more a sense of foreboding, that something is going to happen today and I probably won't be pleased with it.

Unless the string of Bad Days has finally knocked my brain into or out of whacked and I've gone fully schizo. I'm probably going to be really jumpy and paranoid today, and in the end it'll probably be for nothing at all.

Did somebody die? Is someone sick? Has a plane crashed into something today? The not knowing is killing me.

Another Year (or semester)

2009-01-26T08:49:00.001-08:00

So apparently it's finally fallen upon me to be justly annoyed because I, like so many before me, have to return to school. It isn't that I don't like school-- I do-- I just don't like having to get up every morning and drive into the city for sometimes as little as two hours (like today) to sit in a room full of people whose names I can't remember and not talk to any of them.

Of course, most would say this is my fault. Branch out! You'll never know unless you try! Just suck it up and make friends! No, yes I will, and shut up, either of my brothers.

Then again, anything would be a marked improvement over sitting on the sidewalk with headphones in, typing away at a computer in front of the building in which my next class is. But I did just remember why I love this school in particular, with that incredibly attractive guy walking by just now. He's probably an upperclassman and would thus have no interest in me. However, I have seen several people already whom I recognise; mostly it's the people I've seen in my daily sitting-around-and-watching-people-pass-the-cafe sessions from last semester.

Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky in my first class and someone from one of my classes last semester will appear. It is the required class for first years after all.

Fuck this sidewalk is cold.

These are a few of my favourite... words

2009-01-15T09:59:00.000-08:00

It pains me that I just made a Sound of Music reference. I hate that musical. But anyway, since I'm still not back in class yet and immensely bored, I found this little ditty called Wordle from some friends online, and it takes you blog or journal or whatever, and gives you a pretty picture of what words you use the most; the bigger, the more frequent. Here's the one that I made for this blog:

Shocking, I uses the words "band" and "song" the most. I'm not a music freak at all.

Suddenly Twitter makes sense to me

2009-01-07T23:56:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's the fact that it's nearly midnight, but like the title says, I understand the point of Twitter. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I feel the need to update people I know on the fact that not only can I not sleep even though I'm tired as hell, but I'm also sleeping in my friend's empty, creepy-in-the-dark, cold as fuck house and listening to the Spill Canvas. I mean, that's what Twitter is for, isn't it? Helping people stalk you and everything you do.

On that note, I heard a stand-up comedian say something genuinely funny earlier, and I actually laughed aloud for a few minutes. "Since the dawn of MySpace and Facebook, it's been so much easier to stalk people. I remember the days when you just needed a van. Maybe some candy or puppies. But now you can just hop onto the internet!"

I think the cartilage in my nose is freezing, and my fingers are fucking numb. Hard to type. Have to go back and fix terrible typos which annoys the shit out of me. But I'm going to attempt making biscuits tomorrow, the first thing I've actually cooked in this house since I've begun watching it. If I don't get lazy and just eat a poptart instead. Wish me luck.

You know, suddenly blogging makes perfect sense too, since this little spew of word-vomit is the reason blogs were invented. So tired. Can't sleep.

Holy Tramps!

2009-01-06T22:39:00.000-08:00

Oh, whoa. Apparently another year has passed. No, I'm not going to go into the usual depressed "What the fuck have I got to show for it?" rant, because, really, I don't feel like it right now. All I'm gonna say is that shit happens, and sometimes shit doesn't happen as often or quickly as you'd like it to.

I do realise that it's 22.41 on the sixth of January and that I probably should have written this the majority of a week ago, but in hindsight (and foresight) it really doesn't matter. Who reads blogs nowadays anyway? Except for potential employers. And college administrators. And possibly soon-to-be-outraged parents.

But moving on from that! I had a pretty decent New Year's day—don't ask about my New Year's Eve, I'm being unusually positive–and I hope all of you did too. I don't usually have a resolution because I feel that if you're going to set goals for yourself, they shouldn't be based on something as trivial as the calendar companies making more money.

Now, I can't really think of more to say because I've drained my creativity for the evening writing, helping a fellow writer with writing, and... well, actually that's pretty much it. So now I believe I'll go to bed. Ah, sweet sleep, how I have missed thee.

Reasons To Say I Love You

2008-12-29T22:58:00.001-08:00

Do I really need one?

Yay Insomnia!

2008-12-23T00:57:00.000-08:00

How did you get into this band?
The Hush Sound: City Traffic Puzzle. I have absolutely no idea; I might've just heard about them and decided to check them out.

Favorite song by this band?
Evanescence: Bring Me To Life. Lithium or Call Me When You're Sober. Amy Lee's pretty awesome.

Do any of your friends like this band?
Desaparecidos: Happiest Place On Earth. Haha, I'd be rather surprised if I did.

Favorite album by this band?
HIM: Love You Like I Do. Probably Love Metal. It was the first I heard.

How many times have you seen the current band live?
Matchbook Romance: If All Else Fails. Never. I'm not sure why.

First song you ever heard by this band?
Pink Floyd: Vera. Nooooo idea. I was probably just born.

Have you ever seen this song live?
Yeah Yeah Yeahs: Dudley. Yes! They played it at BFD 2006.

What was the first song by this band that you loved?
Panic At The Disco: Time To Dance. I think it was this one, actually, or There's A Good Reason...

Favorite member of this band and why?
Goo Goo Dolls: Smash. John Reznik was my first celebrity crush, no lie.

Have you ever met a member of this band?
AFI: Girl's Not Grey. Nope.

Favorite lyric of the song playing?
The Beatles: Hello Goodbye. "You say why and I say I don't know!"

If you got to see this band live and pick 5 of the songs for the setlist, which 5 would you pick?
Queen: We Will Rock You. Oh Jesus. Dreamers Ball, Under Pressure, Bohemian Rapsody, Jealousy, Don't Stop Me Now. RIP Freddie.

What's one good memory you have involving the current band?
System Of A Down: Mr. Jack. Driving around with my brothers singing at the top of our lungs and generally having a good time.

Why do you like the band that is currently playing?
The Used: The Bird And The Worm. Bert McCrackHead takes risks with his vocals, and the writing is completely raw. And I might have had a crush on Quinn Allman for a few years.

Does this song remind you of anyone or anything? Why?
Alkaline Trio: This Could Be Love. This guy Mike in my Italian class last semester wants his first tattoo to be the mix tape off one of Alkline Trio's albums with the tape all strewn out all over the place. On his back.

Say something bad about the band playing right now. I dare you.
cKy: Dressed In Decay. Um... Bam Margera is a huge fanboy who exaggerates about the bands he loves?

How many plays does the current song have in your iTunes?
Scissors For Lefty: Wandering Arms. 10. I've definitely listened to it way more though.

What song would you like to hear this band cover?
The Killers: Mr. Brightside. Hmm, no idea. Some Queen perhaps?

What's the best part of the song playing right now?
Sons & Daughters: The Nest. Two words: Glasgow accents.

Do you have any inside jokes that involve this band?
...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead: Witch's Web. My brother thinks this is the most hardcore name ever, and the only good one that's a full sentence.

What is the song playing right now about?
The Eagles: Try And Love Again

What are your top three favorite songs by this band?
The White Stripes: Passive Manipulation. Seven Nation Army, Union Forever, Icky Thump

What's your favorite lyric of the song playing now?
Led Zeppelin: Immigrant Song. I can only ever remember the first line.

What was the first song by this band that you loved?
Nirvana: Heart-Shaped Box. This or Smells Like Teen Spirit, I think.

How many times have you seen this band live?
Iced Earth: Melancholy. Never, but it would be EPIC.

How long have you liked this band for?
All Time Low: Let It Roll. *facepalm* Um... About a year, I think?

How did you get into this band?
JET: Rip It Up. C'mon, have you heard Are You Gonna Be My Girl? It's impossible for me not to love it.

Have you met any members of this band?
Sondre Lerche: Happy Birthday Girl. No, but I want to.

How many plays does the current song have in your iTunes?
Explosions In The Sky: So Long, Lonesome. 5

What's your favorite lyric of the song playing now?
Fall Out Boy: Sugar, We're Going Down. Wait, this song has lyrics? In English? "I've been dying to tell you what you want to hear, 'cause that's just who I am this week."

Marry/fuck/kill the members of this band:
Every Avenue: Think of You Later. I think Justine would kill ME if I answered this question honestly so.... nope!

Like An Unauthorised Autobiography

2008-12-13T16:41:00.000-08:00

Just because I'm bored as anything but I don't want to write the paper I have to do, I'm going to post 3 lists of things I want/ asked for for Christmas.

#1: What I asked my parents for
-a long list of CDs probably only half of which I'll get (my dad thinks CDs are impersonal; I think he's forgotten who I am)
-bath stuff that smells like Cherry Coke
-a couple of rubber bracelets (it's a trend I've sadly fallen victim to)
-two books of sheet music, both by the Dresden Dolls
-scarves
-hats
-"iTunes cards and other gift cards are also good if you don’t like anything else on the list. Also contributing to my concert-ticket-fund and my tattoo-fund would be fantastic" (not getting any of that either)

#2: What I would never ask for or get
-World Peace
-end to World Hunger
-that purple Japanese-made stratocaster in the music store by my house
-Zack Merrick (or any sexy talented guy, really)
-a few corsets and assorted other wardrobe necessaries

#3: What I want but didn't ask for
-combat boots (I found a decent pair at Hot Topic for cheap)
-a bass amp (found a good one at the music store also for cheap)
-Applecare for the lappy
-a winter coat

I think I'm going to watch a movie and hope this malaise wanders off.

Two Things: Rambling in Waiting for Class

2008-12-09T10:24:00.000-08:00

Well, three really, but the first isn't all that interesting since it's just me making a statement on, Jesus I never blog this much.

Thing #1 (or 2): I hate the foam that comes with lattes. It has no taste or substance and simply prevents you from getting more coffee (or tea since I just had a chai). But what I hate about it is how it sticks to the top sides of the cup except for the place from which you're drinking. Most people drink from one place out of a cup, but I can't when there's a coat of foam.

Thing #2 (or 3): I was happy to discover-- so happy that I broke an unwritten law of social behaviour and smiled to myself-- that I'm not the only person who smiles or chuckles quietly to myself when I think of something funny. A pretty girl walked by a few minutes ago smiling to herself, and I couldn't help but smile too. Why don't people smile more? It makes them more attractive and look like they're actually enjoying living. Gods forbid you do that.

Thing #3 (or 4, or fuck I fail at accurately titling things): People are leering at me a lot today. The guy behind me in line for chai was looking at me while he was talking to the girl he was with; no eyes in the back of my head, he was kind of to the side in line. The creepy old guy who usually sits at the tables where I sit was doing his job and staring at girls. I know we're not jailbait but fuck off dude, you're gross. Guy with really curly hair was staring at me about the first ten minutes after I sat down here; then he left. Hooray. Another guy-- I've seen him around, though I dunno why I noticed him-- with dreads made eye contact as he walked by; I looked back down at the lappy and glanced back up; he was still looking at me.

The guy who looks like a combination of Bryan Garza and Clark Kent sitting across the aisle and to the left was studying me earlier. How do I know, you ask? Well, give me a break, he's cute and has nice shoes.

I don't really need or want the attention here, people. Of course, I am sitting here in the sun with an orange beanie and bright red hair. I think I look good, but I'm schizo, so whatever.

Fuck I think I'm getting a sunburn.

A New Little Feature

2008-12-08T15:48:00.000-08:00

Guys Who Should Always Wear Eyeliner

1. Pete Wentz: I have nothing against Wentz, honestly; to be honest, I think people give him too much shit. Yeah, he's kind of a whore, but I think he's earned it a little. But seriously. Go look for pictures of him on his honeymoon. The kid needs makeup, even if it looks like he hasn't slept.

2. Ryan Ross: Hey, you remember all the way back in 2006 when Panic At The Disco had an exclamation point, actually came out to meet fans, and Ryan Ross hadn't yet lost the rose vest, the fauxhawk, the eyeliner (and pretty much all of his stage personality)? Yeah, neither does anyone else apparently.

3. Billie Joe Armstrong: See the cover of and article inside the January 2009 issue of AP Magazine. Enough said.

4. Davey Havok (contributed by Siobhan): Is he gay? Is he straight? Is he a woman? These are some of the many questions people ask about the California rocker. He's had long flowing black locks, a near buzz-cut with random long pieces, that weird flippy spike thing... All I know is that Davey can change his hair all he wants, but for the love of gods, man, don't change the eyeliner!

The Epic Battle to End the War

2008-12-07T20:19:00.001-08:00

Twilight: A Review, or Can I Please Smack Stephanie Meyer?

2008-11-24T15:36:00.000-08:00

So this afternoon I took my half-sister to see Twilight as a Christmas present-- it made more sense when the movie was coming out in December, trust me-- and I went into it trying to keep an open mind. Yes, it's Twilight and yes, I've refused to read the book on principles of being a huge nerd when it comes to following the rules.

And great Odin were there things that went against those, the simplest most basic guidelines when it comes to vampires. Number one: vampires do not go out in sunlight. Technically they're not supposed to go out during the daytime, but I can buy a little evolution in the cosmology. They certainly don't fucking sparkle. They don't have "millions of diamonds encrusted in their skin." That's almost a direct quote.

Number two: if given the choice between biting a human and sucking the venom-- I guess I can live with venom turning humans to vampires too-- out of a wound, they're going to choose to bite them, no matter how much ~in love~ they are. During the scene where James, one of the evil vampires, bites Bella, whiny emo unrealistically popular MarySue, Edward-- the king of all masochist, self-hating, emo bitches (and this is of any species)-- opts to suck the venom out of her wrist and tries really really hard to stop himself from just sucking all her especially delicious blood. I hate to use the word "unrealistic" since we're talking about fictional creatures here, but it's entirely implausible. If Edward was really as big of a monster as he always says, he'd have turned Bella faster than fucking pancakes.

Number three: blood and lust. In the only genuinely sexual scene in the movie, Edward and Bella are making out in her bedroom (he's a stalking creep who breaks into girl's bedrooms; why am I supposed to swoon over this kid?) and just as things show a hint of beginning to get baudy, he shoves her away and then they keep talking. I actually had to ask my sister, "Is he just being emo, or did Meyer get something right?" Apparently Edward's just really really whiny and no, she didn't make the connection between sex and blood in the book. Maybe it was too risque for teenies. Or for her. Either way.

All of that is simply Twilight-vampire nonsense. The movie itself was pretty decent; not great, but I only paid matinee, which is about what it's worth. I generally like the bluish tint to more serious movies, but since we're talking about vampires, it seemed a bit overkill. The hair and makeup departments on this movie definitely should be shot; Alice, Esme, and the guy with the dreadlocks were the only good hairstyles in the movie. The makeup couldn't decide who was meant to be dead or not. I'm sorry, but nobody who lives in Arizona is dead white; it just doesn't happen. The vampires kind of fluxuated on whether they were normal-coloured or not, which bothered me a lot because Robert Pattinson (Edward) is actually attractive when he doesn't look like he's been covered in flour.

The movie did seem to flow well, though. No strange jumps that left you wondering, Wait what the fuck is happening? Of course it's meant for people with the mental capacity of a new puppy, so not much can be expected there.

Finally for my main argument against seeing this movie: the atrocious acting. Your main character should be able to act, in my humble opinion, and whoever looked at the girl who played Bella and decided that this was our leading lady should have their head checked. I have never seen anyone so bored and boring in my life. I thought several times, "THIS IS NOT HOW PEOPLE BEHAVE. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" But even putting Bella aside, not great. The most believable performances were by the vampires Carlisle, Esme, Jasper, and Alice (Rosalie almost got there, though they should have explained why she has such a stick up her butt) and Bella's group of human friends.

There is FAR too much "dramatic" staring in this movie. At least a quarter of the shots are of Edward or Bella or someone else staring at someone or something, and you just want them to get on with it. Do something, don't just sit there like a moron!

So that's about it. He should have bitten her, whole departments fail at their jobs, Stephanie Meyer needs to smacked over the head with her own ridiculousness, and I need to go write about vampires so I'm reminded that not everything in the world is shit.

Also I want someone to play a grand piano for me. That was one of the few things in that sorry little "romance" of which I approved.

Some things

2008-11-21T16:43:00.000-08:00

It's odd that I'm posting for the second time is two days. I never do that.

But I've finally decided that I want to be when I "grow up." *drum roll* I want to be a cross between Amanda Palmer and Shawn Harris. If you've never heard of them, I'm not surprised. If you think I'm insane and need career help, I'm even less surprised.

Way to knee Bill in the nuts, Tony. Way to laugh at his misfortune, Jack.

Normally I wouldn't comment on things like this, because I could scarcely give less of a shit about most pop-culture, but I found out today that Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III and Ashlee Simpson named their son, born today, Bronx Mowgli Wentz. Seriously, guys? As if he isn't going to get enough shit for being famous people's kid, you named him after a section of New York City and the main character from the Jungle Book. Whatever, he'll be more rich than I probably ever will.

It scares me that there's a mini Pete Wentz out there. Next thing you know there will be little Alex Gaskarths. Then my world will explode.

I suck at waiting

2008-11-20T12:34:00.000-08:00

Why is it not December yet? Seriously, I need some time off. Of course, by 13.00 tomorrow I'll be off for a week in honour, supposedly, of immigrants in the 17th century surviving a year or a winter or something by killing the natives who lived in this country after taking advantage of learning how to NOT DIE. This holiday is about America's obsession with food, let's face it, as well as Christmas Part 1.

I'm also still waiting on a call— any call— from one of the places I applied for a job. Maybe it's just that I applied to become a wage-slave for huge corporations (yeah, I'm ashamed of me too) but I would think that you'd want to hire and train new employees sometime before the week of Black Friday. But maybe that's just me.

This year isn't the first year that I haven't wanted anything but music, essentially, but it is the first year that my father said that not wanting big is a good thing. I hate that the economy sucks and that there have been a lot of expenses lately, but even more I hate hearing about it. As far as I know, I'm the only of his children to whom he talks— at length— about money issues. True, both of my brothers have moved out and my sister is the youngest, but I don't want to be stuck in the position of fucked-up middle child.

And just because I'm bored, I'll write out the things I really want for Christmas, but won't be putting on my list:
-World Peace
-end to World Hunger
-that purple Japanese-made stratocaster in the music store by my house
-Zack Merrick (or any sexy talented guy, really)
-money contributed to my concert-ticket fund
-money contributed to my tattoo fund
-more music (because I can't get enough and it's personal to me, dammit)

/emo. God, I'm a whiner.

It's days like this I hate everything.

2008-11-05T18:48:00.000-08:00

Okay, put aside the fact that Obama got elected, because it is rather great. But what the fuck, California? Passing proposition 8? How is this any different from segregation? I agree with a good friend that the separation between marriage as a legally binding document and marriage as a religious institution is infinitesimal, if not nonexistent, in People's consideration of this decision. Nowadays it's more "oh noes! gay peoples! they want to do me and i'm not gay! don't give them any rights!"

Don't be so self-possessed. They don't want to do you. Don't want gay marriage? Don't get one. Idiot.

The only even vaguely humourous thing about it that I've found is this: http://www.bunny-comic.com/?id=1264 Because when you think about it, the rest of those aren't all that implausible for this country.

Also I'm sick, but that's less important than personal freedoms.

A Thought

2008-10-05T00:35:00.000-07:00

Siobhan: [feels Brian's shirt] "Oh, it is velour. We were wondering what it was made of."
Brian: "Felt."
Pause
Siobhan: "Really?"
Brian: [grin] "Well, it is now."

"If you do something right, you should know it. If you do something wrong, you should be told about it." ~mio nonno

Wisdom from Neil Gaiman: "Writing... it's like the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote. The roadrunner can run off a cliff and keep going because it doesn't look down. Wile E. Coyote can never do it because he stops and contemplates the impossibility of it. To succeed at writing you can never contemplate the impossible. Otherwise you'll need to find an invisible ladder to get you back to where you were when you fall."

~

When did I start hating almost everyone I know? Theories would be nice to hear.

What the f**k is wrong with the world?!

2008-10-02T14:30:00.000-07:00

1. Bitches can't drive. Some old Asian lady yelled at me this morning for crossing the street and then walking back to my car earlier someone almost hit me. I'm six feet tall with blazing red hair wearing a red hoodie. I don't think the "I didn't see her" excuse will stand.

2. Motherfucker from the company who charged a hundred dollars on my debit card hung up on me when I called to complain about them charging me. Guilty. Sentence: me punching you in the face and you reimbursing me. Asshole.

3. "Oh you" was the response I got from the woman at the bank to check in on how the investigation people stealing my money went. Well fuck you very nicely too.

4. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26970782/ You are an adult. Either have a child of your own or don't. None of this creepy-as-fuck halfway bullshit.

5. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26182276/ ...Your dumb ass shouldn't be allowed to have children. End of story.

6. Real baby names, I shit you not: Lust Garten, Greed McGrew, Leper Priest, Gamble Moore, Teacher Blackbear, Moxie CrimeFighter (thank you, Penn Jillette), Shamrock Hardeman, Rainbow Green, Guinness Dack, Lunch Magee, Bread White, Mayo Head, Mike Rotch. That last one needs to watch less television. All of them suck and I pity those people.

7. I have a fucking Anthropology test tomorrow and I'm supposed to go study somewhere, location undisclosed even to me, with some people in my class. Now I'm too angry to speak, much less socialise.

I feel like killing something.

Rando-rant

2008-10-02T10:12:00.000-07:00

Courtesy of Anthropology class and the chit in front of me.

Why the hell do some girls make like they're about to tie up their hair, whether in a ponytail or a bun, and then they just let their collection of hair go? What is the point besides annoying the people behind you? Unless I've got a hairtie and the notion to get my hair out of my face, I don't fuck with it. I usually don't fuck with my hair unless I've got a reason, like running/dancing/jumping around or pinning it up to look all fanciful. Unnecessary, that's all it is. A waste of time and energy.

Destroy yourself, or else have someone do it for you.

2008-09-28T17:27:00.000-07:00

"My iPod has an All Time Low boner!"

"I have strokes of genius all the time."
[spazzes out] "Oh wait, that's a seizure of genius. Never mind."

"Pop Tarts are NOT lunch, god dammit!"

"Aww, come on, guys. Make fun of me. I'll be your lightning rod of hate!"

"You fuckers had all day to jack off in class. Now focus!" Thank you, Shawn. We love you too.

One of the interns in one of my classes pronounces irrational with an e. eRational. It drives me insane.

I've been rotting my brain out with movies and reading and writing. Maybe. Does it really count as brain-rotting if it's intellectually stimulating? Currently on is Fight Club. As I heard several times last night, a mental mindfuck can be nice.

Oh yes, that's right. I went to Rocky Horror for the first time last night. There were so many other virgins; apparently even more came after the initiation. I got a little bit of special treatment because the people I went with are semi-friends with the cast; a tasteful V on my cheek, the good kind of attention, minimal ribbing for being a Virgin. Fun as shit, and strangely freeing. We went out to breakfast with some of the cast afterwards, and that was awesome too. They're the exact breed of strange that I love.

I'm definitely losing my mind. Have I been Tyler longer and longer?

You've Got My Head Spinning, Heart Beating Out of My Chest

2008-09-17T08:47:00.000-07:00

"I would rather my gods be fallible than phallic."

"Lockjaw means never having to say I'm sorry."

"You're always kind of figuratively talking about sex." College professors are so much more interesting than high school teachers.

Title: only not really. Mostly I just have a headache. I rather bad one, to be honest. Much like Mono, you shouldn't be allowed to wake up with headaches without getting to get blind drunk first. Or I could just be eradicated of these migraines. That works too.

Today was another day where I didn't want to get out of bed, and not the usual ugh-not-enough-sleep-gotta-go-to-class kind. The I-don't-want-to-get-up-ever kind. Convenient then that I picked up Amanda Palmer's new CD yesterday, and my brother described it as "really depressing." Odd. That wasn't even one of the worse songs. I will admit though that her solo album is less of the frantic delicious piano punk rock love that is usual of the Dresden Dolls. But hey, she's an individual and let no one say otherwise.

Ew. I just crushed a bug on my screen. That's really gross. Oh, lovely, and my head feels like it's going to explode because I coughed. Today's gonna be one of those days.

FTW

2008-09-04T12:46:00.000-07:00

And "FTW", girls and boys, stands for Fuck The World. First this morning I get people shooting me dirty looks for wearing my awesome hat which they probably thought was stupid. Next I came back from Italian to move my car and there's a fucking parking ticket on my windshield. Fifty bucks. So long 4 shows I would've gone to. All because I have the common sense of chicken soup and can't fucking remember to check when street cleaning is. Then just when I'm starting to stop being pissed off, I almost pass out in Karate. I'm sort of used to my vision being weird and seeing auras occasionally, but I should have worried when my mental commentary of "Straighten your vision" became "Don't vomit, don't vomit," and right before my vision blackened that became "Don't pass out." I have this lovely fucking tendency to embarrass myself in front of large groups of people. Bad enough I look ridiculous because my gi doesn't fit and can't handle how fucking hot it is in the gym.

I'm worried to leave the house, lest something else happened to me today. I really want to go see the Matches tonight though. It's Dylan's first show and I want to be there to distract him. My half-sister has a volleyball game I'm supposed to pick her up from, though. I don't want to.

Someone knock me out and don't wake me til 21.

Trouble, betch.

2008-09-03T08:33:00.000-07:00

So today is a week from the official first day of school for me, and after many mornings of the same, I find myself sitting outside the cafe with my laptop open. Don't I have anything better to do? Well, no. I don't have class for another half an hour.

But the terrible thing about sitting out in the nippy morning-- I'll be wishing it's this temperature when I'm walking to my later classes-- is that I have a terrible cold and sound completely ridiculous when I'm forced to talk. Gods know I don't want to, except if it's to imitate Jack Barakat, because that I will admit is hilarious.

My point, if I have one, is just to note some observations I made today. When I sat down at this table, there were two gentlemen... uh, guys... smoking at the table beside me. I don't mind smoking, but I do mind being stared at; it makes me nervous. I've seen far too many movies to not think being watched is a bad thing.

Actually I think I should shut the hell up writing right now, because I keep getting distracted by my own thoughts connected to the girls walking by and the conversation at the party I went to Monday. I really think too much. But at least I don't talk too much.

...I can totally see why guys enjoy watching girls walk by.

Making Plans To Break Plans

2008-08-27T14:00:00.000-07:00

For the most part my approximation of my classes was pretty accurate. Italian is interesting, if a little difficult because I accidentally missed the first class-- I know, I'm a fucking genius. But my instructor seems cool and at least my pronunciation is decent.

The First-Year Experience class is dead boring; it's basically an attempt to make us better "successful" students through self-reflection, journaling, and a bunch of other crap I don't want to do. Plus it's on the fifth floor of the HH building: lamesauce.

Anthropology should be cool; the professor, who insisted that we all call him Mark because he doesn't want to be old, is funny and there isn't really homework besides reading and studying.

Mythology, by far, will be my most awesome class. The teacher is like Mrs. Denning-- only a tad less so-- and the course work is fantastic. I think I'm looking forward to Halloween, watching the movie of Dante's Inferno... WITH PUPPETS.

I want to see if I can transfer into a music or art class, hopefully on a TTH schedule, and drop the First-Year class. I want to actually take things I enjoy.

Forgo the metaphors: It's fucking college

2008-08-27T08:22:00.000-07:00

I've never really understood all the metaphors and fanfair people use to talk about college; generally this is done in high school graduation speeches. You know, a new chapter of your life, your glimpse into the real world. But let's be honest, it's just more school. You know, that thing you've been doing for thirteen years of your life? Yeah, that's not going anywhere.

As one might have been able to determine, I'm at school, sitting outside the cafe in an uncomfortable metal chair and watching the people walk by as I type away at my computer. Avoiding looking at those two guys across the aisle who are, in fact, staring at me. Ooo, a tall thing in skinny jeans of my favourite colour green.

Getting off topic! Actually, did I even have a point? At least there's plenty to watch for the next half an hour before I have to begin searching for my first class. I'm not really worried; the humanities building isn't hard to navigate. It's the class after that I'm thinking about: anthropology in one of the two buildings where the first floor you land on upon entering isn't the first floor. I think in the one I'm going to it's the fourth, but I'll have to check.

All this blathering, aside from making for some pretty damn boring reading material, is stream of consciousness-- when I don't get distracted, like by that beautiful blonde girl who just walked by-- and really only suits to take my mind off what I realised on the long walk from the car: I'm terrified, and for no good reason too. All the people I know who are already in college have told me that there's nothing to worry about in "institutes of higher learning" that there aren't in high school. Well, probably with a few exceptions, but I'm trying to be positive.

Watching all these people come and go helps and doesn't, because on the one hand I get to partake in one of my favourite activities and imagine their life story, but I also get to thinking about other things, like the potential these people have to affect my life. Jeez, if his pants got any tighter they'd be leggings... Right. Anyway, I'm going to continue surfing the internet and probably post another entry after class, because gods know something will happen that's worth talking about.

Go on. Stangle that mime!

2008-08-23T17:51:00.000-07:00

"Plus what would I say to him?"
"I don't know... 'hi, my name is C and you look like Sisky, so we should make out'?"

"Great idea, lady on my TV, you make out with that guy driving the car."
"...WHAT?"
"It's okay. They crashed."

If you ever want to watch a TERRIBLE movie, watch "Zombies Anonymous." I didn't ever get through ten minutes of it before it got turned off. It's awful. Terrible picture quality, worse acting, so much wasted potential. If you want to watch a better, though admittedly more confusing and slow, movie, watch "Melvin Goes To Dinner". Nothing seems to make sense until the very end, and then you've got so many more questions, you'll want to strangle a mime. Or maybe that's just the need of anger management.

So I'm not really sure what to make of life right now. School's starting up soon-- I've got class Tuesday at eleven just to ease into it-- and most of my friends are leaving or have already left, except those lucky bastards on the quarter system who start in a month. So far nothing I've attended has peaked anything resembling interest, except for stories from friends going to other colleges who've already started, so I'm hoping that college isn't going to be as dreadfully boring as it has seemed so far. I haven't met anyone and I don't want to just go to class and come home and hate my life; interesting human interaction needed from people other than musicians at shows!

Also I haven't really been writing recently, not for lack of trying, but every time I sit down I can't formulate an idea good enough to keep. My brother playing Bass Hunter while he plays Warcraft certainly doesn't help, which is what's on now. I like Bass Hunter, but it's not what I would choose for inspiration.

It's awful; even this can't hold my attention long enough to say something meaningful. Maybe I'm just nuts and want something I can't have.

Quis ipsos custodes custodiet?

2008-08-14T13:22:00.001-07:00

We're setting fires beneath our lovers' beds
Just watching the world burn

The slaughterhouse choir chimes and screeches
To the tune of the three-penny orchestra
Their screams and wails haunt and tug heartstrings
Because we've heard it all before
They echo in our heads at night
Waiting for the sky to fall

Masquerading dancers in the violent cabaret
Parade with flaming banners through Central Park
Blazing through the night sky
Like our childhood hopes, dreams, and fantasies
The verse ascends, the bridge climbs high
Listening for the end of life's fermata

Dirty tricks in politics
Filthy war and starving eyes
Man-made plagues soaring through the atmosphere
Did we bring it on ourselves?
Could our scapegoats all be lies?
Watching the bombs fall on television screens

Costumed masked men knock nocturnes out of blood
As we play poker with Tarot cards
New hand dealt, full house, four dead
The end of the world comes with a royal flush
Outside our windows bright spandex and silk capes fly
Beating our end-world plots senseless

We seek escape in white noise and olive skies
Biting through lips, gripping at skin and satin sheets
In the darkness of the twisted burlesque show
We are true. No lies to tell the world
We are sick and twisted and deranged
We're just watching the world burn

Or if you want to find somebody else that's better, go ahead

2008-08-13T18:35:00.000-07:00

Something that, strangely now that I think about it, has never happened to me today, and twice no less. Today on completely separate occasions two men have cursed and then pardoned themselves because "there's a lady around." Now, I don't really mind swearing-- I'm quite prone to it depending on the situation and the company-- but I just found it funny, and now I find it sort of sad that you never see the same thing anymore with young people. Yes, I sound old, but I'm allowed to point out the discrepancies between my generation and those older, aren't I? That's what my cynical generation is all about: pointing out bullshit.

But getting back to the point, you never see-- or rather, hear-- that with anyone of the young generation. We swear liberally and quite casually, and we'll be fucked if we give a shit who hears it. I'd just once like to meet a guy under 25 who'd do the same as I heard today.

(And that usage of cursing was to make a point, in case you aren't too quick off the draw.)

"Shit I need a boyfriend."
"Shit... me too."
"Fuck, let's go get some!"
"Just go pick some up at the grocery store. What aisle do they keep them in again?"
"Uh, I believe it was 5b. Next to the ice cream. Gotta buy 'em hard."
"...That is both hilarious and disgusting."
"That is the point."
"That's what boys are."

"So blatantly obvious songs about sexing up someone make me laugh and think, 'Oh you. You're not getting laid!'"

"If a guy had a rack like mine, I'd say that fucker needs surgery and or hormone therapy."

"When I'm rich and famous I'm going to open a club in the city called Club Epic and we'll play Cobra Starship to dance to."
"Awesome! Will you host live bands?"
"Do you know me at all?"
"Sweet. 'Club Epic presents My Vagina Spaceship featuring I Look Good In Eyeliner.'"

"Do... do you have a vagina?"

"Someone needs strippers!"

Some old insanity

2008-08-05T14:09:00.000-07:00

"Siobhan's not happy unless there's something with tight pants."
"Or naked."
"Or naked. Which means it was in tight pants at some point."
"Wouldn't they be hard to get off?"
"You cut them off."
"Kinky."
"With a machete."
"Wouldn't that be dangerous?"
"That's the point."

"What's the point of dating? I mean, really!"

"Ha! I just took a picture of that chick and you'll never know!"

"Did you see how that soccer player was checking you out, Andrew?"
"Yeah, it's 'cause I'm hung like an elephant."
"Wait. I don't get it."
"Let's just say I use Magnums."
"The gun?"

"I don't get the elephant part though. Is it because they're big?"

Two things to always remember: go left and look up, because nobody ever does.

Kick up the stereo, kids

2008-08-04T09:18:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it, but I'm very annoyed by movie kisses. The vast majority of them are wholly unbelievable; too much dramatics, or maybe the attention to detail and motion is the fault of the cinematographer. Most of the time you think, people don't kiss like that, and if they do, it's certainly not in public like it always is in the movies; it's in the privacy of their own homes, or hotel rooms, or otherwise away from prying eyes. That never happens.

Well, in walking around Dublin, I discovered that they do, in fact, happen. People do actually do far more than peck each other on the lips in public. The most obvious examples I saw were the couple making out in the back of a taxi-- something I imagine must have created some awkwardness had the driver been forced to interrupt them upon arrival-- and the couple falling all over each other-- into a wall.

But I am right. Things like that are completely different from how they're portrayed in the movies. Only, I've learned... sometimes they're not.

~

Home. As Zach Braff said in “Garden State”, maybe all it is the same imaginary place people miss, and maybe all family is, is a group who miss that place.

So I’m on the plane headed back to SFO, and I have no idea where we are specifically. Judging that it’s about three and a half hours before we land, I’d say we’re somewhere in Canada. Hi, Canadians! My head hurts like you wouldn’t believe—I think it’s due to sinuses as those are being fucked up as well—and I seriously need to stretch my legs. Airplane seats are TINY.

I’m currently listening to Green Day’s “Homecoming” off American Idiot, and it’s hard to believe that this album came out four years ago. My freshman year. So much has changed since then, and yet it feels like nothing has. But nothing can make me enjoy this song less. This is my early adolescence here. My life.

And that’s what everything I’ve taken from this trip is as well. Not to be all melodramatic and say “oh ye gods my life is changed forever after two weeks” because it isn’t. I’m still me, only with a lot of swag and memories and photos. But at this moment I’m smiling because I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Even if I didn’t enjoy every minute and sometimes I just wanted to curl up and sleep the day away, it’s still mine.

And nothing’s gonna change that.

Post #100

2008-08-03T08:39:00.000-07:00

Translation: C has nooooo life. But hey, that must not be true, because she's in effing Ireland. Also, I discovered where all the hordes of really cute guys are! ...Besides Dublin. Apparently all of them hang out/ work at this supermarket called "Superquinn" in Brae in county duhrbubrfubr*coughcough*.

Funny, I didn't know Quinn Allman was secretly an Irish superhero. Huh.

That's all. Coming home tomorrow.

I have played way too many video games for this not to be creepy as hell

2008-08-02T15:30:00.001-07:00

That quote, said by yours truly, was in reaction to standing in the crypts beneath St. Michan's church in Dublin. I kept expecting bloody demon hand to snap out of the gated tombs and try to claw my brains out, Silent Hill-style. Don't tell the makers of that game; they might use the idea in yet another game.

I know there was some other strangely amusing thing I said today; I don't remember anymore. But wandering around Dublin was fun. It is quite trendy, as I have heard, and full of young people. Ah, now I remember. We were walking towards Grafton Street and a pack of teenagers-- the fun, smoking, wildly-haired and -tattooed kind-- and my dad says, "Mind the toughs."

Now, I know he's thirty years my senior, but I hope I remember what teeangers are like in thirty years. It was hard not to burst out laughing; these were the types I deal with-- and shove out of the way when needs be-- at shows all the time. "Toughs?" said I. "These are just kids."

And they are. Sure, noticeably more of them smoke than American kids, but really I was wholly comfortable with the crowds of people that inhabit Dublin today. Well, I mean, I hate people-- not persons or peoples, as we discussed today-- but I'm not afraid that boy with the spiky black-and-pink hair all dressed in black with the lip-, eyebrow-, and tongue-piercings and studded belt holding up waaaaay skinny jeans is going to start shit with me. I have that air of "I'll have nothing to do with you, so don't bother" about me often when I walk the sidewalks and department stores.

Which people actually take note of in European department stores! I wandered about Brown Thomas-- very chic, very swish, I am totally buy those 750 Euro Italian leather motorcycle boots when I become rich and famous-- and wasn't sprayed with perfume or asked if I could be helped or anything. And when I was finished, I walked straight out without bother from anyone.

I like that. I like Dublin. I like Ireland. But two weeks is a terrible long time. Perhaps we should've only stayed ten. I miss certain people I know, not to mention the ability to be alone. Need alone. Need space.

I am going to sleep so much on the plane until I can be back in my space.

F**k my life

2008-07-31T01:54:00.000-07:00

Dramatist, I am with the title, but well-deserved I think. First off, Tralee is absolutely beautiful—probably my favourite place so far. Cynthia’s house is just up the hill from the beach, and since the gulf stream is coming up from the tropics, the water is so warm and delightful.

But sadly bright, sunny, and otherwise gorgeous days are not something I can appreciate when I have a headache the size of Mick Jagger’s lips—which just turned 65 I learned on the tellie. I woke up feeling sort of ill and could barely eat anything for breakfast (coffee is my new friend), and when we walked along the beach I felt iffy and after about a mile had to sit down.

However we have things planned for the day! Can’t spend our time lollygagging about the pretty house. Our first stop was at this home-made cheese shop up the road and up a very bumpy, windy hill, which is one of the mortal enemies of my stomach. But the owner was gone, so we made it down the hill and a little ways before I have that recognisable taste in my mouth. So I toss my hair up in a bun, tell my dad to pull over, and leap out onto the shoulder.

Let me say that vomiting up very strong coffee—or anything, really—into a bush is not fun at all. But oh, it gets worse.

I insist that I’m fine to continue on to Dingle—funny name for such a quaint little town—over Conor Pass—incredibly narrow, windy road up the mountain. We eat lunch at this little pub (I had maybe a quarter of that sorry excuse for a chicken sandwich) where I get sick again in the bathroom.

Okay, I’ve been sick before. Just drink some water and I’ll be fine.

Joanna and I went down a few doors to this awesome hat shop, where I get a necklace and a garnet ring. What? says you. Not buy a hat? You love hats! Well yes, says I, but not ones that cost nearly 300 Euro. Well, actually those are the only kind, apparently, that I do like.

We met up with my dad and treaded over towards this weaver’s shop Cynthia told us about. However sick little I can’t make it farther than a little health food shop/café in a side-alley with a woman out front giving Shiatsu massages. Well that sounds nice, so I ask for one.

And it was nice. Very nice. I’ve got a massive headache, shaky limbs, something like Arthritis in my left-side joints, and a lower back that feels like someone’s slowly dragging a wool-comber down it. Naturally it’s going to feel good.

Until the woman—there was some discretion as to whether she was French or Belgian; I think she was Eastern European—tells me to sit up and I start feeling nauseous again. Just after I ask where the closest bathroom is, my stomach clenches and I rush off the chair. I barely make it around the corner of this alley before *blugh*.

In front of this strange woman, in front of the shopgirl who’s come out to empty the trash, in the view of the patrons eating inside. Throwing up water, since that’s all I’ve got left. As if the side of the road wasn’t bad enough.

Of course, mortification doesn’t hit until we reach the main street and I think, “Oh ye gods, I’m going to be that American girl with the pretty hair and half-an-accent who got so relaxed she vomited.”

And my dad tells me that ten days is about the time my older brother took to get sick when they came to the country. This… does not help. He was ten. I am eighteen. He drank too much river water. I… did something to make myself violently ill.

As I have said before, whoever or whatever decided I should have my bodily processes should be nailed to a wall and have the inside of their eyelids tattooed.

Now it’s the next day, and I’m feeling better, but dreading being in the car for hours and hours and being around people for four more days, since that could be what made me sick in the first place. Cynthia and I talked about it. I’m a very private, solitary person, and I’ve had next to no alone time on this trip. I need alone time; ‘salso why I’ve been so mood. ‘Just leave me alone!’ I thought last night amid the delirium when everyone came back the first time.

My head still hurts, and all I really want is a shower.

Pity that all the pretty ones are usually more touristy

2008-07-28T10:47:00.000-07:00

“I cry all the time because I’m not the Hulk.”

“So what you’re saying is that Jesus’ clothes were spun by Mothra?”

My brother is a strange, strange creature, but hey, at least he’s entertaining. Last night after driving around a scenic area for literally hours, the lot of us went into Galway city and met up with Conor, a friend whom I haven’t seen in quite some time, for dinner and for him to haul the boys off to his to traverse them to Dublin, where a plane will carry them to London, where yet another plane with take them to Iceland’s capital, which I know I can’t spell so I won’t even try. Reykjavik, says spellcheck. Oh well.

Today was more driving around and a lot more of something about which I had a mini-discussion with my father: tourism. I hate tourists. I hate being a tourist, I hate being around tourists, and I hate feeling surrounded by them. Or any people, really, but that’s another matter. What Dad and I discussed was how right now, there’s nothing I would like less than to spend my elderly years traipsing around in busses filled with other old people and being shepherded around to places ‘I’d always wished I’d gone when I was young and now I have time to visit!’

Stick a fork in my head and call me done. It’s probably something to do with being young and wanted to adventure and experience the world for myself. When I’m out on my own and I’m travelling the world—because let’s face it, I’ve got too much wanderlust to stay in the Bay Area for the rest of my life—I won’t habit the touristy places drowned with people, and if I must I’ll go when no one else is around. I’m more of a night owl anyway.

So right now I’m in the back seat of the car we rented, wishing that I had more legroom, typing away at a dying computer, listening to a dying iPod. I’m going to go stir-crazy if we don’t find an internet connection soon. But Limerick, which we passed through probably a half-hour ago, was surprisingly pretty for a city. And I mean the very urban part.

Now I’m told that we’re in Adare, which really doesn’t tell me much. The buildings are nice though, and I just spotted a sign pointing us in the direction of Tralee, and I do know where that is, so I don’t feel quite so lost.

I hate being lost, and there’s been a lot of it this trip, of more than one variety.

Like LARPing, only more musical

2008-07-26T13:20:00.000-07:00

And more entertaining. Tonight we went to a castle for dinner, and of course the serving crew were all dressed in period costumes and sang and told stories. I’m getting really bad; the first thing I noticed is that the “butler” Stephen at the door was really cute, and later noted that he got more attractive as I discovered how well he could sing. Such is the way of the world. The other two actor/servants were very good singers as well, as was the harpist. An absolutely lovely evening, despite how damn hot it was in that room. Castles should be cold and drafty.

More comments on my hair. More packs of bored-looking teenagers walking through towns. The more things change, the most they stay the same. It really isn’t helping me grasp the concept of being half a world away that I keep seeing things that occur at home. People dress the same, stores sell generally the same things. Hell, at dinner the two—TWO!—other groups beside us were from the Bay Area.

And, my most noble lords and ladies-- always how Stephen the Butler drew our attention-- I could totally do that as a job.

…It’s a rock

2008-07-24T15:42:00.000-07:00

Not just a rock. A lot of rocks. Literal tons of rocks. Wednesday we set out from Sword—yes, the town was called Sword—for Newgrange in county Meath. The structure of Newgrange itself was pretty cool, especially when they did a demonstration of the sun shining in at Winter Solstice. I took a lot of cool pictures, as per normal. I’m really a photography whore.

After that we went to Slane Monastery made of—shock—stone. I’m a fan of ruins, personally. You just don’t get them in America. We were actually looking for Slane Castle, which we eventually found after missing the exit three times. Technically we weren’t allowed to take pictures inside, like in Malahide Castle Tuesday, but I snapped a few shots after the curator had moved onto the next room.

According to one of the men in the group with us—a lot of elderly people from somewhere across the island—Cian would’ve been great in “Braveheart”, Rudraigh would make a good warrior king, and I would be the perfect Celtic princess. News to nobody.

I keep staring out the window as we drive, trying to grasp the whole concept of being an entire ocean away from California, but it won’t sink in. So far Ireland’s a lot like home: weather’s the same, greenery’s the same, people are the same pretty much everywhere. Two main differences I’ve noticed are that people seem genuinely interested in where you’re from and there aren’t any German tourists back home. Yes, I thought about all the British comedy jokes about German tourists when I heard them.

One thing I’ve noticed that’s the same is the proximity of redheads. This is not, as many Americans believe, a country full of ginger people who can’t go out in the sun longer than five minutes before turning into a lobster. People still stare at me like I’m dancing around dressed like the Chiquita banana lady; only here they maintain eye contact when I stare back.

Either people around the world are this fascinated by redheads, or I’m one hot sucker. I’m banking on the former.

Next, more monasteries and castles. The lady at Mellifont Abbey was really cool; she was a redhead too. We also when to Trim Castle, but just wandered around the grounds since the tour wasn’t for another forty-five minutes. That’s alright; they probably wouldn’t have let me take pictures anyway.

But yes, lots of driving, constancy of getting lost and having to turn around on the tiny Irish dirt roads, and the dwindling apparently lack of my father’s depth perception. We lost both hubcaps on the left side yesterday and I refuse to sit over there now.

Traveller’s Woes

2008-07-21T23:32:00.000-07:00

I must admit that I hadn’t really begun to think about the trip I’m currently on until I had to start packing—which was two days ago, mind. I don’t think it’s really sunk in that I’m on my way to another country thousands of miles away from everything I’ve come to know. I have no expectations of Ireland, which may be for the best since I won’t be disappointed.

The thing that must be understood about me as a traveller though—and I cannot really use the word to describe myself as often as I’d like—is that despite my vocalised dislike of people, I have an inexplicable love of airports. Maybe it’s the sense of change and progress; people are always moving forwards, even if they’re going backwards. Sure, the food is generally awful, but you can bring your own iffin you like. I don’t even mind all the security and precautions and warnings of “threat-level, orange”. Except for feeling like a spy having gotten caught by the enemy, having to take off my leather jacket, my belt, my shoes, remove all my jewellery and everything from my pockets, show that my laptop is, in fact, a laptop and is not, in fact, a bomb.

Oh shite, I said bomb. I’m probably about to be tackled by flight attendant and passenger alike for being a terrorist.

What I do not like about travelling is what I’m currently doing: being cramped into an airplane seat for ten hours and having my legs cramp and fall asleep. True, I’ve slept through almost a civil majority of the trip—three-fifths—but the time I have been awake has been nothing but dull and achy. And the only way to remedy the latter is taking a walk to the toilet—which is just as cramped, if not moreso, than this seat. At least I’ve got the window.

The strangest thing so far has been the fact that it hasn’t gotten dark. According to the clock on the screen, it is 11:32, but that’s in California, and I am currently flying over the Atlantic. I’m not exactly sure where over the Atlantic, since there’s nothing but clouds and water below us, but I was delighted to wake up in time to watch us fly over the Arctic.

The voice over the speaker system—the first one I’ve been able to understand—just announced that we’re descending (as if we couldn’t tell) and will be landing in Dublin in about a half-hour, just after 8 a.m. local time. Mind-blowing, really. I’ve completely missed Monday.

And that stewardess who told me she liked my art did not have that accent when we took off. Oh well, chances are I’ll have slipped into it by the end of the day.

Another Reason (or Five) We're All Screwed

2008-07-09T20:11:00.000-07:00

Yes I, due to watching too many movies and playing too many video games, and much like my older brother, fear being torn to shred screaming in agony by zombies. This might strike some as a cause to throw me in the loony bin, but thanks to the jerk's searching around the web, there's now legitimate cause for concern, as seen in the link below. Thought I'd spread the knowledge.

Dammit, man, don't tell me these things!

http://www.cracked.com/article_15643_5-scientific-reasons-zombie-apocalypse-could-actually-happen.html

Admiration is an amazing thing

2008-07-05T19:27:00.000-07:00

http://www.out.com/detail.asp?page=1&id=23972

Read this. For those of you who aren't familiar, Gabe Saporta is the singer of Cobra Starship, and at this moment, I have nothing but the utmost respect for him. Maybe it's just all the thinking about this subject I've been doing recently, but this really speaks to me.

This is life right here. This is what I want to do, how I want to be. This is the world to me.