Halloweekend

This was an absolutely great weekend. I had so much fun! However, I also didn't accomplish anything. Therefore, tonight is going to be very busy for me. I'm okay with that, though, because I did have such a great time and I do need to get to work. I need to get back in good habits. I know I say this a lot. This is probably the most mentioned thing in my posts. & I sort of feel bad about it, but I also really don't. I'm going to keep mentioning it and keep discussing it until I feel like its getting done. I know that I've been working so hard. I know that I've been doing my assignments and getting all the work done that needs to get done. I do my reading. I do my problem sets. I write as much as I can, when I can. I write my papers. I do my projects... I just feel like I'm never getting anything done. Even when I've gotten it all done. I feel like I'm never doing enough. Or that I should do less in other ways (like being social and having fun) so that I can focus more on other areas....but I also don't want to miss out on great opportunities and connections and networking and conversations and improving myself by experiencing different things. I focus way too much on my grades. I really do. I know that I want to go to grad school and I know what I want to do with my life. I just need to get good grades. I'm going to do that. I've been doing that. B's don't effing matter. If I get a B oh, fucking, well. ugh. I hate that I have this weird notion that I have to reach perfection in some way. But in actuality, I'm pretty great. I do so much. I work so hard. I live. I laugh. I love. I do the things that I'm supposed to do and yet I still feel empty. I still feel unfulfilled. This isn't how I'm supposed to feel. Is this Sophomore slump? Is it? I need to know. I need to talk to more people about this. I honestly feel like everyone I know is breaking down. I've been breaking down. Everything around me is breaking down and I don't know what to do. Everything is going well. I'm not dealing with the same things I was last year. I'm comfortable with myself... for the most part, and the fact that everything is fine and I'm not is really disconcerting. I don't know what to do. Actually though.

I'm going to post again tonight...possibly a short story while I'm taking a break from studying. Or at least I'm going to try. Oh. I should also say that I did have a great breakfast. I went to Andrea's and had a fantastic waffle. It was lovely. Everything is lovely.

Miles Davis

lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala...what is this supposed to be making me feel? I don't feel anything. I don't understand this. Does it have a purpose? Doubt it!

dodododododododooodododoooododooododoodoodododoooododoooddoodododooooooo

how nuce

i suppose it is pretty relaxing. i don't have time to relax. i dhould have done my tings earlier. i fail. grrr. i need to stoop saying that. because it makes it true. hmmmmmmmmm...lauren just took a picture of me writing with my eyes closed. it's prety cool. except that i looks like i'm sleeping when i'm actually doing work. i really wish i could sleep as i did work. i would be so productive. anyway. music is still playing. its some weird instrument that sounds a bit like Mario. yeah....oh..now it sounds more like a battle in a pokemon game. so that's pretty legit. dodododododododoooododooododododooooooodoooooooo

its like an electronic saxophone. which is a strange concept to me. i suppose it could be done. i suppose it has been done. i just dont want it to be done. oh hey machinery. also. i'm a pretty good typer when my eyes a re closed. maybe i can manage y time this way. write with my eyes closed so hat i feel rested while i actually do work...i wonder how well that would work out...probably not very. that's cool though. i guess. this is a free write. so i'm sort of just writing jibberish. i should write less giberhlayish.

part of me always wants to go to my classes drunk. just because. i wonder what the experience would be like. probably terrible. but it might be even better.

ummm

I'm kind of a pretentious douche.

I should really change that.

Class 10/28 stuff and other things that are way up and over my head

Quiz:

Why did Jorge go to Columbia?

Because he was a preprofessional idiot who thought it would be good to be surrounded by investment bankers and silly soho kids of failed musicians. He also admired their English department and was asked to speak at the school for a piece about post-modern feminist literature and the rise of J.K. Rowling. He didn't really want to go, but part of him did. So he gave into that part of him. Which is good for Jorge, because it's different. Jorge likes different. He thinks he likes different. He then went to the country to smuggle some drugs and coffee back to the states.

What is a floigus?

A floigus is a beautiful flower that blooms during winter. It is the oddity of the horticulture community, because while all phe's brothers and sisters and cousins are blooming and living in the spring, phe's ass be dead by then. Shrivled. Dry. Desolate. Alone. It's a lonely life to be a floigus.

What did Ted do in 1971 to become champion of the world?

Ted kicked a lot of peoples asses. First he punched Muhammad Ali, then he bitch slapped Ronald Reagan and Jimmy Carter. Then he kicked Bill and Hilary Clinton in the stomachs and after that was all said and done he married Elizabeth Taylor (granted who hasn't?) and he invented the internet...so when Al Gore claimed he did, you know some shit went down, because Ted was not having that. I feel bad for Ted. He's a pacifist.

Oh. My. Markos.

Some Day

One day I'll be good enough and one day you'll be worth it.

I'm talking to a particular someone. Too bad they'll never read this. At least its out there. Wherever there is. In the ether.

The Greatest

My sister, one of them at least, is the absolute greatest.

I already mention how I came out to her last night/ this morning...after the Ke$ha concert, which was pretty effing fantastic. But I didn't delve any deeper and I should have. I'm only going to graze the surface here, but that's as far as I want to go at this point. I still need to get my head around everything. However, one of the most stressful, scary, intimidating things I will ever have to do in my life is done, it's in the past, it's incredible. She was/is very supportive and said that she loves me no matter who I love. She is my hero. She is the person I always have and always will look up to. She has been the greatest role model I could ask for and she's just an all around bad ass. I don't know where I'd be or who I'd be without her. I'm very grateful towards her. I can't wait to see her in just a little over a month.

I'm procrastinating again. I really shouldn't do that. But....oh well. I was supposed to have so much completed by 5 today, that has not gotten done. Other things have. I believe. But I really need to focus. I'm almost certain I'll be pulling an all-nighter simply because I know that I would sleep in and not get any work done tomorrow. This way I can stay up as late as I need to. Sleep. Wake up by 4. Get to class. Get done with class & get back to work. I don't think I'll need the all nighter, honestly, but I would accomplish so much!

*sigh*

My heart grows heavy sometimes.

I always think I know what I want, but I have no idea. I'm certain that I'll be content with everything at some point in my life or even some point soon. I just need to make sure that I'm secure. That I am set for this semester in all of my classes. I need to do well in all of them. Like actually though. It's of the upmost importance. I need to talk to a few of my professors. I need to talk to an old professor. I need to be better. I'm not. I need to be better. I'm not.

Bleh

Wiggity wiggity wiggity wiggity wiggity wiggity whack.

I heard that earlier. I found it a tad profound. Then again I was at the Ke$ha concert and I was pretty plastered.

Speaking of which, she was actually really good. It was a good show. I'm not a huge fan of her music, but it is really fun. But the bitch called us crazy...uh, has she looked in a mirror?

However, it was a nice segue for me to come out to my sister. So...a pretty eventful evening indeed. Don't know what else I can talk about besides the 3 all nights I'm likely to be pulling. But that's okay. Things will get done. Maybe I'll cure cancer (note: I will not be curing cancer)...

We'll see.

I Feel Old

See title.

I thought I should share. I don't want to keep such things to myself.

Bacardi Won't Help This

Gurrgle gurrgle poprock what the fuck? don't stop.

I'm feeling particularly queer today.

I feel like I can't deal with things.

I have a great song that makes my life. I think Firework by Katy Perry should be added to the playlist about my life.

I haven't accomplished nearly as much as I would have liked to.

I also think You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift should be on there too. I may have just a lot of cred, but I don't care. Its true. Isn't that the point of all of this? Isn't that the point of everything? To get to truth. If I'm doing that. If I'm living that... why does it matter. Why do I think it matters? So many questions that I could actually spend hours trying to answer with no avail and without enough background knowledge to fully tackle every angle that would need to be.

I write more in stream of consciousness than I ever have before. I let things come to me. I write them down. It's simple, but it's also very difficult because I'm not always sure how I'm supposed to track my thoughts, or if I'm even having thoughts or if I'm just in some state where everything sort of flows out of me without reservation. I'm not entirely sure. I just know that this is calming. It makes me feel like I've done something. Or that I can look and say, "oh, well I didn't accomplish anything else, but I've gotten closer to myself."

That's the point of education. What's the point of education? How much does it actually prepare us. Does it actually prepare us? I know it helps us grow and discover, but I'm always wanting to question and always being afraid to, because...and that's the thing, I don't really know. i don't know why i don't question the way that I should or as much as I should. I just don't. It's really starting to frustrate me. I don't push myself. I need to push myself. Help me push myself. That was more of a note for myself. Now I'm never going to do it.

Oh well.

That just makes for more for me to write.

I'm constantly afraid that at some point I won't know what to do. I won't know how to function. I already don't know how to function.

I need to finish the novel I started. Or at least turn it into a novella. I want to work on that more. I'm going to try and spend most of November doing that. I think I'm really going to spend Thanksgiving doing that because I won't have a crazy amount of things to do. Or I shouldn't. So I should be able to spend a lot of time doing things that I want to.

I'm sort of excited for it.

I hope I'll actually do it.

I'm going to be a new character. His name is Aiden.

There's A Moment You Know

I'm about to cry and or pass out. When I'm stressed that's pretty much all I can do.

There's far too much for me to complete in the next week that I simply don't have the time for. I can't focus on anything but these things. I can't go out. I can't really have any fun until I'm done with everything. This is of the up most importance.

I wish I could write more fiction. It's why I took this class. I wish I had the time to devout myself fully to writing and reading (for fun), but I don't. I think that would make me happiest. I don't know what would make me happiest. I wish I knew what would make me happiest. I wish I knew anything. I wish I wasn't so afraid to fail. I wish I could stop wishing, but it seems to be the only thing I'm good at.

I failed another quiz for my Antro class. Which is just what I need. I really need to talk to him. I really need to work my ass of for the class. I really need to stay in every night and just do work. I need to draw back and not be so social. I have opportunities that I let go to waste for friends that I might not see after I graduate. I'm afraid I'm letting everything go to waste. I'm afraid.

I have to get back to work. I have to start and finish an assignment I didn't know I had. I have to read 3 books in 8 hours. I have to do a problem set. I have so much that I just can't do. I have so much that I wish I could do. I have so much.

Perhaps I should take a semester off? I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Taking time for myself. Taking time to figure out what I want. Taking time to enjoy my life instead of feeling as though I'm wasting it away. I fucked up my freshman year. I fucked it up hard. I can't do that this year. I can't let everything pass me by. I have to use my time wisely. I have to dedicate myself fully. I can't bull shit this. I know that grades aren't the most important thing. I know that they don't determine how intelligent you are. But they do correlate very well to work ethic and at the end of the day having a great work ethic is extremely important. If I want to do anything with my life, I have to be able to show that I have that sort of work ethic instead of me being incredibly involved, but lazy towards things that are considered to actually matter.

My parents just want me to pass. I want that too. But I want to excel. I want to prove to myself that I can do that. I want so much. I want too much. Is that such a bad thing? Is it a terrible thing to want? To crave? I'm certain that it's not. Though the guilt penetrates my conscious, it penetrates my bone, it sits at the very core of me for wanting so much for me wanting more privilege when so many have none, when so many can't want because they need.

I'm a selfish person. This place makes me feel like a selfish person. I went away for the weekend and I felt like myself. I felt loved. I felt normal. I haven't felt that here in a while. I've felt detached and hurt. I've felt pathetic. I'm ending that now.

"[I'll crawl back into bed to dream of a time when my heart was open wide, and I loved things just because, like the sick and the dying. And sometimes when I'm on, I'm really fucking on and my friends they sing along and they love me... But the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap and it teases me for weeks in its absence. But I'll fight and I'll make it through, I'll fake it if I have to and I'll show up to work with a smile. I'll be better and I'll be smarter and more grown up and a better son and a real good friend. I''ll be awake, I'll be alert, I'll be positive though it hurts and I'll laugh and embrace all my friends. I'll be a real good listener. I'll be honest, I'll be brave, I'll be handsome and I'll be beautiful. I'll be happy.]"

- A reworking of some Rilo Kiley lyrics.

Weekends

I fail at keeping up with this on weekends. I should be better, but I'm not.

I've been in Pennsylvania with my best friend and my mother. It's actually exactly what I needed. I needed to get the fuck away from Brown. I needed to focus on things in my life other than school and work. I feel so much better.

I watched Waiting for Superman with my best friend, Raquel. It was...it was amazing. I needed that film to give me some perspective on my privilege and my work ethic. I need to work harder. I needed to study harder. I need to focus more. I've been given so much. I'm incredibly fortunate and I don't take advantage of it. That's so stupid of me. That's incredibly stupid of me. I feel like I shouldn't have these opportunities if I don't utilize them. If I am consistently letting them pass me by. The film itself looked at the educational system of the US specifically focusing on the underprivileged and impoverished and their limited access to decent education. It also broadly looked at how the US has stagnated. We're not improving. We haven't been improving. The rest of the world has. It did solidify the fact that I will be doing Teach for America after grad school. It's going to happen. I can't be given this education, be given these opportunities while the rest of the country isn't and do nothing to help them, sit back and let the country stay in ignorance and a vicious cycle of poverty when I can do something about it. Voltaire ended Candide with "Il faut que cultivations nos jardin" which means "we must cultivate our garden." It means that we can't just sit around and ideally theorize, we actually have to do something; we have to do good works; we have to make this life meaningful. I feel like a different person.

... Actually, I feel like the person I used to be. I'm sorry I lost that. It won't happen again.

Playlist

I promised a playlist of my life. So here it is:

Perfect by Alanis Morissette

Thank you by Alanis Morissette

Not Pretty Enough by Kasey Chambers

California by Joni Mitchell

You've Got the Love by Florence and the Machine

Hurricane Drunk by Florence and the Machine

Maudlin Career by Camera Obscura

A better son/daughter by Rilo Kiley

How soon is now by The Smiths

Asleep by The Smiths

There is a Light that Never Goes Out by The Smiths

King of Anything by Sara Bareilles

Nicest Thing by Kate Nash

Floorplan by Tegan and Sara

Starting Now by Ingrid Michaelson

Mannequin by Katy Perry

We Get On by Kate Nash

Be Ok by Ingrid Michaelson

Locked Up by Ingrid Michaelson

Everybody by Ingrid Michaelson

The Ocean by Tegan and Sara

The Sound of Settling by Death Cab for Cutie

Pride and Joy by Brandi Carlile

When it Rains by Paramore

Crazy by Patsy Cline

I Fall To Pieces by Patsy Cline

Vampires in Blue Dresses by Margot and the Nuclear So & So's

Quiet as a Mouse by Margot and the Nuclear So & So's

Stray Italian Greyhounds by Vienna Teng

Slow Me Down by Emmy Rossum

Extraordinary by Liz Phair

...this is pretty much just an excerpt from the complete set... its a work in progress much like myself. i suppose its mostly kick ass female artists that speak to me. exceptions are incredible bands like the smiths and margot and the nuclear so and so's.. i suppose it should be comforting that i'm not the only one who has experienced these things or can relate them to my life..but its not. its just a little scary how closely they mesh and how often they can relate to times in my life.

More Shit

More shit.

I'm a sleepy little bird

I think I'm going to write about Lauren. She seems down. I want her to feel better and noticed.

She just licked her computer.

"Why aren't you recording this?"

I just yawned. I had to draw on the bored. It was exciting....but sort of nerve wrecking. I can't draw. I need to learn how to. I feel like if I knew how to I would be much better at exploring my emotions and thoughts.

We're doing a writing prompt.

This is it:

Panda hat. I don't know what this part of the prompt is.

Someone has a flashback.

Jacob realized he hadn't thought about Lorraine in a while. He thought of the first time he met her. The way she moved across the ballroom floor in her elegant blue gown with white lace. They way her hair, pulled back, hung a little in the front. The way she smiled and his heart stopped. He came back to reality. 415. Too much time had elapsed. Such a problem. He moved towards the door. He had to get back home. He stepped from the doorway into the street. He noticed a man stumbling. At first he thought it was just some drunkard who got a little too happy before happy hour, but no, it was a man having a heart attack. He collapsed on the ground. Right in front of Jacob. He screamed. He called for help. He moved to check his pulse...it was too late. This is the first time Jacob had witnessed someone die. The first time he held death in his hands. He pulled out his executive pen from his coat pocket. He looked at it momentarily before putting it back. His mind wandered. He couldn't help but think about what that really meant. He realized the gravity of his situation. He called the police. ....

(An improbable event solves an improbable situation) A car pulled up on the curb as he was dialing 911. It struck the man, not Jacob, but the man and jolted him back to life. Exciting, no? Jacob reacted quickly, the way he had in Desert Storm. His training was coming back to him. How else would he have escaped the impending doom of the car hitting him. He noticed Nancy in the corner of his eye. A woman he hadn't seen in years. She still wore the same pearls, the same red bow in her hair, the same style of flats and the same style of dresses as she always had. She used to be the light of the town...when they both lived in the town and not the city, but had since gotten older. She calmed herself. She matured. But she held the same captivating beauty she always had. Jacob took out his pen. A coincidence that the woman that gave it to him, the woman that lit up his life so much, that reminded him of his youth and his prime and his wonder would be only a few feet away from him when he needed her the most. She kept moving. He kept silent. He finished giving his statement to the police and went to work. He needed to pick something from the office before he went home. When he arrived at his office, he couldn't remember what he needed. He thought long and hard, but couldn't recall. He decided to move on and deal with it later than waste his time. He headed home. 700. It's gotten dark. He moved to his car still in the same parking structure. He reached for the handle. Wine! He left the wine in his office. He ran to the elevator. It moved slower than usual, but he made it to the penthouse none the less. He opened his office door, on his desk was the bottle of Merlot he bought for this occasion. He was ready to celebrate his anniversary. The same night his wife died five years ago. He wouldn't celebrate that. He would destroy that. He would destroy himself tonight, by the gravest of methods. He grabbed the bottle. He went for the door. It locked. How was that possible. It only locks from the outside. He couldn't get out.

~This is why a man grieving should grieve when its time. This is why a man grieving should take time. This is why a person should take time. This is why you should take time for yourself. Put this down. Pick it up later. Live a little. ~

His rival, Steven Denny, laughed in the distance...well down the hall. Music started blasting. He heard laughter in the office. What has happening? How is this possible. He was the only one here. He listened by the door. He realized he was still trapped. He banged and yelled and hollered the way he did when he taught bootcamp, when he quite the marines and joined the navy. He looked for his knife. He would get himself out.

He heard another voice. Slightly familiar. It was the man from the street. The man who was supposed to be dead. How was he here. He yelled. He yelled. He listened again as he worked on the door. It was the sound of his son, Austin, running down the hall. Cheering. What's going on??? A crash. The same noise he heard when the door closed. He fell down. He was dying. He wanted to, but it was actually happening. Was his life flashing before his eyes and he didn't know it? He thought there. He lied there the way he did when he found out his wife was leaving him. When he found out she had died. When he found out everything was gone.

Class 10/21 & Thoughts That Have Come To Me

"Wow the lighting is all like magical right now" -LYS

..something about reality hunger

Future national book award winner, maybe.

Rule five has been -~~---~~_~_~ cancelled.

Quiz:

1. Why is Jorge monoracial?

- Jorge's parents are of the same race...they met during an all same race dating forum. They were both quiet and shy, so they were instantly drawn to one another and they decided right then and there that they would have a monoracial child together. I don't know how they're doing now...probably pretty well, I would assume, or they could not be doing well and then I'd feel bad...They're doing well.

Jorge's a silly fellow. I think it's because he is only of one race.

2. Why is Todd depressed in only odd numbered years?

- Such a sensitive subject. The poor man has been through so much. How could he not be depressed during the odd numbered years? He is constantly getting is heart broken at the end of every even numbered year and as he is such a sensitive fellow he must take the time to heal. The odd numbered years just fall during this time, unfortunately. I'm hoping one day he'll be happy, but that seems unlikely as he is sort of masochistic and enjoys his odd numbered years the most.

3. Why was the sad girlfriend happy yesterday?

- Her boyfriend stopped being an asshole. This changed her perspective on life, because of course she doesn't want to be with an asshole, she wants to be with a kind soul. She just attracts assholes. But for one day, her beau was actually sweet and pleasant and she took full advantage of that time. Also, she's a panda, and she realized how great it is to be a panda. Almost as great as it is to be....nope, pandas pretty much kick everything else's ass.

Markos almost blew up... There were descending numbers on his forehead. I was scared.

We all got 93's on the quiz! HUZZAHH!!!

He looks like he's trying to sell me something from Apple.

He looks like Shrek.

Nothing to know quite yet. when you know, I'll know.

you know picasso, right? he did some pretty cool shit.

i think i'm fucking up signals. i think all the signals are fucked up. tonight should make it clear.

having no influences is just dumb.

"you're still on your music aren't you?"- rachel

"i'm always on my music."- me

consumming's just so easy... but if you think on the flip side, making those things is the real art, the real hard part.

"i think i have an obsession with food"- rachel

"its derivative so its not that original"

"okay, now i'm just confusing myself"

I need to take more artistic classes. I need to take more intellectual classes. Classes that make me think and aren't so fact based and classes that make me create and imagine and expand my horizons. A few fact based lecture, know this shit classes are great...but I don't find them as rewarding. They don't expand my mind. They don't make me think. They just teach me things that I can find from books if I really want to know. I feel like if I were to research things on my own I'll get more out of that then someone telling me those same things in class. As opposed to reading theory and literature and seeing art and watching films and devouring these things and changing my perspective and then talking to people about those things, their experiences, their thoughts and changing mine...not to fit theirs but to appreciate theirs and to complete mine.

i'm so aware of how many people are going to read this.

like david shields I'm really into myself.

i'm catering my writing to my two readers

are you writing for an audience or are you writing for yourself.

if you are writing for yourself, or if your not, it becomes more performance based.

i don't feel like performance is a bad thing...but you have to embrace it.

a lot of stuff about writing is supposed to be...universal truths.

do i have to dive across the table? because i will.

Titles are Superfluous

My body feels like a rock.

I don't know why. I'm sort of in a depressive mood right now. I 'm in some sort of state that I've never really experienced. I just feel heavy. Everything about my body just feels heavy. I don't know what to do. Perhaps I'll sleep or read or pine or lie. Perhaps I'll lie and just be and just notice. Perhaps I'll be happy to be alone. Perhaps... is the worst word in the english lexicon.

Religion

I went to an amazing panel discussion tonight about Islam. I loved it so much. I really enjoy intellectual conversations about Religion, it makes me happy. I also got one of the speakers to ask my name after I asked some very pressing questions at the end of the talk...this possibly made my night (there are other things that sort of ruined that...but we'll not talk about those). It brought up questions to me about how well you know someone. According to some poll 62% of Americans don't know muslims. I find this very hard to believe and I think that my parents would have said the same thing. Now there is a lot of ignorance in this. First for not knowing a muslim and second for thinking that you don't know a muslim. I was thinking about how my parents probably would think they fall into that percentage when in actuality they know one of my best friends who happens to be a muslim, but seeing as she is also hispanic she instantly thought to be catholic. I was wondering how many people actually don't know muslims and how many just think they don't. I also find that silly, that perhaps you are unwilling to know some one well enough to know if they are muslim. I also started thinking about whether or not (in some cases) it had to do with the fact that the muslims wanted to hide their religious affiliation, because of fear of discrimination, condemnation, or some other reason... I like when I go to these talks because they really help me grow more (I think) than a lot of other things and they bring out new ideas and interests that I didn't know I had in me.

..

For the first time in a really long time I'm actually really happy. I don't know how this happened. I don't know why. It may have been some point during my all nighter when I realized (again) that everything was fine. I don't have to reach for perfection. I just have to give everything I have to everything I do. I have to try. & if I come short, well hell. But life is so much better not that I'm in this mind set, in this state.

I've also been flirting with someone, which helps. We'll see how things go, but I'd really like for them to work out.

Truth

My life is a playlist.

I'll post the songs later. When I'm not stressed from 2 projects, 2 quizzes, 3 midterms, and a slew of other things (including but not limited to romantic prospects that are confusing).

In class

Oh hey,

I'm writing this in class. Some kid is talking. I think its John. I'm not sure. He's reading, actually. So the last activity was pretty fun. I have to leave early. I have theatre. Ugh. Fucking theatre. I want to sleep. I want to do my work. I want to excel in life. I think I'm going to fail. I need to be okay with that. Failure makes you stronger I guess. I heard a quote earlier that if you want to succeed faster, fail faster. So that's nice. I feel like if that's the case then I'm going to be pretty successful.

I'm leaving early. I said that already and I just told you in class. But I thought I should remind you. That I left early. That's cool right? Yeah.. Lauren is my surrogate. She's great.

Now I'm playing Howl by Florence and the Machine. Such a great song.

Going to stop now. Though this is pretty fun. So that's plus. Break is over. I want to be better. I want to write more eloquently. I used to. I've lost it, I think. Or I've gained something else? Something different. Something more unique than just some smart kid writing. We're continuing. Begin!

Homework for the Week

Oh my. I can finally breathe. That asshole isn’t lying on me anymore! I swear every night he stumbles in and wakes me from my slumber so that he can get his. I can’t deal with it anymore. Every night I jump off the bed as he sleeps so I can get away from him, but every night he wakes up and picks me up again. I can never escape. Oh how I wish I could grow legs and walk away. I mean he does let me rest for like 16 hours of the day. For 16 hours I’m alone to hang out with my dear sister the mattress and her kids sheet and blanket, so its lovely family bonding time. I just can’t deal with this anymore though. I think I’m going to fall again tonight and hope that finally works!

Well this is some serious gender bending activity, which I sincerely support. To mix the “masculinity” of the work gloves with the “femme” of the lipstick sends a very powerful message of the full human figure encompassing both ends of the spectrum. I’m not actually wearing either, but I’ll pretend I am. It’s quite difficult to write in work gloves and the lipstick gets stuck together sometimes making it difficult for me to mouth the words, but I like where this piece is going, so that’s a plus. The gloves reminded me of the bus ride I took into downtown providence to mentor elementary school students. There was a poster about recovering drug addicts. It was to use them in a study about their methods of overcoming their addictions, which is great, but in all actuality it shouldn’t be posted in buses towards the poor as they are statistically the least likely to recover from drug addiction. It should be posted in wealthier neighborhoods or in centers where AA and other drug addiction groups are held. That would be the most conducive for their success. I’m getting angry. The work gloves are bringing out my testosterone. I think I need to stop for now and continue this at some other point.

My lobster pinched me! I’m getting rid of this thing!! Ugh! I thought this would be a good decision. A pet I could keep in my dormroom, but no, I can’t play with it because it pinches me and it doesn’t like doing anything but sleeping and scuttling. I’m done with this thing. Done.

Stage Managing

We call this tech week. It means that I (the stage manager) effectively live in the theatre... its great. Except that it doesn't give me time to do much work...besides stage manage. I literally get up. Go to class. Eat. Read for like 20 minutes. Go to rehearsal. Get out of rehearsal. Spend four hours sending e-mails to people about rehearsal and the show and what not. Go to sleep. Wake up. Do it again. MY LIFE WILL BE MINE AGAIN ON SUNDAY!

SUNDAY! SUNDAY! SUNDAY!!

I'm so excited. I love stage managing. Its so much fun. BUT (the great verbal eraser), its so time consuming and it doesn't leave me anything in return. It's also a very thankless job. I mean, I get thanked. I do. But...its different. Well lord knows I'm not doing it again until next semester when I'll have more time and I'll better know what to do.

My posts will be coming tomorrow. I've been writing. Just not posting. This is bad. Very bad. I know. I apologize. Or do I? I made my decision to work more on the show than on my other duties, so I take full responsibility for everything. I'm just tired. I'm going to go sleep now...after I send more e-mails.

It never ends.

Additionally

I'm not quite sure how I did on my quiz. I'm going to give myself an arbitrary 85, but please feel free to give me whatever you think I deserve.

Also.

That time I picked...or is it plucked? I think its plucked. So that time I plucked something off the ground was quite the adventure indeed. I actually threw it on the ground to pick it up and sing a song. It was not the greatest and best song in the world, nor was it a tribute, Tenacious D. It was more like a bad attempt at a good song that just fell really short> i find myself pondering the importance of picking other things off the ground and singing a song about it> i wonder if that would make my days go by better and faster and if I even want that. Possibly...because I would be making up songs all the live long fucking day and picking up litter, which is always a nice thing to do. So yeah...quite the experience.

I call this story "Michael: Hero of the Chalkboard."

All across the land, and by land I mean the world, but I don't really like the phrase, "All Across the World."... So, all over the land, and again "land" is meant to signify "world," the chalkboards go unchampioned. They are hit, beaten, abused, written on aggressively, smacked by erasers, etc., and they have cried in agony. But their plight has not gone unnoticed, for Michael has become that champion that they so desperately need.

Quiz 10/7

1. Chuck Norris is the president of Jorge's desire to buy a wood stove because besides roundhouse kicking people in the face he doesn't have much going on...& wood stove's are very Chuck Norris-esque.

2. No. That's not a field. That's a building Are you on acid? How cold you possibly think that the Minden was a field. It's no where near a field. Its off of Brook and Charlsfield. No. Reallly. Are you High?

3. I named my son mudsling because I was forced to pick an "M" name and seeing as I'm a hippy and my daughter is named "Moonshine," I felt that I need to get closer to the earth. I considered Mountain for a while, but that name just kept conjuring images of people climbing mountains, trying to dominate them. But the Earth is not a place that can be dominated by one person or all persons. So I as I got angry at this I picked up some mud and slung it at a store that soled hiking gear (specifically Mountain hiking) so I thought, "Hey, Mudsling is a pretty cool name and it comes back to the Earth and defending your beliefs with a mild form of violence."

Introduction

I'm coping out of this assignment. Or I did it preemptively. So booyeah!

I've already written an introduction to a book that I want to write. So I feel like that should suffice. See Masks, posted in September.

If I must write a statement of reason explaining myself, so be it. But I refuse to write an introduction to something else. I need to get this book out of me first. I need to spend more time writing it (which I'll actually have time for come October 18- done stage managing!)!

So throughout the rest of the semester that will be my goal. To write 3-5 chapters of this book. If I can do more, than great. If not, whatever. I'll embrace failure. I've been pretty good at it lately.

Jesus

Its very difficult to be Jesus when you're sick. Though I doubt this would be the case for actual Jesus, since he probably never got sick.... I mean, how messed up would that be? He could heal a leper and the blind but not himself. Not to mention that his father must have really wanted him to suffer if he wouldn't heal him when he's ill. Also, there's no record of him ever being sick. Granted there's no real record of him at all. Well in any case, I've been sick, cooped up in my room for most of the week and even when I wasn't I was probably doing something else that wouldn't help me be Jesus. Like stage manage. Jesus never would have been a stage manager. Never. Ever.

I have decided, however, that I could potentially be a cult leader. I could make people feel secure in themselves, trust me and make them believe that I have all the answers. Show them all the beauty in the world and stockholm syndrome the shit out of them to make them think that it would be a good idea to follow me and do my bidding. I also feel like that would take a lot of time and effort. Which I just wouldn't care for. So instead I lazed about it my bed watching Charlie Bartlett and different TV episodes from hulu. Or I read. I did a lot of not being Jesus. I think it was a better use of my time.

Marwwiage

Dear Stranger,

My name is José. I know we don't know each other. So I felt that I should at least introduce myself before I ask you a very serious question. Will you marry me?

No, seriously. I want to be your husband. We can go to Massachusetts. It may sound strange to you to marry someone you don't know, but isn't that what marriage is about anyway? Don't you marry someone you think you know just to find out about them as time goes on? Why not just skip a step and get to know me through the course of our marriage. If things don't work out, they don't work out and we can go our separate ways. But I would like to marry you.

Please consider this for a moment before you accept or dismiss me.

All my love,

José

I found my stranger. It was very very difficult to find one who wouldn't think I'm completely crazy. But when I asked him he said no. My stranger turned me down. He said that he didn't believe in marriage and that since he's already in a relationship if he was going to marry someone it would not be me. So I'm kind of bummed about that. I really wanted to get married and then get a Brittany divorce, but that's just not in the cards I guess. So the gist of this is that I failed. I failed at getting a stranger to marry me. I almost said love me. Which would be very awkward. I would hope that by getting married he would fall in love with me. But no, that's not what's happening. So I'm going to say that I failed. I believe I've already said this, but I don't know what else to say. So I'm going to say that I'm done. I tried. The end.

I think

I think I'm in love with them

"i laughed at the irony. but life is stupid, the irony got lost on me"

and Him

...I'm probably really in love with him. He's great. Music is great. I wonder what I would do without music??? I'd probably be extremely depressed...which is saying something since I already have to deal with depression. I wonder how much Hemingway liked music?

*Cough*Cough*

I'm sick. I hate being sick. It is the absolute worst thing. <--- This may be an over exaggeration. I'm sure there are much worse things, I'm just not feeling well, and of course, as I can't actually understand what everyone else in the world is suffering through and I only have my physicality to account for, I find myself at the the center of the world. Or at least of my own world. Isn't this where I belong? And if not, where? Does it make me selfish to want to care about my well being when others need more help than I? Does it simply make me human? I really don't know. I wish I did, but I don't. At the moment I'm slightly delusional, which is an absolutely wonderful state to be in when you're writing, because you don't have much of a filter anymore. Your restraints are gone. You inhibitions have been lifted. I wonder if this is how Lewis Carroll felt all the time? I hope so. Disillusionment is highly overrated and reality is nothing more than what we make of it. I feel like running through a spring in a forest. Where can I find one of those? Or maybe I'll watch a movie. I do really enjoy films. Though "blockbusters" just piss me off. They don't do anything. They may be entertaining for a moment or a little while after, and I shouldn't use generalizations because this is not always the case, but they don't make you think. They don't make you recognize the world around you. They don't explore art and life and love and what it is to actually be human. They don't explore truth. That's what I hate about blockbusters. I hope that, if I become a producer, I never make one... and if I do, I hope that its because it will have touched so many lives and explored so many facets of the human condition that it can't be ignored. If not, I just want to make indie type films that do well and have not only a message, but a true aesthetic.

...I'm not quite sure how this all came to be. But it is. And I shall let it.

Woody Allen

"That's one of the nice things about writing, or any art; if the thing's real, it just lives. All the attendant hoopla about it, the success over it or the critical rejection-none of that really matters. In the end, the thing will survive or not on its own merits."

"Good films are better than bad books, and when they're both great, they're great and worthwhile in different ways."

"IT's a wonderful thing to be able to create your own world whenever you want to. Writing is very pleasurable, very seductive, and very therapeutic."

"I started on page one...I love the classic narrative form in a play...I want to hear people speaking plainly if at times poetically. When you see death of a salesman or a street car named desire you're interested in the people and you want to see what happens next."

- I really enjoy everything that Woody Allen has to say. I think that the main purpose of writing and film is to get to some great truth, to uncover what's worthwhile and meaningful- to understand human nature and the human condition all the more... I think he understands that, appreciates that, and his work reflects that.

Quiz 9/30

1. I'm pretty sure Jorge drew some fish on your eyelids. I don't know what kind, because I don't spend my time learning the different aquatic animal species. So let's say they were non-gold, gold fish. & I they are the first ting that every person kills.

2. Jorge licked the window 4 times. He was so dehydrated, and without a water fountain in sight he was desperate to consume the condensation that formed on the glass. Though he only needed the first two licks to satisfy him, he figured a third would be even better and fourth, a fourth would drastically improve his health. He was wrong.

3. There are approximately 18,341 bricks in place for the building across the street, give or take a shit ton. 18,340 of them don't really matter, you see, because they have no true history. Some masons made them and formed the building. But the fifth brick, the fifth brick is something special...

Homework

So I keep forgetting to post the homework assignments :/

I'm going to do my best to post them all by Wednesday night

So here are the 2nd Sentences:

Is there a reason for make-up, other than to minimally alter an appearance that nothing was wrong with in the first place?

He couldn't help but feel alone, isolate; pounding the pavement on those desolate small town streets.

Mini-write ups:

I checked my gmail. There were far too many messages, I closed out of it because I didn't have time to work through them. (Multiply this by 9....stage managing gives me no time on the internet)

I went to facebook. I got a friend request from some creeper. Ignore. So...uneventful night, I see.

I went to my blog to make a few posts. I felt uninspired, but I did something Anyway. They came out all wrong. Oops.

I posted a new look to my lookbook. It got a few likes. Thanks for stroking my ego, people.

I went to facebook. Nothing ever happens anymore. Oh look, person I like, lets chat for a while and not let me get any work done.

Logged onto facebook. Still nothing has happened.. oh no, posts about suicides :(, oh but posts about queer theory that can combat this :]

Searched for song lyrics to some Alanis Morisette songs. Waste of time since I already knew all of them..whatever.

Logged onto mycourses to see my progress. My professors have yet to post anything about it. Awesome.

Statement of Reason:

The night was as dark as an emo kid thinks phis soul is. The air was crisp and still. The harvest moon rose delicately through the clouds. I emerged from the swinging doors of the Rock into this wonderful night at approximately 721 PM, fully intending to accomplish my first Fiction assignment for the week. At 731 I arrived at Urban Outfitters, they were having a sale and I wanted new clothes for the fall. let's just say that I took full advantage of the opportunity, spending far more than I anticipated. Yet at the culmination of this brief adventure, I believe it was slightly passed 8 o'clock, I did not continue with the tasks that were laid before me. Nay, the shear pleasure I took out of shopping stifled me so. I found it wrong of me to continue with my night of enjoyment without any work prior to defray my guilt. I hastily abandoned my endeavors to finish, or rather begin, the assignments that loomed over my heat and atone myself for the joy that I just experienced. After my hours of tedious reading and writing, I drifted to the land of slumber where I dreamt of the night I couldn't had...It's a good ting I ended my journey when I did, for if the dream held any accuracy at all- the clerk at 7-11 would have punched me int he face for even questioning his love of pleasure, thrown me out of the marketplace without my pack of twinkies and squeegy. I would have been so distraught I wouldn't have had the nerve to accost a total stranger on the street, let alone enter a pizza establishment, though I did go to the mall to watch a movie. I can't recall which, I just remember hating it and getting into a fight with the manager about getting my money back and being forcefully remved from the mall, into the harsh streets to walk back to Brown. Cold and defeated. Yay, it was a good thing, indeed that my guild over came me so and I ended my evening before it even began.