| Going Through Life with Sparky the Wonder Cactus |
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| Spring Weekend |
[02 Apr 2004|11:13pm] |
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It was Spring Weekend Tonight. Washburn had a "party". Quotation marks intended and necessary. I'm not sure Washburn parties really qualify as such. We had the Poofs come and sing. They were good. They sang the "shwoop" song. You know. Salt n' Pepper? Unfortunately, I can't think of that song without thinking of Ellen DeGeneres' rendition of it. Oh yeah.
( Well, here are some pictures. )
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[28 Mar 2004|12:37am] |
Anyway, I went shopping at Target, but the white swimsuit didn't fit at all: made the negaboobs all the more obvious, and it just looked kinda funny anyway. Got stuff for the face instead: acne wash, moisturizer, etc. Trying to do the clear, firm and lift thing.
Saw "Taking Lives". Amazed by how similar Angelina Jolie and I actually look. Okay, take away the boobs and the lips, and we have the same skin tone, the same basic build, the same eyes, the same hair, the same hands, the same facial structure (her cheek bones were, in the movie, a little more prominate than mine, but that could be make up and angles). We even speak similarly, a low and bizzare western-southern-English thing. We could definitely play sisters in a film, which would be beyond incredible. I think that might be a goal in life. I should write a screenplay and see if I can go about finding a way for her to get it, read it, love it (because my screenplays are actually good if I can forget I wrote them), and do it. Maybe even finance it... Ah, dreams.
I love Angie.
Anyway, the movie was good. Could have been better, I thought the editing was kind of shitty, it was smooth enough, but then it jumped awkwardly, and I don't know. Seemed a little disjointed, like the writer got bored and needed to end it because the Secret was out. I had it figured out from the beginning, but not surprising. It did make me jump and even scream out loud in one part (I think, of course, that could have been the lady behind me, or probably, both of us). I'm hoping to see Jersey Girl on Monday. Ah Ben... (swoon). Madly in love with him. Always have been. Since, I can't even remember when. Like him better without the goatee he's been sporking, though, but even with... oh, be still my heart. I melt every time he comes on tv for interviews. Not even because of how he looks. I just like his humor and what he has to say and everything, I guess. I'm smitten.
On a side note, Ethan Hawke has AWFUL teeth. He's just greasy. And did you see him at the premire? Seriously. Boy needs to gain about 20 pounds. Men should not have that prominent of cheek bones. He must be taking the Uma break-up really hard, though I think she's probably better off. Supposedly they're trying to reconcile. I wish them luck. But Ethan. Seriously. BRACES. You have enough money. No excuse.
*sigh*
I wish I could stop chewing on the inside of my lips. It's giving me wrinkles for one, and two, it's unattractive when cute guy in bus looks at me and I look like a demented camel.
In other news, I think my special studies advisor is going to kill me. Yes, Monday I am going to be killed by a 74 year old man named Don Robinson (don't quote me on the age) because I have yet to turn in the two chapters I owe him (largely because one isn't completely written yet). I'm just been exhausted and concerned with a mass of other work. Including interview prep. I interviewed for teach for america Friday. I think it went well, though not as well as I would have liked. We'll see. If I get a position, I'm hoping it's in Los Vegas. I've never been to Los Vegas, but it would be a new experience and is wicked close to home at the same time. Plus, I'm familiar with the southwest. It would be like going home.
Anyway, tomorrow will be spent largely working on that. I don't have any choice. Hopefully, I can get it in his box tomorrow night so he can get it Monday morning and it may not be as bad... but it will be. I'm such a slacker. I'm a pathetic, awful slacker.
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[22 Mar 2004|10:06pm] |
The rules: go to google image search and type in your name. Choose your ten favorites from the restuls and post!
( My Favorites with 'Kate' )
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[11 Mar 2004|07:58pm] |
Just saw the best thing ever! Curt Schilling leaning how to speak Bostonian on a Dunkin' Donuts commercial. Hahahahaha...
"I play hah'd in the pah'k."
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[10 Mar 2004|12:37am] |
Which Disney Villain are you?
Bwahahahahaha... It's so me.
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| BROKAW FOR PRESIDENT! |
[10 Mar 2004|12:31am] |
"Following an Op-Ed article in the Wall Street Journal in which staffer John Fund suggested that John Kerry ask Tom Brokaw to become his running mate, Brokaw issued a statement Monday saying that he's not interested. "As I have said repeatedly, I have no intention of pursuing a political career," Brokaw said. "Any speculation to the contrary, however flattering, is simply wrong." Steve Capus, exec producer of NBC Nightly News, suggested that the ticket ought to be Brokaw-Kerry instead of the other way around, but he added: "I know Tom very well, and I don't think it's in the cards. ... He has no desire to go into the political world." Added NBC President Jeff Zucker: the vice presidency "would be such a step down for Tom."
How unfortunate. I (heart) TOM BROKAW. I'd so vote for him.
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| Yesterday... |
[09 Mar 2004|04:15pm] |
Yesterday I did my usual Monday after missing last week's because I actually had to do work. *bleh*. I probably should have done work THIS week too, given than it's midterms and I have papers and whatnaught to write, but you know what I've realized? I just don't care. I got accepted to ASU. It's a good gig. I can save a lot of money. Get an education. An apartment. A dog. Be close to the family. Doesn't sound bad at all. Do I really want to study in the UK? Oh yes. Definitely. But with the pound at $1.83/per I just can't afford to. not with my Smith loans. And I can always spend a year studying as a "visiting student". So I'm pretty sure that's what I'm going to do. Also, if i realize after a semester or two: "oh shit, I'm actually an English person, what the hell am I doing?!" I haven't lost massive amounts of money.
Anyway. Yesterday. Saw Mystic River and Hidalgo. Both were good. Mystic River reminded me so much of "Godfather" it was boarderline rediculous. It was really driving me insane. I'm not sure Sean Penn deserved the Oscar. Was he good in it? Yeah, I suppose. Definitely communicated the emotion. But he was just in the same role he's always in. What I want to see is Sean Penn in a comedy. I mean, has he ever been? Even when he guest stared in "friends" he was dark and mournful. I don't know, but only that will prove his acting ability to me. It's one thing to play the same role all the time. It's quite another to switch genres. All the greats did that, after all. Kate Hepburn was just as good at the romantic comedy as she was the edgy family drama as she was Shakespeare. Audrey Hepburn too. And Cary Grant? Jimmy Stewart? Definitely. I just don't really feel like Penn took too many risks or acted beyond the page of the script. Whereas... I don't know, Johnny Depp certainly did in Pirates (I was rooting for him, definitely) or, even, looking still at Mystic River, Tim Robbins went beyond the page. He certainly deserved his statue. I don't know though. Whatever.
Hidalgo was fun. It wasn't really good so much as it was entertaining and Viggo looking scruffy while tipping his hat and saying 'ma'am'. It was a typical Disney movie with some far reaching stereotypes, etc., but maybe I'm just looking at it with a Smithie's eye (I hate doing that, it infests everything). Anyway though. The horse was cute. Viggo was cute. And it managed to keep me interested for over two hours. So, I proclaim it a success.
I'm hoping to see Monster over break with Anika, presuming, of course, that it's still playing somewhere in the Valley. I can't wait until break. I'm going to be working my ass off, but oh well, at least I'll be home and it'll be warm (it better be warm!).
It's currently snowing. Oh, excuse me. There are currently "snow flurries" outside. Light, non-sticking (for the most part) snow that is highly obnoxious. It had been so nice, but now, my dread of coming back with 8 feet of snow on the ground may not be so much a sarcastic comment as a real possibilty. I hate New England. Very, very much.
I'm done for now. I might come back to this. I might not.
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[26 Feb 2004|05:18pm] |
Article from Time Magazine:
Pornography For Preppies
By JEREMY CAPLAN
Monday, Mar. 01, 2004
Harvard alums were blushing a deep crimson red last week as the university's Committee on College Life approved the campus's first student sex magazine. Its co-founder, Camilla Hrdy, a junior, told the Harvard Crimson that the formal committee got "past the fear of porn." But after a spate of publicity and a chorus of shocked responses, the university reconsidered and now says it won't fund the magazine. Even so, Hrdy and sophomore Katharina Baldegg plan to bring out the publication-- dubbed H Bomb, campus lingo for the powerful effect Harvard credentials have on suitors-- in May, in time for commencement.
Hrdy and Baldegg are modeling their magazine on Squirm, a journal of erotica put out by Vassar students since 1999. And for other inspiration, the students don't have far to look. A number of other elite colleges have got down and dirty:
--YALE Undergrad members of a club called Porn n' Chicken in 2001 filmed an X-rated short, set in the library, titled StaXXX.
--SWARTHMORE A slick journal called Untouchables, packed with sexy stories, was a short-lived hit in 2001 at this top Pennsylvania college.
--SMITH Students started an online smut magazine called Smithiegirls to show nude students learning about love.
From the Mar. 01, 2004 issue of TIME magazine
Yeah. There's a lot of porn at Smith. Even a pornography photography club. I was asked to pose last year. I respectfully declined. Flattered, but no, I said, even though there was a slight amount of disgust. I like my picture taken but I don't want certain aspects of my body displayed for other's entertainment.
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| What is it about Diana? |
[25 Feb 2004|10:30pm] |
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I don't know what it is about Princess Diana. I don't know why her death impacted me so much back in 1997 except, perhaps, that it was a grand outlet for so many other feelings. Maybe it was because Wills is barely 6 months older than I am, and I couldn't imagine loosing my mother. Or maybe it was that, like so many people in our popular culture, I had become so accustomed to seeing her everywhere. So that while I, in my 14 year old sesibilities found it tragic that everyone hunted her and wouldn't leave her alone no matter what, I also liked knowing she was there.
In the end, I'm not sure what it was. She was beautiful and tragic, flawed and perfect, and just generally... everywhere all the time. I can't even explain it. But I remember vividly when I found out, what I felt, and what I felt for a long time afterward.
I'm recalling this because I was watching West Wing and they had an advertisement for the secret Princess Di tapes revealed for the first time. And it made me sad because even in death she can't get the peace she said she wanted (though I'm not sure she really did -- not wholly and completely). And the clips that they played in the advertisement just sounded so... sad. I feel badly for her in all kinds of ways. Why can't people just leave her alone? Do we really need to know all her deep dark secrets? I don't know. It still bothers me though, it still makes me very sad. I wish I knew why.
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| baseball and exit signs |
[20 Feb 2004|05:21am] |
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events of the day:</p> 1) woke up and went to film class; not very interesting, actually, kind of disappointing. I thought this class would be better -- it was intended to be my fun class, but now, it's just kind of obnoxious. There's a lot of tedious, boring work, and the films, so far, have yet to impress and I'm not exactly the world's harshest critic. Also, he expects us to see them twice and the viewings are on Tuesday and Thursday nights, neither of which are convenient. I didn't watch the film of discussion; I blew it off last night. I blew a lot off yesterday. I just wasn't in the mood to deal with life in general. Yesterday, I went to my 3-5 seminar, and that was it. Incidentally, that's my favorite class. And before the semester started, that was the one I was thinking about dropping. Interesting how that all happens, n'est pas? 2) went to CVS to get money. The money intended for laundry went into buying ice cream. I think I'm about due, so I've been craving sweets and salts at the same time, which is obnoxious. Also, nothing at all is satisfying. Sports Illustrated Swim Suit is out. Flipped through. Sure people at CVS think I'm just another Northampton lesbian. I was curious. But now I feel infurior. Deperately in want of a personal hair and make-up stylist, airbrushing, and one of those people who walks around holding a light reflector so soft light is always shinning on me. Also: a boob job. 3) went to post office; got Milton final back, something I didn't actually want. Funny how the professors you do want to give back final papers never do, and those you don't, follow through without request. Monsterously depressed afterward, though at least I know I didn't fail the g-d class. C+ in the class from hell (near literally). Paradise Lost, incidentally, has grown on me: some great lines, and I think quoting Paradise Lost is perhaps the most brilliant thing ever. And now I understand so many more allusions in literature and everything. But the professor... oi vey. 4) went to library, wanted to check out "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood". Realized i never finished reading it. After going through "The Liars' club" by Mary Karr for my american studies seminar, I had a hankering for some southern culture, so I watched the movie and though longingly of my momma. Realized I was only getting a fraction of the story from the movie and decided I would read the book this weekend. Who knows. Maybe it'll be inspiring and I can actually get some personal writing done. In library: hit head on exit sign. Memo to self -- cannot wear boots walking around Smith College library. Nothing on this campus is made for tall people, utterly rediculous. I've had it with hitting my head on something everytime I walk into a building, of have to bend all the way over the reach a door knob that's somewhere below my knee. I'm not even *that* tall. 98th percentile, or something, but still. I guess with boots on though... 5) sat at computer to write entry, with purpose of bitching about hitting head on exit sign. I already have a goose egg forming. Not a happy camper. Anyway. I'm going to hanker down in the bed and eat some chocolate, pray for the damn thing to start already, and read/write. I just realized that baseball season is starting soon (looks at d'backs babybacks calendar on wall). April 6 the D'Backs Open! Yeah, they got rid of most of my team, but my boyfriend Matty Kata (Kate Kata, I just think that's the funniest possibility ever), his best friend (cutie Brandon Webb), best catcher ever Robby Hammock (with the best butt in baseball, swear to God), Gonzo (nicest guy in baseball), and Finley (who I'm off and on regarding and who was in Momma's doghouse for most of last season) are still around. I'm still in mourning over the trading of Craig Counsel and his sexy batting stance and for my beloved Kurt Schilling (why couldn't we trade Johnson instead! Seriously! Oh, that's right... no one else in baseball wants him), but oh well. I'm going to be so mad if Jerry Colangelo traded away my team's winning capeabilities. These newbies better prove themselves. He already destroyed the Suns back in '93. This better not be a repeat.
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| Me and my English Garden Party hat |
[19 Feb 2004|02:29am] |
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Okay, so today was Rally Day, which is a special Smith holiday. The seniors get together for the first time in their gowns, with their weirdo, ostentatious hats that are Smith Tradition. Not really much to say. Here's a picture with my friend Grace. Certainly not my best face. *sigh* Don't I look so... wide awake... under that wide brimed, English garden party hat (purchased in London). </p> Believe it or not, I am as absolutely exhausted as I appear to be.  Cheers!
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| No President's Day for Smithies |
[17 Feb 2004|06:36am] |
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So yesterday, I forgot that it was President's day. It's something easy to do at Smith because the colelge deosn't celebrate national holidays. I'm sure that if the fourth of July fell during the term, we would still have class -- and probably even exams in every one of them. It verges on annoyance. It's as though everyone at the school is trying to ignore the country. It really wouldn't surprise me if that were the case. Probably half the student body hates being American. About 10% aren't. And of that 40% left, I'd imagine 38% of them are completely indifferent.</p> It's probably reflective of the greater "enlightened" population. Most of those I go to school with are the stereotypical "Liberals" who hate the evils of the country, usually because it's en vogue with the pop-culture counter-culture that infects the ivy covered halls of this institution. I'm a strange creatue, maybe, both patriotic and a Democrat. What is so wrong with respecting your country and its history? That doesn't mean you blindly follow the government or believe it is infalible. That doesn't mean you support the President, or his regime, or what have you. It doesn't believe you agree with the priorities. I guess I just don't understand. Anyway. Yesterday was President's Day and the Dead Mall was alive -- bustling with people who had the day off. I always have Monday off, if I didn't, I wouldn't have been there for reasons already covered. I wish i had remember, because at least then, I wouldn't have been put off. But it was a little irritating. I'm used to having the mall and the theatre next to myself. I have a routine all worked out. I set the alarm for 10.30, though I usually don't pull my ass out of bed until 11. Check email. Meet with DR regarding special student project. I catch the 12.40 B43 to Hampshire Mall. See a 1-somthing movie. Go to Target to buy necessaries, including cash (no ATM fees). This week I bought body wash, vitamins, face scrub, and $30. Then, maybe a second movie, depending what's playing and how long it is and how much homework I have left. Then catch the bus back to Smith. I go through money like a fish through water (heard that one of the first time today). I don't know where it goes. Body wash. Movie. Nantucket half-and-half iced tea. Blizzard. Nalgene splash guard. Laundry. A coke. Printing fees (yes, on top of the 40-grand a year, Smith charges us to print). It all adds up. Before I know it, gone. Wiped out. No more money. Not that there was ever much to begin with. Anyway. I have diversity training tonight. I'm sure it will be thrilling, but oh well. Part of the job.
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| 1-900-SUPERFICIAL |
[15 Feb 2004|09:50am] |
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I have a new goal in life.</p> I want to become one of those girls on the late nigh cable tv ads. You know. The ones in those tight skimpy numbers, which gets skimpier as the night wears on, and chants something like "G-I-R-L" for the 900 numbers? Oh yeah. That's what I want to do. *roles eyes* I was watching a late night movie on USA last night and I must have seen one of these commercial three times in one break period. That's just rediculous. What is stranger is it was a Freddie Prinze Jr. chick flick! The one about supermodels who try to solve a crime or something like that, kind funny, I was entertained at 2.00 in the morning. But I'm trying to picture a fat, balding white guy in a wife beater, watching this movie and then picking up the phone to call the 900 number. "Yeah, talk to me like you're Monica Porter / Freddie Prinze..." God. *shudders* I guess I just don't understand the 900 phenomenon. I spend a summer at Carnegie-Mellon doing a drama program, and my improve director was in a new play about a bunch of women working at a call place. He, of course, played the pervert; but he wasn't really one, just a lonely guy. I don't know. I kinda feel sorry, if there are people like that, who have to spend money to talk to someone who'll be kind to them. I don't know if that makes sense, but... there has to be something better in this society. There's so much in this culture, and yet we're becoming increasingly more and more selfish, drawing further and further into ourselves. Now, you can spend weeks not going outside or talking to anyway. You can order your grocheries on the internet with a credit card; you can order pizza and pay on the internet with your credit card. Pay your bills. Take college classes. Work. It's really rather rediculous. We're becoming such a cold culture. The internet and technology offers so muchm and yet... it takes so much away. Wow. You know what that reminds me of? Those people who sit in the coffee shops and talk really loud about philosophical things that are only philosophical in the most superficial of ways. To show how smart they are. How in tuned with the universe they are. God, that drives me nuts.
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| I love the smell of dead mouse in the morning |
[14 Feb 2004|02:44am] |
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</p> The mouse came here to die. The dorm I live in is a hundred and some extra years old, this awkward structure in center campus with three levels, a basement, and an attic that was converted to contain more rooms (all with dangerously low ceilings where a 5'10" someone like me would have to have been moved...). The house is a favorite place for mice and other critters of all shapes and sizes. I thought I was lucky. I thought I had escaped. But no. I was the only one in the house who had not been visited by the mice. I can't be sure why, but maybe they knew better. Maybe my Gap "Pink" body spray frightened them. Or it could have been faithful Sparky standing watch. But either way, no mice: not a paw, not a dropping, nothing in my room. Until now. Because this is where the mice have gone to die. Not in my room, thank God, but in the wall. Physical Plant came to lay down traps -- specially designed, they said, to dehydrate the mice and mummify them in the walls so they won't smell. So not so. The smell is terrible. It's infesting everything. And there's not a damn thing they can do about it. We're not sure if it's in the wall or if it's in the floor, but it's somewhere, in the corner by the door, so the moment I walk in BAM! the smell of dead mouse. That's the only thing it can be. It smells like dead thing. Everywhere. And it's slowly wafting down the hallway. It has to be a health hazard. I swear. This is disgusting. I can't live like this. I'm paying enough (okay, my creditors are paying enough) to where I shouldn't have to! It's ridiculous. I demand a refund... Ah. The smell of dead mouse. Ugh.
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| Unlucky in love at an all women's college |
[13 Feb 2004|02:03am] |
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So a good friend decided to confess his love for me, to me, tonight. Excellent. I love when that happens. I am beginning to think that maybe Harry was right: a man and a woman cannot just be friends.</p> In high school, I had a lot of friends, but four of them were close: Anika, my best girlfriend; and then Matt, the boyfriend, Richard, the boyfriend's best friend, and the boy in question, Chris, who I don't even remember how he fell in with us. Anika had a different group, and while she and I were together as often as possible, she clashed with some of those in my circle and I with some of those in hers. Matt, Richard, Chris and I hung out quite a bit. We did nerdy things: networking computers and playing Age of Empires against each other on into the night was our favorite. I was one of the guys. I dated Matt, but that relationship, while always present, was always a bit "on hold" while in "the group" or with "the guys". Matt and I long since broke up -- a painful experience sprinkled with misunderstanding, hurt egos, stupidity on my part, my off to college on the other coast, and -- oh yes -- his new girlfriend, Ms. Ballerina, a much shorter, semi-blonde, size 6 girl with a weird personality and the exact opposite of me in practically every way (to the point where, even Richard, with whom I had a strange love/antagonistic relationship, doesn't understand why Matt's with her). Anyway. I discovered some time ago that, had Matt not asked me out first, Richard would have (which, of course, brought on strange questions as to where my life would be if that had been the case...). Richard does not know that I know this. And now, I discover Chris pines for me now (loves me) and has for a long time. Oh! And did I mention Anika had a long running crush on me? Oh yes. My nice, sweet, heterosexual Mormon Anika. There was "something about me" (sigh) that confused her sexual identity. Also, my best friend in junior high, Liz, a lesbian, realized she was one because of a long running crush on me. Now, I know how this could be interpreted by someone who doesn't know me. "oh no, all my friends love me, all my friends want me, boo-hoo". But... 1) I don't understand the attraction at all; I don't consider there to be anything special about me... and 2) it really makes friendships difficult! Anyway. Matt and I broke up. I rarely talk to Richard. Anika got over it (she realized that whatever it was for me was something unusual and she really does want a mate with a dick, or, a me with a dick "ever think of a sex change?" she asked me... oi...). Chris... I don't know what to do about Chris. He's one of the few I still keep in touch with from the "hometown". I don't really know where to go from here. He informed me over IM since I am three thousand miles away at the moment. "I'm kinda drunk right now... I want to know what you think of me". But unfortunately, he wasn't drunk enough to where he won't remember the conversation: his typing skills were too good. So I'm afraid it's going to be really weird. He began telling me how I was the only one who understood him and how much he admired me because of... well, everything as it turns out. Apparently, he thinks I'm as close to perfect as there is in this fair world. *yeah, right* So yeah, I admit, I want a boyfriend desperately. I always thought I would find my soulmate in college -- or, at least, my soul mate of the moment -- but there's a distinct lack of that when you go to an all-women's college and aren't gay/queer/bi/homosexual/however-you-want-to-phrase-it. What I'm trying to figure out at the moment is why all the guys who want me are either 1) gross and sketchy; 2) supreme nerds in action and appearance; 3) really into hard drugs and/or pot, which is no good (sorry, I know I'm a goody-goody, but I can't stand people when they're high and I can't stand the small of pot); 4) like Chris: people I consider like... well, a brother. And a younger one at that. Oh! There's a fifth category. The "Guys I click with and am deeply interested in as they are with me but who already have girlfriends". I hate that category. If only I were a lesbian. I'd have the best sex life on campus. but unfortunately (only in Northampton "unfortunately"!) I'm not. Make the whole of my life easier (maybe?) but certainly not the now. Oh well. Co-ed grad school, here I come. I hope. *fingers crossed*
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| Meet the Cast. |
[08 Feb 2004|01:15am] |
Meet the cast. I'm sure more will be added later.
 C'est Moi
This is me. Aren't I pretty. Oh baby, oh baby. *rolls eyes* I'm tall and thin, oddly proportioned; I have long hair, grey eyes, my father's facial structure and grin, my grandfather's tan (which I'm losing, damn New England), and my mother's hair. It fluffs. I hate it, but I've been told I'm too hard on myself. And I guess I am. Isn't every one? I don't really know what to tell you that's not in the diary, I mean, I suppose that's the point of this thing. So, I suggest you read it if you care. If you don't care, of course, you have my permission to move on through.  This is my Daddy
This is my Daddy. Isn't he handsome? With his hand in the Christmas turkey. He's a good guy, the best Dad a girl could ask for. Computer geek. Has a good sense of humour, though sometimes it's as far from PC as you can get. I guess it's forgivable, right? We all have our quirks. He makes great cinnamon rolls. He likes Dilbert, Dunesberry, and NBC Nightly News. He hates... well, George W. Bush. And Microsoft. So, pretty much anything relating to Satan in any way.
 This is my Momma
My Momma at her computer. She's an elementary school teacher and has been for quite some time. She's still stuck in the 1960s, is famous... infamous?... for her tie-dyed Steve Madden slippers (though they died over Christmas due to a pitcher of iced tea that spilt, and she now has a bright orange pair), baggy faded jeans, and oversized t-shirts (often tie-dyed). She's in love with her Boston Terrier, Dot. This is Dot
My mother's Boston Terrier, Dot, might as well be my sister. She's certainly spoiled enough. She's about 10 years old now, was a 20th anniversary gift from my father. She still acts like a puppy though, and jumps as though she has springs in her paws. However, she has a bad knee, so sometimes, she looses her spring. And then, she's as pathetic as Tigger (Tigger from Whinny the Pooh is another one of my mother's obsessions) without his bounce.
 This is my Sister
Here is Jen, my real sister. She's 17, a senior in High School, going to ASU in the Fall. She's going to study either music or geology: so, rocks or rock and roll, she can't quite decide. She likes to tease me with things like she's going to get her pilot's license, or go exploring volcanoes or take a trip to Israel. She just likes to see my reaction to things. We used to hate each other, but we get along better now, though she still doesn't tell me anything about her life.
 This is my Brother
This is TJ. He was, at one point, not my brother, but now he is. He's thirteen, but going to be fourteen on the 28th of February. He's into Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter and Legos and learning how to be a guy. Whatever that means. *shrugs* He keeps reminding me he's only 2 years away from driving, and then he'll get to drive Gwyneth, the car that used to be mine and is now my sister's and... God only knows where it'll go. Little red Mazda Protege. I miss that car. Daddy wouldn't let me bring it to school. No, I'm not bitter. Oh well. I don't need freedom. There's plenty of things to do in Northampton (sigh). Anyway, TJ -- good kid, great kid, lots of fun. Plays a cello.
 This is Shilo
Shilo, yet another member of the animal aspect of my family named after a book character. He's a cocker spaniel, mostly he sleeps all day. He was a run away, we took him in, like most of our animals, after he was hit by a car. He's fat. He's lazy. He answers better to Doofus (my father's nickname because the dog ain't too bright). There's not much else to say. He's old: mostly blind, mostly deaf, but a good dog. Still stupid though.
 Sparky the Wonder Cactus
This is Sparky, my companion at Smith. Can't have animals of any kind, not even gold fish, so Sparky keeps me company. Wards off evil mice. He's my one piece of home next to my Diamondbacks "Baby Backs" calendar and my D'Backs Pennant. He was, at one point, a Saguaro-to-go at Sky Harbor. Now, he's Sparky the Wonder Cactus.
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[08 Feb 2004|12:53am] |
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So I thought I would start an online journal. I've done it before, but the livejournal I started on has gone untouched for far too long to really be worthwhile anymore. </p> Honestly, I think the concept of an online journal is really a rather odd one. Growing up, the diary was always a very private thing, something I hid in my closet from my mother, who wouldn't have looked anyway, and my little sister, who would have. Perhaps it's part of our reality-tv infatuated society: the opportunity to read the private lives of people we don't know going through struggles we're not sure are real and sharing them with the world for reasons not even they can really explain. Maybe those of us who write in these "blogs" are people who need affirmation. People who need to know that someone strange cares about what they're doing for no real reason. Maybe it's a need for affirmation that they exist, take up space, matter. Maybe it's something that just cannot be rationalized at all-- it's something that just is. So here you are, reading this, for no real reason. There isn't any humor here, so it can't be too entertaining. There's nothing really mind blowing, so it can't really be stimulating. But maybe that's what you want. Something to kill the time. Well. I don't know if I can offer that, but maybe I'll try. Does it make the journal fake if I try to be funny? If i try to be intellectually stimulating? If I were to sit in class lecture, drafting and redrafting entries? Isn't a journal supposed to be slightly spontaneous, something off the top of ones head out of the depths of ones soul? On the fly, off the cuff, reality not made for publication? I think that the blog is a written version of reality TV. It must be. It's a recorded glimpse of a life, carefully shaped and edited, designed to give a specific taste, and specific kind of feeling. And here, I wonder if anyone will read this. Does any of this matter? Is what I'm writing impacting anyone? Maybe I'm too aware, but I figure that someone, somewhere, at some point reads this: even if someone doesn't, that's always going to be on my mind. Just like the cameras in the realworld must always be on the minds of those "seven strangers". Okay. Enough thinking about it. Welcome to my life... silly rabbit.
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azdback's journal