The Bitching Bitch that Bitches... occasionally.

Orgasm in a bottle.

2009-09-24T11:06:00.000-07:00

While at the drug store the other day, I found some bottles of old school Herbal Essences shampoo and conditioner. So I bought them. And washed my tresses with them.

Now my head smells like a 65 year old woman's bathroom. Excellent.

Old Friends

2009-09-17T05:08:00.000-07:00

Lisa: Hi, Sleep. I'm Lisa. It's nice to meet you.
Sleep: Nice to meet you too.
Lisa: Wait a sec... you look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?
Sleep: Yeah, I was gonna say...
Lisa: Wait!... You're that vital biological process that I used to engage in regularly every night!
Sleep: Oh my gosh, you're right!
Lisa: Holy cow, it's so great to see you again. Hey, why don't we hang out anymore?
Sleep: Oh well, you know you started going to college, and I... well, I'm just the fictitious personification of an act. It's hard for me to make these kinds of plans and keep commitments. You understand how it is.
Lisa: Right... Hey! Can we hang out tonight?
Sleep: Actually, I've got a date with Breathing... and you've got that paper due tomorrow. So probably not. Here! Let me give you a couple of my friends' numbers. I'm sure they'd be up for hanging out tonight. Their names are Coffee and Loneliness. They're really cool guys...

A letter

2009-09-01T12:06:00.000-07:00

Dear people who walk at an uncomfortably close distance behind me on my way to class,

Stop that! Don't make me get out the bitch slappin's...

Sincerely,
The Bitch

The Best of Times

2009-08-10T15:10:00.000-07:00

Today I read 100 pages of "The Grapes of Wrath" and didn't put on shoes... the entire day. Also, there was a thunderstorm. Good day.

Also, I went to Ecuador (not today... but you know, for the last couple of months). You can read about it here.

Heerrrrrrrmmmmm....

2009-01-01T23:26:00.000-08:00

Oh boy, oh boy! First post of the year. But I trust that as the river of blog posts has run a bit dry this year, the content quality has more than made up for it. I like to think of quality as the juice of the writing. And I also like to form a visual image of all of my posts as plump and ripe fruits (preferably a drupe, for they are the best of the fruits... and they have a funny name).

Which brings me to the topic of bachelorette parties. And mostly the fact that I don't understand them.

I would like to do a little prologue to this post and note that my sister has recently entered the age in life in which you graduate from college and get married and/or get a job. No, she is not getting married, but all of her friends are. So, you know, I hear a bit about the matter. And I speculate and draw conclusions (or not).

The cases to which I am mainly exposed are good, God-fearing girls who are preparing for a special night. And they do so by throwing a parties clouded with sexual innuendo and jam-packed with "naughty" clothing and novelty items. Okay, it's probably not that bad.

It just makes me question how you can have a celebration where your friends buy you lingerie and karma sutra calenders, and not feel extremely awkward. Maybe I can find some explanation if the parties were originally just some kind of get together that has become warped over the years, but still... a bit awkward.

And then part of me immediately asks what kind of light this view sheds on sex. And then I back away from the loaded, multi-faceted answer... slowly.

So I guess what I'm asking here is: what is the point of a bachelorette (and bachelor, for that matter) party?

Is it to laugh about sex, and serve as a kind of "brace yourself" process? Is it to have the chance to giggle like schoolgirls one last time before you become a woman (whatever that means)? Or is it just a social event that I'm just not getting?

Lesson # 477

2008-11-29T19:11:00.000-08:00

Never trust a woman with drawn in eyebrow-penciled eyebrows to wax your own.

Give thanks, dammit!

2008-11-28T21:35:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving is a holiday of lethargy and blah. It's that time of the year we all gather together and give thanks we're not as fat as the that bald uncle who insists that he sit at the head of the table every year.

My aunt put it best when she plopped down on the couch after dinner and declared herself a "beached whale". Which was a completely appropriate description for many of us, on many levels. I consider myself much like a whale in the sense that I feel enormous, much like the mass of a whale, but also by the fact that I feel a little stuck.

I brought home 50 pages of ethics reading and a jarbled page of notes, hoping to get to work on that inevitable final paper that always comes too soon, and I can't do a damn thing. I'm convinced that I've become "beached" on the food, family, readily warm shower water, remarkably soft toilet paper, and overall roominess of non-dorm living. Similar to a beach in its luxuriousness, different in the sense that there is no sand.

I try to understand Republicans; really I do. George Lakoff opened the door for me a bit with an excerpt from his book (link!), but damn them all if they still don't befuddle the hell out of me. It's kind of like (and forgive me for generalizing and simplifying the crap out of this): "Look! There's a man over there who is working 12 hour days to feed his family, has no health insurance, and is still struggling to get everything paid some months. I think I should give him a lecture about the American Dream, and point to radical examples of people who seemingly came out of nowhere to become millionaires! Yes!" or "Let's give the people making a few digits more than him a tax break and wait for the rebates to trickle down in the form of country club golf rounds and italian leather shoes!" or "Hey! I'm a self-made person with an innocent upper-middleclass caucasian background. If I can do it, he can too."

And my theory is that this train of thought comes from over-thinking. Maybe, just maybe if we put that person in the same house or neighborhood as a struggling family, and asked them to stay there for a few hours. Get personable. Sit down, have some coffee. I think there would be some primal form of empathy that would rise to the surface and want this man to have all the means to succeed in life that were available to him. Maybe a tax break. Or some kind of health care he didn't have to pay a quarter of his salary for.

But people are immersed in their own lives. I'm immersed in the noble, self-righteous, typical college student one right now! Maybe what we're immersed in are like little pools. Kiddy pools, we'll say that have a three foot radius and are 7 feet deep. And we're working to stay afloat, but we can see other people's pools. Some closer than others. You can't really get a good feel for what is going on in the other kiddy pools, only what you can see.

So maybe it is better to be beached; to pull yourself out of your safe kiddy pool and flop on the group between the pools. You lose the comfort of immersion, but the view sure is better.

Oh dear...

2008-11-04T20:48:00.000-08:00

Can we talk about the Gardasil vaccine for a moment. Just a minute, I swear. And I will try my darndest to avoid using such shallow terms as "sexist", "self-righteous", and "flaming fucknut".

Today we discussed the Gardasil vaccine in the Ethics in Medicine course I'm taking. It fell into a lecture about public health, and the true definition of authonomy and what it means to cause harm to others. And of course the subject always comes up about possible side effects, and the discussion is always the same: "They've only tested it for 8 years, what if there are side effects? What if a whole generation of girls is infertile and sickly because of a recommendation from doctors?"

Except it's never phrased like that. It always runs more along the lines of "But there has only been 8 years of clinical trials, and that's not enough, you know? And then there's this worry that there will be this whole generation of infertile females with terrible side effects."

So now it sounds like there is valid worry going around, and we should all be fretting for our lives and uteri because of some imagined health crisis that has only been postulated as a worst of circumstances.

It's not so much waiting for more data before deciding you want to inject something into yourself or completely shunning the vaccine all together that bother me. It's the science fiction/thriller rumors that people haphazardly throw out there that make me want to bludgeon something. I could spread all kinds of nasty rumors about all kinds of nasty things (flu vaccines, soy, flouride, diet soda, florescent lightbulbs, exposure to dogs, exposure to cats, pork, perfume [you would not believe what that stuff does to your ovaries!], salt, pepper, rap music), but I don't. Because for the most part it's silly. And inconclusive. And the studies are conducted by scientists backed by parties with special interests with particular agendas that they want to promote.

And don't even get me started on the "vaccination leads to permiscuous acts of sexy-time and evil!" argument. Because I'd rather have a healthy cervix than chastity anyday, bitches.

The Halloween Post

2008-11-02T22:21:00.000-08:00

I went this entire Halloween without once hearing "Monster Mash". Part of me wants to be thankful that that godawful song has finally fallen from the position of esteem it once held on the Oldies and Light Rock stations that covetted it, but the other part of me (you know, I divide cleanly in two if you work hard enough) kind of misses it. I have no applicable analogies at this point. Go ahead and fill in your own here.

There was also a lot less candy in my life this time around. I wonder why that is. It's probably the busy-ness, and the fact that without trick-or-treating, you get much less variety. Sure, you'll go to the grocery store and buy yourself an economy-sized bag thinking you'll be able to eat the entire thing of Reese's pumpkins, but after the third or fourth or nineth, you realize you are human, and you just can't do it. Curse mortality and all its limitations!

A friend of mine (actually, he's not really a friend... more like "a forced aquaintance"; I never know how to describe those people) said that I would probably end up being something sexy for Halloween. Because that's what the college girls do these days, they dress up in a predictable (and occasionally unpredictable) outfit, but make it sexy. So I refused to be sexy, and dressed up as a candy corn (yellow t-shirt, orange pants, white knee-high socks and various accessories with candy corn hot glued to them [note: candy corn does not enjoy being hot glued to anything ever; if attempted the corn that tastes like candy will rebel and fly off of your homemade jewelry all night, and hit people in the eye]). And I have to admit, I felt pretty unsexy... all night long.

The day after Halloween I was at an event for my service fraternity (don't ask... just call me "Brother Lisa"), and a girl there was dressed up like candy corn too! Except her outfit involved a mini-skirt and a plunging neckline. I don't know what the means, or what lessons can and should be drawn; I just thought I'd throw it out there.

In conclusion, Halloween was a scary event in which I witnessed people having sex (or one very involved make-out session) on the Arts Quad and concluded that any costume (seriously, any) can be made in such a way that a college girl will look like a fruity tooty lil sex kitten.

Four down. Four to go.

2008-08-31T11:09:00.000-07:00

Semesters, that is. It's kind of mind-boggling to think that college is half over for me. Granted there will probably be medical school or grad school in my future, it's still awesome/frightening to think about.

A random thought: how awesome would it be between undergrad and whatever comes after this is to take a year off and go work for a National Park? That would be pretty darned awesome, I tell you what.

This year, I'm cutting back on the classes, and increasing the life experience (because that's what the medical school advisor told me to do). I'm a Residential Advisor in the Ecology House, which isn't nearly as glamorous a position as one might think. It mostly involves being friends with everyone as part of the job, and a perplexing multitude of keys. I would put them all on one of those giant rings that janitors and prison guards get to carry around, but separation and secrecy are encouraged. So not giant rings for me this year.

Leo is large and whiney this year. He still has a repetoire of awesome guinea pig tricks, but I think what he really wants is a guinea pig-lady friend. Which he will not get, because I'm not ready for babies.

I have officially developed an obsession with The Office. I just felt like I should announce that somewhere.

And my lineup of classes include (but are not limited to... whatever that means):
Biochemistry
Nutritional and Physicochemical Aspects of Food
Social Inequalities in Health
Latin American Cities (more on this later)

... and possibly an ethics course if one of the above falls through. Only time will tell.

Chillin' in the Last Frontier

2008-08-04T23:21:00.000-07:00

That's pompous, douche-bag speak for "vacationing in Alaska". I don't mean to do it; really I don't.

Currently, as we speak, I'm lounging in the... lounge (a fitting name) of an overpriced hotel establishment in outside of Denali National Park, taking advantage of the mediocre Wi-Fi connection. Ever 2 minutes or so when I have to wait for a page to reload, I'll contemplate stealing some of the rugged, nature-based furnishings that are scattered throughout the lounge. As far as I know, the place never closes, And I'm sure it would take a good day or two before anyone noticed it was missing, and heaven knows how long I've pined for a Caribou antler lamp to give my dorm room that rustic touch.

And now there are old men looking at me. I hate when that happens; your eyes are wandering, and they happen to settle on something (or, more often in my case, someone) and then they look over to see you looking at them. And then you look away, trying to break the awkward and unwanted contact, but the roudy old men keep looking at you (because that's just the way old men are) and then it's supa' awkward. Little do they know that you are quietly consoling yourself by recording the entire encounter in your blog.

Alaska is amazing. It makes me want to cry a little to know that the earth and all her eco-systems were so perfect at one time. I saw bears, and moose, and foxes, and caribou. And the only human-made creation that connected me to their world was the bus I was sitting in and the gravel road the bus was sitting on.

I find that I've actually equally (if not more) interested in the vegetation that was in the park. There was a lot of crazy black spruce and birch growing all willy-nilly out of the sides of hills. There are wild flowers mostly everywhere. And when the ground is too frozen for trees there are shrubs and mosses for miles and miles. And probably more miles after that. The park is 5 million acres. Wrap your mind around that one.

The whole "feeling bad about being human, and killing anything and everything in the way of economic prosperity" was kind of dampened by a book by Douglas Adams called "Last Chance to See", in which he frolics around the world exploring the state and stories of various endangered critters. I love this book. If I could kiss this book, and the book would derive any kind of pleasure from my acts of adoration, then hell yes there would be one very bizarre make-out session going down. Right here. Right now.

It's nice to (finally) read something that so gracefully combines elements of humor, history, nature, and insight into 200 pages. Glorious. I won't ruin any of the insights for you, but it might just make you look at your own role in the world a little more closely. Plus, it's Douglas "Frickin'" Adams. You can't top that.

Summertime... and the livin' is easy.

2008-07-03T08:36:00.000-07:00

Except... you know, that it hasn't really been so far.

I'm currently in Ithaca, living in a house with some friends, taking two classes, doing 15 hours of research a week, and (trying to) studying for the MCAT.

And there's a Beta fish named "Gelato" looking at me right now. I'm fish-sitting him over the weekend, and he is currently living on my desk. So when I'm sitting at my computer, he is always looking at me. If I put my finger up to the glass, he looks at it and then backs away. But if I put a pen up to the glass, he flares up and starts getting all aggressive with the thing. Very strange.

I can't tell whether or not I should feel bad for him. He lives in a flower vase with shiny rocks at the bottom, he gets fed everyday, and lives a fairly peaceful life (except when I accidentally kick the desk or make any sudden motions). But he has no friends, and exists for the sole purpose of being big and pretty and fertilizing eggs and then dying. The only interactions he's programmed to have are fighting and fishy sex (which isn't nearly as exciting as it sounds). Frankly, I think he's kind of pathetic as far as creatures go, although mildly entertaining to watch.

Coffee makes everything better. Why is that?

I'm taking micro and macro economics this summer (two separate classes). I'm learning and enjoying micro more than I ever expected to, but am failing (as far as grades go). And I haven't learned a damn thing in macro yet (2 weeks in to the course), but will probably make out with an A. I hate Cornell.

As far as research, I'm working with my advisor (who specializes in infant cognitive development) to see the effects of a herpes virus on cognitive abilities in 4 to 8 month-old babies. What that roughly translates to is me sitting in a lab for many hours and carefully tracking the eye movements of many many many babies. But it's fun.

So that's my summer. It's kind of expensive, and not all that productive, but it beats sitting on my ass in Michigan being bored out of my mind anyday.

Holy cow! It's Coldplay.

2008-06-16T21:07:00.001-07:00

They have a new album out... today... seven minutes ago, actually. Considering they are one of the few artists whose album releases I actually look forward to (and they happen but once every two years), this is a momentous occassion. Momentous, I say!

I'm journeying back to Ithaca tomorrow where I will spend the rest of my summer studying economics and tracking baby eyes (infant cognitive research) and playing chimes. I'm still not 100% confident that I actually need to be in Ithaca this summer, but I figure I'll be at least 5 times more productive/less depressed there than I ever would be in Michigan. I'm kind of sad to be leaving my parents (never thought I would say [... or type] that). But I think I'm leaving at just the right time where I'm rested, but not bored.

This album only has 11 tracks... that makes me sad.

I spent a few (lovely) days in Tejas, mostly in the company of my sister, but for a few glorious hours with Jeff and Bellami and Matt, and for a few minutes with Denise. I'll probably be lightly berated for even thinking this later, but does anyone else feel anxious when they're meeting up with highschool friends after not seeing them for a while? It's a very strange social habit for me, but I'm always just a tinge nervous that there will be some terrible awkward moment or nothing to talk about. It's extra strange because that never actually happens, but the fear is still there.

And of course, nothing is ever awkward with Bellami, and there is always plenty to talk about with Jeff.

Anywho, I'm six hours away from being off on my journey through Canada (sans passport... *gasp*). I'll let you know how that goes...

Summer Insomnia

2008-06-03T23:17:00.000-07:00

This is what I love and hate about summer: the fact that if you don't have to be anywhere by 9 am, you will probably be sleeping until noon. And then, because you didn't wake up until noon, you can't go to bed until 2am (at the earliest). But because you're not used to real sleep schedules and not climbing into bed every night completely exhausted, you can't sleep until you've laid in bed for an hour (at least).

And thus begins the cycle of Summer Insomnia. Beautiful, really, in its simplicity. Yet tenacious and vicious in the way it screws with you.

Like just now! I was laying in bed (1:45 am) about to begin the dozing process, when I suddenly realized that I didn't have anyone to take care of Leo while I'm gone this weekend. And then it ocurred to me that I don't really have any friends or neighbors that I know too well here.

So I'm laying in bed, wide awake, racking my brain for people that could take care of Leo or the possibility of designing some kind of automatic feeding contraption or just filling his dish to the top and hoping that he doesn't eat himself to death. As soon as I think of a friend who could possibly take care of him, I rush onto Facebook to message her. And then, of course, it's Facebook, so you're obligated to stay there piddling around for at least another 20 minutes, which I did. And then I realized I was hungry, so I got a 2 am snack.

So here I am now, blogging (because I don't anticipate sleep for another hour or so) and eating cold leftover macaroni and cheese off a napkin with my fingers. And I'm hearing these strange beeping noises, like bad sci-fi sound effects or the noise that the electronic Simon game makes when you press the colored lights.

I used to get these bad bouts of "Facebook Envy", especially my freshman year, when I would see other people who were tagged in over 1000 pictures or who had some obscene amount of friends. But now, I realize (and use as a method for reinforcing my self-worth) the fact that most of their pictures are them standing around posing for the camera. That's not a good time! That's not adventure! That's them going to a party and taking pictures of themselves 90% of the time.

And I hate this new trend of everyone gathering around the camera immediately after the picture is taken. And then doing the whole damn thing over again if someone's eyes are closed, or they aren't in profile enough to make them look 20 pounds lighter.

My family is slowly evolving into the kind that only keeps condiments in the refrigerator. When I went to get my 2 am snack, I reached for a bag of veggies that definitely needed some kind of dip. And we had no dip! What good, worththeirsalt American family doesn't have a bottle of Ranch dressing in their refrigerator? And I know I'm complaining about the lack of condiment in the refrigerator right now, but that is beside the point! Ranch dressing should be moved above the food pyramid. It should just hover there, like a diety of food-dom.

Or there should actually be a picture of Ranch dressing being poured over the food pyramid whenever one is drawn. That's the way it oughta' be.

In conclusion, a quick book review:

Middlesex: Glorious read, well-written, well-planned, beautiful and kind of freaky all at once.

The Historian: Barmy, cobblers, poxy, and any other British slang that encompasses the general idea of BAD! This is going to be one of those books that I rant about how terrible it is until the end of time. And on my gravestone they will write "She really hated that book."

Lincoln at Gettysburg: I'm not sure I took from the book what the author would probably want me to, but I did get something (which is saying something for a history book). I'm still digesting it, let us say. It's a decent read in the sense that it covers just about every detail that had any bearing on Lincoln's delivery and planning of the Gettysburg Address. It's a slow (ish) read in the sense that there seems to be a lot of "historical fodder" mixed in with the good bits.

This is also the "incoming freshmen, orientation" book that Cornell requires its freshmen to read and use as discussion material during their first week on campus. That's the primary (read: only) reason I read it.

On Books and Hair

2008-05-26T21:08:00.000-07:00

I've been reading The Historian for the past week which has gotten this reputation of being suspenseful and awesome, and I just can't get into it. The author is so repetitive and so slow with her story, I can't read it for more than 30 minutes at a time. She's just flapping her gums on the page. And while the mental image of gums flapping (like in those slow motion internet clips where people get slapped across the face and you can see their skin rippling) is quite hilarious. The fact that this book is 642 pages long and I'm on page 343 and it still sucks is not hilarious.

I just want to go back to the days of the first Harry Potter books. When it wasn't a race to the finish and they weren't the size of the Bible. Where you would just sit in bed on the weekends and read all day, and never get tired of it. And then after dinner, you were actually excited to get back to reading. I haven't really read a book like that since I was 12 years old.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm getting my hair cut tomorrow. The plan (for now) is to just let it grow while I'm at school, because it's easier that way. But deep down inside my cold, stony heart, I want short hair. Crazy short hair that makes people do a double-take to place your sex. Because short hair kicks so much ass, ohmyGodletmetellya. It's easy and androgenous and stands out. Kick ass.

But in the part of my heart that isn't so stony, I still long for those long curls that hang down your back. Or bun-ing it all up on the back of your head (in strategic chaos) and then sticking a pencil in it.

We'll see how I feel tomorra'.

Later that night....

2008-05-26T00:09:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about feminism for the past week or so, and, granted, I'm not too keen on the history of all the revolutions and movements that have taken place this century, but I'm thinking those didn't work all that well.

Because I'm starting to thinking that any kind of social movement has to occur on the grassroots level. And by "grassroots level" I mean at the level of the individual. Sure, there can be solidarity and companionship amongst people going through the same "turmoil", but it's not the marches or the bra-burnings or the crazy bitches with bullhorns that get people to change, it's when they meet someone who doesn't fit into the neat little stereotype muffin pan they have drawn out in their mind. Then they have to redraw, and then they have to accommodate that new view into their daily workings.

So then I thought about all the kickass women out there working for the cause. And then I thought about how for every one of them, there are probably 10 other women who "counteract" them. For every lady engineer/firefighter/CEO kicking ass and taking names, there are 10 women who nestle themselves deep within the stereotype and shoot out a handful of babies. There's nothing wrong with having lots of babies or fitting a stereotype, but when you run to the stereotype of weak/needy/nurturing womanness because acceptance and adjustment is just easier that way, then it's a sad day.

And I still believe the world is run by men, and will be for a long time because there's still a lot of resistance to gender equality. But sometimes women ask for too much...

Damn, now I've confused myself. Bugger-nut.

Bitter.

2008-05-25T23:55:00.001-07:00

Like dark chocolate... but without the chocolatey goodness. And the cardiovascular benefits.

I just spent the last hour putting together a jigsaw puzzle, and wowee! Let me tell you how exciting my life is...

So I was doing this damn puzzle (I did the sky section) on a whim, because it's 2 in the morning and I'm tired of reading and writing, and I've reached this Guitar Hero plateau where I just can't get any better and don't really want to because the game has nothing to do with skill or music or anything that could possibly be useful anywhere outside of a 10 foot radius around the TV, and I realized how much you can probably tell about a person by how they approach a jigsaw puzzle.

Like me, for instance (because I have very little exposure to jigsaw puzzles and the doing of them by others), at first I was just bored, but kind of being stubborn about finishing the part that I had set out to do. After about 20 minutes of futilely trying to match up the colors (which was quite impossible in my situation), I realized that the little jigsaw bits had distinct shapes. And then I started focusing on the shapes of the little corners and nubby bits more than color. And it worked! I pimp slapped that sky (and by "pimp slapped", I mean "finished) in a very unimpressive span of time. But I finished it nonetheless.

Where as my dad, for another instance, comes over to a puzzle, looks at the general idea behind the picture, and then places the piece solely based on color and general layout. Mind-boggling.

In conclusion, I only have two styles to go on and, therefore, can not really expand on this blog post further. And as I'm fairly certain that people with lives don't actually do jigsaw puzzles much, no one will probably add to/expound on my theory, except for Maca who is awesome.

Home again, home again, jiggity-jig.

2008-05-18T12:47:00.000-07:00

I have no idea what nursery rhyme/childhood saying that goes to. All I can think of is "This little piggy went to market..." and I know that's not right. Oh, the frustrations of summer.

No! I'm not going to Google it. Google is for quitters... which I am in most cases... but not today!

Packed up my dorm, moved out, and drove home. It went surprisingly well. Although I have come to the realization that I have a lot of crap (most of which is clothing), and I should probably think about giving some of it away. But it's so hard to let go...

It's always somewhat of a culture-shock (with a very loose utilization of the definition here) leaving Ithaca. Hearing new songs on the radio you haven't listened to in 4 months. Seeing new commercials/TV shows/products. The biggest shocker (to me) is seeing people that aren't upper-middle class and in their twenties. Like babies. Babies are freaky when you're leaving a college setting. Very small children are also strange, and toddlers are the worst of all.

But other than adjusting, it's nice to be home. And have a mommy cooking for me. And not have a roommate. My summer projects (for the month I have before I return to Ithaca and start summer classes) are as follows:

-read books
-learn to make hair curly

The latter of which sounds kind of silly, but lemmesplain: I have wavy hair (yes, is true). But sadly, when I try to tap into this waviness, I only come up with frizzy, tangled-looking, white-trash hair. Hence, me wearing my hair straight and suppressing the wave. Most people have overly-curly hair and have to product it up to make anything of it, but I have slightly underly-curly hair (yes, I am making up words now) and need to figure out a way to reap the most curl I can off this lousy head of mine. Suggestions are mighty welcome.

For your procrastinating pleasure

2008-05-12T12:49:00.000-07:00

Ha! Pun... kind of.

I don't know how many people are still taking exams, but here is a good 15 minutes of distraction for you.

Green Porno

My favorite is the spider.

Freedom!

2008-05-07T12:23:00.000-07:00

Isn't that what Mel Gibson screams at the end of "Braveheart"? I don't remember...

Ahh, sweet freedom... from physics anyway. Today I took my last test, got a B in the class, and sold my book for one hundred bucks. 'Twas glorious. I forgot how liberating the end of spring semester is. And now I'll never look at physics again... except when I'm taking the MCAT... and the GRE. Damn.

And I think I'm getting sick. Bugger. I have this one pissed off, swollen lymph node on the side of my neck the size of ... *touches to check*... a skittle (not as impressive as I originally thought...), and I can feel my throat starting to get more sensitive. But just one side of it! Very strange.

So that's my life. Study. Test. Study. Another test. Sell books. Clean out room, and then I'm gone!... for a few weeks. And then I come back!

Sometimes I wonder what will become of my roommate. Because she doesn't have classes anymore (her next two weeks are also devoted to studying and testing) she doesn't leave the room anymore (except for dinner). She spends two-thirds of her day at her desk watching anime/doing homework/studying?/watching more anime. She's a linguistics major. I'm not really sure how much work that entails, but for most of the year she has only been on campus for (at most a few hours a day) and then comes back and sits at her computer.

The point of this rant is that I worry for the future of civilization (the United States, specifically). And I secretly (and... for the most part... silently) wonder what will become of the hundreds of thousands of youths who do what needs to be done, but then spend the rest of their time on the internet or playing video games.

Maybe it's a phase they'll come out of. Or maybe they won't. Or maybe (just maybe), their mentality will become the norm and that will be the lifestyle of the majority of the population 10 or 20 or 50 years from now. I shudder to think...

I'm not one to criticise (okay, yes I am), pero with a such a huge active campus to explore and only 4 years to do it, I would hate to spend the majority of that in front of a computer. I'm not the most socially active person (yes, there have been entire weekends devoted to movies and episodes of Scrubs/House, M.D.), but I get out. Every once in a while...

Num num num num num

2008-05-03T10:47:00.000-07:00

At the grocery store yesterday, I caved in to my inner-child and made myself one of those little bags of candy where you pick and choose from the bins.

Mostly because I'm in love with Bulls-Eyes. They are the greatest candy creation of all time, what with their chewy carmel outer ring and their deliciously arificial inner creaminess. (Apparently,) they defy my usual tastes in food (too sweet... way way too sweet), but I will overlook their unruly sweetness for the amazing consistency. Amazing!

And upon further examination of the wrapper, I find that they are made by the company "Goatze's"... eww.

But they're still delicious! if I just censor my brain from certain thoughts...

The African American program house is having some kind of picnic over at the Africana Library and they're playing rap music. It's not that I don't like rap music (which I don't), it's just that when you listen to it from a distance and through a window, all you can hear is the base. So there is no melody or words, but this annoyingly steady beat constantly going on. But I have my giant bag of assorted candies to comfort me.

Yesterday was Slope Day at Cornell. They festive day that marks the end of classes with boozing and general college debauchery. This year Gym Class Heroes, Hot Hot Heat, and... some other one-hit wonder band came and performed to the masses. The performance was considerably better than last year (T.I... bleh!). And thus my sophomore year (almost) ended, in one 24 hour haze of drunks and lukewarm pretzels (can solids be described as lukewarm?) and one failed physics tests and a rockin' chimes concert.

(P.S. Apparently "Umbrella" has been arranged for chimes... excellent.)

Here Comes the Sun!

2008-04-28T22:37:00.000-07:00

Doo-ba-doo-bee! It's the Beatles, dammit!

I just wrote less than a page of script in Spanish, and I suck so hard at writing in a foriegn language that I had to write something in English just to validate my own self worth... yet again. That is where this blog post comes in. I swear, it was only 200 words, but it still took me an hour and half. Spanish compositions are to constipation as English compositions are to _________.

a. a jar of almonds
b. Judy Bloom
c. diarrhea
d. ubiquitous

Remember those?!

Today it rained. The concept of non-Texas rain is still strange to me. It goes like this: a light drizzle that eventually evolves into an almost intangible mist followed my more drizzling with the occasional fat drop hitting you right in the eye. This continues for no less than 24 hours.

After living in Tejas for a number of years, I expect every raincloud to bring torrents of downpour and lighting and thunder and tornadoes watches. That crazy rain that goes sideways and throws itself up against the window so hard that your mother comes bustling into the room in a frantic tizzy (poorly concealed) and shoves you and your sister into the closet under the stairs without explaining anything. And then after 15 minutes of madness, it clears and there is sun again.

Damn, I miss Texas.

But the rain felt right today. After a straight week of delicious weather (sun, clear skies, high of 74), there just had to be a break from the beauty. It was kind of eerie how perfectly the good weather coincided with "Cornell Days" when all the parents/prospective students come and journey around campus taking in the history and listening for that secret loophole to beating the admissions game and getting a free ride in (yes, I've been there too).

I still wonder why more people don't shout truths at the touring groups, like "Don't come here! They average everything to a B-!" or "I lost my will to live months ago!" or "'Ivy League Prestige' attracts more pompous assholes than any other group!". I guess there's a kind of respective restraint. The mentality is that if we badmouth the school, we badmouth ourselves for choosing to come to the school. And if we badmouth ourselves, well that just doesn't mesh well with our pomposity and assholeishness.

But now that they're all gone, the rain is back. Still, I'd rather have sidewalks marred with rain puddles than clusters of meandering tourists...

The Most Depressing Post

2008-04-26T13:56:00.000-07:00

I really need to establish a regular posting schedule...

But I'm going to go ahead and be honest here, life hasn't been that exciting this semester. Or has it? You be the judge.

Life Summary (complete with complementary bullet points!... mmm, love me some bullet points)

-Still at Cornell, still living in the Environmentally-friendly dorm
-Still sucking at classes (specifically Organic chemistry with an added level of suckitude in Spanish and Physics!)
-Got an RA position in the environmentally-friendly dorm next year. Wootah!
-Was accepted for a study abroad program in Ecuador over the summer
-Deferred study abroad trip to NEXT summer (travel, beaurocratic issues)
-Planned to stay in Ithaca over the summer and take a couple of classes and get a lab position (still workin' on that...)
-Became a chimesmaster!
-Still have no clue what I'm going to do with my life...

Really truly and deeply, all I want to do is write and read... all... day... long. It's plausible. I could live in my parent's basement and be a no-good moocher, but something inside of me just won't let me do that. We Passmore's are the fightin' type.

So I will continue on my pre-med, Human Biology, Health, and Society-studying course. And I'll tack on a Global Health minor and mislead everyone into thinking I'll do something exciting and unexpected with that, but I probably won't. Honestly (at this point in my disillusioned life), I could see myself applying to a slacker med school (if such a thing exists) or going into dentistry.... which are pretty much one in the sameOOOOHHHHSNAP! (sorry, dentists).

I'm really not that depressed, just tired of school. I'm kind of burnt out. Not just on classes, but also on ambition and ambitious peoples. I just want (for once) to be inspired for some extended period of time without having my dreams dashed to shreds by a failing grade or someone saying something pompous and silly ("I got below the mean on one test in this petty class that no one will care about after this semester! Now I'll never get into medical school.") But I'll always be there, consoling and giving hugs. I guess that's the woman in me.

I've decided that I'm always going to have a guinea pig companion. Hell, I'm going to have a farm! Where pigs will be free to frolic in the grass and scuttle about in funny little way. That's what I'm going to do with my life.

Dove Chocolates

2008-04-02T19:17:00.000-07:00

This is the first day in a long time that I don't have bookoos of work looming over me (there is still work to be done, it's just not looming... yet). So I've decided to devote this next... period of time... to the eating and analyzing of Dove Chocolates.

If you don't eat Dove Chocolates, you are lame. But you are also unaware that each chocolate has a sassy little message of wisdom (or something that sounds like it anyway) written on the foil wrapping. If you have ever eaten an entire bag... by yourself... in one sitting... you know that there are really only 5 or 6 messages per bag and they start to get redundant pretty fast (depending on how quickly you eat your chocolate).

But for now I'm on my first 3 in a new bag and their inspiring little messages are still magical. I like to think there's a saucy middle-aged woman (divorced once, no children, poorly dyed red hair) that lives in the Dove factory and just wanders around jotting her thoughts down in a little notebook. And then they print them on the foil, and pissed off women like me open them and think "Now that's a cheeky little thought. That inspires me to be cheeky myself and eat another handful of chocolates."

Actually, I can really only handle three. They be so rich and smooth and delicious.

So the last one I opened read: "Test your limits and keep going."

Which is interesting because (at this moment) I am about riding on very little sleep (3-5 hours for the last three nights) and whole lot of exaustion. Whine. Whine. Whine. (Yes, I know. I'm terrible.) I've actually discovered (or spent enough time in to notice) this state where I have so little sleep that I actually feel physically nauseous, like every movement I make has this dizziness and added resistance to it. I call it... sleepy sickness.

Very exciting. Profound discovery.

So I'm going to go to bed now. Even though the Dove wrapper encourages me to test my limits and then keep going. I don't think the Dove wrapper really knows what it's asking of me. And I don't really want to test this one anymore than I already have.

(Leo Update: Leo survived his great fall and was fine the next day. Although the collision with the ground did succeed in knocking out his front teeth (unfit mother!). But is okay, because they grow back (the benefits of being a rodent) and he is making a glorious recovery.

Parachute training is in progress... (that would just be damn awesome).

Thank God there are people in the world like you, Bellami, to drop babies on their heads for the rest of us who just don't have the balls to do it.)

Unfit Mother in the Making

2008-03-23T21:31:00.000-07:00

I totally just dropped my guinea pig (a.k.a. Leo) on his head. I was holding him and he was jittery and I shut the door and it make a loud noise and he started squirming and fell two or three feet. And now he's angry with me. If you were here, you would hear him angrily cooing in the background.

I've assessed the damage, and so far it looks like he just has one pretty badly broken nail. Not too much blood. But he's still seems pretty pissed off. I'm just worried that I broke something inside of him...

This is one of the many reasons I will never have children.

Lessons in Futility

2008-02-06T22:36:00.001-08:00

Hi.

I’m eating Triscuits right now, and I’m not really sure why. I’m not hungry. But I just had one of those moments where you get up, get food, and start eating before you realize what you’re doing. And I think it’s because of the AIDS pandemic.

Yes, AIDS is bringing out the compulsive eater in me.

I’m taking this global health course (as a requirement for the global health minor that I am steadily working towards) and the first 3 weeks of the course cover HIV/AIDS. So tonight, I get to read 20 pages about how racism and sexism and poverty and drugs and desperate acts of sex contribute to the spread of the virus. And let me tell you, there is a whole hell of a lot of contribution. Oh my goodness…

So I’m supplementing my depressing reading assignments with the strategic implementation of a salty-sweet-salty snacking regimen (with sporadic gulps of water interspersed). It’s working rather well, I think.

The professors in charge of this class tell us not to be depressed or feel guilty about what we see. They say we should be grateful for what we have and learn not to take it for granted. And then they show us a picture of a man in Zambia who hauls thirty pound sacks of rice back and forth all day for some ridiculously small amount of pay. Meanwhile, I sit typing at my laptop, eat eat eating away at my arsenal of consumer-whore snacks and not being hungry. Ever.

I could stop eating. And I could start cleaning my plate more efficiently every time I eat. I could scrape every last bit of remaining condiment off my plate and lick all my utensils and marvel at the fact that no one in Africa will ever starve again because I’ve done my part to reduce waste (and consumed an extra 300 calories in the process). But there will still be problems in infrastructure and transportation and distribution. And powerful men will still hold high school grudges against one another and choose silly miscommunications over reason.

“Cleaning your plate” is just a cure for post-industrial guilt.

Boo.

"Chaaarlie! That really hurt."

2008-01-23T20:33:00.000-08:00

Holy shit, I want a British baby... right now.

"Back to school, back to school...

2008-01-21T20:02:00.000-08:00

... to prove to Dad that I'm not a fool."

The day Adam Sandler stopped making mindless, immature, hilarious-when-only-when-you're-drunk movies was the day a bit of my soul died. It flaked right off and floated to the cold, hard earth. Then it produced a single tear before being swept away by a rogue wind from the east.

I hate the first day of classes (which was today) because I hate going over syllabuses and doing ice breakers. I have done more ice breakers since I came to Cornell than you can shake a stick at. Go ahead. Try and shake that stick at them all. There is no way you'll be able to do it. No. Way. I think I'm going to rely on blatant lies if someone asks me about myself again.

Two truths and a lie.

I once killed a man using an electric toothbrush and ball of yarn.

I keep his severed thumbs in the glove compartment of my El Camino.

I have a kitty named "Mr. Boogaloo".

That would send them all... into an awkward state. Really that's all I've ever wanted... along with wealth and power... and a mistress or two.

*throws list of classes at you to give this post a purpose*
-Physics
-Organic Chemistry (and lab... *vomit*)
-Macro-economics
-Introduction to Global Health
-Spanish for Health and Medical Professionals

Lustings

2008-01-10T10:51:00.000-08:00

It's funny, because Michael Cera doesn't really fit in with my other man-crushes (Bear Grylls, Leonidas). But I would still have his dorky little Canadian babies if he asked me to... nicely. And we would name them dorky Caucasian names, like Edgar and Simon.

Learning About the Female Body: Lesson 1

2008-01-02T11:33:00.000-08:00

Boobs suck because boobs hurt. Randomly. When you least expect it. It doesn't matter if you let them be free or strap them down under multiple layers of sports bras, they will still be whiny little bitches.

If all the parts of the female body were actually different female personalities, boobs would be the high-maintenance, New Jersey girls.

(Oh yeah. I went there...)

Post #225

2007-12-31T21:56:00.000-08:00

Here we are, blog. At the beginning of another New Year full of unforeseen surprises and potential wonder. I can only imagine the adventures that I will report to you as my life unfolds, and how you will have to just sit here, like the abstract semi-existent location that you are and listen to it all. I've never told you this, blog, but I don't tell you the truth about my life. In fact, I edit and modify a lot of the things I do tell you so that you might not judge me too harshly. You know how your judgment hurts me, blog. Like daggers in the heart. Or a lawn dart in the knee cap. Or a tiny bit of jalapeno juice in the eye.

I think I might be buzzed. Or slightly drunk. I'm still trying to decide. Either way, the internet has become surprisingly difficult to use. This must be how senior citizens feel when they take a stab at technology.

Speaking of senior citizens, today I went to Frankenmuth to share a delicious chicken dinner with some of my extended family. My maternal grandmother (the racist one) has an especially large immediate family, and, therefore, I have been given the gift of an especially large extended family. Whose names I am only just now learning. In case you're not familiar with Michigan, Frankenmuth is a city with lots of German history and famous chicken (and fudge and taffy and indoor water parks). And we ate our chicken. And my great aunt and uncle were still puzzled over why I wasn't eating the chicken. But I don't really miss the chicken. Me and meat are done. Through. Finished. No love. The love has left the building.

My family really is comprised of nice people, despite our spontaneous lapses into racism... which really only happens to the older generations... and maybe a few of the newer ones. Okay, my family is sometimes comprised of nice people, depending on which sections of the tree you're looking at. But I feel like racism doesn't make someone a terrible person. They were probably just raised in a different time. With different ideas. And I could understand how those ideas would be hard to break.

Just like I now understand why Christians can't incorporate evolution into their religion. At all. To any degree. It's because it undermines the teachings of the bible, which seems like a "duh" kind of statement, but bare with me here. Hang on. No. Back story.

So my aunt and uncle got my sister this book as a graduation gift call "The New Answers Book" which promises to explain evolution and the creation of earth and the great flood and dinosaurs all from a creationist point of view that is "scientifically solid" (as declared by the book's back cover). I started reading it, and then began to skim it, and then just looked at the amusing little graphics that were dispersed throughout the thing. And thus, I gained a better understanding... and a good amount of amusement.

You can't believe in evolution and the bible, because the bible is always right. Always. And any disagreement or conflict with the most literal interpretations of the text completely destroys the credibility of the rest of the book. Because evolution and fossils and the age of the earth (as acknowledged in the scientific community) stomp all over Genesis, they are all wrong. And evil! You're either with the bible, or against it. There is no happy, middle-ground were rational people romp and play in peace. Only bible-land and nonbible-land.

I think "bible" should be capitalized in that last paragraph. But I'm not going to do it. Too much effort.

It's like that time junior year when Jon B. typed an entire paragraph in all caps and then explained that he wasn't shouting at the reader, he was just didn't realize caps lock was on and was too lazy to go back and fix it. And then we all laughed as Rozzy shot mind bullets at him.

Or that time the floor was lava.

... the floor is always lava.

Okay. I'm thoroughly gone. But you could have known and prevented all this if you had just called.

Oh, fun fun.

2007-12-23T23:33:00.000-08:00

It's 2:37 on the morning of Christmas eve. It seems like a good setting for a story. That would take place in a hospital. A hospital waiting room with an array of month-old magazines coated with the germs of hundreds of patients passing through. Maybe I'll write that story someday. And the people who read it will think to themselves "Oh. Ah. How clever she is with her subtle symbols and her myriad of metaphors and her shameless alliteration." But I'll probably never write that story, because I'm too busy listening to Yvette's Myspace playlist and being stupid and weepy and feminine. And it's 2:43 in the morning, and I'm never going to sleep ever again.

Rough Night

2007-12-21T08:41:00.000-08:00

So I took this pottery class. And I made these pieces that I was intending to give to my family for Christmas. And last night when I opened the plastic bag that I had put them in in my suitcase, most of them were broken. Actually, they're still broken and sitting on my night stand with all their respective shards placed neatly in what remains of their bowl shape.

At the time, it kind of felt like someone had killed my children. Tears were shed. Sleep was lost. It's kind of pathetic, but this is the saddest thing that has happened to me in a long time.

Lies!

2007-12-20T11:17:00.000-08:00

Truth. The fuzzy, grey stuff in between.

Does anyone remember the show "Figure it Out"? With the guest panel (of not so funny B-list television actors) and the talented (and not so talented) children? Eh? Anyone? Probably not. There was this one kid that went on the show, and his... thing was that he had the world's largest collection of toe jam. Which was really just a jar of lint. But he still got to be on TV for 15 minutes. Which made me wonder why they call it "toe jam". To me, that implies either pain or moisture. Gelatinous moisture.

Which made me wonder why feet get such a bad rep as far as body parts go. Sure, they get kind of sweaty and fungi-ridden, but I feel like they deserve a second chance. They do contain something like 25% of all the bones in the body. And... that's the only redeeming quality I can think of right now... dammit.

And then I tried to think of a body part that wasn't disgusting, but all I could come up with was fingers. But they're kind of the most disgusting of all. They do all the dirty work. Plus, they're all nobby and gropey and full of knuckles. And then all those thoughts ended, and I moved on with my life.

I was folding jeans today and decided that my entire family could be represented by the number and types of jeans that they had in the load of laundry. My mom had many different colors and styles of jeans (about 3 of them) for she is the most versatile of us all, as far as different roles go. And also wears the pants in the family. My dad had one pair of jeans in the entire load (it was a big load) and they were "Relaxed Fit", which basically means that he is a man. A man that wears pants. My sister had at least 4 pairs in the load, all of them fairly identical which just screamed "attention whore" to me (at the time that I was folding all these).

My sister's size 2 pants also made me think of how tiny women are these days. And how hard it must be to raise children (or conceive at all for that matter) with such little body fat. If you've never watched a toddler for a few hours, let me tell you, they are physically exhausting. And that's just a couple of hours! Not even close to full-time motherhood.

It's like the female body has been turned into a piece of art. It isn't really valued for it's usefulness or durability anymore, just for the arc of the cheek bones. Or how tightly you can get the skin to stretch over your ribs. Personally, I kind of like using my body, because I'm young and it still seems to be working fairly well. And... oh God, this is turning into another self-righteous, body-image bashing fest...

The point is, I plan to let my body do what it was meant to do (run, jump, fall, shed, digest, make babies, wear out, die, etc.) whether it's an asthetically pleasing process or not. Maybe we should stop holding the traditional idea of a "work of art" in such high esteem, and start regarding other qualities as artistic in their own right. Like a crowbar. A crowbar is useful (depending on how resourceful you are with it) and you'll probably only need to buy one in your lifetime... and now I'm comparing women to crowbars.

I think I should just go to bed.

This is a test.

2007-12-10T11:02:00.000-08:00

A what?

Five more hours until the organic chemistry test eats my soul, vomits it up, and then eats it again. On one hand, I hope nobody else is having to endure the kind of academic torture that I'm going through. But on the other hand, I kind of hope you are. Just so we can all bitch about our shitty finals experiences together. There's nothing like group-bitching to cleanse the pores.

If I were to make a trip down to Texas to see all my beautiful lovelies sometime in early January, what days would everyone be around?

A New Strategy

2007-12-07T20:36:00.000-08:00

Huddle, team. Huddle.

Okay, so instead of acknowledging that studying is futile and admitting that we're probably going to fail all of these exams anyway and mentally resigning ourselves to a life of making babies and taking copious amounts of Valium to get through the rigors of trophy wife-dom, we are going to implement a new strategy.

We are going to pretend (for the next week or so) that every bit of knowledge we attempt to cram into our brain is logical and was meant to be there. And of course we're going to remember it come test day, because we are a sponge for knowledge. Hell, we are the sponge. And our stupendous ego will over ride all doubt or logic or reasoning that may plague us in the week to come.

Break!

It's one of those nights...

2007-12-06T20:29:00.001-08:00

... where you suddenly realize that you just ate an entire sleeve of Fig Newtons and are about to finish off a bottle of cranberry juice and you're thinking to yourself "Why are portions so large these days? I could easily subsist on 8 oz. of juice instead of the 15 or 16 that I have been given. " And then you curse the establishment and the men who created the establishment, and hop right back into your quasi-feminist shoes of wrath.

My refrigerator is being ridiculously loud. It isn't necessarily a problem right now, but at 7:30 in the morning when I'm trying to sleep and already feeling semi-nauseous it happens to be right by my head. And then we have problems.

I've been watching "Angels in America" for the past week or so, and I still can't decide exactly how I feel about it. I'm glad that it was made into mini-series (courtesy of HBO), and the cast is great, but there are still some parts that I feel are just... awkward when you watch them in that televised setting. Just because they come out really scripted in this really realistic place that you're taken to. Plus, I hate the ending dialogues.

All I know is that I want a funeral filled with drag queens and good gospel music. And that's pretty much all I want from life right now.

And Justin Kirk is a beautiful man... but only in profile.

Thirty-three more hours until the Spanish final destroys me! I should start a countdown feature. If only I were so skilled...

Wootah!

2007-12-04T18:16:00.000-08:00

A title totally unreflective of my current mood...

Hello, oh my jizzlety Jesus on a Ritz cracker! It's been so long since we talked. I feel like there's so much to say and so little time. So very little time.

Well, don't you hate when people start a sentence with "Well,...". It makes me feel like they're trying to justify the fact that they're speaking. Or get you all warmed up for the gargantuan schpeel that they are about to let loose. Just say what you are going to say, dammit! And be proud that you can speak. And make eye-contact, for the love of all things holy. And when you shake my hand, don't let your grip go limp in my fingers just because I'm a woman and your ego is so massive and throbbing that you think you might actually crush my hand. And don't let your handshake be soft and gentile because you're a woman and you think it is the right and proper thing to do. Dammit!

I've been sick for the past few days. It all started with the flu shot I so brilliantly decided to get on Friday thinking "Well, I do have exams coming up. I should protect myself against any illness that might lower my grades." So by Saturday my arm and back were very sore. Sunday brought a strange numbness in my legs and much lethargy. On Monday I had a mild fever and some pretty awesome chills, so a day that should have been spent studying was mostly me under a blanket oozing misery and bitchy about the cold. I feel better today (thanks to the Boy-Wonder that is DayQuil), but there is still a dull ache in my head when I move it too quickly. And I can't stand up for very long. Flu shot = never again.

But I'm starting to strongly believe that even if I do get better, I'm still going to fail my first two exams out of my own sheer stupidity. I've been looking over the Spanish final review for the past couple days and just weeping at my own utter lack of knowledge. I don't know where it all went. I'm so lost that I can't even think of questions to ask that might help me. I can't go into the professor for help because I have trouble understanding what he's saying (he only speaks in Spanish) and get all embarassed and sweaty everytime I try to meet with him. It makes me sad because I really thought I liked that class. And I really thought that I could be fluent someday. *tear*

I have decided that every woman needs a pair of flaming red high heels as part of her wardrobe. At all times. (I bought mine a week ago. Fantastic.)

And that's all I have to say... or should say... because I should be studying... at this very moment...

The Bitch's Last Stand

2007-11-15T08:45:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to play piano. That's all I wanted. I wake up at 6:30 everyday and trek off to an eight o'clock class. And I always get there on time. And I've only missed one class over the course of 3 semesters of school, and I all I want to fucking do is play piano. And I can't. Because the people that don't go to class and sit around the dorm all day smoking weed and watching family guy are playing Guitar Hero in the same room. And they'll be there all weekend, just eating chips and playing Guitar Hero and amplifying my own awareness of how shitty my life is right now.

And I lost my umbrella. Which is probably the worst possible thing that could ever happen to a person living in Ithaca in November.

I hate the fact that I have been physically unable to cry for the past 3 weeks. The tears won't come out when I need them to. Yet the day they finally do come, my roommate has decided to skip her only class for the day in her ridiculously easy course load so that she can sit in front of her computer and watch anime. And hinder her roommate's ability to bawl into her pillow during the one hour of free time that she has for the day.

I hate that one of the few times that I'm actually genuinely upset over the course of the year, I get overshadowed by the petty, pissy, fucking cunt cunt bitch drama of some other girl in the eyes of the person who should be consoling me. Because aloof assholes who can't see things for what they really are even when they're 10 inches away from it, and it's metaphorically punching them in the face with hints and guestures and alludings.

I need to throw something.

I'm not dead! (... sort of...)

2007-11-10T15:42:00.000-08:00

It is true. I am still alive for your looking, listening, and tasting pleasure. I'm 48 hours out of miserably bombing an organic chemistry prelim, and am finally starting to feel better. I've stopped sporadically hyperventalating, which I'm going to guess is generally a good thing.

It took me a good 45 seconds to come up with a title for this post, because everything I could think of I've used before. Which makes me wonder how much of this blog is actually new, interesting information and how much of it is just me going through the same motions over and over and over again. The blog hath been saturated and my well is running dry. I'm blaming college...

... which is really starting to get quite interesting. I'm starting to narrow down my focus on what I want to do with my life (something with health, something international, something that does not involve me in a lab for 5 hours a day hunched over a microscope/pipet/petri dish). I feel like I've told everything this already, but I'm looking at getting a global health minor added to my Human, Biology, Health, and Society major which will officially give me the world's longest and most pompous sounding degree in the world. Which is totally what I'm here for.

The global health minor would involve me going to Ecuador either this summer or the Fall semester of next year which both frightens and excites me.

This semester I've been pledging to a co-ed service fraternity (Alpha Phi Omega). I don't really remember why I wanted to do this, but in a week or so, I'll be done with my requirements and will be declared a "brother". "Brother Lisa", they will call me, sexist bastards...

It's nice to do community service again. It reminds you that there is a world outside of classes and the library afterall. It also reminds you why you hate people from the east coast so much.

It's not all the people.... mostly just the girls... mostly just the girls that when asked to rake leaves to clean up the grounds of some charitable program will still find reasons to whine about the entire situation. Frankly, it's kind of astounding to hear the stories of people from the city who have only raked leaves once before in their life because they grew up without a yard to take care of. It kind of makes you want to pity and punch them in the face all at the same time. Because you're a terrible person with no morals and very little compassion.

I've also been taking a pottery class (again, no idea how many people I've told) on the side. It was one of those compuslive hobbies that I have a bad habit of picking up... but I did it anyway, dammit! I'm pretty terrible at the whole thing, but every one in a while something nice will come off the wheel that doesn't collapse in on itself. And that's a good feeling. Plus, you get to play in really expensive mud and not be judged by society. Again, good feelings.

Leo (guinea pig) eats his own feces. I read somewhere that all guinea pigs do it and I understand the biological reasons behind his actions (retention of B vitamins), but the other day when I actually saw him do it, it was kinda nasty. Now I just can't look at him the same way. It's been awkward between us ever since.

Classes are good (I'll be balancing out a few C's with a few A's this semester; that is the plan). Social life is good. My roommate has a lot of hair that she tends to leave in every imagineable place in our room, but other than that, she's okay. I'm hoping to make a venture down to LJ sometime in early January... so exciting.

I'm contemplating calling up Regina Spektor and asking her to marry me. I shall woo her with my saavy phone skills and my promises of love and beautiful life together.

Oh! I'm sick right now. I have this lovely cough that just screams bronchitis and my lymph nodes are the size of golf balls!... okay, not really. They're more like peanut M&M's, but still, I have creative rights.

The weather took a sudden turn for fucking freezing sometime a few weeks ago. If you were going to classify how people react to the cold (person who doesn't notice, person who still can't figure out how to dress, person who over-dresses), I would fall into the category of "person who is constantly whining about how cold it is". I can't help it. It's just so damn cold... should have gone to UT...

And that's all... I have to say... ever.

"Nunca creí en la felicidad"

2007-11-04T06:04:00.000-08:00

For the past 36 hours I have been listening non-stop to Julieta Venegas. Her feel-good songs make me feel all warm and nummy inside.

Nuuuuummmmmmmmmy.

(I.O.U. one in-depth and extensive life update. Just let me get through this week alive first.)

I feel sick.

2007-11-01T20:59:00.001-07:00

Really really... sick.

Splendid.

2007-10-24T09:30:00.001-07:00

This morning my guinea pig farted. It was the cutest thing I've ever seen.

Shenanigans!

2007-10-23T15:50:00.000-07:00

Today I looked at my blog, and I said to myself "This is truly a sad blog, for it hath not been posted on for nearly a month now." So I decided to post... on this blog... yes, the one you're reading right now.

Impuslive writing.

Fun Facts about Life:

-For the past week, I've been living for soy lattes. I could subsist on them if I really wanted to for they are the most delicious of the coffee beverages.

-The weather outside is abysmal. It's like 60 degrees with constant rain and an occasional gust of wind that will cause you to become soaked no matter how many layers of protection you think you have. This is God's way of punishing consumers that think they can conquer the elements.

-I have a theory that broken condoms are also one of those little jokes that God is playing on us. I can see him now, sitting in his cloud throne... chuckling away...

-I have such a short attention span for everything... I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. Today I was thinking how great it would be just to study Spanish all the time. And live in a place where people speak Spanish, and be a Spanish speaker amongst them. But I know I won't feel that way tomorrow. And the next day I'll probably be craving the life of starving a artist typing away on some dusty typewriter in some dusty corner of the world. Everything changes. It scares me.

-Booboobeeboo.

"I'm a high night flyer and a rainbow rider. A straight shootin' son of a gun."

2007-09-23T17:52:00.000-07:00

Yes, I said a straight shootin' son of a gun. I'm also a procrastinator. Could you tell?

I'm tired of all this nonsense with alkenes and their reaction tendencies. So you have a carbon-carbon double bond and four substituents... so what? That doesn't make you all that and a bag of Garden Salsa-flavored Sunchips. Ya know? YA KNOW!?!

Really, I should stop...

So I'm taking this human development class that covers infancy to childhood and it's driving my ovaries crazy. Every video that we watch has some cute baby in it doing something adorable and all I can do is sit there and be unpregnant. It really is a new kind of torture. Between that class and this video

... and this...

... and probably this...

I should be knocked-up in no time. *thumbs up* *wink*

Hero of the Week

2007-09-22T08:34:00.001-07:00

The lolcats are the hero of the week, because they have succeeded in taking a week that could have been destroyed with organic chemistry and physics and added a spoonful of adorable. The week was still destroyed, but in a cute kind of way.

Hero of the Week

2007-09-14T09:51:00.001-07:00

Under most circumstances, I don't like to do this (i.e. give attention to attention-whores), but I feel like this situation warrants it.

Chris Crocker is best known for his "Leave Britney Alone" antics, but that's not the reason he's the hero of the week. Oh no. It's mostly because I can't figure him out.

At first I thought he was a woman.
Then I thought he was just doing it as a joke.
Then I decided that he was just an egotistical-whore seeking attention.
But now I'm pretty sure he's a she-man feeding his ego and killing time with Youtube, lots of marijuana, a dash of coke, and a vague hope that one day he will be able to get a job and move out of his parent's basement.

Kudos to you, Chris. You've captured my attention, but my heart will always belong to Tay Zonday.

Fantastic.

2007-09-10T20:48:00.000-07:00

I'm back from my mini-vacation to northern New York. 'Twas fantastic. Friday night was mostly devoted to "Apples to Apples" (which eventually reached a max of about 20 people and ended around 3 am) because it was too dark to see... anything outside of our cabin.

Saturday morning was low ropes (swinging from tires, short obstacle courses, problem solving, etc.). And everytime you do a low ropes course, they always factor in this "team building" component. But we shrugged it off, because we're little bastards like that. Saturday afternoon was high ropes (zip lines, longer obstacle courses 30 ft. in the air, etc.). I really hate "activites" that involve only adrenaline and no thinking. And I also hate heights. Mostly I was just scared out of my mind, but I'm glad I did it....

Which brings me to the pet peeve of the week: girls. Girly girls. I'm tired of them. I think we should ship them off to a camp for little girls that want to be girly and nothing else. And then we should marry them off to manly men that have no other component to their being. And then they can make the most normal babies that ever existed and live in a secluded community of normality and the rest of us won't have to deal with them.

Because when you cry during a ropes course because you're "scared" or you avoid things that are new and exciting and potentially fun, you make the rest of us look bad. So stop your pissant squealing and pop out a (metaphorical) cajone or two, bitch. (End rant.)

And then there was Eco House wrestling (oh yes, we wrestle). I experienced more bruising and rug burn and exaustion in those 5 hours than I have ever had anywhere else. Ever.

And now I'm back at school. Hurting and healing and learning.

I'm off to see the world!

2007-09-07T13:49:00.000-07:00

Or just the Adironack Mountains-part of that world (specifically 3 hours north of Ithaca). Ecology House is having a weekend shindig up there, and so I shall follow them (like the loyal Eco-Dweller that I am).

In the mean time, I will let the obscene amounts of work that I should be doing fester in the back of my mind. Mmm... I can't wait for the delicious consequences of all this procrastination.

Hero of the Week

2007-09-07T12:26:00.000-07:00

The hero of the week is Ronald Jenkees. His squinty face and "Blaire Witch" filming style have captured my heart. "The Rocky Song Remixed" most accurately captures his persona.

"And I said no salt, NO salt on the margarita, but it had salt on it, big grains of salt, floating in the glass..."

2007-09-04T13:22:00.000-07:00

So I am now 9 days into my sophomore year and all is going well. Some classes are better than others, but right now they're mostly the same. Everyone wants to introduce the same crap that every other classes introduces at the beginning of the year (i.e. significant figures, scientific method, etc.). So all my classes are over-lapping with the same crap that I've been learning for the past 5 years, which makes things boring as hell. Come on people! I don't pay an arm a leg to be pampered through my education. I'm ready to be bitch slapped with a shit-load of work and forced to stay awake all night pouring over textbooks and various complicated documents. Givitome!

*shit-load of work flies through window and knocks her unconcious*

*regains conciousness*

Spanish is a fun class. The professor gets really angry at us when we don't understand him (which is a large percentage of the time). And then he yells at us in Spanish and English, but you can't really tell the difference between the two when he starts speaking, and so then we all get even more confused. Then he starts cursing us under his breath and shaking his head in disappointment. At first it was really upsetting (yes, there were tears), but now it's just kind of amusing. I have this theory that he's relying on systematic degradation to shame us all into learning the language. Brilliant!

Today in my Human Development class, we were talking about the development and study of "children of color". And then someone approached the professor (during a short break) and explained how the term "children of color" was offensive to her. So the professor rephrased after the break and said "minority children", and then someone else raised their hand and declared that that was also offensive. And you can't say African-American anymore because not everyone is from Africa. So I just don't know what to say... *white and confused*

This year, I've resolved to blame all of my (academic) problems on people from New Jersey. Because if it weren't for people from New Jersey, with their private schools and their other private schools disguised as "magnet schools" and their upper-middle class education, I might actually be getting an A every once in a blue moon. But no. They have to show up with their 4 years of advanced chemistry, and their superior preparation and out do the rest of us that come from humble public school origins.

Yes, I could blame B'Wood. Or myself. But I choose Jersey! They 'ad it comin'.

Poetry is crap.

2007-09-02T18:10:00.000-07:00

Goldfish never taste the same here.
Maybe I should stop falling
For their delicious ploys,
And start eating the real thing.

The Pig

2007-08-30T19:23:00.000-07:00

On the desk. Eating a bit of apple.

The guinea pig is no longer named "Pip". He has officially been re-named "Leo" *cough* after Leonidas *uncough*. What? Plus, he looks more like a Leo.

"My, what a good day for a... walk outside"

2007-08-30T19:08:00.000-07:00

The one good thing about Ithaca (actually, there are many a good thing) is that the weather kicks so much ass... except between mid-October and April. But outside of that hell hole that is winter, it's really nice here. And there are plants and trees and minimal amounts of concrete, and as much as I love cities, I like the un-cities one hundred times better.

Today I found two cicadas mating on the sidewalk. My roomate is taking an entomology course and has to collect a bunch of insects before the end of the semester (there are dead bugs all over our room; is very exciting) so I thought I'd help her out. So after awkwardly prodding at the lovers with a stick, attempting to get them through the one inch hole of my water bottle, I realized how much I suck at collecting bugs. Anna (roomate) brings home wasps and bees and giant icky stinging bugs and I can't catch a damn locust. And then they flew away. I have to admit, I felt a little guilty for breaking up their love fest.

And then I thought about Mickey Mouse, and how much he resembles Minnie Mouse. And then I thought, "What if Minnie Mouse is just the cross-dressing alter-ego of Mickey Mouse?" And then I completely re-evaluated my childhood.

Oh, Leonidas...

2007-08-26T12:55:00.001-07:00

... please let me have your babies.

Please?

Life consumption begins.. wait for it... now!

2007-08-25T12:43:00.000-07:00

This is what I'll be doing for the rest of the year. I probably won't post very often... or leave the library... or sleep, but is okay.

Social Science Perspectives on Food and Nutrition - One delicious sociology course disguised as science.

Human Development - The study of BABIES!!!!

Physics 101 - This is an auto-tutorial class which is sort of awesome and sort of scary. The awesome part is that you get to pace yourself and do everything on your own time. The scary comes from the fact that there are lots and lots and lots of rules and nit-picky details and if you fail at any of them they eat your grade. Literally, they just peel it off the page and shove it in their mouth... plus, they curve-down the class to that good ol' Cornell B- average. :-(

Organic Chemistry for Life Sciences - After the severe beat-down that I received in my chemistry class last year (not to mention the numerous mental break-downs), I feel optimistic that I can do well in this class. Good study habits were probably the only thing I learned in chemistry last year. However, because it is "for Life Sciences" there are bookoos of pre-med's in there. BOOKOOS! I say. And as if pre-med people weren't annoying enough, this is the "weeder class" for med school. Which means their panties will be in an even tighter wad than last year. Delicioso.

Continuing Spanish - Yes, it is sad that I've taken Spanish classes for 8 years now and still can't speak it. Yes, it is even sadder than after those 8 years, I took a placement test and scored just barely... barely high enough to be placed in the second easiest Spanish class Cornell offers. But all is well, because my teacher is this bumbling old Bolivian man who smells like soap. And I love him. And I will love him even more at 8 in the morning, 4 days a week, when I am hyped out of my mind on caffiene.

BOOKOOS!

Back at Schoo'

2007-08-21T04:53:00.000-07:00

Oh dear Jesus. The past 3 days have been the most tiring days in... ever. And despite the poor construction and thought behind the last sentence, I feel like it accurately captures the hell that was my move-in.

After twelve hours of driving, battling hoards of terrible Canadian drivers, we arrived on Monday evening. Some friends helped me unpack and I shoved everything in a corner and piddled the night away.

Yesterday was unpacking day. You never realize how much crap you have, until you have to pack up everything you have, fit it in a car, transport it hundreds of miles, and then unpack it all again. I felt even worse about being a materialistic whore after I got to my room and found that my roommate had... pretty much nothing. Granted she got a few days to put it all away before I arrived, but still, there was a good 24 hour period when I had the majority of the square-floorage covered with crap. It was glorious.

I'm living in the Ecology House this year, a hotel that was converted into "an environmentally aware" dorm. It's a huge jump from the monster dorm I was living in last year. It feels more... home-like. People actually come out of their rooms and mingle. There's a decent piano (thank god!). And there are critters in most of the rooms... Okay, maybe not most... perhaps 25%, but still... there's a giant water bug living across the hall from me. That's exciting.

And then I bought a guinea pig. He is delicious and soft and smells faintly of animal and woodchips. And he doesn't have a name. On the paperwork for the dorm, his name is "Mr. Squiggle Butt," but it just doesn't feel like the right name now that I actually have the guinea pig. I can't decide between an actual human name (Herman?) or an noun name (Killer?). So the guinea pig is nameless. Pictures will come soon.

And now I'm off to buy books... as soon as I can convince myself to get out of my robe and put on some clothes (always the hardest part of the day). *sigh*

Thoughts and Theories and Myspace

2007-08-12T18:50:00.000-07:00

Occasionally I enjoy perusing through the "browse" feature on Myspace, looking for people that I went to school with. And more than occasionally I will stumble upon the profile of someone that I vaguely knew from somewhere. They'll usually be engaged or married or pregnant or a mommy/daddy and I'll think to myself "But they're so young! How could they do that to themselves with so much left to experience before they settle down?"

But secretly, deep down in the deepest parts of my... self, I want what they have. A reliable job and somewhere to live with someone I love and the babychilds. As much as I was to go out and live for 10 more years and explore and not be chained down with too much responsibility, I really just want babies and marriage and safe happiness.

I have this theory (which is why I'm writing this here; to perhaps get some outside verification) that all women (and most men) secretly just want safe, boring, predictable lives.

Eh?

"Food beyond compare, food beyond belief. Mix it in a mincer and pretend it's beef..."

2007-08-10T20:49:00.000-07:00

Damn you, catchy show tunes!

Hello! Happy Friday! No, it doesn't really feel like Friday, because most of us are either sitting at home, bored out of out minds 7 days a week, or working our asses off 7 days a week to the point where all the days are starting to feel the same. There is no happy medium.

Today I cleaned the house... or about 46% of the house. I got distracted by "Mythbusters." That Adam is such a stitch, but I'm still trying to figure out what crawled up Jamie's butt and died. Or maybe he's just the strong, silent, maniacal genius type. Or maybe they just needed someone to balance out the bubbly that is Adam... but I digress. I like to role-play while I clean. While I was cleaning bathrooms, I was a talented young Cuban girl who had the voice of an angel and the determination of a small, adorable creature towing a large parcel of food back to its burrow. I was cleaning the homes of rich people in order to buy a bus ticket to Hollywood and escape the clutches of my abusive, alcoholic father. Whilst vacuuming, I was a disgruntled housewife who took her frustrations out on the newest family pet... who would inevitably die a few weeks after it was welcomed to its new home...

Cleaning can get really really boring...

Imagine how I must be in the bedroom... ehh... *wink wink*... *nudge*.

And then my dad decided that we needed to go out to dinner. To a casino. A casino that was 40 minutes away.

For those of you that have never been to casinos, they are icky places. "Icky" is a simple word that is often looked down upon due its status as a favorite adjective of small children, but I can not stress how appropriate it was in describing this place. Venture with me to a moment. A moment about 5 hours ago...

The highway there is really only a country road. A country road that is 4 lanes wide. And you think to yourself, "Why does this have 4 lanes? There's nothing but farm houses and fields of corn on either side." But when you get to the casino, you see why. Two giant plastic eagles claw at a sign that reads "Soaring Eagle Casino" and marks the entrance to a parking lot that could put even the most super of the Super Wal-Marts to shame. You park in section C4 and begin the trek towards the colossal, boring, warehouse-looking building in the distance. On your way there, you see a sign. It reads: "Please do not leave children unattended in car. We have child care facilities." And then you think "Who the hell would be dumb enough to leave their kid alone in this huge parking lot?" And then it scares you a little as you think "Enough people that they feel it's necessary to put a sign up."

So you go into the casino and it smells like a giant bowling alley. The front door is 20 feet away from the nearest slot machine which is only one of a thousand others (literally, a thousand) that extend out into an area almost the size of a football field. There are tables and roulette wheels and craps, but mostly there are slot machines. And the noises they make all kind of melt together and make this flurry magical dings and whistles. Every once in a while, a light will flash and you'll see a number: $1, 021.48! $784,332.12! And you'll dream about what you could buy with that kind of money, and think to yourself "What if..." The noise and lights give the feeling that there is winning going on on that floor. Like everyone is living the dream with their daiquiri in one hand, and a cup of coins in the other. But when you look at their faces, they all have that blank stare of boredom. Even more blank than that zombie-look kids who watch TV too much get.

Everything (besides the copious amounts of pasty Caucasions) gives off strong Native American vibes. The chandeliers have feather detailing, all the restaurants have unpronounceable Indian names, and there's a totem pole around every corner. There are even display cases on the walls every few feet or so showing Native American peoples. Real ones! With their tribal headdresses and such. And it's all kind of sad and dreamy and pathetic all at once. You can say nice words like "educational displays" and "respect for those noble people" or you can say mean words like "ignorant capitalists" and "white privilege", but either way, it's not going to make a difference. They're still going to get the money and the land and the power. And they're still going to be dead, or damn close to it anyway. And you're going to be typitty-typing all of this into your blog with a romantic tear in your eye knowing, deep down, that you couldn't have stopped it even if you had been there. Knowing, even deeper down, that you wouldn't have stopped it had you been given the choice.

*Queue touching music*

"I'm just an ass in the crack of humanity."

2007-08-06T16:39:00.000-07:00

Hello, world! And or the five people that read this blog. I love you like a muffin loves being filled with delicious fruits of various shapes and sizes. You wouldn't think muffins would really care one way or another... but they do! It's a crucial part of their muffin-hood.

As I was walking someone else's dog today (yes, I fill the void in my dog-less childhood by walking other people's dogs) I was thinking to myself how nice a day it was. And how nice the breeze and the sun were. And then I thought about how none of these things would seem nice to me if I were... oh... I don't know... an earthworm... or an octopus... or a tetanus bacteria. And then I thought about how the things we enjoy aren't really enjoyable themselves, but are enjoyed by us. And so I really should have been thinking how nice it was that I happened to be standing in a sunny, breezy place and happened to have evolved (over millions of years) to the point where I could appreciate the position that I happened to find myself in at that very moment. So instead of thanking Jesus for the sun and the stars and all the beautiful things that I perceive as beautiful, I should be thankful that Jesus built the universe up to that very moment when my brain was able to perceive the sun and the breeze and that are both pleasing and delightful and conclude that my life was in a good place and it was "a nice day."

... Jesus gets too much credit for things. Shouldn't we be giving God a little more credit?

Blasphemy? You be the judge.

Texas is a spectacular place. Filled with spectacular people of all shapes and sizes. That's really the only reason I come down. To become more "in-tune" with "my people". Translation: I am sick of white people and their white ways. Which is bad, because Michigan has approximately 1.2 "minorities" per square mile. Sometimes I'll try to count the minorities in public places... just for fun. The most I've ever gotten is around 2. You don't notice these things until you start counting.

Plus, it's nice to have conversations with people who have something interesting to add to the world.

I loves you all! Damn, I'm going to miss you guys... *gets all verklempt*

Dammit.

2007-07-21T14:51:00.001-07:00

It's that terrible time that comes once every few years. The first week when "the next" Harry Potter book has been released.

Don't get me wrong (Note: "Don't get me wrong." is probably one of the most overused phrases of all time. Just like that old classic "No offense, but..." or "I'm not racist/sexist/fascist/communist/horny or anything, but..."), I enjoy a good ride on the old Potter Train just as much as the next gal, but it's just too damn stressful.

Living in a house of 3 people who all want to read the same book at the same time is hazardous unto itself. Fortunately, I'm usually able to smuggle the book off to some desolate corner and hoard the goodness all for my own. Because I bees a bitch like that.

And then there's the constant risk of spoilers... everywhere. The last book was ruined probably 4 times before I even made it halfway through, rendering the last couple hundred pages as stale and unfulfilling as bad sex on top of dry matza while listening to Kenny G (yes, really). I was just skimming the damn thing, begging to get it over with. That's why, this time, I'm not visiting any of my usual websites or leaving my house or talking to anyone that has read further than me. Right now, I'm living in this state of paranoid, hyper-awareness where I fear that everywhere I turn , someone is going to give something away. Pulling up Merriam-Webster.com just now made me cringe a little for fear that someone may have pasted a giveaway on the homepage. Because people are assholes like that. (Note: If someone were, however, to write a plot summary in blood on my bathroom mirror that would be kind of awesome.). I will not let the last Potter be ruined!

But mostly, I'm going to enjoy this read. 4-6 were mostly me rushing through in 2 days, desperately trying to get the thing read so I could say that I did it. But NO! I will not be rushed! I am going to savor this thing for all it's worth.

So with that said...

Harry is really pissing the hell out of me. (No spoilers or anything here). I didn't realize what a moody, pissant little bitch he is... until now. I always just thought it was J.K. Rowling trying to get across his selflessness and valor, but I'm really starting to think that she wants me to hate him. Which is confusing... and kind of awesome (from a character development standpoint).

And that is all. *Scurries back to dark corner and continues pouring over book*

(Note: I'm sorry if this post is annoying. But just because you don't want to read Harry Potter *cough* Oskar *cough* and possibly Bellami *cough* I'm not sure *cough* and maybe Lindsey too *cough* and be a mindless Potter drone like the rest of us, doesn't mean that I should alter my bloggings for you! I'm my own woman, dammit! I choose my addictions. They're my choice! *grabs IV* *pumps medley of illicit substances into self* mmmmmm... Pottttterr.)

OMG...

2007-07-16T13:14:00.000-07:00

Yes.

Bear Grylls is the man.

2007-07-14T19:29:00.000-07:00

And I will have his babies.

"I got money in the bank, tell me what you thank 'bout that..."

2007-07-14T11:30:00.000-07:00

That song has nothing do with this post.

Today is one of those days where there's just enough clouds and gloom outside to make you want to sit around all day, bra-less and curled up under a blanket, reading Carl Sagan's "Cosmos". And you keep telling yourself that when you finish this chapter you're going to put on a bra and get some exercise and stop being a fat piece of crap. But instead you just raid the refrigerator and return to your nook of warmth and safety and Sagan-ism.

Carl Sagan is one of those men who has that a strange medley of eloquence and savviness and dorkiness going for him. You would think the big teeth, 70's fashion, fact that he's been dead for 11 years would be a turn off... but it's not! It's not a sexual attraction... it's more of an "Old Man Attraction" where you admire from a distance, but any real interraction with them would probably be a huge turn off. Does any of this make sense? My point is that Sagan got class. Unlike Richard Dawkins who seems to be a substantially large douche bag.

In other parts of life that exist outside my repressed sexual fantasies for men 3 times my age, I've been volunteering for the past week. I did 3 days of the data entry job, which is boring as hell, but they give me free yogurt so I stay. Yesterday, I made and served lunch at a soup kitchen which was new and different and really fulfilling. I want to say that I got some kind of lesson out of it that I could put here, but I didn't. It's just a swarm of thoughts and emotions that are still kind of circling around my head. Sometimes it's hard to put things into nice neat little revelations... or even words for that matter. Oh well...

I'm feeling chatty. And perky.

2007-07-09T14:04:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's true. And also a little bitchy. Not in a "sincerely angry, running around the house throwing shit" way, but a light and playful form of pissed off. If the worst version of "Pissed Off Lisa" is a hail storm of fire balls and chipmunk feces, this pissed off is a light shower of lemonade. Yes, lemonade. Nothing else shall do.

Life Update: I'm still sitting at home. Reading and slowly giving into the television addiction that I've ignored for the past 9 months (so many things to see, so little time). I think I might actually have a job! Or a volunteering job, anyway, starting tomorrow. At which time, I will go to some random suite at some random office building and do data input for a study that was done on teenagers and drug consumption. It's sad that I'm excited for busy work, but at the same time, it gets me out of my depressingly empty house (located in the middle of nowhere). And for this, I am grateful.

I'm also reading "The Idiot" by Dostoyevsky. I started it in March and then let myself get distracted by other books until now! I have decided that I am going to actually finish a big fat book of Russian literature... just to say I did it. The hardest part about Russian novels is that everyone has 3-4 different names/titles... all of which are at least 12 letters long. Which leads me to ask the question (*cough* Meagan!*cough*) why the hell do they do that?!? WHY!

(End Life Update)

Be-bop Skiddly Do Bop Schwee

2007-06-22T18:33:00.000-07:00

Today I was dusting the dusty dust off the dust-covered surfaces of our house and I thought to my racist self "If dust is mostly made of dead skin cells, do people with darker skin have darker dust in their homes?" And then I concluded in my lazy half-assed, totally unresearched manner "No, surely not. Skin cells are so tiny, the melanin content would be insignificant at that level." And then I thought about how everything is just an elaborately crafted series of seemingly insiginificant events. Like the plastic on that chair that you're sitting in. Yes, you there! On your high and mightly swirly computer chair with the lever underneath so that you may properly adjust yourself to the height of the desk. Or pretend that you're taking off on a really slow rocket ship that only travels a foot at a time... *reminisce* oh, childhood. All that plastic is made of tiny strand after strand of carbon... thingeys, all tiny, yet oh-so-significant. Or the way that all the tiny cells in yo momma's womb came together at just the right place and time and made a baby.

But we don't appreciate the tinies. We only show respect when they all come together and make something that is much much bigger and significant... to us. Only then does it get a little spot in our tangled jungle of conciousness. Like that dead skin cell that just flaked off my nose. I didn't appreciate it's protection while it was actually a part of me. And I won't notice it in its dust form until it joins forces with a billion other Lisa cells and forms a layer on the fireplace mantle .

And then I thought about life, and how a life and a person is made up of so many tiny events and how we don't actually get to see the product until all the little events have accumulated and started to come together. And then I started to think of little events as battles. Battles that I have to fight each and everyday to create the dust layer of my life. Like the battle that I won this morning with the microwave as it heated up my bagel and didn't explode in my face. And the epic battle that I lost this afternoon with the garage door as it tore the mirror off the side of my car. And the silent battle that I'm currently engaged in with my father as he struggles not to kill me... with a monkey wrench.

But do the events really matter? And if not, then what does matter in life? Do the things that I may or may not do this summer really matter in the grand scheme of things? Maybe I was just created to pass on my "good genes" and then die. Or maybe there is a greater calling for humans and we should all come together like so many monomers and actually impact... something.

Herumph.

Jesus loves the little chidlins...

2007-06-05T13:50:00.000-07:00

I have had that damn song stuck in my head all day. It's scary when your past comes back to haunt you like that.

I've also been trying to decide what to do with my life. Not all day long, but for the past thirty minutes or so. It's hard to do because it's pretty depressing. All of the majors that I feel like I could actually do something with require scary courses. Like calculus-based physics and computer programming. Considering my experiences with beginner's chemistry last year (problem sets at 2 in the morning, cramming for exams that you know you'll fail, and a constant stream of tears) I'm not sure if I'm up for all these "hard core" classes. Now I understand why Oskar doesn't want to come to Cornell (on a much smaller scale). It's like you're diving head long into the unknown. All of these classes are just words on a page until you actually get there. And then you can't get out. And you're trapped in a tiny box-world of numbers and calculations and soulless knowledge.

I think I'm just going to dive right into environmental engineering anyway. I won't flunk out of Cornell ("failure" is not in the Passmore vocabulary; "damn close to failure" is, but not "failure), I'll just get a pathetic GPA and pray that someone hires me. And even if I end up living in a shitty apartment, working at McDonalds, living off of the dollar menu at Wendy's, I'll be okay with that. As long as I have friends there with me. Or Oskar. Or both. That would be a really good life.

Tree-hugger majors, here I come! *clicks heels together*

Family Meeting!!!

2007-06-02T17:16:00.001-07:00

Kids, your mother and I have decided that it's time that we all had a little... talk. We both love you very much and always want to do what is best for you and that's why... well, we're going to talk about shower hygiene. Yes, that's right the hygiene behind the hygiene. I don't know why I did that unnecessary intro, but it's okay, because that's all behind us now.

Personally, I'm a wash cloth woman. I will throw in the occasional loofah scrub when I'm feeling particularly inspired, but for the most part, I stick to soap and cloth. Which leads me to my first question: how often should you change out your wash cloth? And does the same logic necessarily apply to towels? And where the hell does the loofah fit into all of this? These are serious questions, people. The sanitation needs of humanity depend on the answers! No I am not blowing this all out of proportion! Okay! Just a little! I just feel like there is a real need to discuss these types of issues nowadays.

Bitch got issues...

2007-06-01T20:56:00.000-07:00

Hello and happy Friday to you all! I hope you find yourself in splendidly high spirits on this lovely precursor to the weekend. May the lord shineth his rays of hope down upon thee and bless thine life with the splendors of his love. Amen. And amen.

Yeah, me neither.

So here I am eating miso soup at midnight. It sounds like the title of a melodramatic mid-westerner's really bad first novel. A "masterpiece of a work in which she recounts the trials of a young pregnant teen growing up in America's heartland". Was that a rant? I'm not even sure.

This miso soup was brought to you by a tube of mysterious paste-like substance and a bag of freeze dried tofu that I found in my pantry five minutes ago. And it is surprisingly delicious. I'm sure it has everything to do with my obscene cravings of salty foods for the past week and nothing to do with actual quality.

Back in Michigan again. Missing Texas like a bitch. A bitch dat gots issues. There's something about this place that's very lonely. It might have to do with the whole "big house out in the middle of nowhere" thing, but I'm trying to convince myself that that's not the case. I think it's mostly having no one to talk to. And nothing to talk about. Hmmm *formulates scheme to transport Bellami's house filled with everyone she knows and loves to Michigan* (Oh how I do miss the Bellami-ness). But enough of this sadness. Life is pointless and living is futile and Lester, Ester, Wyatt, Amelia, Apple, and Parsley seedlings have stopped growing because there's is no sunlight in this godforsaken house.

I've been looking for a job. So far I've applied to Victoria's Secret, Bed Bath and Beyond, Bath and Body Works, Maurices (clothing store), Claires, Barnes and Noble... and I think that's all. My pickiness with jobs and severe lack of credentials (haha... oh, waitressing years. How I'll never ever miss you.) make me think that I won't be getting hired any time soon. But I'm okay with spending the next two months sleeping until noon and living off of chocolate chip cookies. (God, I'm a spoiled brat.) Now all I need to do is get pretty so I can marry some over-ambitious investment banker and live like this for the rest of my life. Yay! for realistic goals.

Christians don't bother me. In fact, it really bothers me when people "Christian-bash" and assume that everyone that has any kind of religion is a bible-beating evangelical who worships George W. Bizzle... for rizzle. Because they're not. A lot of them are great people who I am only slightly jealous of for having more concept of who they are as a person than I will ever have. But not my sister. For she is one crazy biatch. Most likely, I will regret all of this later, but I predict that she will be the freakishly twitchy, over-bearing, nightmare of a mother by the time she hits forty. And for some reason she will have wild red hair and wear it all on top of her head in a rigid cocoon of hairspray and malice. And I will be the hippy aunt who slips her nieces and nephews hard liquor at new years and is still trying to get laid.

Poo.

2007-05-09T10:01:00.000-07:00

Yes, you heard me. Poo on chemistry. Poo on the very notion of higher education. I've been studying chemistry for the past 80-something hours and I've decided that I've had enough. There is a tiny ball of nervous energy inside of me screaming "No! NO! Get out that text book and cram those final tiddle-bits of knowledge into that mushy brain of yours. There's always more to learn... always!" But I'm kind of ignoring him right now. In fact, I think I might go wear him out with a brisk jog. Yes, that would be nice.

Because the weather is holy-shit-licking GORGEOUS! We've got 80 degress with a slight breeze and lots of sun. All the flowers are out around campus and every once in a while you'll get a whiff of something wonderful. If it were any other way around here I think everyone would go insane. Exams are a bitch.

Slope Day was exciting! For those of you that weren't there (which is everyone), Slope Day is the last day of classes when everyone gets drunk (or is supposed to) and gathers on this massive slope that leads up to main campus. This year, Catch-22, TV on the Radio, and T.I. came and performed for all the smelly, passed-out masses. I volunteered to pass out bottled water and make sure no one died, so I was stuck wandering the masses all day, but iwuzallgoo 'cause I got a free t-shirt. And that's all I'm here for: the free t-shirts.

Along with the mediocre music they had cotton candy, games, various well-priced carnival foods (including turkey drumsticks, which I did not get to partake off because the wench in front of me got the very last one *shakes fist*), and pop rock ice cream with a coke swirl (which was surprisingly delicious). A friend of mine made the comparison "It's like woodstock, except with rich people" and more asians. I don't how true that is but it was fun. And I got myself a nice crispy sunburn... mmmhmmm, french-fried potaters.

So that's life for now...

OH WAIT!!! I'm coming down to Tejas!!! Yes, it's true. Tuesday the 22nd to that Friday (25th) I will be bumming around Lake Jackson, seeing peoples and generally causing trouble. Call me to do things. We will have a splendid good time. I promise!

More Procrastinating

2007-04-29T19:28:00.000-07:00

Mysterious cut that appeared on my face overnight.
The Family in Lisa's big cozy therapy chair. (From Right) Ester, Nameless Parsley Seeds (rule: you don't get a name until you actually look like a plant), Amelia, Wyatt, Chugsworth (Back) Lester. Chugsworth isn't a plant. He's a duck. But I think he looks nice in the picture.

Internecine

2007-04-29T18:57:00.000-07:00

That's the Merriam Webster word of the day. I thought it was a useful little word, but I know I'll forget it. Maybe putting it in a post on the blog will miraculously help me remember it. Maybe.

Here! I'll even use it in a sentence pertaining to my life. *clears throat* "As exams drew closer, internecine drama began to take over the students of Cornell." Actually, I don't think it's exams. I'm pretty sure we're all just sick of each other and ready to move on with our lives. But that's what summer is for!

Speaking of summer, OMG *spizzle* swankjazz Iamsof-ingexcited! I am going to read, read, read. And then go to Texas. And then read, read, read some more. And then go to Texas again. So far the reading list looks like this:
-"The Selfish Gene"
-"The Idiot"
-"Ulysses"
-"Forever"
-All things Flannery O'Connor
-"A Farewell to Arms"
and any other tidbits that I find. (Suggestions please!)

The schedule for ventures to Texas is (tentatively):
-Sometime in late late May.
-June 10th (ish) to ... sometime after that...
-Possibly the 4th of July
-At the end (August)
Hey! I said it was tentative.

I should have my cell phone by Wednesday, just in case anyone has been dying to talk to me in the 2 weeks I've been without it... The number is the same, but I lost all the numbers I had stored in it. Thus, I will soon be making a "Lisa angry. Lisa smash." Facebook group to retrieve all the lost numbers.

I feel bad saying this, but my exam schedule is looking pretty damn good. All my labs are done (with the exception of one bio practical that I am actually looking forward to studying). I have 2 more papers due (one of which is done). All my exams are at least 3 days apart from one another (vich is the nice). The only bad part is I have to stay until the very last day of exams, which can get kind of depressing watching all the other people leave. But is okay.

I finally gained the Freshman Fifteen. And I was so close to dodging it... *thinks about it*... I honestly don't care. Cooooooool.

If you have 15 minutes that you want to procrastinate away, I suggest checking out the God Blog.

In conclusion, best picture eva':It's a baby!

Sad Christmas

2007-04-22T20:21:00.000-07:00

No more chimes for the Lisa. I feel like this situation warrants emoticon usage.

:-(

I'm sad. You're sad. We're all sad, or at least we should be.

2007-04-21T13:06:00.001-07:00

Of the 6 or 7 really really terrible points in my life, this week has been on of them. Between the 4 months of sleep deprivation, two feet of snow (in April!), having to retype a 6 page essay that I had been working on all weekend and couldn't find on my laptop Monday morning, Virginia Tech, fudging a chimes concert so badly that I've pretty much lost all hope of being chosen, more snow, and the sub-mediocre grades that I've been getting all semester, it all came crumbling down. After a series of mini-break downs which culminated with me smashing my cell phone into the ground and breaking it, I've decided that this should never happen to anyone ever again. I haven't figured out how to fix the situation, but I've come up with a list of things to NOT do.

Things to Avoid When You're at/on the Verge of Mental Collapse:

1) Facebook Photos: unless you're in them, don't even go there. You may show up with good intentions, thinking that the smiling faces of your friends back home will provide some support. They won't. They will only make you feel unaccomplished and alone.

2) Couping up in your Room and Refusing to Answer your Door: it might be hard, but it really helps to be around people. Really. Even a few moments of chatter with a stranger can work wonders.

3) Compulsive Eating: sometimes eating an entire package of Fig Newtons is not the answer. Rarely... but sometimes.

4) Denying yourself Free Time: I am the product of two engineers. In my family, to be unproductive or ineffecient is right up there with sin. This attitude was further perpetuated by a certain ex-boyfriend and only now and am I learning to let go of it. Writing, reading (for pleasure), working out, and taking walks were just a few of the things I forsook regularly for school... and now I'm taking them back. If that hour I spend meandering around campus while the weather is nice costs a few chapters of bio reading, so be it. With life being as short as it is, it just doesn't make sense that school work should come before happiness.

5) Tragedy and the Media: Shit is going to happen. Most of the stuff that makes it to the news is going to be bad, but don't saturate yourself in it. Which is totally what I did after the thing at VT. Which was totally a bad idea.

6) Forget that you're Human: I guess this ties in with the free time, but I always considered myself a robot... a lean mean learning machine. I'm just now starting to understand that it's ok to have emotions that change on a daily basis. It's ok to fail a chemistry exam or mutilate "Hey Jude" on the chimes or say something stupid and feel like a complete jerk right before you apologize. People have ups and downs and anyone that is happy all the time is a robot or a liar. And that's why everyone should be sad and understand why they are sad and understand that it will eventually go away.

So I hate to be preachy and maybe all of this only pertains to me, but that's ok... 'cause dis be muh blog, bichos! And that's how we roll around here.

Hooray!

2007-04-20T04:22:00.000-07:00

Holy geez! Something actually went right this week: my blog is working again. This is a good sign. A very very good sign.

Happy Tuesday!

2007-04-10T13:33:00.000-07:00

So, I'm in this mood where I feel like making out with everything. Admittedly, the feelings died down a bit since it's peak at 11:00 am EST, but still, I'm having these crazy urges. The kind of crazy urges that come from revelations that occur in chem lecture when you think to yourself "My god, life isn't so bad after all! In fact, life is pretty damn good!" And then you turn to the stranger sitting next to you with a huge grin on your face and silently mouth "Life is good." to them. And then they move a few seats away.

Actually that didn't happen. But it makes for a better story.

And then you walk outside, and the 35 degree weather suddenly feels more like 40 degrees. And the sun is almost shining, and your shoes feel more comfortable, and then you get the urge to just make out with someone. Lay the passion that you're feeling on someone else. "Spread the love," if you will. But that could lead to restraining orders and assault charges, so you just keep your passion to yourself.

I wonder who came up with the concept of making out. I get this vision of a couple kissing each other in this mechanical, rhythmatic way and one turns to the other and says "Surely we can do this more efficiently. Let's string all the kisses together, add a little saliva, and just go for it." And so they did. And the first make out session occured that very day. The new trend spread like wildfire to all the kids, adding a whole new dimension to an act that had needed a whole new dimension for so long.

Freud says it has to do with the lips symbolizing the genetalia and the kiss being a kind of "pseudo-intercourse", but Freud was silly (as men tend to be). Plus, I like my story better.

Life Update!!!

2007-04-07T16:56:00.000-07:00

Chimes. And that's about it.

I wish I had crazy stories about crazy parties, but I just don't. I leave my dorm at 7:30 in the morning and usually get back around 9pm. Such is life.

I have, however, taken up kick boxing... again. There was this time when I did it during junior year, but Mrs. Harper taught it (insanely fit band instructor) and there only like 6 of us there on any given day. So I'm trying it again and recommending it to anyone and everyone who has even an ounce of curiosity. You feel kind of stupid when you start (especially when there's a mirror in the room), but once you get into it, you feel like a bad ass. A sore, out of shape, sweaty bad ass. Excellence.

... oh my god, I have nothing to say. I have absolutely nothing to say. And it's been months since I've had a "real" blogging. God, I feel so inadequate...

Oh, you crazy Creationists....

2007-04-01T20:08:00.000-07:00

Peanut Butter Creationism

I'm going to start checking all my jars of condiments daily for new and exciting forms of life!

Here's a visual of what I do everyday for 2 hours. Except imagine me in the place of that girl. And imagine it sucking a whole lot more.

And that's all that happened today!... seriously.

The Trouble With Piercings...

2007-03-30T18:11:00.000-07:00

I went and dun did got myself pierced again today. A second hole for each of my lobes. It hurt like hell, but for some reason the pain was kind of... nice. Physically, the pain was roughly equivalent to giving blood or getting stuck with any large needle (hmm... imagine that). But for some reason the fact that I was going to get something out of it made it better. Like giving birth. That's probably why mothers don't complain as much about labor as they probably should...

Which brings me to my next point, the problem with getting pierced is that as soon as you get home and examine it in the mirror for a while, you're already planning on where you're going to get your next one. It's a vicious cycle, my friends. Vicious.

Plus, you have to figure out a way to explain it to your mother...

A Series of Short Lists

2007-03-29T20:38:00.000-07:00

People I Strongly Dislike
1) Nicholas Sparks
2) Staind (all members)
3) Bill Maher
4) Accordian Players
5) My Anti-social self

People Who Strongly Dislike Me
1) My Evil English Teacher
2) Everyone on My Hall
3) Mrs. Bayer (I'm kind of proud of that one, actually)
4)That One Girl (that one time)
5) My Anti-social self (yeah, I don't even know what I mean)

Things I Ate Today
1) White Rice
2) Soy Milk
3) Cherry Vanilla Granola
4) Millions and millions of bacteria that were once in my mouth, but are now somewhere in my digestive tract
5) Salsa

Things I'll Do Before I'm 30
1) Stand on top of something tall and not be afraid
2) Write a novel
3) Have a baby
4) Find religion... or not.
5) Go somewhere far far away and not communicate with anyone for a very long time (but not forever)

Thing I Wish Would Happen
1) The world would pull its head out of its ass and realize that we need to start getting along if we're going to make this work
2) It would rain those rainbow marshmallows that you can only find in the "Hispanic" section of the grocery store
3) Bacon and ice cream would become their own food group and form the base of the food pyramid
4) Pigs get the ability to fly (they deserve it)
5) A black, female, albino, Jewish, homosexual president get elected to office

Things That Freak Me Out
1) Tongue rings (not that I don't like them... because I do)
2) Bones sticking out of skin
3) Heights
4) Inhaling Helium
5) Cucarachas

Things I Should Do More Often
1) Call friends to "just say 'hi'"
2) Do completely pointless activities
3) Sleep
4) Drink water
5) Be thankful

Some days you just need order in your life. Even if it's obvious, pointless, monotonous order.

(Edit: Things That are Awesome
1) People who inform me that I've done my chemistry homework (due tomorrow) wrong at 2 in the morning
2) The fact that my graphing calculator can multiply fractions and has an entire button for giving me a numbers reciprocal, but can't do scientific notation
3) People who "borrow" my other calculator and leave me scientific notationless/negative largarithmless at 2 in the morning
4) The 100 pages of reading that await me when I finish this post
5) Cheese balls)

New York, New York!

2007-03-23T16:25:00.000-07:00

Furthermore, Gene Kelly had the tightest ass to ever grace the 40's/50's. (And her transitions are so clear too!)

Back in the old dorm. Whenever I leave for any significant amount of time (more than a few days), my dorm always seems bigger to me when I return. Why is that, I ask you, why?!? It's lonely in this (seemingly) large room, and I've been compulsively eating for the past two hours, but that's of no matter! Here! Sit, child, and let me tell you of my ventures in the metaphorical "Big Apple."

And I have pictures. Joy!

Look! I'm holding up the entire city with one hand!... just joking, I actually positioned my hand when the picture was taken to create the illusion that I was holding it up. But I'm sure I could have held it up if I'd really wanted to. I just didn't feel like it that day. This is on the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, by the way... just in case anyone cared.

It's duh Brooklyn Bridge! Hooray! Drinks all around!

A picture from the top of the Rockefeller Center. Blurry, because I suck.

Holy shit! Did you see that giant whale?!... yeah, me neither.

View from the top of the Empire State Building. There, I just saved you $15 and an hour waiting in line. But you should probably go anyway. It's amazing up there.

This is the Statue of Liberty, me, and my "damn, it's windy" face.

Birthday presents to myself. Yes... *fist pump of victory*... I'm a loser.

So basically, I did every cliche thing that every tourist should do... except for the many many things that I did not do, like visit Ground Zero, spend time in Macy's, go to the Museum of Modern Art, get to really see Central Park, go to Ellis Island... and etc. and etc. BUT! I did get to see a taping of "Late Night with Conan O'Brien" which was the most wonderfully, fabulous thing in the world. If you happened to catch Monday night's show, my laughter and applause was among the hundred other laughters and applauses. Excellence.

It's a great city. We should all rendezvous there when we actually have the time and money to do so. Man, that would be one great rendezvous...

Oh, the mope-age.

2007-03-18T16:28:00.000-07:00

This is always the way it goes when I have to leave Oskar. It's a 24-hour period of ups and downs and reminiscing and severe, severe moping. Right now, I'm sitting in my dorm. Sipping Diet Pepsi, wanting to clean up but not really for fear that I'll have to throw out something that reminds me of the week we spent together. An empty bag of chips. A used spoon. Everything is a relic of good times. Throwing it in the trash would be throwing away the good times, because the memories alone are never good enough.

It doesn't look like I'll be taking out the trash this week...

So Oskar has been here for the past week (for anyone that hasn't gotten that yet). Consequently, I've been missing (internet-wise) for the past week or so. It was probably one of the best weeks I've had here, what with the snow and the hot and the rancid tortillas and the various bodily noises and the Ambiguously Gay Cornell Students and the lack of traction and the procrastination and the bliss. Now Oskar's on a plane, flying to Houston. I'm in my errily quiet dorm, picking at one of the many mysterious scabs that keep appearing on the tops of my hands and waiting. I feel like I'm on the edge of an era. Like something completely new is going to start soon. I'm not sure if it's good or bad just yet, but I'll keep your posted.

I'm getting on a bus at 4 (am) for New York City. I've never been and am hovering in this depressed/excited/confused state. For the past month, I've been planning for Oskar's visit. Now that it's over, it's like my trip to New York has just kind of slapped me in the face (*slap* "Remember me, bitch!"). I'm currently rummaging through this ultra-touristy guide book, looking for things to do, but if anyone has suggestions, I'll be glad to take them.

So that's where I'll be for the next 5 days. Forgive my lack of posting. I promise I'll be back with a big bang of shiny pictures and amusing stories.

Woah!... excellent.

2007-03-07T20:48:00.000-08:00

I just popped this teeny tiny blister on the side of my heel. It was the coolest blister I've ever seen! I love when my body does crazy shit like this...

I also love hour-long conversations on the topic of in-grown hairs. I also love you.

Today has been the craziest, shittiest, most exciting week in the history of mankind! Ok... maybe not the entire history, but certainly the craziest, shittiest, most exciting in the last ten years. I've been getting about 4 hours of sleep a night and working my ass off all day long. But Oskar is coming up on Friday and I want everything to be done for next week so I can frolic worry-free. Soooooo... I've been doing double time all week. Double the reading. Double the writing. It's stressful, but it will be worth it.

And to add to the madness, I've had to practice chimes for about 2 hours a day this week.... which I haven't actually told anyone about (with the exception of Oskar) so lemme 'splain...

At the beginning of February I entered the "Chimesmaster Competition '07" and thus sold myself over to the Cornell chimes program. The chimes are almost 2 octaves worth of bells located in this tower at the center of campus. They play 3 fifteen-minute concerts a day as well as some on weekends and for special occasions (graduation, weddings, etc.). Soooo... I decided I wanted to be a chimesmaster. Mostly because the title kicks ass but also because the chimes kick much ass as well. So for a month I practiced a couple hours a week perfecting some songs... severely slaughtering others with my lack of dexterity and stealth. Last week they had the first "cut" and I somehow (by the grace of God... or Vishnu... or the Chimes Diety) I made it. Now I'm one of the six left competing, and I'm scared as hell.

This week I've been busting my ass to put together a 15 minute concert that I'll play on Saturday. That the whole campus will hear. That I'll probably shit my pants while doing... but that's ok, because I'm playing the frickin' chimes, bitches! I didn't tell anyone because I honestly didn't think I'd make it this far. I still don't think I'm going to make it, but it blows my mind that I get to make music that can be heard over a half-mile radius. Excellence.

Here's the official website. And here's the database where you can search for songs that they have on file. I'll take requests and do my best to learn them. But I make no promises...

In other parts of life, I am absolutely, inconsolably obsessed with the movie "Amélie." It's like candy. That's all I can think of to describe. And it has one of the most amazing soundtracks that I've ever heard. Hell, I would consider it one of the best albums I've ever heard. Amazing. You should go watch it... right now. Yes, you. It will change your life.

That's all for tonight. Please leave some requests... I'm desperate for concert ideas.

Question o' the Day!

2007-03-05T12:55:00.000-08:00

Perfect-O Dating

If you had to choose one, who would it be?

My Day... in Bullets.

2007-02-27T21:01:00.000-08:00

-Got more than 4 hours of sleep.
-Made sushi.
-Ate sushi.
-Decided that I suck at making sushi.
-Studied for chemistry.
-Practiced the chimes.
-Decided that I suck at chimes.
-Decided that I'm a negative person.
-Got raped by chem exam.
-Latin danced the rape away.
-Recalled the rape of the chem exam.
-Ate 2 pears.
-Bulleted my day.

God, that was pointless. I'm sorry that you had to sit through that. Wait, no I'm not. It's your fault for wasting your life away on the internet... yes you! Now get your ass away from this filthy world of anonimity and schmut and be productive!

Haiku for You!

2007-02-26T09:10:00.000-08:00

Today (so far) in haiku form:

Eye crusties hold tight
Amidst sweet gusts of morning breath.
Sleep is but a dream.

No time to shower.
Maybe the rest won't notice.
If not, hope they enjoy.

8 am for this?
What a waist of tuition.
I want a refund.

Oh, Hardy-Weinberg,
You rock my fucking face off.
Let's mix some alleles.

No haiku can praise
Porfirio Diaz.
He hoards syllables.

I love John Mayer,
He's such a fucking pervert.
Ear molestation.

Three hidden pitas
On my person as I leave.
Dining hall bandit.

Cascades of water,
Hygiene among moldy tiles.
Sins spiral down drain.

I might just be pathetic...

2007-02-20T18:13:00.000-08:00

It rained today! Not snow, no sleet, not itty-bitty pellets of hail... RAIN!!!

It's nice to know that there is actually going to be an end to winter.

"You're gonna' make it after all..."

2007-02-19T15:58:00.000-08:00

Yes, it has been one of those days where The Mary Tyler Moore Show theme song gets stuck in your head. So you think to yourself, "What the hell?" and throw your hat up in the air to celebrate your feminine freedom and power. And then your hat floats lightly back to earth to land in a pile of dirty snow and get stepped all over by the good students of Cornell. That's symbolism, baby.

I've decided that I'm shutting my brain off for the next few hours. It's been running pretty hard today and needs a rest... a "cool down" if you will.

As I was doing some reading for Modern Latin America today, it finally occurred to me why slavery pissed so many people (namely black people) off. And why they're still angry today (to some extent... that I am carelessly throwing out there without any facts to support it). I know this will probably piss someone off, and make me look like an inconsiderate white bitch, but I feel like it needs to be said.

I was always one of those people that was like "Forty acres and a mule?... geez, slavery ended like 150 years ago. Just let it go." But it wasn't until today that the huge amount of mental/social scarring really hit me. Not only is slavery a terrible thing (with the supression and the prejudice and the whathaveyou), but you're tearing apart people, families, solidarity. After emancipation, there was still another hundred years of struggle just to put back together the pieces and even some of those are still missing. And I sure as hell don't think forty acres and a mule is going to fix that.

So that was my righteous, stunted, blabbering for the day.

In other news, my English teacher is a bitch. It's official. Ratemyprofessors.com says so.

I also picked out my room in the Ecology House today. Did I mention that I'm living in the Ecology House next year?... anyway, I am. It's where all the hippies go to recycle and draw murals that encompass the beauty of nature and be hippies. I got a room with a nice view of... some foliage. Oh how I love the foliage.

Speaking of plants!!! There are some new additions to the family...
They're hyacinth bulbs and will hopefully be flowery by the time Oskar gets here (18 more days... eegatz!)

Arguh... dies

2007-02-17T11:21:00.000-08:00

Trying to write a 5 page paper that you know will never be good enough for your evil english teacher is almost as fun as... papercuts... yes.

Wish me luck! Haha... just kidding there is no hope for me... no hope whatsoever.

Snow Day!!!

2007-02-14T09:23:00.000-08:00

Hooray for cancelled classes! Except for the fact that I just trekked a mile around campus only to discover their cancellation upon arrival! But hooray nonetheless!

I took some pictures for you. Feel free to experience whatever emotions you deem appropriate.

Hell yes. This is Cornell, baby. We be learnin' rain or shine or sleet or snow or lava.

This icicle is probably 3 stories high... except that it's hanging down. So that would make it like... -3 stories.
"Well, dammit."

Oh yeah... Happy Valentine's Day! May all your steamy dreams of lust and love and chocolate come true!

Wa-wa-wee-wa

2007-02-13T17:49:00.000-08:00

I just had one of those days where you look back and realize that you accomplished very very little. And then you think to yourself "Dammit," and eat another box of chocolates.

Three hours until Valentine's Day! I'm shitting my pants with glee already. Except not really. I'm not really sure how I feel about Valentine's Day just yet... *ponder*... nope, still not sure. A wise Meagan once told me that "hating Valentine's Day because of all the commercial glorification of monogamous heterosexuality is like hating Christmas because you don't believe in Jesus." which... I'm having trouble agreeing with. I hate Christmas because it isn't a celebration/glorification/acknowledgment of anything. It's just another reason for people to buy shit they don't need and feel good about themselves for 24 hours. But this is all beside the point.... what the hell is the point? Maybe I just wanted to steal Meagan's writing. This blog could do with a little good writing.

A "Snow Emergency" has been declared in Ithaca. We're supposed to be getting 3 feet of snow tonight. We shall see... *skepticism*...

I gave blood today. To anyone that's never done it, it's a fulfilling experience except while it's actually happening. The needle is big and hurts like hell and then you have to squeeze a little ball as your arm goes cold and numb and you lose feeling in your fingers. The best part is when you feel the heat from your blood as it passes through the tubing and you suddenly become very aware of your own mortality. The pain, the weakness, the thrill of so much blood in one place at one time. The fact that you've produced that amazing bit of protein that has the ability to sustain life. Thrilling. Plus, free orange juice and t-shirts!

My god, I can't imagine what I'll be like when I'm giving birth...

Post #154

2007-02-12T13:56:00.000-08:00

I have 20 minutes before I go to a spinning class... let's see how much thought I can squeeze out of myself in that time...

*squeeze*

... I've decided to stop being nice to people that don't deserve. It sounds easy, but this is a big step for me. I made this strange resolution to be ridiculously nice back in the 7th grade and it kind of turned into a habit. So now I find myself unable to be sincerely mean to people that most certainly deserve it. I don't owe them anything. I don't have any kind of obligation to the world to be the nice, caring, selfless wench of others. Of course, there will always be those people that I actually do love and will be nice to always, but most of those people aren't here... sitting in my room until midnight... milking me for chemistry help... or emotional help... or just looking at me and making things awkward.

Guh...

Jew know what? I've never told anyone (except Oskar) what classes I'm taking this semester. I feel like perhaps I should...

The Reading of Fiction (aka Mandatory English credit): Even though it isn't nearly as bad as Sweeney, it's still fairly rape-tastic. It doesn't help that it's at 8 in the morning either...

Bio 102 (and lab): Delicious.

Modern Latin America: I don't really need this course, but I'm taking it anyway. It's a nice rounding out to my science/math/anal-retentive other classes. Plus, post-revolution chaos is always interesting.

Statistics: This class has it all. Indifferent students, post-lunch sugar drop, amusing professor, random cell phone static that comes through every once in a while and throws off the entire qi of the place. Also, it's motherfuckin' statistics... yeeessssss.

Chemistry (and lab): *stabs self in eye with bunsen burner coated in Hydrochloric acid coated in anthrax coated in despair*

Some career planning class... thing: Whateva'.

Latin Dance: This class is the best thing since crack!... I mean, sliced bread haha... eh. When you're there, you feel like more that just a pathetic white girl trying to shake her thing as everyone in the vicinity stares in vague confusion/aww/disgust. You feel like... a slightly less pathetic white girl.

We're here. We're queer.

(I'm sorry. I was curious.)

SPIN!

Ponder

2007-02-12T13:33:00.000-08:00

Oh my god... I like the Dixie Chicks.

I can't love myself anymore...

A Resolution (Revised)

2007-02-10T14:47:00.000-08:00

Stop being nice to people that don't deserve it.

"Doooooooooommm!"

2007-02-04T15:51:00.000-08:00

Screamed Al Gore into the microphone as the cameras rolled and the Hollywood producers rubbed their grimy little hands together with glee.

That would be the opening line if I were to write a book about the rise and fall of Al Gore. But I'm not going to. Because I don't have that kind of time (read: work ethic) on my hands. But just in case you were wondering what the book would be like should I choose to undertake such a task, I will give you a rough layout.

Open: Al Gore giving one of his many "Global warming is nigh and we all gonna' die." Speeches. Takes water break and has flashback.

Flashback Sequence: A series of short clips covering childhood, loss of virginity, marijuana use, and loss of the 1988 presidential election. A choreographed laser/raving scene with Billy Clinton before getting kicked in the nuts by the Supreme Court (as George Bush snickers quietly in a corner).

Close: Gore continues Tree Hugger speech with only a glimmer of tear a in his eye that is just visible as the stage lights hit his eye. Close up shot of tear making slow descent down cheek.

End

Did I say I was writing a book? I meant making a movie. You must have misheard me.

So that's how I spent my Friday night: getting the shit scared out of me by Al Gore. And I really don't care about all the pussy-vagina-cunt-heads who bitch and moan about liberal bias. G-man (Gore) had some damn convincing data. Granted, I haven't thoroughly examined all the sources of information, but if you actually watch the movie you'll understand why I don't think he's fudging the facts. All the graphs looked something like this:

It might just be me, but that crazy spike that notes the carbon dioxide levels/average temperatures/number of annual hurricanes in the last 5 years seems a bit ominous...but I could very well be wrong... but we still need to commence the construction of a bunker. Oskar will be in charge of materials and design. Bellami, we will need you for interior decorating and general color schemage. Meagan, you will be in charge of deciding which literature we shall take with us into the "post-civilization era". Lindsey, you will undertake the task of making sure we don't all go mad; a position otherwise known as "Official Bitch Slapper." Erin and Fausia will be in charge of distracting the meddling public.

But that wasn't the only thing I've done this weekend. I also fell on my ass, got sick, lost my keys, lost my ID, had a really shitty day, had a mental breakdown, redirected the course that my life is taking, and went skiing. But I'll save that all for another post.

Doom!

This Week in Photo Form

2007-01-26T12:05:00.000-08:00

There are no words...

Cover your eyes, Oskar.

2007-01-24T16:28:00.000-08:00

Men are idiots. The only thing they're good for is their ridiculously mobile gametes.

That is all.

"Oh, goody!"

2007-01-20T00:50:00.000-08:00

(The words of my Jewish-electrical-engineer friend upon finding that his investment books had arrived. This is Cornell.)

Between my random "thinkings" and bitchy rants, I keep forget to mention that I got a haircut. It's really... short. And easy! Like a midget hooker. It makes me look like a dude, but at this point, I'm beyond caring. I have no one here to impress, the only person that I might even have to look slightly attractive for doesn't care how I look and (probably) won't see me until summer. I'll put pictures up once my face stops looking like shit.

Listening to the Red Hot Chili Peppers makes me feel like being a dude. Skateboarding and pulling pranks and wearing awesome... hats. Ok, maybe not a dude, just Ashton Kutcher... *thinks about it*... ewwwwwwww.... anyway.

Good Story (that I feel compelled to share with everyone everywhere): All of today I had this strange feeling in my mouth, kind of like there was a popcorn kernel caught in my throat. So finally (after a bit of blind prodding) I got out a mirror and a flashlight and took a gander. To the left of my uvula there was this terrible white... bit of... something. And it scared the holy living piss-shit out of me. At first I thought it was some kind of defective tooth cell that had migrated to my throat and decided to construct a molar there. But then I thought, "No way. That's impossible... it must be cancer!" So I run to the local... medical center... doctor place on campus in tears thinking surely there's a huge tumor in my defective pancreas that's malignant and is sending baby tumors throughout my body. When I got there, the nurse gets out her flashlight, sticks a badass really long Q-tip down my throat and pulls it out. Because it was food. In my throat. Imagine that.

Yessssssss. *fist pump*

A PMS Rant

2007-01-19T11:23:00.000-08:00

I am tired of people.

I'm tired of them coming to my door and purposefully knocking until they wake me up and then coming in my room and expecting me to entertain them for an hour. It's not my job to entertain you! It's not even mandatory that I answer the door when someone knocks. It is my choice... nay! my right to hide in my room being anti-social and playing the Sims and living off of pretzel rods all day long.

End.

Figaligaliciousness.

2007-01-18T12:33:00.000-08:00

I just ate an entire box of Fig Newtons by myself. It inspired me to create a new word (see title). Damn them newtons be good.

Rush Week is currently going on. To "rush" is to survey all the fraternities/sororities whilst their members try to persuade your soul into their hands with the use of free food, alcohol, niceness, etc. As a result of this event, there is always this dull cheering going on outside my door. And it's not just one of those "Hurrah!" cheers. It goes on for like 10 minutes. TEN!!! I don't even know what they're cheering for. It makes me feel lonely. And sane.

It's good to be back at Cornell... doing things... talking to people that aren't old. You don't realize how much you miss a place until you actually go back.

That's all I've got (for now). I'm going to unpack my stuff and try to stop being a lazy piece of shit.