Damn Netscape. WHY does this library use netscape? Worst browser EVER.

I will blog later.

a list:
1) favorite pink shirt - 5th wearing without laundering
2) geo-sci grade - 80%
3) time since last church attendance - 20 months
4) today's food consumption - doritos, mountain dew, 2 bagels w/cream cheese <--massive amount of food!!
5) pairs of pants in-grown (as opposed to outgrown) - all but one
6) housing in Berlin - none
7) amount of residual stress over not having housing in Berlin - almost none
8) days before leaving for Berlin - 19
9) MTV watched - surprisingly little
10) movies watched recently - Mallrats, Bridget Jones's Diary, Save the Last Dance, Mulan
11) brilliant songs in Mulan - one: "Be A Man", sung by everyone's favorite Mormon entertainer Donny Osmond (the voice of Shang, emotional fuckwit of said film). Donny Osmond is my idol; he enunciates better than I do!!
12) favorite word - still fuck
13) least favorite word - still moist..."moyest" <-- *shudder*
14) current favorite song - "Easy Tonight" by Five for Fighting. John Ondraisik is also my idol, because he managed to write a happy, upbeat song about suicide. And you don't even realize what it's about unless you read the lyrics carefully. Really, really carefully. And watch the video, while armed with a knowledge of the lyrics. The girl in the video looks kind of like a frizzy-red-haired Thora Birch, but it isn't her.
15) weirdest music video ever - that one by Dirty Vegas...where the guy dances around the sidewalk...and random people stand around and watch him, and tell eachother a story...while parts of the story flash across the screen. And the guy just dances around. In taped up orange shoes...and a suit. And then two of the people watch away to have coffee. I don't think I like the song or the video, but the combination of the two is mesmerizing.
16) though - all shirts should lace up in the front...or button.
17) hours spent in library talking with Mary Jones while watching her work - 4
18) mistakes in last Business German letter - 0!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
19) grade in said German course going into final exam - 90%. damn.
20) grade in Russian History course going into final - 90%. damn.
21) grade in German 391 going into final video project (40% of grade. damn!) - 90%. again - damn.
22) projected Spring quarter GPA - 3.3
23) projected rage of father upon seeing said grades - 8.5 on a scale of 10. Good thing I'll be out of the country when he sees them. For a long time. So I figure, I'll write him every few days about how much I miss him and my family, and about all the "work" I'm getting done, and about how much I'm learning and how great everything is, and then, by the time I finally come back, he'll be so happy to see me again, that he won't care about the grades, so long as I keep paying attention to him. It'll work, too. Very well. The less frequently I come home, the more they like me. When I'm not around, they forget that I'm a difficult, lazy slacker PILL most of the time.
24) days I will spend at home before leaving for Berlin - 3 to 5...or one. My mom will tell me when I'm leaving when I get home.
25) things to do before leaving for Berlin -
a-have laptop purchased for self (suck up to father!!),
b-see Ryan "Dinkle" McGuinness for the first time in two years (Dinkle was my best friend in high school...but only when his girlfriends broke up with him),
c-see Sue & Kathleen (other best friends from high school...when Dinkle was occupied. More time will be spent with Sue, because she is clever and interesting. Little time will be spent with Kathleen, because she has gotten foolish and tedious as of late, and listening to her babble hurts my brain and offends my sensibilities. Plus, she doesn't like Yevgeny Plushenko. But Sue hated A Knight's Tale, so I suppose that one is a toss-up. But Yevgeny ranks higher than Heath - by a large margin - so, Sue wins.),
d-sleep,
e-have brief nervous breakdown,
f-learn to communicate intelligibly in German,
g-find housing in Berlin...,
h-watch figure skating archives to rekindle favorite obsession before the late summer figure skating season begins,
i-track down Mitchell Beck and punch him in the jaw again - because I didn't punch him hard enough the first time,
j-gain five pounds,
k-eat as much watermelon as humanly possible in however many days I have at home,
l-have hair cut in drastic manner,
m-have newest cavity drilled & filled (since I'm positive I will have another one by then),
n-vow to stop eating candy (knowing full well that Haribo gummis - and milk - will be the staple of my European diet, as they were last summer),
o-buy smaller pants...ones that fit. Because pants that fit are under-appreciated.
p-find person to send random-daily-email-updates to while in Berlin, ala my Chicago Council on Foreign Relations chronicles of winter quarter.

alas. Mark says he has to shutdown the computer. So, I won't get to "z" of things to do before leaving. alas.

Ivanov said he first saw signs that the two leaders had "more than control of the Gaza Strip on their minds" at a 1998 Israel-PLO conference in Cairo, at which Arafat reversed decades of PLO policy and polemic by acknowledging Israel's right to exist.

"For the first time in years, they were really getting along," Ivanov said. "Arafat tripped over a rug and landed right in [then Israeli Defense Minister] Sharon's arms. You should have seen the look they exchanged while Sharon held Arafat in his strong grasp. Nothing happened, but you could tell something was there."

Daniel Kurtzer, U.S. ambassador to Israel, recalled suspicious comments made by Sharon at a state dinner in his honor at the White House last September.

"Ariel had had a little too much wine, and he ended up confiding to me about how he has a crush on somebody he shouldn't like at all," Kurtzer said. "He said he couldn't say who it was because it would never work out anyway. At first, I thought maybe it was Crown Prince Abdullah, but now it's pretty obvious who it was."

THOUGHT: Remember last year when Nick, Russ, and I had so much homework on Monday nights, but we'd still go to Giordano's to see everyone and then be up all night because of it?

THOUGHT: Remember that time that I was all the way downtown and couldn't get uptown in timt for giordanos, but everyone tried to make me feel guilty anyways, as if I somehow didn't care about my group of friends?

woke up quick, at about noon, just thought that I had to be in compton soon...

I am going to finish blogging about my weekend if it kills me. This is ri-gosh-darn-diculous. To save everyone the trouble of a long post, this will be donw Anne style, in list formation.

...continued.
Saturday.
1) slept for most of the afternoon
2) went to the opera and saw "Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail" (or The Abduction from the Seraglio for all you not in the know) with Mark in fancy pimp clothing
3) went to the pike party
4) bailed after 20 minutes because of extreme fatigue
5) went to bed at 1

Sunday
1) got up at 645 to work on a talk for church
2) write whirl wind talk about service
3) give talk in front of large congregation, being terrified and trying to hold prescence. Mark said I did a good job though, which made me feel a little better about myself.
4) go to chipotle
5) watch fast and the furious
6) go over to the sherm and people watch with our favorite waitress adele, who is being macked by a customer who thinks 13 years is not a big age difference.
7) Anne joins us as our request for apple pancakes is denied by the kitchen, who is closing an hour early to start memorial day off right.
8) anne, mark, and I return to the cave and watch "save the last dance"

Monday
1) Mark and I go downtown around 3, after eating lunch in plex. *shudder*
2) we go to chinatown
3) chinatown is way south, and when we get off, we feel like we're in another country
4) there are several restaurants and bric-a-brac shops around. we stop in a bakery and get pasteries, because they're way cheap, so why not.
5) stop in a gallery, and check out some of the most clever and creative uses of blown glass ever seen. These range from vases to plates to insects to 3-D painted glass pictures (glass sheets are stacked ontop of each other to give the illusion of depth). There were also some wood boxes of exquiste detail and craftsmanship, with pulloutdrawers and velvet linenings. Very cool.
6) Find an open air mall with dozens of foodstores and apothocaries. we go into one that sold nothing but fish and antlers. They had dried sea anemonas, lamp rays, squids, sting rays, jellyfish, sea horses, hooves, ginseng, and pickled herring all ranging from $1,000/lb downwards. The place smelled so heavily of brine I had to get out.
7) We see ducks and chickens in BBQ restaurant windows with their heads and feet still attached. I pointed out that while most people would look at that and say, "ewwww" I look at it and say, "I'm hungry"
8) Went to a small chinese restaurant with plastic cups and plates and generic cutlrey. I order szchwan chicken, mark gets some curry noodle shrimp and chicken monstrosity.
9) I triumph in the argument of why landfood is better than sea food by trumping out the question, "Mark, tell me again why you dont like taking baths." The same principle applies to land animals verses sea animals.
10) We go to nick and johns and hang out. They show mark the new equitment. I talk real estate with their charming mother terri, who i like more and more every time I see her. Before we know it, it's 10pm, so we have john drive us to the el and we head on home.
11) Call Anne up, have her come over to watch mallrats. She comes over an hour late because shes talking to dave. I realize for the first time that, hysterically, Dave Choate has had me on block for the past 3 days. This is one of the funniest things I can remember in recent history.
12) Bed.

Tuesday
1) get up really late around noon to the sound of my phone. Am being called by Mormon Missionary named elder smith, who wants to know why I don't write anymore and whats up with this nonmember boy?
2) Talk to mom on the phone. Not good. very bad. spend morning crying and hate myself for crying twice in the same month. Am turning way too emo.
3) Take a two hour bath, simultanously reading "A Gesture Life"
4) Spend 4 hours at Panera, switching back and forth between my book, my writing, and my asiago cheese bagel.
5) Go home. clean room. talk to mom on phone again.
6) anne come over to return movies. we talk.
7) Take 3 of the 4 movies back to blockbuster. manage to fight with mark on the way to and the way from.
8) stop at white hen.
9) fight with mark some more.
10) go home and go through the lengthy process of talking out the conflict. Make great headway, go to bed no longer fighting with anyone.

Ok, now I am completly caught up. Lets hope I can stay that way. I hate being behind, and I so often am. It's a good thing I share this weblog with so many people, otherwise you guys would never forgive me.

Weirded out and jazzed up. Can't concentrate on work.

My final project for journalism went ok. It was a group proposal for a new magazine idea. My group proposed a publication focusing on First Amendment issues, called "One". I didn't contribute as much to the group as I would have liked to, but they held the biggest meeting was during my work hours. I no longer desire to be a comical slacker; I am willing to work hard when it is necessary.

One of my group-mates treated me absolutely absurdly today, and I'm slightly peeved about it. Hey buddy, I'm sorry that I don't have money coming out of my ears, and have to deal with this thing called "a job." Also, I am sorry that I think it's funny when you're murmuring and cursing over an already finished project. I've got nothing but apologies for my "sucking at everything."

Ahh. That was nice. I'm glad I can vent in this weblog.

The volume of work I have to do is nearly insurmountable, and I really don't feel like tackling any of it. All I really want to do is rock. =)

I hope to find some kind of sane balance between fun and work over the next three weeks, but it'll be a challenge.

yeah. that thing.

wow. so i log onto blogger as mary to fix some spelling and word errors for her (comprises, my dear, not compromises...and my name is anne), and when I go back to blogger, capitalist mafia is on the "10 most recently updated blogs" list. so, like an idiot, i click on it, like i haven't just seen the site and read everything in it. that's what happens when you sleep during the day...

"How is it I go from the verge of hot Floridian sex with brandi to man of steel coital debates with you in the food court?
Cookie stand is not part of the food court.
Of course it is.
The food court is downstairs; the cookie stand is upstairs. We're not talking quantum physics here.
The cookie stand counts as an eatery; the eatery's part of the food court.
Bullshit. Eateries that operate within the square downstairs qualify as food court. Anything outside of said designated square is considered an autonomous unit for mid-mall snacking."

okay. that's all for the normal post.

the following is a repost of psycho post #4; don't read it. it's just shit. that doesn't apply to you. and takes up a bunch of space. ignore it, and just scroll down to mary and adele's newest entries. thanks. sorry for the inconvenience.


psycho post #4:

almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,
almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count,almost doesn't count.
we're definitely miserable because we listen to pop music.

I haven't been updating in a while, mostly due to Mark. since my family has finally more or less been told what's going on, I might as well actually blog about all the things the two of us do togther, which comprises the bulk of my non-academic life.

It's been so long since I've blogged I can't even remember what I've been doing. I went to dinner with Reginald Jones last, ummm, Tuesday I think. I was late to dinner, which made Katie so angry she was practically frothing at the mouth. Anne came with me to the library on Wednesday, and Thursday I had to work until 10. Then Mark and I went and saw star wars again for the second time, since it was a thursday and we could.

Friday was when the actual fun part of my three day weekend began. I blew $100 bucks shopping for clothes (two tops at urban outfitters, one skirt at presence) with Mark and Anne. Then we went downtown, picked up my stuff at the metro, which I promptly threw away. Went to MacDonalds, where I got an oreo mcflurry. those things are so good, i can hardly stand it. i have no idea how that much taste can be incorporated into one entity. it's amazing. it is not possible. or shouldn't be possible. and yet it is. Afterwards, we headed over to Belmont. On the way Anne wants to stop in a lingerie store, so we go in only to find it was a sex shop. It was funny awkward, especially the leather harness and whip. I took Anne to the Alley, where she'd never been before. Mark commented on the lack of cool goth clothes for guys. Anne, who has a figure 10X more amazing then my lame soft flab physique, gets a gorgeous chained open front top, which I imagine would look dreadful on me. Seriously. People would run screaming. But it looked made for her, so she got it. that was cool.

After that we head on over to devon avenue, which is "India Town" for those of you not in the know. Riding the bus was fun; I forgot how much I loved sitting in a vehicle staring out the window at the city streets and all the colors. Man, I sound gay. Anyway, to continue. We go to some place called Ghandi's Palace or whatever for dinner. The chicken was good and very reasonably priced. Anne had a mango shake, which looked sketchy.

I'm at Nick and John's (mark's bandmates) house. Mark is playing Johnny B. Good on the guitar. Ha!

After we ate, we walked around India town, going in and out of random stores.My favorite shop was the grocery store. Sacks and cans and spices are stocked in geometric patterns on white shelves, with clay pots everywhere. I got a glass bottle of Rim Zim at Mark's suggestion; it was made by the coca cola company, so i figured i was pretty safe. We went to various sari shops and sweet stores, getting a box of assorted candy at one. On the way home, we stopped at Blockbuster, and since most of our movies were taken, ended up collectivly getting "Save the Last Dance", "Saving Silverman", "Hearts in Atlantis", and "The Fast and the Furious." Then the three of us went back to my room and saw Saving Silverman. Surprisingly funny. I was laughing harder than I thought I would.

Saturday was dillo day, and we get up early for mike's party, which was right away bad because I had a huge headache. After we round up the usual suspects (mark, anne, adele, and I) we run over to Einsteins for an early morning bagel wakeup call, then go over to aktipis.' We arrive only to see like 100 shoes in the hallway, and we walk in and see mike has invited like his entire frat and all their hos. so it was crowded and way hot. russo suave was there, as was nick and ginny and tony and tony's girl and mike's girl, who was way young. after a few hours, we go over to chipotle, then hook up with lauren and matt and go to see local h and dismemberment plan. dismemberment plan rocked me like a hurricane, what with the sweetie pie lead singer and the rocking songs and the great lyrics. Big Pimpin' and Torrance (a la "Bring it On") were my personal favorites. I fell asleep practically on the barrier, so Mark walked me home so I could take a nap. I had popped like 5 motrin, and my headache was still way bad. I go to bed, tossing and turning, thinking of the dreadful talk I have to give on Sunday.

To be continued.....

my band got email from Satan.

At 04:40 PM 5/26/2002 -0500, The wrote:
Dear Satan,

would it be alright if NES practiced on monday afternoon? that would be
wicked cool. I will sacrifice a cat on your behalf.

best,
theron

and he wrote back to us from the address satan@northwestern.edu :

Hey guys, I got your message. I think I can make some time Monday
afternoon to come up and light some fires and shit. Just summon me with
the usual stuff.
Peace and love to all,
Satan

"we don't need all these prophecies/tellin' us what's a sign/this paranoia ain't the way to live your life from day to day/so leave your doubts and your fears behind"

so i talked to nickd saturday morning, and he told me that my posts are too psycho, and that i need to calm it down. ok. i can pretend to be whatever the gegenteil of psycho is for awhile.

instead, i'll just make lists. lists about me. and what i do. and not ever about how i feel, because that would just be...psycho, right?

Friday:
1) no sleep night before because slept all thursday because class cancelled
2) slept through geo-sci. again. failed quiz. again. (perhaps because just didn't go to discussion section right before) quiz average now 57%.
3) downtown w/marky. v.fun. ate root beer float. got stomach ache from eating root beer float.
4) went to the Alley. bought black lycra halter top w/out front - laces up w/metal chain thing. j.lo affect. v.v.fun!
5) went to indian restaurant. ate more food. got bigger stomach ache.
6) watched saving silverman. "...you're the hardcore bitch I've always wanted..."

Saturday:
1) mike a's shindig. much too early in the morning. told by nickd too psycho for blogger.
2) saw dismemberment plan. left dismemberment plan. took walk w/tom. came back to dismemberment plan
3) bonded w/black friends
4) pike thing. wore more or less frontless shirt. random anthony guy drinking from a blender. v.amusing.
5) actually walked home by russo suave. thanks! felt v.special. ;-)

Sunday:
1) ----------sleeping-----------sleeping through several phone calls----------sleeping through persistant knocking on door---------still sleeping---------wake up at 6:18 pm to call from mary jones. otherwise, would probably still be asleep.
2) stuff. ate candy. saw save the last dance, or whatever that movie is. not too bad.
3) attempt to make un-psycho post after cleaning v.messy room. check email...many, many messages about germany thing...stress level immediately triples to intolerable. make pact w/self not to cry...have strong feeling pact will not last through sleepless night. also make pact to stop sleeping during the day. DAY is for living. NIGHT is for sleeping. right.

Random:
1) baby toe on left foot hurts from wearing ridiculous shoes to party last night.
2) tired, but slept 14 hours. can't sleep. will watch movies instead.
3) intolerable stress level. must sleep to escape stress.
4) but can't sleep, because already spent day sleeping.
5) but must sleep. stress too much to bear.
6) dilemma...
7) anyone want to spend a month in europe for me? because i really don't feel like going. you leave on the 15th of June. we'll switch off on July 20th, when my program starts.
8) damn! forgot to wake up to go on zoo trip thing this afternoon. oops.
9) really. anyone want to spend a month traveling around europe for me? anyone...anyone...?

"see i got my eyes on the skies/the heavenly bodies of light/and if you're in the mood to take a ride/then strap on a suit and get inside"

are anyone's eyes ever on the ground? we can't all love the light, can we? y'all can have your rides and skies and stars and flying. i'll watch the ground for you. i prefer the dark. space is cold, anyways. <---just for you, nick. ;-)

I smell smoke that comes from a gun named extinction!

this is a story all about me. me, me, me.

Today, I've been told by two very random and unrelated sources that I hate a certain person. Although blood feuds are kind of glamorous, I really harbor no hatred for this individual. Sorry to disappoint everyone who wants to see a fight. I can't help you out there. I don't want to be a petty and unkind person.

This here is my little window to the world, and every minute's a different show. I may not understand it. I may not even agree with it, but I'll tell you one thing. I accept it.

Today was off-the-charts fun, but tomorrow is going to suck hardcore. I'm neck deep in school work, so I'll spend the morning at the library. And then the Sherm all afternoon and evening. In what is quite possibly the saddest turn of events EVER, I have to skip band practice to do a dreadful journalism project. Sigh. At least it's a group project with cool people.

why am I blogging this random stream of information at 3a.m.?

Dillo. Dismemberment Plan impressed. Before the set, I yelled to Travis and requested Bootylicious. (they did a ten minute bootylicious break-down when I saw them play the metro). He laughed and said he would do it. They never played it, but they did do a selection from Big Pimpin, which wasn't too shabby at all. Michael's party was lovely, as all of his parties tend to be. I got a chance to talk to nickd and Ginny, which was pretty fun. Dillo Day= happy fun time for all.

Rock music is going exceptionally well. Brian is tearing it up with his lyrics and melodies, and we're sounding much better than I thought we would after this amount of time. Also! I bought an amp-- 65 watts of pure satan. So now I'm loud. And we have a new name. more on that later.

Alright, I'm outta here.

I think I have to stop listening to music. seriously. It ALL makes me depressed these days. Even N'Sync. And I swear that before I listen to the music, I never really feel all that bad. But then I listen to some music, and even the happy songs are saying something serious, if you pay attention. And the sad ones...good gracious. If everything is that hopeless and that painful, why do any of us even bother living in the first place. If I listened to what the songs tell me, I'd spend my entire life in bed, pretending that I was anyone but myself anywhere but here. geez. And we pay them to do this to us. Not that abstaining from listening to music will keep me from sleeping through this weekend anyway...

Ok, its my turn to blog, so I'll tell the good stories. Oh and by the way, Daily, thanks for totally not contacting me about this weblog. I know Adele's cooler than me and a mofo rockstar and whatnot, but LAME. I just need to rage against the machine some more. I think this is some player hating on the part of a liberal media who is not comfortable with the fact that a star weblogger could also be the vice president of college republicans. No, wait. it probably has something to do with the fact that Adele is a way cooler and nicer person than I am. Dangit! But for real. This does, however, go to show that Adele is the cult figure in this weblog world; anne and I are peripheral players. Adele is a Willard All Star (tm) after all. Man, I wish I knew how to spell.

So, JAMBOREE 2002! Rock on! I figured since I didn't blog about it before and it's not in my journals, I should mention it now. Jamboree started off with me crawling out of bed at 645am after staying up until 1am seeing the new Star Wars movie, which despite tom and tony's hideous reactions I thought was fun and rather charming in a naive sort of way. I think it was precisely because the dialogue was laughable during the love story that endeared the movie to me. It was so innocent and unpretentious, in the sense that it just wanted to tell a story. If one actually takes a good, objective look at the earlier star wars, one will see the same sense of lame cliches and bad special effects. But its the world and the innocence and the good verses evil battle that makes it interesting. Plus, there was a matrix preview! This makes me thrilled, because it looks rad, and even though tom yelled at me for being "that guy," I applauded anyway.

But I digress.

So I'm tired when I get up, and I take a shower and throw on some lame clothes and meet up with Anne and Adele at Panera. They were significantly more tired than me, for related and yet completly independant reasons. I stood by munching my asiago cheese bagel looking pensive as they talked about their mutal evening activities. Mmmmm, cheese bagels are supergood.

Because of our tardiness, we took a taxi to rosemont to catch the bus to Jamboree. Adele brought scissors and orange fliers with the following hand written note: "FEAR THE CAPITALIST MAFIA! WWW.CAPITALISTMAFIA.BLOGSPOT.COM" Our logo was in the middle. It was so cute, I could hardly stand it. But we cut the fliers into individual handouts, since we don't do enough of that working for the metro. We have a nice chat with our bus driver, who is old and jaded, but nice enough to let me use the bathroom in the CTA station before we took off. Anne fell asleep on my knees. Adele cuddled close to blankets and sheets, dashboard style. It was a nice bus ride. I like motorized vehicles. The wheels on the bus go round and round people. Round and round.

We get to the Tweeter Center in Finely Park or whatever, which is Illinois for: Middle of Nowhere. Nothing but rolling hills and country clubs stretched on as far as the eye could see. We went in, and they made us check all backbacks and take out all "projectiles," food, or liquid. I understand the demands the insurance companys place on these promoters, so I was not offended by the stringent and unnecessary level of security. But even a good capitalist girl is going to be annoyed when the bouncer makes her take out the safety pins in her sweater. The sweater's very survival depends on those suckers! come on! My sleeve practically fell off when all is said and done.

Once in the sprawling complex, we head to the mainstage and set up camp on the lawn while Local H comes out to rock the house. Although our seats are good by lawn standards (ie close and centered) we were in a rather damp piece of ground, so by the time Local H left water had seeped through our blankets and through our jeans. Muddy water. Arg. Adele and I went to get hotdogs and drinks while Anne laid asleep, sprawled out on the two blankets. Adele very generously floated me money for almost the entire day. She's so sweet about that. The man at the concession stand accidentally gave us an extra coke for free. I felt bad taking it, but Adele pointed out that, by denying us the ability to bring in our own sustenance and by charging 5 dollars a coke, the capitalist corperate sponsers of Q101 were already making a healthy proft, so I should not fear for "the Man." I felt better after that. I want the Man to be happy.

Our Lady Peace came on next, whom I haven't seen since I was in the 8th grade. "Happiness...is not a fish that you can catch" is still one of my all time favorite albums, and I haven't seen Raine Maida in ages. He was one of my first rockstar crushes--Superman's dead video, brillant green eyes, angular features. So gorgeous. I met him in real life though, once, and he's only like 5'8." As a double digit 5er (5'10", thank you) I was very disappointed that the man I loved was eversotiny. Not Rivers tiny, but small nonetheless.

I'm listening to Notwists "Solitaire" right now and it is gorgeous. Sorry for the interruption.

There was a break between OLP and Hoobastank, who I was not interested in seeing. I take that break to run over to the second stage, and who is there? QUARASHI! YES! I know! The Iclandic Beastie Boys! I nearly died with excitement. I push my way through the crowd and find myself smack in the middle of a pushpit mosh pit (as opposed to elbowthrowing mosh pit or facesmashing mosh pit or spinningman mosh pit). Like a good girl, I took off my sweater and started shoving people around. I was thrown across the pit and straight up, 1 person from the stage, where I spent the rest of the time pogoing with my fellow Quarashi fans. I knew a lot of the songs, since I'd downloaded Jinx, so I was singing along with like 3 drunken and shirtless redneck frat boys. It was a beautiful moment of clarity: a northwestern student, poetry major, jumping and rapping with three hefty baseballcapbackwards suburnt so-ill (southern illinois for you not in the lingo) to the beat of three Iclandic skatestars. Multiculturalism does exist in our society. I swear one of the leadsingers was totally looking at me, cause he jumps down right in front of me and touches my hand. Supercool. But the songs get faster and the MC's (one cute and pixish, one like a militant lumberjack, one crouchgrabbing and tightshirted) started ripping into everything. I'm watching the madness thats happening over my right shoulder and the next thing I know my next feels like it's breaking. I fall forward and rip my head up, ready to kill, and who should I see on top of me but the guitarist, playing on top of the audiences shoulders as the bouncers desperatly claw him back to the stage. Then lumberjack MC (the one who was totally looking at me--for real!) jumps right over me, so I get to touch his back and stomach and think, mmmmmm. rock star. The guitarist throws his pick to me but it gets kicked under a grill. So sad. but I got the band's autograph and watched them join in a cheer with the crowd of autograph seekers: "Iceland! Iceland!" Truly prolific.

I return to our blanket where Anne is still asleep, and barely making signs of rousing herself. The sun came out at decent intervals, and when it did, it was warm and lovely. But more often then not it would hide behind clouds, causing the temperature to drop by 10-15 degrees. Hoobastank put on a good show. There music was dreadful, but they worked the crowd. They invited two boys to have an MC contest on stage. The first one, Zach, started belting out there hit (what's that called? the one on MTV? I can't remember, I keep getting it confused with Incubus) better than the lead singer. I think he was a tad jealous. The other guy, whom Anne recognized from highschool before falling back asleep on the blankets, was dreadful. After Hoobastank cleared the stage, we move our blankets over to the side, where at least its dry. Then Adele and I abandoned Anne to let her sleep and walked around giving only cool people the capitalist mafia fliers. Mostly punks and goths. All kids with Zwan shirts were targeted. I saw Jamie, this kid I knew from the last Smashing Pumpkins metro show, whom I waited in line with all night to get tickets. He still had 1 foot spikes. I didn't even recognize him until later. It was so odd--if it hadn't been for the hair and the Zwan shirt i never would have remembered him. One guy we passed a flier to looks at it and says, in total sincerity, "Alright! That's just what we need! A mafia for capitalism!" It was way cute.

So then we wait around for the strokes. Julian gets interviewed and looks scared and confused and annoyed and bored and drunk, just like always. Sometimes I wonder if he's dumb, or if he's wasted. Either way, he's adorable, and I want to take him home and feed him and pet him. The Strokes weren't energetic in the sense that festical crowds will respond to them, but they felt the songs and played them well. Julians voice carries really well off the record, and they are all so adorable and cute and rad. I heard Drew Barrymore's shagging the drummer. Weird. But yeah, they played "Is this it?" and "NYC Cop" which made me totally happy, cause that's one of my favorite songs, and it was on their EP, so it doesn't usually get played. Rock on.

After the strokes we chilled a bit, wandered around. Adele and Anne really wanted to get good seats for dashboard, so we went and got some pizza and split up. I went and watched Tenacious D, and they went to the front row of the Thursday show. Tenacious D rocked me like a hurricane, they were so good. It was a spiritual experience. Choice jack black lines from the evening include:
1) "Everyone has an artist that lives inside. But I know that you keep the artist locked up in chains, locked up tight in your chest. You think that if you let the artist out, people will think you're 'gay.' 'Oh,' people will say, 'he likes painting. he must be fruity.' well let me tell you my friends, there is nothing gay about the artist. In fact, you are missing out on millions of brilliant colors in the universe because of your closemindedness. You are incomplete. Except for you, sir. (points to audience member.) keep the artist inside. get a day job. you have no talent. you make me sick. i want to vomit."
2) "This song is for the ladies. But boys, don't tune out Don't go up and get a beer. Because this is sung for the boys, for the benefit of the ladies." (Launch into rendition of "F--- her gently").
3) Referring to Chicago as Shicky-go. whatever that means.
But yes, I was blown away by the D. But it was getting cold. And I was starving. I ate some discarded popcorn (it was safe! it was in a bucket!) at one point while waiting for Zwan.

Seeing Billy Corgan again was strange and wonderful. My adoration of this man, undiminished over the course of 6 years, is reaching the point where it's ridiculous. He's so amazing, and seeing him again was like coming home. I knew a lot of the songs since nickd has kept me well stocked in Zwan material, but I was too busy concentrating on seeing Billy play again to listen to what he was playing. His hands are looking roped and old, but his face seems to be getting smoother and tighter. He looks like he's 18. He was smiling and laughing and kicking up his heels--really giddy. I've never seen him play like that, except maybe in old Pumpkins bootlegs. The new bassist (the perfect circle guy who has magnificent cascading brown hair) was outstanding, and the three guitars had a cool effect. The problem was the music was subtle, and the changes and tempo and chords and progression were all better suited for an album or small club then an arena. Marianne Faithful came out for a duet. I've always loved the sound of her voice since I heard her sing "memory remains" with Metallica, so she was amazing. But at the same time, it was 745, and the sun was setting, and I was starting to get really cold. I had to leave before the band ended because I was too miserable to continue. I waundered around wrapped in Adele's blanket (anne had mine), thinking and being introspective and watching people. Saw some of kidrocks strippers posing for photos. Blonde things with perfectly scuplted bodies and short tight sparkly clothing. It was strange to see women like that in real life. There was a huge crowd of men around them. I was fascinated and horrified by the entire spectacle. I'm sure part of it was envy, because they were really beautiful girls. If you took away the makeup and the dye and saw them, long limbed and tan and flawless, it was really amazing. But I think I was the only one staring at these girls who saw them that way. I think most of the men were interested in climbing on top of them and defiling them in some way. But that said, it made me angry. Angry at them for their lack of self respect. Angry that they looked at all the rest of the girls around them with a look of contempt and superiority. Angry that words like "jealous," "it's my body," and "more confident in my sexuality" were written on their lips and eyelids. Angry at the men for being so obvious as there eyes climbed over the thigh high boots and short kilts. I walked away to the Dashboard show.

Dashboard rocked it old school in the cutest way. I got to the third row and dude, chirs carraba totally looked at me, I swear. He did the best he could with the crowd randomly crowd surfing and yelling "fag" at him. He was very gracious, joking with the audience and identifying "his people" in the crowd and playing to them. He was practically unknown to the Q101 fans, so when he stepped back from the microphone, only about a quarter of the crowd sang along. But he did get around to doing "so impossible," "screaming infidelities" and "again I go unnoticed." Mostly I was thrilled about so impossible, which is possibly my favorite dashboard song ever.
I waited for Carraba to come out and do autographs, but he didn't. I wandered about through the empty bottles and overturned popcorn tubs looking for anne and adele. i found them on my way to see Kid Rock. I made them stay for "American Badass," which involved 4 strippers pole dancing in cages, a motorcycle, a huge American flag, red and blue fireworks, a neon flashing KID ROCK sign, and red, white, and blue confetti. I've never quite seen anything like it. I sang along, because that's one of my favorite songs. I stared at the strippers, mostly because I've never quite seen anybody move their body like that before. It was degrading and sexy at the same time, degrading in the sense that it wasn't sexy, it was weird and awkward and emotionally detached. I guess that was the intent though. I don't know. I felt a lot sadder about people after I left that show, though.

It was too cold to stay for kidrock, so we went onto the bus and waited for the show to end. I fell asleep on the floor of the bus. We took a cab home, and we all fell asleep. The end.

I'd right more about my post-jamboree life, but this post has been long enough. I'll continue later, maybe. Hope this helps you procrastinate, if you can get through it.

as a random aside:

to all of you with difficult/time consuming/normal class schedules next quarter, i never have class before 2 pm.

so we need a juicy story, eh? i'd try to help out but...yeah. anne + juicy stories = not bloody likely. it's hard enough to get onesself into a compromising position to begin with...if i ever lose my pants, though, i'll do my best to be as sketchy as possible so as to have a lovely bit of juiciness to blog about the next day. ;-)

anyway. so, i wake up this morning at 8:02 to my alarm clock blaring some goshawful Ashanti shit. and that's when i realize that i had forgotten to ditch russian history this quarter. so i amended the situation and slept til 10:02. at which point i would have unplugged my alarm clock and slept through the rest of the day, except that i had to complete my last interview for German 391...and i was scheduled to interview my business german prof. at 11:15...and i'm part of a group. so, i had to go. alas. and yes, i did have to get up at 10:02, because a shower was necessary, and showing up to an interview half naked is not acceptable, so i had to find some clothes, too.

anyway. so, i get ready, blah blah blah, go to kresge, do the whole interview thing (videotaped, mind you - this fact may prove important in the future, as may the fact that i was interviewing one of my own profs), and then go back to my dorm to ditch geo-sci, since i haven't skipped that in awhile either. so, i'm back in my dorm, and go to the bathroom to wash my hands (so as to avoid any chance of getting my pink eye back) , and what do i find on my neck - a decently sized hickey.

right in the front. a hickey. great. i met with a prof & was videotaped with a big hickey on my neck.

that is why getting ready in the dark is not always a good idea, although, i really couldn't have done anything anyway.

fortunately, it is not red, or purple, or swollen - just a big brownish bruise. but still. it's definitely there. and it's quite clear that i didn't just bump into a wall or something. and if it shows up on the videotape and is in our final project...i suppose everyone will laugh at me. and i will deserve it. and probably blush a deep purple, since my base skin tone is a moderate crimson to begin with.

sorry, adele. that's the closest thing to juicy i could muster. and i owe you $15. don't let me forget, because i will.

wow. So a reporter from The Daily Northwestern called me tonight and said she wanted to interview me for a story on weblogs. Oh shit. The cult following thing is finally coming true. Our url is going to be in the paper, and then everyone can see this totally ghetto page, and all the people who don't like me can mock me, and everyone else can be jealous of how fucking rock and roll Mary, Anne and I are.

Again, I feel that this necessitates some real content, or some incredibly juicy story or something, but we'll probably just keep babbling about daily banalities, and still not spell check any of our entries, and keep on being as ghetto-fab as we've always been.

Lately, I've been acting as pretentious as fuck, and I really can't get a grip on that. My life is just so goddamn rocking. That's why I blog, and you read it. or something.

I met someone "in real life" that I met on the internet (at an undisclosed website) tonight. He lives in rodgers park, so he came up here to have a cup of coffee with me. We chit chatted about music and such, and he came over and played my shitty guitar and smoked cigarettes and listened to the Pixies with me. It was surprisingly less sketchy than such an endevor could have been. How totally rock is that?

I know that I am an entirely ridiculous person, but I don't mind. I am happy, and I don't really care if anyone takes me seriously. So take that, haters!

"I don't care who pays for your college. Why should you care who pays for our records?" --Promise ring tells it like it is

10771 ENGLISH 324-0 20 Enrolled ABC/NC Grading 1.00
Medieval Lit Lecture Regular Academic Session
215, Parkes Hall 11:00AM - 12:20PM Tue Thu

10775 ENGLISH 393-F 20 Enrolled ABC/NC Grading 1.00
Poetr Theo/Pract Lecture Regular Academic Session
3722, University Library 11:00AM - 12:20PM Wed Fri

10777 ENGLISH 395-0 20 Enrolled ABC/NC Grading 1.00
Fund of Prose Lecture Regular Academic Session
018, University Hall 9:30AM - 10:50AM Tue Thu

12434 ENGLISH 359-0 20 Enrolled ABC/NC Grading 1.00
Victorian Lit Lecture Regular Academic Session
121, University Hall 1:00PM - 1:50PM Mon Wed Fri

I will be learning nothing, and yet it will be oh so wonderful

EPIPHANY.

GULP. Emo is mainstream enough to get attention from Time Magazine.

Sigh. Any suggestions for a new silly subculture for me to latch onto? (best suggestions so far: teamsters, yearbook club).

Visit Fetus X right now. go go go!
1) Why willard people should shut up: If what I heard was true, y'all just a bunch of playa hatas and that ain't green, so back up, tell me whatcha gonna do now.
2) Dr. Brooks: The director for ARI came on thursday to talk about the moral defense of Israel. And while I was reading my anthro homeowrk at the time, I still managed to decipher a little bit of information and what I heard was great. My favorite was that countries have no rights to resources, and no right to nationalize resources in their borders. That's the job of megaconglomorations and huge titanic corperations. I felt it was good to have someone finally come out and tell us that only capitalist individuals have a right to anything. Afterwards in the reception I got to hear a lecture on how Christianity was the single greatest evil in all of creation, worse than Islam, worse than animism. I thought that was pretty funny. Hurray for broad generalizations and shady subject knowledge! I am not even going to argue why he is wrong on that declaration. But I suppose that to the extent of his knowledge, he was right to some extent.
3) dave choate: dude, stop it. If you want to look terrified everytime you see me, fine. But stop avoiding Anne and I when we're together. I'm not going to turn into a Rakasha or anything.

More on Jamboree later. To be continued...

Three cheers for Anne, who is the only one of us to bother putting up some new content after we promoted our website to about 100 people at the Jamboree.

Thanks for actually checking the page out, rock and rollers. If you are visiting because we gave you a flyer at the Q101 thing, would you mind dropping me an email? Just FYI, we only flyered boys who we thought were cute or girls who were totally rocking. you were hand-picked by the capitalist mafia.

how many hours of sleep is 3am - 10pm...? significantly more than any of you got. some people shake things off, but i find sleeping them off easier. in fact, if i didn't have a russian history paper due at 9am tomorrow, i would not have gotten up at all.

note: spinach omelettes(sp?) are not to be eaten cold. neither are fries. unless one is ravenously hungry and too lazy/out of it to walk to the basement to heat them up. which i am. both sort of remind me of the taste of ear wax, but i haven't eaten anything in 24 hours, and there's still no way i'm walking all the way to the basement looking and feeling like this.

looking back on it, IM is the devil. i consider my previous assertions that my breaking down and getting IM would somehow further contribute to my life's losing all direction and order 100% justified, and true. mind you, this does not mean that i will get rid of it - i'm much too addicted for that.

addictions are addicting. that's why we have so much trouble beating them. i hate being right. when will it be my turn to be proven wrong. i want to be wrong. prove me wrong. please.

so mary & adele & i went to jamboree yesterday. it was pretty fun. I slept through Local H and Our Lady Peace and Quarachi, and was wet and cold until The Strokes played at 4:30. their set was surreal. i'm not really a strokes fan, but i kept zoning out during their set, and falling into states of deep ponderance...and then suddenly 'waking up' and realizing things...and it would always seem like i'd been sitting there and thinking for ages, but they'd still be on the same song. and i'd still be just as torn and confused.

a piece of pizza cost $4.50. that is a lot. but not too much if one is starving.

i also saw Thursday and too much of Unwritten Law. not because i like either group, because i do not, but because they were playing on the same stage as dashboard, just many hours before, and adele and i wanted to be in the front row for dashboard, which we were. so, having to endure Unwritten Law (terrible) and Thursday (barely worthy of its own existance) was worth it, but only because Chris Carraba stage-dove over my head at the end of dashboard's set.

Chris is a tiny man, with a high, tiny voice. he reminds me of Elijah Wood. he even had his hair gelled up into a little mohawk. i do not believe that all the angst and hurt and pain and deception and hopelessness...and truth...in his music is his own. not anymore. Chris Carraba is fine. his memories have faded.

why measure memories by a clock that's blinking 8...? why 8? and which 8 - am or pm?

someday soon, i will write a brilliant manifesto of youth and deception, comprised entirely of dashboard lyrics. just because. because i will be the only one who understands what it means, or what it could have. if it weren't made of mangled dashboard lyrics. a reflection of someone else's torn and twisted feelings. and by brilliant, i mean naive and innocent and hopeful and silly. which i will not be.

kill a part of yourself. once it's dead, it can't hurt you anymore.

if you can kill it -

good luck.

the self is remarkably resistant to it's own destruction. not the whole self, which on the contrary enjoys watching you struggle against that which tears and tears, but parts of the self. they like hurting you, and you like being hurt. the hurt reminds the whole self that it is alive. and that hurt has a converse. if you are lucky enough to find it. and which you will prevent yourself from finding. but sometimes just believing that the converse exists for you is enough. sometimes. for the naive ones.

i am not as naive as i appear.

i am not as naive as i appear. i know exactly where i stand. i just let myself forget...sometimes. but i know where i stand. and i know what i am doing...to myself. the part and the whole. i have always known, but i will let myself remember differently. or not at all. the part is impossible to kill, but it can exist in silence.

and torture only itself

and those who choose to remember it.

the hurt i bring upon myself i bring upon myself with a clear understanding of what i am doing. not why, but at least what. never why...

why?

i don't know. that's what i thought about as The Strokes played...

...and the discussion comes full circle. without a conclusion, or a satisfactory compromise. as it will end.

^ crazy post #2, as promised. ^

Animals like me
Though folks turn away
I like the pigeons
I like what they say...

Topics to be adressed shortly...
~why willardites can shut up
~dave choate
~dr. yarin (sp?) brooks

fucking Matchmaker.com...what the hell.

so i wanted some gummy bears yesterday when i was in Kresge, but the vending machine was broken. so i didn't have any.

the atmosphere of Mars is NOT composed primarily of Nitrogen...oops. and hypervelocity impacting from micrometeorites does not lower the Martian albedo (AL-BE-do, not the other thing). hypervelocity micrometeorite impacting exposes lighter, higher albedo material. and the Moon is red.

straddling the line between B+'s & A-'s, as usual. I predict a 3.54 or a 3.62

if i'd had more time, i would have written something crazy and angsty like the library thing, but i have a class. that i should go to. because i didn't go last friday. i told her i'd had pink eye. that was a lie, because i was fine friday, but stick a pink, bloodshot, diseased eye in someone's face, and they're usually too mesmerized with disgust to actually listen to what one is saying.

I woke up with this Alkaline Trio song playing loudly in my mind. I do not know why. But it's a good song, and I like it.

I wrote the words to this song on the back of a photograph
Behind your back it goes
A little something like this is way too big to miss
I got a letter in the mail
The sender failed to let me know where it came from
Opened it up and sure enough there we were
arm in arm again

read Cosmo & filed my nails instead of doing homework...and watched some VH1 movie with Monica. the one where her family tries to force her to marry Calvin - rich, doctor, son of her father's best friend - but she's in love with the long-haired, mechanic, blues-musician white guy. good stuff. (in the end, she breaks off her engagement with Calvin, and runs off with the white guy & his skeezy bandmates, in case anyone was dying to know...)

that is all, i suppose.

Ade1e Nicho1as=Ray of Sunshine.

So yes, some of the more keen observers among you may have picked out that I am back online again. The reason for this is the fact that my life is no longer falling apart. I am a creative writing major. This makes me happy. The reason for this I will put in the less public public forum of the CM But yes, I am convinced this turn of events is nothing short of miraculous and I fully attribute most of it to divine intervention. So I am off to start my career as a poet. I'm sure my father will be genuinely horrified that he spent years of money and training raising a poet. But there we are.

And to save me the trouble of emailing all of you. I am going to Star Wars Friday night around 10. If you would like me to buy you a ticket on friday morning, then hand over your cash or promise of COD and I will get you a ticket. It will be wicked rad and we will laugh and have fun. So yes, this includes you: Mark, Adele, The, Anne, Dave, Tony, Tom, Tom's girl, Russ, Alexis, Jason, Jason's girl (?). Get in touch with me soon.

Back to shelf reading. love you.
Peace out.

Oops. I forgot to post last night at the conclusion of my frantic paper writing. I wrapped up after 12 solid pages at around 5:45a.m., which was pretty decent, because I got to sleep for six hours before getting up to go to my journalism class at 1. Next week should prove to be singnifcantly less demanding.... I hope.

My face is stupid-looking and swollen from the dentist. Other than that, things are just fine. I have Maladroit. And Weezer is always a good thing. Mary Anne and I are going to see zwan, and the strokes, and thursday, and effing dashboard this weekend. I hope the weather is decent. If it is nice out all will be right with the world.

11:54p.m.

Quickly. 15 page paper due tomorrow. I have yet to commence the writing. It will be done. I think.

Felt bad today, someone in the dorm was really nice to me and made it better. Sometimes, all I need is someone to listen to my ramblings for a little while. This particular person did that-- very compassionately, given the triviality of my problems. That was good.

Wasted most of the day. Worked at Metro-- Soilwork show. Metalheads are cool. A strange man told me that "he really likes my looks" and wants me to pose for this site. Actually, don't click that link. That would be a bad idea. It's definitely porn. His business card has a picture of a nun wearing a gas mask. Effing bizarre.

Had an interesting wake-up call today that I can't talk about in a public forum. Let's just say that I'm not going to count on my quasi-scary clothing and looks to keep potential attackers away. I'd like to be fearless, but the truth of the matter is that in some circumstances, it is only rational to be fearful.

I will post again when the paper is done. That will be interesting.

Also: I <3 Mary Jones.

I realize that yes, I am a bad person and I haven't updated in forever. And I haven't been online. And I've stopped leaving my room except when absolutly necessary. Now that's how you know for sure I'm really depressed and not drama-queening it. If I was in the mood for melodrama I'd post cyrptically from work and scare you guys. Now all I want to do is hide and stare at my ceiling and hate the writing program and all it's done to me.

That's write, I got rejected from fiction. And I do not have the prereqs for an English major. So I am majorless and wanting to die. I have met with 3 heads of departments this week, including Kinzie to talk about the writing programs failure to see my potential. I have asked the board why they rejectedme. Do you wnt to know why? I'll tell you why. Because they didn't understand why it was they felt such a distance from my narrator. About half the board thought I was being original for originality's sake, and the failure to connect with with narrator was a result of my 'trying too hard.' Because they couldn't agree, they decided to cut me altogether, feeling it was some fault of mine rather than some fault of theirs. So yes, I am a misunderstood artist. The irony of this is beautifully horrific. I do know, however, that I'm still fighting this. I'll let you know by next week if I have a major not.

There was a party Friday. Yeah. So I think that answers that then.

Tell me where is fancy bred, in the heart or in the head? I didn't leave my bedroom on Monday. I stayed in bed aaaaaaallll day and watched movies. I finally saw "Ghost World," which was way depressing. I wanted to be Thora Birch, and at the same time, wanted to have absolutly nothing in common with her. The ending was weird, though. That whole bus thing...was that a trope? I await an answer from the eager crowd.

And yeah, I was too stressed working on my powerpoint presentation to come to geo today. I forced mark to burn me a copy of my powerpoint presentation because I couldn't fit the entire 8MB file on a floppy disk. The thing is, I couldn't send it over email because it was huge, so I had to IM it to mark and blah blah blah. Anyway, we were too late to go to geo by the time I was done anyway. I feel really bad that no one appreciated Professor Robinson in class today. Now, I know Anne never laughs, because she's the ice queen, but where's the love Adele? terrible waste. Poor geo teacher....How'd I do on the quiz, by the way?

What else have I been doing? Nothing that seems significant now. I've been visiting Adele at the Sherm a lot. I almost killed myself because of the weather, which was so dark and depressing it made me feel like I was back in February again. Today has been nicer. There are leaves on the trees. I like that.

Yes.

whatup, geo-sci slackers!? you guys really ought to have come today; it was day 2 of Mars, and he had that article in the slideshow presentation: "Noah's Ark Found On Mars"...except since you guys weren't there, no one laughed. I think Professor Robinson was bummed. and i have your quizzes and mid-term answer packets, if you guys want them.

the following is quite possibly the most brilliant exchange that has ever taken place over IM:

davechoate: anne
davechoate: i dont want your sex
MormonIceQueen: thanks dave. it doesn't want you.

I don't care what anyone says - I love dashboard.

The nurse at searle told me that i have to ice my eyes...it won't make the pink eye go away, but i'm supposed to do it anyway. I lost my washcloth, so I put the ice in a bright green sock (clean, of course) instead. it works well enough.

I moved my furniture again, too. But it still doesn't seem quite right. I think my bed needs to be going at a diagonal, but then where will my carpet go?...and my chairs?...and me. I can go on the bed though, I guess. And the side of the bed really needs to be against a wall...just because. I would just move it back against my desk, because I liked it there, but then the Jesus poster will be able to watch me. <--unacceptable. And the Frodo poster, which is equally disturbing at times. In retrospect, there are entirely too many posters of men in my room, and not nearly enough real ones.

Last night, I wrote a really nice post about the lovely Belle and Sebastian concert and my weekend, but blogger erased it. You get the abbreviated version.

Belle And Sebastian: wicked cool. Stewart wore a Cubs jersey. They played "Don't Leave The Light On, Baby." Congress Theater is a beautiful venue. Lighting was super-neat. Crowd was happy, dancing, unbearably cute. A "chap" named Colin proposed to his girlfriend on stage. The opening act, Detroit-based girl band The Slumber Party, was unimpressive. Belle and Sebastian more than made up for it. Great night, overall.

Today, I found out that Mo Cahill, my friend from high school, has a blog. She even links to this weblog. Maureen was my cohort in founding The Tsunami Awareness Council and Zeta Theta sorority, and joined me in endless ridicule of our swim coach and various people who annoyed us. I haven't talked to her in a long time. She is awesome. Go to her site.

I was sick with a cold, but I think I'm recovering from that. I think I have a somewhat serious dental problem, however. I took three advils and some nyquil (which has acetominophen) before bed, and felt ok. But woke up around 4:30a.m. in severe pain. Yeah. That sucks. So I get to go to the dentist today. Excellent.

Finally, an update on everyone's favorite topic, my band. We might have to change our name. I found this, which bodes not well for calling ourselves The Talent Show. But, I think we might actually be playing at a party in a few weeks. It would be really cool, but it has its own issues. I won't go into those here. hmm.

stop procrastinating.

unabridged:

underscorebleach: wake up! send me nekkie pics!
Auto response from MormonIceQueen: "it's not having what you want, it's wanting what you've got."
MormonIceQueen: tom sherman. you are a ray of sunshine in the darkness that is my life.
underscorebleach: i feel the same way, except about your butt.

My parents raised me better than they'll ever know. This Mormonism thing had better be right. Should I wash my pillow cases - I can't decide. I am fast approaching too thin. My left eye feels weird today. I think I slept on it wrong. Tonight, I will sleep on the right one. I don't think I like graham crackers. Cigarette smoke can smell good, too. I finished my russian history reading for next Friday today. Larissa Miller is brilliant. Read "Dim and Distant Days". You will probably like it. Britney Spears can't act or sing. Neither can Pink. At least Britney is attractive, though. And she can dance. I am restless. But tired. My mind won't stop. I woke up deep in thought. I want to stop thinking. I want to stop thinking. I want to stop thinking. Then I could do it. Then everything would be fine. Terrible, but fine. Because I wouldn't know that it was terrible. I hate everyone. sometimes. Why won't time ever stop for me? Everything is so simple. Why does my life seem so complicated then?

"You go to one of the best schools in the country. For some of you it doesn't matter. You were born rich and your going to stay rich. But here's my advice to the rest of you: Take dead aim on the rich boys. Get them in the crosshairs and take them down. ... They can buy anything but they can't buy backbone. Don't let them forget it."-RUSHMORE

where do I begin? censored snippets of my life? a long rambling story, complete with every kind of debauchery?

Let me start with this: I am happy. I am happier right now than I have been since my junior year of high school. I wonder if this feeling of satisfaction with the present and excitement about the future is symptomatic of some very deep psychological problem, because it is enduring for an uncharacteristically long time. I feel like hugging my friends; I feel like talking to everyone; I feel like I can do anything; I don't feel like I am frantically grasping for certainty. I have felt like this consistently for several weeks.... something is wrong with this picture.

I guess I am insane, and some people are scared of me. I'm ok with that. I reserved a copy of Maladroit today at wherehouse music. The owner/ manager of the place frickin' remembered me as one of the crazy girls who wrote him a mean note the night that the green album was released. (Mary and I became quite irate when wherehouse didn't have a midnight sale for the album, which came out April 23, 2001. The note, which we slipped under their door, read as follows: Dear Wherehouse, We were saddened and angered that you did not open at midnight for the super-special release of Weezer, REM and Tool. We left tearful and empty-handed. We hate you. Love, Mary and Adele). He remembered this incident a year later, and just wanted to remind me that they would not be having a midnight sale. This is the same manager that I made give me Green Day promo stuff when International Superhits was released. He must think I'm crazy. So embarrassing, yet so fun.

I dragged Mary, Mark and Anne to a party at my bandmate, Theron's apartment last night. It was a typical college apartment kegger, except they had a middle school dance theme, complete with streamers decorating the walls and ceiling, a blacklight, and a kick-ass mix of bad mid nineties music (Boys to Men, Bon Jovi, Blackstreet-- you know the stuff). The people were pretty cool, and I had a lot of neat conversations with various friends of The, and random willardites.


It was a fun night. Today, I am going to see Belle and Sebastian. That will be fun too.

My mom and dad are super rad. I love them very much.

That is all.

When I was a kid, one of my favorite books was this trash penny novel called "Talk of the Town." I mean trash literally, because I found it in the school dumpster. In it, there's this scene where the main character, this dorky red headed socially awkward teenager, gets ready for the school dance. There's a boy there she's really trying to impress, so she puts her hair up and does her makeup beautifully and steals this sequined dress and heels from her moms closet. She gets to the dance only to discover the dress code is casual--Candy (the requisite mean girl) lied and told her it was formal to embarass her in front of the boy. The girl goes to the bathroom and spends most of the night crying in the stalls.

No

I look like I was trying to drown myself. My glasses are all spotted with rain drops, my hair is wet and scraggly, water is dripping off of my chin. It's beautifully, amazingly wonderful outside. Raining hard, really warm... my favorite weather ever. I stood outside of willard for maybe half an hour just talking to people and laughing and getting soaked. Perfect study break.

Lately, I talk to myself while I'm walking around. I laugh out loud too. Life is so absurd and wonderful, and I don't give a damn about anything, and I am happy. I feel like running all the time. Running back to my place, running up five flights of stairs, collapsing on the floor, wanting to laugh, but too winded to do so.

I'm a failure, a directionless, wandering failure. It makes me want to laugh. I'm ok with that. I won't always be one.

It's late, and I still have a lot of homework, but I'll do it. I'm all jazzed up.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH



/\
|
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Steven

Dude, I swear I pulled something in my back. I've been shelf straightening for 1.5 hours and now there's a painful twinge every time I turn to the right. Ow ow ow. All you need are drums to start a dance party. And you're invited to my dance party!

Yesterday I learned about the glory of the whole foods free samples, especially in the bakery department. If you come relativly early in the day, there are seriously like 6 little plastic domes full of carbohydrates for your perusal. I went after dropping off a movie at blockbuster and managed to have a really nice breakfast--large chunks of blueberry muffin, corn bread, onion bread (oooohhhh! fantastic) and a nice pumpkin rye, plus some organic peanut butter and jelly. Overall, very lovely.

Later in the day I took anne out for her birthday, which means we spent a lot of the time eating (BK, Burger King, MacDonalds, Dunkin' Donuts) and talking (boys, Monday night random acts of stupidness, general feelings of (un)happiness) and watching tv (That 70's show, that 80's show). Then, we went over to Willard for a super rad opportunity to see The Talent Show, NU's best ever emo/punk/rock outfit. Adele's vocals were the best, and she's really tightened up on guitar. The plays wicked rad solos, while Brian just manages to look cute and punk rock. They have one show called "Set Me Free" which is seriously like the best thing I've ever heard. I want a recording so I can go around listening to it all day.

My geology teacher, whom I initially wouldn't forgive for blowing me off, has become one of my favorite people in the whole wide world. Mark and I come in late because we run into Mike Aktipis on the way to class. Mike is selling Krispy Kremes for this dance program thing he's in. Mark, being an altruist (gag) and a really good friend goes ahead and buys a box. We get to class and open them up and pass them back and forth between adele, anne, mark and I. Our teacher stops lecturing and turns to us and goes, "Oh man guys! That is totally not fair!" Mark goes, "You want one?" and offers the box, and I go "For real!" and he shakes his head. After class he gladly accepts one. But he's lways saying things like "rad" and "totally awesome." He even said "Bogus" today, which struck me as funny, even though it was used in proper context. My favorite moment from class today, "This crater is about 200k wide. If you were to buy real estate and build a house in there, you really would have not done your research, because the sun never shines inside the crater." Naturally the 4 of us crack up, and the rest of the class looks at us like we're insane. Dude, he's funny! Whatever.

I'm going to die this weekend. I'll be so incredibly busy. But whatever. Weezer listening party and then on Thursday, Attack of the Clones! Rock.

what the heck - I thought Virginia was for lovers, not Northwestern in spring.

and apparently (so says tom) I "could use a little more junk in my trunk..." - thoughts, opinions, comments??

where would I be without your expert guidance, tom? ;-) lost.

here's something I never thought I'd say (or write): brian crotty is totally cute. just for the record...

Identiopathic Personality Disorder
(from Hermenaut)

A lemming-like pattern of behavior and ideas beginning in early adulthood (and quickly stagnating thereafter) whose so-called alternative vision of dominant culture is unoriginal, predictable, and un-open to discussion on any other terms, and which is present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by six (or more) of the following:

1) inability to interpret any information or experience without first filtering for deviations from, or inconsistencies with, chosen vision
2) extremely concrete and literal understanding of the world that disables capacity for thinking critically, or considering ambiguities
3) is quick to bond with mirror-image-like peers for a solidarity that is ultimately superficial and trepidatious
4) gnawing desire to be seen and perceived as not-like-everybody-else
5) perception of being more intelligent, sensitive, and privy to a "Truth" which others could see if they would only just listen
6) infertile imagination and cowardice, manifested as a fanatical need for control over speech acts
7) uses (often inappropriate) repetition to convince self and others of ideas; regularly hisses in movie theatres
8) is so literal as to be humorless, hypocritical, and helpless

no comment.

I am convinced that Diana (blonde mane of a girl) down the hall is stealing most of the songs off my playlist. As soon as I download a guilty pleasure or a pop song, no matter how weird or how obscure, I'll pass by her room and hear it. Like, I downloaded some old school gin blossoms and the nixons, and a few weeks later, I hear the songs playing in her room. Then she starts in with the Britney, then the Shakira, and now she's blasting Remy Zero. And while I admit these are all top 20, radio friendly fare, the point is I never hear this stuff from her room until I start playing it. Whore! I met this chick at a pike party once, incidentally. She's the kind who has a really thick waist and wears huge belts and low riders. Each to his own I guess. Like I'm one to talk. Anne's birthday was today and I took her out for food. I had many donuts and several other bits and pieces of things.

Other things accomplished today: some homework, and I took a nap. I got 4 hours of sleep again because I was busy doing my Asian American lit take home essay. Which turned out dreadfully. I'm all distracted and annoyed because I find out at 4 tomorrow if I made it into the writing program or not. This is a huge distraction, and I'm very scared. I have faith that it will turn out ok, but if it doesn't, I don't think I'll recover from it. We'll see. The point is, work will be done better and more efficently if I get into the program. If I don't I'll lock myself in my room for the rest of the week and not see anyone and cry.

Gio's was kind of bad for me on Monday. Not because of the people--it was nice having the original all stars together eating. But I was exhausted and tired and annoyed with everyone. I watched SLC Punk with Anne and Adele. It was pretty funny, and I think Adele appreciated the punk rock ethics. I wish I could have blue hair and be scary and too thin and wear razor blades.

"All you need are kisses to have a makeout party. And you're invited to my makeout party"--Piebald.

So today has been uneventful. I'll update tomorrow when i'm not paranoid and scared about rejection and failure. If it turns out well, I'll kiss each and every one of you and be wonderful and charming and socially brilliant. Pray for me, kids. I'm gonna need it. In a totally self-absorbed sort of childish way.

I cannot possibly do all of the work that is required of me this week, even if I never pause to go to the bathroom or eat or.... blog.

How does anyone ever get the motivation to do well in college?

registered!!

spent four hours between classes laying on floor, wearing only underwear, eating cookies & staring at the wall...and listening to Alanis Morissette's "Uninvited". from a psychological standpoint, i am assuming this is a bad sign...? mrs. jones??

So I haven't made a post about anything since Mike Aktipis' party on Saturday. I find this very sad and depressing. I have been genuinly busy studying for midterms and doing papers and reading and working that I haven't been able to blog lately. Sorry. But I'm happy. Anne came by to visit me on Wednesday. That was the best surprise of my entire week, and it made the time fly by. I worked so efficently when she was there that I got finished 30 minutes early. So we went down to the basement and hung out in the moveable stacks and ate food and talked about boys.

Random shout out: Hey dave choate! You are a very special man. So special, we are going to put you in the special ed. Dude, Stephen Lynch wrote a song called "Special Olympics." Sample lyric: Watch them run, watch them fall, watch them try to catch a ball...olympics. Special olympics. You should check it out.


Thursday Anne and Mark came over to study geo. Adele was too busy watching elliot smith crash and burn. it was a good study session. Plus, there were chips and salsa. Mmmmm....chips. The Friday geology midterm went pretty well. There were like 2 areas I really did poorly on, but in general I shone. That was a good feeling. I am afraid, however, that adele, mark, and anne will do comprable/better than me. I have been to every class, I'm interested in the subject, I have an extensive background in the subject, etc. They do not possess any of these accompliments. So you see, comprable grades would be deeply shameful for me. But then again, I have very brilliant friends, so I suppose it only makes sense.

I go to pick up my metro stuff afterwards (this is still Friday) and while I'm down there, decide to go to Nick and Jon's (Mark's bandmates) until 6, when we were going to meet dave and Anne to go see spiderman. But we wait until 620 and there is no Anne and Dave, and nick and Jon's dad is all "if I don't get good seats I'm gonna explode!" so we had to leave without them, which made me feel horrible and ruined my night. Well, not ruined, but I felt guilty. Nick and Jon drive over to their parents work, and I met their mom. She has a raspy voice, heavy makeup, dyed hair. She yells and badgers and laughs throatily. She's a mean, hard edged harpy of a woman, and I loved her right away. She was a little bit harder than my mom, but they had a lot of similarities. I had a good time chatting with her. Terry I think her name is. Wicked rad.

The line for Superman was crazy. Kids were crawling around and moving and talking in swarms. I didn't pay any attention, but I looked over at Mark and he looked rather panicked. "There are so many of them! So many kids! And they're so small! Like ants!" This is what seperates Mormon older sisters from atheist only-children. Inside, we were knocking people over for spots. People were spazing out, whining that there were no seats to be found and wasn't all this a fire hazard? I saw an episode II trailer that rocks, and was horrified to discover that Ang Lee was directing the new Hulk movie. What IS wrong with the world?

Spiderman was mediocre. It had its moments, and Kristen Dunst made me jealous with her super cute, totally perfect figure and face, and toby mcguire was wholesome american goodness, but in general it was not a lot to write home about. It had funny moments, but the tone was uneven. I would say I enjoyed X-men slightly more among the comicbook movie genre. Batman Returns was much better. Even Batman Forever had some very funny lines, and Jim Carrey was hysterical. But this felt...blah. A good night though.

Saturday was spent going to work and then I followed Mark downtown for band practice, because there was nothing else to do. Songs like "Popular" were really outstanding. It was funny and tongue in cheek and mean and overall a tight little number. I love having rockstar friends. What with Adele in The Talent Show, Mark in his band (I can't say the name of it--much as I love the boys, the name is way gay), and my boss Brian in The Silent Treatment, I feel like a total scenster. I'll be That Girl who can't play any instruments but who designs the promo posters and covers of the demo tapes and whom everyone thanks in their linear notes right after Publicity. Rock on, chicago!

Sunday was church, which was really very good. It was fast and testimony meeting, but I forgot and ate breakfast. Oh well. And I caught up on my tithing. I owe April and May and then I'm caught up, whiich will be fantastic. I went and visited Adele at the Sherm, where I ran into Anne, whom I haven't seen since Friday. We walked over to white hen and chatted about life and our weekends and then I left her to do homework. anne is wonderful. I like her.

I've realized that while, generally, I am the most voluminous poster on this website, no one actually reads it for me. Everyone reads it for Adele. Like, outside of the posse and a few select others, I don't really know anyone. Adele is known and loved by everyone at willard, and they all regularly tune in to see what she has to say. She is a cult leader. This is cool. But what confuses me, is how anyone could confuse Adele's posts for mine. Adele focuses on incidents, whereas I do overviews of my day. Adele is positive and spells things properly; I am theatrical and melodramatic and sloppy. Adele is short and to the point, I am sprawling and verbose. Adele is an athesist. I am a Mormon. These are significant differences. How people (yes, you!) could confuse us is very strange.

So here's my question. Are my posts boring to those who read this for Adele, or are they a distraction? Do people actual find me at all interesting, or am I just someone who updates when Adele isn't around. I don't think i care about the answer. I'm just curious for my own reasons.

Rock.

I know no one will appreciate this, but it made me laugh very hard.

SweetMelzers: hey adele, I read your away message coincidently I have my stats final tomorrow too :-( And I have been studying alllll day, just wanted to say good luck and remember our "good" ol' days in ib stats........remember when tim fell down the stairs or when he broke the table or the B FILESSSS- heheheh just wanted to make you laugh before you begin studying :-)

Auto response from mynameisadele: sherm 'till 9, then guitar, then statistics, then (maybe) sleep.

The single worst thing about it no longer being winter is my waking up at 5:30 on a Saturday afternoon, thinking that I've been really sneaky & all that by sleeping through a day that I didn't feel like facing head on, and being struck in the eyes by literal rays of sunshine, streaming full force through my curtained window.

I would just move my bed back to the other side of the room, except that, if I did that, the big poster of Jesus that says "You Are Never Alone" will be able to watch me while I'm in bed...which is fine for just sleeping, but not so fine for just everything.

Why do people that are close to me so often assume that I'm sitting around harboring grudges and such against them? I'm much too busy admiring plastic silverware, listening to The Strokes, and scanning the internet for humorous articles about kissing to sit here and be angry with either of you.

anyway. I feel decent this evening (16 hours of sleep = pretty dang decent mood!) and like more or less everyone, at least until it stops being light outside and I realize that I wasted the day sleeping instead of working on a pile of German homework large enough to crush a cow, so:

thanks to adele for being the cutest emo girl ever...and for always putting on a happy face, even when you aren't. because it generally makes me happy, too. :-)

thanks to all the CM boys & male associates & Willard All-Stars - just because. y'all are interesting. and interesting people are better than boring people. and most of the people at Northwestern are boring.

thanks to mary for offering me the right to be angry with you, despite the fact that it is almost always entirely my fault. and for being the only of my fellow Mormons in the world that I can stand to coexist with for more than 10 minutes. and for willingly listening...to all of it. every time. thank you.

and thanks to dave. because you always take your shoes off, and no one else ever does. you are the only person who doesn't defile my clean bed with their dirty shoes. and your realizing that putting shoes on my bed would bother me counts for something, i think. not so much the realizing, but the caring enough to actually take them off. thanks.

Well. I am going to go and be the least cool person on campus now, and spend my Saturday night alone, watching MTV's Saturday night hook-up...happily & contentedly. Because that's what I most want to be doing right now.

And thinking of you.

~Anne House

where is my mind?

on blogging

An observation:
Various events, such as the entire fiasco with Kim, and random drunk people at a party telling me that they read this thing, have clued me into an important fact. People read this blog. And not just my family, my posse, and a few close friends from high school, but an entire array of people that I know, or kind of know. It's a bit intimidating, but also pretty cool.... the cult following I've so long desired is starting here.

An experience:
Last night, while hanging out with your new favorite band, The Talent Show, my bandmate Theron, asked me, "how strictly do you adhere to the Mormon thing?" This was a source of considerable confusion for me, because I don't remember ever being Mormon, or saying that I was. Theron, it seems, had read a post Mary had made to this blog, and not noticed that there are several people posting here.

A proposal:
To prevent future occurances of this kind, I propose that once we get Anne properly added to this blog, we move the author//time tag to the top of each post, so it will appear right under the date, and before the entry.

my rock and roll lifestyle

The Talent Show kicks more ass than any other band I've ever heard. Seriously. We finally played with a drummer last night after I got out of work. His name is Nathan, and he lives in Jones. He seems like a really fun guy, but more importantly he likes our songs and is enthusiastic about rocking out with us on a regular basis. yay!

A few people from my dorm stopped by during our practice session, and watched us play for a little while. They seemed to agree with us that our stuff is pretty damn catchy. Later in the night, one of the guys who had watched told me that he could envision me playing on stage. It was just an off-hand little comment, but it was really cool to hear.

my friends will all be famous
this world cannot contain us

The following was really amusing at 6:58 this morning. Perhaps because I did not sleep last night and have finally resigned myself to the fact that I will get no better than a "C" on my Russian History midterm, or perhaps because it is actually quite amusing. Either way, the first socialist society failed, so why should I feel bad about failing to master the progression of policies & practices that led to - catastrophic failure. I don't need help from the history department to fail...what the heck!? In-class midterms = the devil. I am just short of exhaustion/stress-induced hallucinations at this point, so bear with me...

"HOW TO KISS A WOMAN - by Lynn Snowden

The disappointment of a bad kiss is a recurring topic of discussion among a group of single women I run with in the park several times a week. "It turns into a fabric softener thing," says Nora, a blond from Dallas, when describing the previous night's date. "You know, where the guy kisses you and it's so bad but you've got to finish it up so your mind wanders and you start wondering if you have enough fabric softener to do two loads of laundry the next day?" She laughs. "So I'm thinking about that, and the guy says, "Wow! You're very passionate."


Oh, the egos we would crush if men could hear the post-mortems. If any guys happen to be running with us, they immediately demand to know what exactly constitutes a bad or good kisser. So we tell them about the all-purpose litmus test: A bad kisser, reguardless of whether he likes to secrete a gallon of drool or waggle his head like a dog menacing a bone, seems to be simultaneously thinking: " When can we get to step two? And three and four? Is she aroused yet? can I put my hand on her breast now?" He sees kissing as the next step on a carnal quest. The good kisser, however, sees the kiss as the destination itself. He kisses as if he will never do anything else with this woman, as if he never wants to do anything else with this woman. He kisses as if this is what he's been dying to do for years and he wants to savor every moment. I guarentee you that this is when the woman decides there will be other activities on the agenda.


The first thing to remember: When in Doubt, Go Slowly. make that first kiss slow and gentle and easy. While you may want to demonstrate that you're a cauldron of seething desire, save that for later, when you're both sufficiently warmed up. In the meantime, resist the urge to mash your face against hers so hard your teeth collide and she ends up with brush burns from your stubble. One woman in our running group actually passed out during a particularly bad kiss of this sort, when the man pressed his face to hers so tightly he blocked off her nose with his cheek, mistook her thrshing for passion, and suddenly felt her body go limp. "i was out for maybe thrity seconds," she says. "Fortunately, he had me in a bear hug, so I didn't hit the group. Of course, he thought I passed out because the kiss was so good." This is what's known as the Harrison Ford School of Making Out. Watch him in the movies,a nd watch his costar's face get twisted out of shape from the sheer force. this is also why they're panting afterward. It's not from desire, it's oxygen deprivation. So the second thing to remember while kissing is to make sure she can still breathe through her nose.


There are other movie stars who perpetuate bad kissing styles. There's the Tom Cruise Method (as seen in Top Gun), whereby his tongue is already slithering out before he's met her lips. This is also referred to as the Lizard-King Style, and once lip-locked, it may also feature the rather grotesque tongue-insterted-rapidly-in-and-out. Most women do not cherish the idea of kissing a large anaconda, which is what this must be similar to. Equally unappealing is when the guy's tongue seems to be on a thorough search for any food trapped between the woman's molars. This is her tongue's job, not yours. The only response possible is for the woman to open her mouth wide and remain motionless while he finishes his routing, a posture that calls to mind trips to the dentist.

Like good sex and great dancing, any tongue action should involve a give-and-take, with both parties allowed the opportunity for interaction in a saliva-laden minuet. Get into a groove with this, and every now and then you may want to stop for a short time while still joined at thelips. Like being on a dance floor and suddenly holding your partner motionless, it can have the galvanizing effect of heightening the sensation. this is ideally practiced in places like a dark booth in a dive bar with a great jukebox. Just make sure your sleeve doesn't catch fire from the candle on the table.


So although no one wants a tongue completely jammed down her throat, neither do we want its exact opposite, as favored by Woody Allen, one of the screen's all-time-worst kissers. Check out the last scene in Hannah and Her Sisters, and you'll see him pecking away at Dianne Wiest. This Road-runner-eats-birdseed style of dry, repeated kisses accompanied by inordinately loud smacky sounds is not what any woman fantasizes about--even if she's weird enough to fantasize about kissing Woody Allen. The occasional smacky sound is inevitable and can exciting, but go easy on the moaning and groaning. Its sounds fake at best and, at worst, like an unconscious habit, like tuneless whistling.


Daniel Day-Lewis belongs in the kissing hall of fame for Best Use of Hands. He gently caresses his costar's face and touches her hair, a model of how hands can increase the erotic pleasure of the moment. Bear in mind the hands should not be used to prevent the woman from going anywhere or to clamp her head into one uncomfortable position. Remember most women like men to toy gently with their hair. After decades of bad press about sticky hairsprays and helmet hair, most of us have been using products to enhance "touchability" and are favoring hairstyles that look good a bit tousled. So go ahead and touch hair. And quit using all that sticky hairspray and goo so we can go back to touching yours..."

Anyway. I found it hilarious. Unlike my now having only an hour and a half left to plan-out two essays about the blasted Bolshevik Revolution. I suppose "I really don't care - socialism failed - and I need to sleep now" will not get me 60 points...not that whatever rot I come up with this morning will, either. ;-) oh, well. It is only 25% of my grade...I can pull up a "C" with a decent grade on the final & the extended essay, right...right?!

I just LOVE winging tests & essays. It is so fun to be completely OUT OF CONTROL. How is my gpa a 3.69?!? This sort of behavior should have landed me on some form of academic probation early last year...and I think the Mortar Board Senior Honor Society rejected me...but why did they ask me to apply then? The average gpa in that honor society is something like a 3.8 - how?! why!? who!?!?!?!

7:25 am. hmm. I think I will look up the last two short-answer questions...and then review the other 18 short-answer questions...and then promptly forget all of it...and listen to The Strokes and Garbage & think about men and such for a spell...and then stumble off to Harris to get this painful ordeal over with.

And then start studying for the Geo-Sci thing - at noon.

And then, write that German essay thing that's due at 2...because - it's due, and I haven't done it yet.

7:28 am. Why aren't there random articles floating around telling women how to kiss men...? Or a male equivalent to Redbook? Brownbook, or something....

White plastic forks rock.

"can't you see I'm trying, I don't even like it, I'd just like to get to your apartment, now I'm staying..."

7:35 am. What the hell is the 'Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact'...? Yeah. I don't know either. :-)

~Anne House

a little less than a human being
a little less than a happy high
a little less than a suicide

Elliott Smith was horribly, terribly depressing. I had prepared myself for depressing, but this was so much worse than I would have predicted. He came out onto the stage, looking scruffy and scared and wonderful. He sat down with his guitar, and started complaining that half of his left hand was numb. He played a few songs, intermittently singing and cursing about his numb fingers, cutting off most songs before he had a chance to finish them. He asked the audience for requests, but he couldn't play most of his songs. He tossed his pack of cigarettes to us, a few people around me bummed off him. Camel Lights. He continued trying to play, but said he was too distracted by his numb fingers to keep going. Most of the people in the NU audience were complete dicks to him, talking through-out his set, laughing while he totally broke down in front of us. The complaints of numbness culminated when he told us that he needed to go to the hospital. A crew person came out and whispered something to him, and he ended his set shortly after that.

"Get Lost" and "Fond Farewell" were (I think) the only songs he went all the way through. They were quite beautiful, and his voice sounded great. But it was really sad and scary to see someone so smart and articulate reduced to what we saw on stage tonight by whatever drugs he's using, or whatever other problems he's dealing with. It was pretty horrible.

Wilco was better, but played for an almost self-indulgently long time, and I was definetly ready to leave before their first encore. (I guess they were trying to make up a little bit for Smith). Jeff Tweedy does rock pretty hard. And my friend Alex is right on when he says that "Misunderstood" is a phenemonal song. Tweedy played somewhere in the neighborhood of ten different guitars, including two telocasters that were exactly the same (except for color). Yes, yes-- alternate tunings and all, but the number of guitars was outrageous. When he really got shredding, Tweedy looked like he was being electrocuted; all of his joints were tensed up, except his neck and his waist. His head hung loosely, chin on chest, and his torso kind of pitched back and forth while he played. Pretty intense. But having seen them live, I feel pretty much the same way about Wilco that I did before tonight. They're a good, solid, creative band, but I just don't like listening to them that much. I'd take stupid, loud, fun punk rock over Wilco anyday.

I have so much work ahead of me, yet I am happy and relaxed.
I miss all of you when I don't see you. I hope the studying for geology went well.

blogger can die

Top Ten Favorite Bands
01. Smashing Pumpkins
02. Nirvana
03. Hole
04. Placebo
05. Radiohead
06. Rasputina
07. Weezer
08. Jonathan Fire Eater
09. Tura Satana
10. Garbage

Top Ten Favorite Records
01. Smashing Pumpkins--Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness
02. Nirvana--Nevermind
03. Rasputina--Thanks for the Ether
04. Smashing Pumpkins--Siamese Dream
05. Hole--Celebrity Skin
06. Placebo--Without You I'm Nothing
07. Radiohead--The Bends
08. Jonathan Fire Eater--Wolf Songs For Lambs
09. Smashing Pumpkins--Adore
10. Weezer--Pinkerton

Top Five Favorite Songs
01. Smashing Pumpkins--Mayonaise
02. Nirvana--Heart Shaped Box
03. Rasputina--Ice Hotel
04. Tori Amos--Spark
05. Garbage--Push It

Top Five Records You Need To Buy, But Haven't
01. Ozma--Rock n' Roll Music
02. Death Cab For Cutie--Something About Airplanes
03. Quarashi--Jinx
04. The Hives--Veni Vidi Vicious
05. Modest Mouse--The Moon and Antartica

Top Three Records You Least Need To Buy
01. Joey Lawrence--Soulmates
02. Dave Matthews Band--Everyday
03. Francisco López--Untitled #104

Top Three Records You Lost And Need Most To Re-Buy
01. Placebo--Black Market Music
02. Tura Satana--Relief Through Release
03. Moby--Play

Top Three Records You Want On Vinyl (Moreso Than On CD)
01. Smashing Pumpkins--1979 (remixes)
02. Nirvana--Love Buzz Sub Pop 7"
03. Smashing Pumpkins--Siamese Dream (Purple vinyl edition, 1994)

Top Four Artists You Were Most Recently Introduced To And Impressed With
1. Death Cab for Cutie
2. The Hives
3. Sigur Ros
4. Glitter Mini 9

Top Five Musicians You Would So Make Out With
1. Billy Corgan
2. Pete Yorn
3. Brian Molko
4. Julian Casablancas
5. Ronan Keating

Top Five Songs That Are Totally And Wickedly the Sexiest
1. NIN--Closer
2. The Strokes--Is this it?
3. Deftones--Change (In the House of Flies)
4. Smashing Pumpkins--Eye
5. Garbage--Push It

Top Five Favorite Songs of the Day
01. Radish--Little Pink Stars
02. Saves the Day--Jukebox Breakdown
03. Weezer--Across the Sea
04. Everclear--you make me feel like a whore
05. Blink 182--First Date

Top Five Bands You Have Seen Live
01. Smashing Pumpkins
02. Phantom Planet
03. Weezer (small club, very cool)
04. Our Lady Peace
05. Basement Jaxx

Top Three Most Disappointing Live Bands
01. Hole (Courtney! I waited 4 years to see you! Play longer than 40 minutes!)
02. Pete Yorn
03. Detachment Kit (mostly because I didn't see them. I missed the show)

Top Six Bands You're Dying to See Live
01. Zwan
02. Sigur Ros
03. ...Trail of Dead
04. The Hives
05. Ozma
06. Rasputina/Fiona Apple

Three Most Embarassing Albums You Own(ed)
01. Everclear--Songs from and American Movie vol. 1 (mostly because I love it)
02. The Best of Heart
03. Goo Goo Dolls--Dizzy Up the Girl (and yeah, I like that one too)

Lots of People Can Play This Game
(oh-goody-fun-list-making-procrastination-time)

Top Ten Favorite Bands
1. Weezer
2. Built to Spill
3. Modest Mouse
4. Far
5. Fiona Apple
6. Op Ivy
7. Jimmy Eat World
8. Green Day (sometimes nostalgia outweighs quality)
9. Alkaline Trio
10. Saves The Day (just becuase I always listen to and enjoy their albums-- any day is a good day to listen to Saves the Day)

Top Ten Favorite Records
1. Weezer- Pinkerton
2. Modest Mouse- Moon and Antarctica
3. Weezer- Blue
4. Built to Spill- Perfect From Now On
5. Rancid- And Out Come the Wolves
6. Fiona Apple- When the Pawn
7. Built to Spill- The Normal Years
8. Modest Mouse- Build Nothing out of Something
9. Alkaline Trio- Goddamnit
10. Green Day- 1039 Smoothed Out Slappy Hours

Top Five Favorite Songs (somewhat lasting)
1. Weezer- el scorcho
2. Fiona Apple- Never Is A Promise
3. Far- Wear It So Well
4. Built to Spill- Made Up Dreams
5. Op Ivy- Knowledge

Top Five Favorite Songs of the Day
1. Kid Dynamite- Bookworm
2. Brainiac- Radio Apeshot
3. ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail of Dead- How Near How Far
4. Saves the Day- Jukebox Breakdown
5. The Hives- Hate to Say I Told You So

Top Five Records You Need To Buy, But Haven't
1. Built to Spill- Keep It Like a Secret (I'm a loser)
2. Enon- Believo!
3. Kid Dynamite- Shorter Faster Louder
4. Elliott Smith- XO
5. Hum- Downward is Heavenward

Bands You're Dying to See Live
1. The Hives
2. Built to Spill (please, please tour again before you break up)
3. The Strokes
4. ...Trail of Dead
5. (gulp) Dashboard Confessional

Most Embarassing Albums You Own
1. Promise Ring- Wood/Water
2. Dashboard Confessional- The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most (I LOVE IT!) and So Impossible EP
3. Sum 41- All Killer No Filler
4. Blink-182- Dude Ranch

Top Five Artists You Were Most Recently Introduced To And Impressed With
1. The Hives
2. The Microphones
3. In Flames
4. Muse
5. Refused

Top Five Musicians You Would So Make Out With
1. Beck
2. Pete Yorn
3. Isaac Brock
4. Julian Casablancas (any of the boys in the strokes would be ok, actually)
5. Lars Frederiksen

Things you should know about me:

1) I won [not one. Man, homonyms are hard!] the Arizona state science fair competition when I was in the second grade. My project? wish mouthwash kills germs the best. Ironically, Listerine was the most ineffective
2) My celebrity crushes span from ages 6-18, in the following order: David Bowie, Jon Bon Jovi, [latency period], Brad Pitt, Keanu Reeves, Billy Corgan, Nick Cage, Russell Crowe, and once again Billy Corgan.
3) I was too scared to be really goth. Only 20% of the time would I go into public in the full makeup and clothing. Mostly I just dressed up in my room, wore a lot of black, and talked about death.
4) I love Anne Rice novels
5) Northwestern was my safety school
6) I once tore every single page out of my history textbook because the class was so painful
7) In the 6th grade, looking neat and proper at school were very important for me. The first year at private school I wore rolled down socks, buttoned up my shirt all the way to my nck, and wore a blazer nearly every day. Nobody liked me. I read R.L Stein books and spent my recesses in the library
8) I'm not comfortable in dark, open areas.
9) The worst dream I ever had involved an arcade and a giant, murdurous ewok.
10) I never wanted to grow up or leave home. I was forced out of the house every inch of the way. I realized early on that my life at home was perfect, and responsability meant work. I still feel that way
11) I tell stories. Not the truth
12) I had a huge rock collection for 6 years. Geology, not -n' roll. My sister Jordan inherited it from me when I went off to college.
13) I used to memorize the statistics for planets in our solar system
14) The first song I ever really cried to was Vanessa Williams' "Save the Best for Last." I was 10.
15) When I was little, I wanted to grow up and be a movie actress. Than I wanted to be a scientist. Than a movie star. Than a rock star. Then I gave up and realized I just wanted to be famous
16) My eyes change color with the days and the seasons.
17) I was taught to read in kindergarten by a little girl who sat next to me in phonics lessons. I was the first person ever to write a 2 page story on the computer in second grade. "Reader Rabbit" was the best game ever.
18) I took a doll to my first formal dance in high school. I went alone to every single dance after that. I went alone to my prom, and was the only girl to do so.
19) I received my first kiss at the age of 20
20) There is nothing that makes me happier than to hear radio songs I used to love in high school. Smash Mouth, Matchbox 20, Third Eye Blind, Dishwalla, Eve 6....The magical years between 1995-1998. Before Stroke 9 murdered the scene with that insipid "Little Black Backpack" piece of trash. I digress.

"Forever, forever, let's make this last forever"