So I'm wading into my future right now. I'm surrounded by all these potential possibilities and each one is contingent on the one before it. It all goes around in circles, but the point is that I have a series of decisions I need to make, and I need to make them very soon.
As several people have pointed out to me recently, I really can't make a "wrong" decision. And the only thing I'm really going to regret is not making a decision at all, or opting out entirely because I can't make up my mind. But all this running around in circles has made me dizzy - how can it possibly be that simple? (See: flabbergasted)
I've always assumed I would study abroad in college; I took it for granted. It was always easy to romanticize it, with hazy thoughts of strolls down foreign streets, intelligent and adventurous new friends, and the whole package deal includes a new outlook on life, for free! But now the realities are becoming clear, and I'm not going to lie - I'm pretty much scared shitless.
I like to think I'm an independent person, but really, that's an overstatement. I'm not a go-getter; I'm lazy, unmotivated, and used to regretting the things I didn't do instead of actually going out, taking initiative, and trying something new. So there's that gritty truth. And being by myself in a foreign country, perhaps not being fluent in the spoken language - it just terrifies me. I'm not used to not being comfortable. (See: spoiled)
So this is why I really think I should study abroad. Because it'll whip my ignorant American ass out of bed and into the real world. It will force me to be independent and figure things out and ask for help and make mistakes and deal with scary situations. Which is all character-building and shit, and good for me 'cause it's hard, and the spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down, but I don't even know how to begin to prepare for something like this.
First - where to study. Actually, scratch that. First, I need to pick a major. Just for fun, let's say I choose Global and International Studies [doesn't that make me sound worldly? haha!]. This major requires 2 years of a foreign language. So what language? French? Spanish? I don't know. Swedish? Danish? Italian? Does it really even matter?
So where do I want to go [maybe that will help solve the language question]? England? That doesn't help. I'm stuck. But let's say I pick somewhere. Then how long do I go for? A semester sounds good, but I don't want to leave right when I'm just getting adjusted. A year sounds like a commitment I'm not sure I'm willing to make. Do I split it up and go two places? What about my boyfriend? Does he come with me, or not? Do we stay together or break up? I hate this. (See: clueless)
I hate making decisions. I'm so bad at them.
Well, fuck.
(See: welcome to the real world, Lauren.)
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Mmmm genius
This is an excerpt from a Rolling Stone interview with Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert.
Colbert: I think the way you said it the other day on your show was "Bush is not dumb. He speaks to us like we're dumb.
Maureen Dowd: But just before he ran for president, he was still trying to figure out why North Korea and other hot spots were important.
Stewart: That's being uncurious about the world, and self-involved. But that has nothing to do with intelligence. It just would surprise you that someone who wants to lead the free world would not necessarily know what the free world consisted of. And had only been to Epcot Center. It was sort of like his trip to Baghdad. He went for four hours into the Green Zone and comes back and says Iraq is making great progress. It would be like if we went to the Olive Garden and started going, "I understand Italy."
Colbert: I think the way you said it the other day on your show was "Bush is not dumb. He speaks to us like we're dumb.
Maureen Dowd: But just before he ran for president, he was still trying to figure out why North Korea and other hot spots were important.
Stewart: That's being uncurious about the world, and self-involved. But that has nothing to do with intelligence. It just would surprise you that someone who wants to lead the free world would not necessarily know what the free world consisted of. And had only been to Epcot Center. It was sort of like his trip to Baghdad. He went for four hours into the Green Zone and comes back and says Iraq is making great progress. It would be like if we went to the Olive Garden and started going, "I understand Italy."
Sunday, December 3, 2006
I hate pet stores
They make me lose even more faith in humanity. People are dumb. Don't buy puppies from stores. Even The Daily Pet has enough sense to only adopt out rescues.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
The Gospel
I feel like I've just been to church. And I have been saved.
The New Yorker is doing a college tour and this week they were at Berkeley. Tonight they had three panelists talking about reporting on the war. It was amazing. I've never heard people nail so many things on the head the way they did. The attitude of so many people in this country is disgusting. Especially the people I live with. This past weekend has shown me that the two of those boys don't think about anyone but themselves. And Chelsea, as much as I love her -- she doesn't think about other people either. I mean she'd kill for her friends and family...but she's apathetic to the rest of the world. She complains that she can't get the classes she wants because there aren't enough sections. I tell her it's because there's not enough funding. I tell her that if she voted for the propositions to increase public school funding, or voted against Shwarzenegger, that might change. But she doesn't want to vote. She thinks the government doesn't affect her. She expects other people to look out for her.
But I digress. This is just a prime example of the ridiculous people in this country. There are less than five Arabic speakers in the FBI. And not a single native speaker. All of them took a 9 week crash course and call themselves translators. It makes me want to learn Arabic, because journalists are doing the government's job. Journalists go abroad and talk with people and learn about their situations and try to understand where they're coming from. The government sits on its ass. I can't wait to be a journalist.
The New Yorker is doing a college tour and this week they were at Berkeley. Tonight they had three panelists talking about reporting on the war. It was amazing. I've never heard people nail so many things on the head the way they did. The attitude of so many people in this country is disgusting. Especially the people I live with. This past weekend has shown me that the two of those boys don't think about anyone but themselves. And Chelsea, as much as I love her -- she doesn't think about other people either. I mean she'd kill for her friends and family...but she's apathetic to the rest of the world. She complains that she can't get the classes she wants because there aren't enough sections. I tell her it's because there's not enough funding. I tell her that if she voted for the propositions to increase public school funding, or voted against Shwarzenegger, that might change. But she doesn't want to vote. She thinks the government doesn't affect her. She expects other people to look out for her.
But I digress. This is just a prime example of the ridiculous people in this country. There are less than five Arabic speakers in the FBI. And not a single native speaker. All of them took a 9 week crash course and call themselves translators. It makes me want to learn Arabic, because journalists are doing the government's job. Journalists go abroad and talk with people and learn about their situations and try to understand where they're coming from. The government sits on its ass. I can't wait to be a journalist.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Party time, excellent!
While reading Newsweek on the elliptical this morning, I had a laugh out loud moment at one of the letters to the editor.
"I am one of Sacha Baron Cohen's many victims ("Behind the Schemes, Oct. 16). Because his handlers told me he was Borat Sagdiyev, "a TV journalist from Kazakhstan," I booked him for a live studio interview on our morning news show in Jackson, Miss., thinking he was a legitimate reporter doing a documentary to be shown in his home country. I checked out his public-relations company's Web site and even met one of the publicists in person. They seemed genuine. But once the camera was on him, this man destroyed our credibility in very short order. Because of him, my boss lost faith in my abilities and second-guessed everything I did thereafter. I spiraled into depression, and before I could recover I was released from my contract early. It took me three months to find another job and now I'm thousands of dollars in debt and struggling to keep my house out of foreclosure. How upsetting that a man who leaves so much harm in his path is lauded as a comedic genius. Think of all the other people who've probably been fired because of his antics." - D. A. Arthur, Panama City, Fla.
Now come on. If you're such a bad journalist that 1. You aren't in touch with popular culture, and 2. You don't do any research on your guests, I'm sorry but...you're an idiot and you deserve to lose your job. That's like whining because you invited Wayne and Garth to your news show because you thought they were really teenage music fans who broadcast a show from their basement.
"I am one of Sacha Baron Cohen's many victims ("Behind the Schemes, Oct. 16). Because his handlers told me he was Borat Sagdiyev, "a TV journalist from Kazakhstan," I booked him for a live studio interview on our morning news show in Jackson, Miss., thinking he was a legitimate reporter doing a documentary to be shown in his home country. I checked out his public-relations company's Web site and even met one of the publicists in person. They seemed genuine. But once the camera was on him, this man destroyed our credibility in very short order. Because of him, my boss lost faith in my abilities and second-guessed everything I did thereafter. I spiraled into depression, and before I could recover I was released from my contract early. It took me three months to find another job and now I'm thousands of dollars in debt and struggling to keep my house out of foreclosure. How upsetting that a man who leaves so much harm in his path is lauded as a comedic genius. Think of all the other people who've probably been fired because of his antics." - D. A. Arthur, Panama City, Fla.
Now come on. If you're such a bad journalist that 1. You aren't in touch with popular culture, and 2. You don't do any research on your guests, I'm sorry but...you're an idiot and you deserve to lose your job. That's like whining because you invited Wayne and Garth to your news show because you thought they were really teenage music fans who broadcast a show from their basement.
B-A-N-A-N-A-S, this shit is
Get drunker than you've ever gotten before? Check
Do it two nights in a row? Check
Walk around in the shortest shorts you've ever worn? Check
Show everyone your bra and/or tits because your shirt just won't stay on? Check
Discover gnarly wounds without any recollection of getting them? Check
See someone throw up in the middle of the street and/or pass out on a streetcorner? Check
Almost get run over by cops on horseback? Check
See all of your housemate's asses? Check
Kiss your girlfriends? Check
Dance in a cage? Check
Pound the handle? Check
Halloween 2006. Obligatory post. So much better than last year. And it's not even the 31st yet.
Do it two nights in a row? Check
Walk around in the shortest shorts you've ever worn? Check
Show everyone your bra and/or tits because your shirt just won't stay on? Check
Discover gnarly wounds without any recollection of getting them? Check
See someone throw up in the middle of the street and/or pass out on a streetcorner? Check
Almost get run over by cops on horseback? Check
See all of your housemate's asses? Check
Kiss your girlfriends? Check
Dance in a cage? Check
Pound the handle? Check
Halloween 2006. Obligatory post. So much better than last year. And it's not even the 31st yet.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Does that make me crazy?
Just as I was about to begin my own memoir, "The Devil Wears Her Hair Pulled Back Too Often," I came across former journalism adviser Olaina Anderson's latest pet project. How's this for a tagline?
"I used to have a life: high school teacher, journalism adviser. Then I had a miscarriage and complications. Now I'm creating a new life--after school."
All this and more at Olaina After School. Can't wait for the movie version, but how will they ever find someone with a large enough... oh, well, you know.
Snide comments aside, I always knew she was a little crazy.
"I used to have a life: high school teacher, journalism adviser. Then I had a miscarriage and complications. Now I'm creating a new life--after school."
All this and more at Olaina After School. Can't wait for the movie version, but how will they ever find someone with a large enough... oh, well, you know.
Snide comments aside, I always knew she was a little crazy.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Melting down
It's a little terrifying when, all of the sudden, your future's brake lights go out and you slam right into it.
A few weeks ago I started working on my study abroad application. I scheduled a meeting with the chair of the Journalism department and quickly learned that, sorry, journalism isn't offered in Paris. SFSU Journalism is one of only 100 accredited programs in the US, and therefore to study journalism abroad I have to go to one of the countries they have specific arrangements with (Denmark, Wales, Australia). Well, okay then. She made it seem as if I was screwed, but after a few rounds of "are you sure, because the study abroad people said I could..." she finally told me that she thinks I should go and we outlined a class plan (that unfortunately involves summer school this and next summer) to make it happen.
Then she suggested graduate school. Finally, the answer I've been looking for. She told me that magazine writing, aside from being competitive, is tricky because very few magazines have a writing staff -- it's mostly done by freelance. So graduate school gives the edge. She suggest NYU. I light up because I've done the research and that was already my first pick. Columbia is good, too. Northwestern has some weird system and it very cliquey. She nixed USC -- good thing, too, cuz I'm not a fan. So how to best package myself for grad school? Great, I thought I put that behind me when I finished college applications. Anyway. Major in French, she says. They'll prefer someone who has immersed themselves in a subject. I understand, but I'm not quite ready to give up a BA in magazine journalism. Then it hits me: double major. With two classes in summer school and the two or three extra spaces in my schedule while I'm in Paris, I've got plenty of time to take the four upper division classes I need to turn my French minor into a French major. So there it is. I am a double major. After this study abroad business is squared away, I'll probably be in that office monthly. I'm hungry for advice. Plus, I'll need her as a recommendation on my grad school application. Yikes. I don't even want to know what those student loans are going to look like. And this time, unless my mom is feeling incredibly generous, I'll be on my own.
And as my luck would have it, I'm back to desperate need of a job. I found one for Fridays amazingly easily (answered the ad, called me back, interviewed and hired me all within 24 hours) but of course, I should've known it was too good to be true. Last Thursday night at 8 (while I was working out) I got a call saying that both parents had gotten telecommuting privileges on Fridays and so I was no longer needed. He called to tell me this 12 hours before I would've gone to their house. So I worked for them three times. Fucked up. I've had some interviews, it's going slowly. I have an interview for a real job on Wednesday. I can only pray at this point.
In other news, the darling baby kitten is officially testicle-free. I dropped him off at the SPCA Wednesday morning after 30 minutes of nasty traffic and him screaming in the carrier, then picked him up that evening. He was completely doped up on kitten Vicodin or what it was. My roommates still don't believe that he will be happier this way.
A few weeks ago I started working on my study abroad application. I scheduled a meeting with the chair of the Journalism department and quickly learned that, sorry, journalism isn't offered in Paris. SFSU Journalism is one of only 100 accredited programs in the US, and therefore to study journalism abroad I have to go to one of the countries they have specific arrangements with (Denmark, Wales, Australia). Well, okay then. She made it seem as if I was screwed, but after a few rounds of "are you sure, because the study abroad people said I could..." she finally told me that she thinks I should go and we outlined a class plan (that unfortunately involves summer school this and next summer) to make it happen.
Then she suggested graduate school. Finally, the answer I've been looking for. She told me that magazine writing, aside from being competitive, is tricky because very few magazines have a writing staff -- it's mostly done by freelance. So graduate school gives the edge. She suggest NYU. I light up because I've done the research and that was already my first pick. Columbia is good, too. Northwestern has some weird system and it very cliquey. She nixed USC -- good thing, too, cuz I'm not a fan. So how to best package myself for grad school? Great, I thought I put that behind me when I finished college applications. Anyway. Major in French, she says. They'll prefer someone who has immersed themselves in a subject. I understand, but I'm not quite ready to give up a BA in magazine journalism. Then it hits me: double major. With two classes in summer school and the two or three extra spaces in my schedule while I'm in Paris, I've got plenty of time to take the four upper division classes I need to turn my French minor into a French major. So there it is. I am a double major. After this study abroad business is squared away, I'll probably be in that office monthly. I'm hungry for advice. Plus, I'll need her as a recommendation on my grad school application. Yikes. I don't even want to know what those student loans are going to look like. And this time, unless my mom is feeling incredibly generous, I'll be on my own.
And as my luck would have it, I'm back to desperate need of a job. I found one for Fridays amazingly easily (answered the ad, called me back, interviewed and hired me all within 24 hours) but of course, I should've known it was too good to be true. Last Thursday night at 8 (while I was working out) I got a call saying that both parents had gotten telecommuting privileges on Fridays and so I was no longer needed. He called to tell me this 12 hours before I would've gone to their house. So I worked for them three times. Fucked up. I've had some interviews, it's going slowly. I have an interview for a real job on Wednesday. I can only pray at this point.
In other news, the darling baby kitten is officially testicle-free. I dropped him off at the SPCA Wednesday morning after 30 minutes of nasty traffic and him screaming in the carrier, then picked him up that evening. He was completely doped up on kitten Vicodin or what it was. My roommates still don't believe that he will be happier this way.
I'm seeing red
All things being equal, they are not.
As first world consumers, we have tremendous power. What we collectively choose to buy, or not to buy, can change the course of life and history on this planet.
A bit melodramatic, perhaps, but it's the concept behind (RED).
When you buy any of the products that support Product (RED), the parent company (Apple, GAP, American Express, and Motorola are just a few) will donate some of its profits to buy and distribute anti-retroviral medicine to people dying of AIDS in Africa.
(I've seen their stuff at the GAP and it looks pretty good.)
Check it out.
As first world consumers, we have tremendous power. What we collectively choose to buy, or not to buy, can change the course of life and history on this planet.
A bit melodramatic, perhaps, but it's the concept behind (RED).
When you buy any of the products that support Product (RED), the parent company (Apple, GAP, American Express, and Motorola are just a few) will donate some of its profits to buy and distribute anti-retroviral medicine to people dying of AIDS in Africa.
(I've seen their stuff at the GAP and it looks pretty good.)
Check it out.
Monday, August 7, 2006
Puck, mommy is tired
I feel like I just had a baby. Utter exhaustion. After four nights of Ruben's friends going to bed at 3 and waking up at 8, plus two nights of the kitten not sleeping more than 3 hours straight...yesterday was a BAD day. I got up early, took Puck to the pet store to get his shots and such. That went well. Came back, read in the living room and he didn't cry when I left him in my room. Took a nap. Woke up from nap. Mental breakdown. I think my body assumed that the nap would be a full night's sleep, and when I woke up I basically became hysterical. I need Prozac when I'm sleep deprived. It's serious. Luckily, I should be catching up on my sleep soon. Last night I went to bed I worked that kitten out so hard that he passed out at 11 with me and didn't wake up again until 5:30. Then I basically tossed him off the bed repeatedly until he found something else to do or just went to sleep next to me. I don't remember because I put my ear plugs in. He loooooves to wrestle in the morning. He comes up and lays down under my chin like he's going to snuggle. Then he rolls sideways and starting batting and kicking my neck. Oy. At least he's getting better. The HEPA vacuum is coming in the mail soon so he'll be able to play all throughout the apartment, and I can boot him from my room if he won't let me sleep. I'm babysitting 8 hours this weekend, 12 bucks an hour, so that money will go to Puck's big toys.
On another note, Lauren and Mike came to San Francisco on Saturday and we had a grand old time. Unfortunately we were evaded by cookies made of 2 parts love, 3 parts orgasm, and 3 parts chocolate chips. Or something like that?
On another note, Lauren and Mike came to San Francisco on Saturday and we had a grand old time. Unfortunately we were evaded by cookies made of 2 parts love, 3 parts orgasm, and 3 parts chocolate chips. Or something like that?
Friday, August 4, 2006
Monday, July 31, 2006
What is my life?
Well, it's mostly jobs, furniture, and kitten planning.
On the job front: I'm suspending my search for a real job because I found a three week nannying gig for a family whose 3 1/2 year old daughter needs someone to watch her while she's in between her summer program and regular preschool. It's minimum wage ($8.82), but it's cool. I also found another family who was looking for a French speaking babysitter and have three evenings with them lined up for sure, more in the future. So hopefully I'll make some money in this time and then I'll look for a real job again.
And furniture. This past weekend we got TWO free, in-lovely-shape couches. One was donated by a coworker, another was found on the sidewalk and hauled to the apartment on skateboards, then up 9 flights of stairs. Silly boys. My bed is arriving tonight at approximately 10 pm. It's full, it's pillow-top, it's a year old and $50 -- it's basically magnificent. The search for sheets has been less successful, but I can deal with my twin XL flat sheet and duvet for a while. New bedding can be seen here. And this completes the ensemble. Now I'm on the lookout for a desk and a night stand. Found some great stuff on Craig's list, but the shite part about Craig's list is that many people post stuff and then don't check their email.
And thirdly, the big preparation for our baby kitten. After much careful planning (Cat trees! Premium kitten food! Vaccinations, deworming, neutering!), discussion on the Craig's list pet forum, and one major set-back (major but not disastrous, as I've learned. . .Blake (one of my roommate's) is allergic to cats. However. After much internet research (Google saves lives) I have discovered solutions. Item 1: there are many pet shampoos and washes that eliminate the allergenic cat protein. 2: a HEPA filter. 3: Kitty will live mostly in my 13x17 sqft. room (playing with this. And a helpful person on Craig's list also suggested taking kitty for walks (with this) to make sure he gets even more exercise and doesn't mind staying mostly in one room (I'll let him in the living room when I'm home). Sounds a little nutty, but I don't see why not. Cats'll do pretty much anything if you get them used to it at a young age. My kitten will be bathed and go for walks. I have always spoiled my pets, but there's only so far you can go with a hamster or a chinchilla (did you know my chinchillas, at one time, had HUGE hamster balls to run around the house -- and sometimes the backyard -- in. It's true. However the board and a hand vacuum proved to be more humane alternative). But rest assured -- I will never cook for my cat (as I've learned, there are some insane people out there who cook gourment dinners -- I'm talking beef, brown rice, and veggies type of stuff -- for their dogs) nor will the cat wear clothes or travel in a purse. Although I wouldn't mind potty training him.
So there it is. Life is coming together? Hopefully.
On the job front: I'm suspending my search for a real job because I found a three week nannying gig for a family whose 3 1/2 year old daughter needs someone to watch her while she's in between her summer program and regular preschool. It's minimum wage ($8.82), but it's cool. I also found another family who was looking for a French speaking babysitter and have three evenings with them lined up for sure, more in the future. So hopefully I'll make some money in this time and then I'll look for a real job again.
And furniture. This past weekend we got TWO free, in-lovely-shape couches. One was donated by a coworker, another was found on the sidewalk and hauled to the apartment on skateboards, then up 9 flights of stairs. Silly boys. My bed is arriving tonight at approximately 10 pm. It's full, it's pillow-top, it's a year old and $50 -- it's basically magnificent. The search for sheets has been less successful, but I can deal with my twin XL flat sheet and duvet for a while. New bedding can be seen here. And this completes the ensemble. Now I'm on the lookout for a desk and a night stand. Found some great stuff on Craig's list, but the shite part about Craig's list is that many people post stuff and then don't check their email.
And thirdly, the big preparation for our baby kitten. After much careful planning (Cat trees! Premium kitten food! Vaccinations, deworming, neutering!), discussion on the Craig's list pet forum, and one major set-back (major but not disastrous, as I've learned. . .Blake (one of my roommate's) is allergic to cats. However. After much internet research (Google saves lives) I have discovered solutions. Item 1: there are many pet shampoos and washes that eliminate the allergenic cat protein. 2: a HEPA filter. 3: Kitty will live mostly in my 13x17 sqft. room (playing with this. And a helpful person on Craig's list also suggested taking kitty for walks (with this) to make sure he gets even more exercise and doesn't mind staying mostly in one room (I'll let him in the living room when I'm home). Sounds a little nutty, but I don't see why not. Cats'll do pretty much anything if you get them used to it at a young age. My kitten will be bathed and go for walks. I have always spoiled my pets, but there's only so far you can go with a hamster or a chinchilla (did you know my chinchillas, at one time, had HUGE hamster balls to run around the house -- and sometimes the backyard -- in. It's true. However the board and a hand vacuum proved to be more humane alternative). But rest assured -- I will never cook for my cat (as I've learned, there are some insane people out there who cook gourment dinners -- I'm talking beef, brown rice, and veggies type of stuff -- for their dogs) nor will the cat wear clothes or travel in a purse. Although I wouldn't mind potty training him.
So there it is. Life is coming together? Hopefully.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Remember her?
I have no comments. You'll have to see for yourself.
What does NATO Stand for?
Never A Dull Opportunity.
What does NATO Stand for?
Never A Dull Opportunity.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Sad day for me / I am Grace
Yes, my former future husband has come out of the closet. However, I'd rather see him with a man than marrying another woman, so really, everyone wins here.
P.S. - his boyfriend is hot.
P.S. - his boyfriend is hot.
Um, aren't they ALL?
So Lance Bass is gay.
I'll only be really excited when Justin comes out of the closet, too.
Oh, and um, it says in the People Magazine article that Lance "is developing an Odd Couple-inspired sitcom pilot with [Joey] Fatone in which his character will be gay."
Raise your hand if you think that's a bad idea.
K Thanks.
I'll only be really excited when Justin comes out of the closet, too.
Oh, and um, it says in the People Magazine article that Lance "is developing an Odd Couple-inspired sitcom pilot with [Joey] Fatone in which his character will be gay."
Raise your hand if you think that's a bad idea.
K Thanks.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
All the news that's fit to print
Smart people are usually informed people, and I like the idea of being at least a semi-informed individual. There's a lot of shit that goes on in the world, and I'd like to know about at least some of it in a timely manner, not a week after it happens when someone asks me if I heard about it and I stare at them like an idiot. So I decided that I'd subscribe to a newspaper to be delivered to me daily. (Delivery anything is a good thing, if you ask me. Especially Chinese food.)
The Santa Barbara News Press is terrible and lame for reasons that neither you nor I really want to hear about, so my next choice was the LA Times. I made the commitment and subscribed online. A week later, then two weeks later, I hadn't had a single paper at my door. So I call to see what's going on, and after some confusion and awful music while being on hold, the man on the other end of the line tells me they don't deliver to Goleta. You'd think that they would say that when I signed up for the paper with my 93117 zip code, but that's obviously way too difficult to program into the registration website. Silly me. So no LA Times.
Next on my list was the New York Times. They deliver everywhere, right? Well, I actually don't know, but they do deliver to Goleta. Except it was going to cost me $6 a week (Okay, $5.95). The LA Times wasn't even $3/week. So I look at the Wall Street Journal, expecting it to cost around $10. Nope. $2 a week, sir, and actually with the student discount, about $1.30/week. With the NY Times student discount, my price goes all the way down to a whopping $4.90 per week. I am less than thrilled. But I want more news than stocks, so the New York Times it is, and they tell me I'll get my first paper this Friday. We'll see.
But I'm looking forward to the weekend, because I know when I wake up late, cook myself a nice big breakfast (or more likely, have my boyfriend cook me a nice big breakfast), and sit down to eat with a fatty newspaper to read, I'll feel pretty smart. Maybe I'll even wear my glasses.
P.S. Happy Birthday, Meghann.
The Santa Barbara News Press is terrible and lame for reasons that neither you nor I really want to hear about, so my next choice was the LA Times. I made the commitment and subscribed online. A week later, then two weeks later, I hadn't had a single paper at my door. So I call to see what's going on, and after some confusion and awful music while being on hold, the man on the other end of the line tells me they don't deliver to Goleta. You'd think that they would say that when I signed up for the paper with my 93117 zip code, but that's obviously way too difficult to program into the registration website. Silly me. So no LA Times.
Next on my list was the New York Times. They deliver everywhere, right? Well, I actually don't know, but they do deliver to Goleta. Except it was going to cost me $6 a week (Okay, $5.95). The LA Times wasn't even $3/week. So I look at the Wall Street Journal, expecting it to cost around $10. Nope. $2 a week, sir, and actually with the student discount, about $1.30/week. With the NY Times student discount, my price goes all the way down to a whopping $4.90 per week. I am less than thrilled. But I want more news than stocks, so the New York Times it is, and they tell me I'll get my first paper this Friday. We'll see.
But I'm looking forward to the weekend, because I know when I wake up late, cook myself a nice big breakfast (or more likely, have my boyfriend cook me a nice big breakfast), and sit down to eat with a fatty newspaper to read, I'll feel pretty smart. Maybe I'll even wear my glasses.
P.S. Happy Birthday, Meghann.
Monday, July 10, 2006
A Cinderella Story
I want to be this rich. From an article I'm working on:
"Ben Addoms, CEO of Quintess, is fond of telling the story of a member whose wife desired a rare pair of Manolo Blahnick shoes for their anniversary. 'She tore the page out of a magazine and gave it to him. He called around to try and find the shoes and couldn’t find them, so our concierge service called literally every outlet in the United States and found the last pair of size seven shoes. They were gift-wrapped and delivered two days before their anniversary.'”
Then again, I wouldn't mind knowing Manolo Blahnick personally so I could skip the whole personal concierge service thing.
"Ben Addoms, CEO of Quintess, is fond of telling the story of a member whose wife desired a rare pair of Manolo Blahnick shoes for their anniversary. 'She tore the page out of a magazine and gave it to him. He called around to try and find the shoes and couldn’t find them, so our concierge service called literally every outlet in the United States and found the last pair of size seven shoes. They were gift-wrapped and delivered two days before their anniversary.'”
Then again, I wouldn't mind knowing Manolo Blahnick personally so I could skip the whole personal concierge service thing.
Happy days are yours and mine?
So... married people are happier than single people, people without children are happier than parents, and people who believe in God are happier than those who don't. Are you happy now?
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Adventures in alternative lifestyles
So it's looking like my mother is moving to the bay area in the fall. A headhunter emailed her a couple months ago about an infection control job at a hospital in Fremont, so she did a phone interview, and yesterday they flew her up here to interview with them. Now what will happen to Sean, you ask? Well, it's very interesting. A few months ago my mom decided she wanted to rent out our guest room to a med student or such to help pay my student loans. Well, that idea has recently been scrapped because Mohamed is moving in. After 4 years in London and finally getting a Visa to come here and take his medical equivalency exams, he's decided that it's not worth it to renew his work Visa in the UK, so he's coming to America. So he will be looking after Sean when my mom isn't there. I think she'll be flying down on the weekends, not sure yet. So she's gonna try to get a place in Montclair (near Oakland) or in the Berkeley hills, and she will be able to afford all this cuz this new job pays 15% more than what she's making now. Sooo yeah, my mom's gonna be living near me now (sort of). Very weird to think about, but at least it means she'll be taking Chelsea and me out to dinner in the city haha.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Doggy doctors and things
So we took my poor dog to the emergency room today because after days of vomiting from both ends, several x-rays and an ultrasound, they finally figured out that she had a "foreign body" stuck in her intestine and she needed surgery to get it out.
Great.
So we're waiting at the emergency hospital and my mother reminded me that when I was little I wanted to be a veterinarian. She didn't mention that I also wanted to be a ballerina, an artist, a writer, a firewoman, an environmental-save-the-earth type, an astronaut, and a teacher at the same time. While my other aspirations continued on for weeks or months or years, my dream of being a veterinarian was cut short the day we put my first dog to sleep. Her veterinarian did it. I didn't know that vets kill dogs. But they do. And I don't. So I will never be a veterinarian.
Anyway, poor fucking Tika goes under the knife tonight. They think she has floss stuck in her intestine.
I never wanted to be a dentist.
Great.
So we're waiting at the emergency hospital and my mother reminded me that when I was little I wanted to be a veterinarian. She didn't mention that I also wanted to be a ballerina, an artist, a writer, a firewoman, an environmental-save-the-earth type, an astronaut, and a teacher at the same time. While my other aspirations continued on for weeks or months or years, my dream of being a veterinarian was cut short the day we put my first dog to sleep. Her veterinarian did it. I didn't know that vets kill dogs. But they do. And I don't. So I will never be a veterinarian.
Anyway, poor fucking Tika goes under the knife tonight. They think she has floss stuck in her intestine.
I never wanted to be a dentist.
Monday, June 19, 2006
On Manners
I'm making my way through New York Magazine's Urban Etiquette Handbook, and I've got to say, some of this is relevant to us college students. And if you're a college student in New York, well then, aren't you special?
Is it ever acceptable to talk to a stranger on an elevator?
If there are six or fewer people on the elevator, no. However, if the group is larger than six, you have achieved an Elevator Humor Quorum and someone must make a remark about the elevator’s lack of size or speed in order to relieve the tension created by standing in a tiny space with six or more strangers. If another member of the group makes the remark first, Elevator Humor Solidarity obligates you to chuckle mildly.
I think we should make a college etiquette guide. I'll start:
Is it okay to mention information from the Facebook in conversation?
Rarely. While, in some circumstances, it is permissible to say "Happy Birthday" because you were reminded by Facebook, most other information should be kept to yourself for fear of looking like a stalker. Interests, activities, wall posts and photographs published on the Facebook should never be mentioned in person, especially in cases where you aren't "Friends" with the person you are talking to. If someone tells you something you already knew because you saw it on the Facebook, don't use the opportunity to display how much free time you have. Instead, react as though you are hearing the information for the first time.
Is it ever acceptable to talk to a stranger on an elevator?
If there are six or fewer people on the elevator, no. However, if the group is larger than six, you have achieved an Elevator Humor Quorum and someone must make a remark about the elevator’s lack of size or speed in order to relieve the tension created by standing in a tiny space with six or more strangers. If another member of the group makes the remark first, Elevator Humor Solidarity obligates you to chuckle mildly.
I think we should make a college etiquette guide. I'll start:
Is it okay to mention information from the Facebook in conversation?
Rarely. While, in some circumstances, it is permissible to say "Happy Birthday" because you were reminded by Facebook, most other information should be kept to yourself for fear of looking like a stalker. Interests, activities, wall posts and photographs published on the Facebook should never be mentioned in person, especially in cases where you aren't "Friends" with the person you are talking to. If someone tells you something you already knew because you saw it on the Facebook, don't use the opportunity to display how much free time you have. Instead, react as though you are hearing the information for the first time.
Friday, June 9, 2006
An Inconvenient Truth.
Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived our their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there--on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner on another, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.
Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some priviledged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.
It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.
- Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot, 1994
GO SEE IT.
Thursday, June 8, 2006
I can feel Jennifer Aniston crying
Go look at the magazine and check out the picture of Brad holding her. It's intense.
Tuesday, June 6, 2006
Greetings from the Stone Age
So I have the day off today and I am trying to find as many things to do as possible without spending money. If I sit in my apartment all day I'll go crazy because there is no internet and no TV. I have finished unpacking and organizing everything, I'm sick of reading. So today I got up and made myself Frosted Mini Wheats and eggs. Right now I'm at the library on campus using their computers ha. I had to come her anyway to buy myself a Muni pass and vote (in the dorms, random polling place). Anyway, I want to kill some time here before I got back home, have a snack, and go to the gym. By the way, I can't find my gym card. I dug it out last night and it is no where to be found. I'll have to sneak into the gym but I can only do that for so long. Maybe I'll tell them my wallet was stolen. Gah.
Comcast comes tomorrow and I will be out of the stone age. Now I need to start work so I can buy a couch. Justin and Chelsea are gonna camp out in the apartment this weekend. Big fun and free dinners out. I love Justin.
Comcast comes tomorrow and I will be out of the stone age. Now I need to start work so I can buy a couch. Justin and Chelsea are gonna camp out in the apartment this weekend. Big fun and free dinners out. I love Justin.
Saturday, June 3, 2006
It's still not over
Sooooooo a little update on my life because I haven't sat down in like a week. Last Thursday I had the mother of all freak outs and my mom and I screamed and hung up on each other and cried. Friday went pretty smoothly, actually. My mom arrived with the car, we dumped my shit in Berkeley, Chelsea and I cleaned, then signed out and hit the road for SLO. Which was amazing. We laid on Avila Beach and Bryan called and there were drunk people from the beer festival and yeah. We had amazing SELF SERVE frozen yogurt downtown. You go on and put your own flavors in and all the toppings you want and they charge you 24 cents an ounce. GENIUS. I didn't pay for the food the whole weekend because Justin threatened my life when I tried, so yeah. And Justin's room mate Tyler is truly the most insane person I have ever met. Many deep conversations while Justin and Chelsea were hooking it up upstairs. So yeah, SLO was incredible and I can't wait to go back.
Then two nights in Santa Rosa, coffee with Chris (the creator of Google as my nickname), and we moved in on Thursday. We have NO furniture, except for my TV table and a foam mattress I'm sleeping on. But we have pots and pans and food and dishes. So I can eat or sleep, basically. Comcast is coming on Wednesday morning to set up the internet and cable. Yesterday I addressed invitations and folded programs at my internship, then bussed it over to Haight where I'm pretty sure I got a job. The woman said they'd call but she asked when I could start and told me what I was allowed to wear so I guess that's good. Went "home" and baked salmon like a pro for dinner. Today we got up and drove back to SR for some anniversary party. Whatever, free food. Tomorrow I bus my ass back to SF so I can intern on Monday morning.
My life is really, really overwhelming and I hope I can pull through. Furniture will help.
Then two nights in Santa Rosa, coffee with Chris (the creator of Google as my nickname), and we moved in on Thursday. We have NO furniture, except for my TV table and a foam mattress I'm sleeping on. But we have pots and pans and food and dishes. So I can eat or sleep, basically. Comcast is coming on Wednesday morning to set up the internet and cable. Yesterday I addressed invitations and folded programs at my internship, then bussed it over to Haight where I'm pretty sure I got a job. The woman said they'd call but she asked when I could start and told me what I was allowed to wear so I guess that's good. Went "home" and baked salmon like a pro for dinner. Today we got up and drove back to SR for some anniversary party. Whatever, free food. Tomorrow I bus my ass back to SF so I can intern on Monday morning.
My life is really, really overwhelming and I hope I can pull through. Furniture will help.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
It's, like, 'The Hills'
Looks like all it takes to get an internship at Teen Vogue is your own television reality docu-drama. Fuck that, man.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Monday, May 22, 2006
But the war wasn't all that way.
"There should be a law, I thought. If you support a war, if you think it's worth the price, that's fine, but you have to put your own precious fluids on the line. You have to head for the front and hook up with an infantry unit and help spill the blood. And you have to bring along your wife, or your kids, or your lover. A law, I thought."
Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried.
Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
You asked for it
I'm posting, even though I'm ass-deep in finals and such. I've finished two papers thus far and have three tests and one more paper to go. I signed the lease for my apartment (see here) yesterday (with Chelsea, Jake, and Rueben) and we will be moving in on June 1st. So the plan is as follows: Mom drives my car up on the 26th with some of my stuff from home and we dump it and all my stuff here either at the apartment (we can't move in yet but Chelsea and my room is empty right now) or Jake's house (depending on when he has to move out). Then we put Mom on Muni and she spends the night at a hotel downtown and then flies back to San Diego the next day. Chelsea and I drive down to San Luis Obispo on Friday night and spend three night's at Justin's, going to the beach everyday. Then we come back up here and spent two nights in Santa Rosa, then move in on Thursday. Currently I have to choose a job. But not before I finish this week's work. Yeah. What else? I'll be down for a few days around the weekend of July 8th because it's Zeidy's 80th and we're going to Ruth's Chris in Beverly Hills. Lauren, I don't remember your schedule, but I think the week you're gonna be home is the week I'm at camp. Anywho, I plan to go home for a few days around my birthday and since I'll probably want my car, I was thinking of making a road trip of it and driving to Santa Barbara, spending the night, and then driving home. Perhaps vice versa on the way back? Let me know.
So there you have it. That is my life. I'm done with finals on Monday and then I have to pack up my life.
So there you have it. That is my life. I'm done with finals on Monday and then I have to pack up my life.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Opal? Oh, puh-lease.
Do I have a story for you. So an overly ambitious young girl who will do anything to get into Harvard decides to write a novel about an overly ambitous young girl who will do anything to get into Harvard. Even though this should be fairly simple, since the novel is basically this overly ambitious young girl's life, she still can't manage to pull it off without "unintentionally" and "unconsciously" ripping off another author. I can't say I'm surprised though... bearing in mind some of the kids we went to high school with, are you?
The story as printed in the New York Times.
The story as printed in the New York Times.
Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf?
"She never talked of it--she went, punctually, directly. It was her instinct to go, and instinct like the swallows for the south, the artichokes for the sun, turning her infallibly to the human race, making her nest in its heart. And this, like all instincts, was a little distressing to people who did not share it... Some notion was in both of them about the ineffectiveness of action, the supremacy of thought."
Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse
Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse
Monday, March 27, 2006
If the best things in life are free, you can give them to the birds and bees
True story: La Jolla is so ridiculously wealthy they have iPod vending machines in their grocery stores.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Against Interpretation
"It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible."
Oscar Wilde, in a letter
By the way, that Pandora link (see right) is some gnarly shit. Check it out.
Oscar Wilde, in a letter
By the way, that Pandora link (see right) is some gnarly shit. Check it out.
Sunday, March 5, 2006
Here's hoping
Actor: Philip Seymour Hoffman (sorry, Joaquin, I love you)
Supporting Actor: George Clooney
Actress: Reese Witherspoon
Supporting Actress: Rachel Weisz
Screenplay (adapted): Brokeback Mountain
Screenplay (original): Crash
Director: Ang Lee
Picture: Crash
Edit: Geez. I should've placed bets.
Supporting Actor: George Clooney
Actress: Reese Witherspoon
Supporting Actress: Rachel Weisz
Screenplay (adapted): Brokeback Mountain
Screenplay (original): Crash
Director: Ang Lee
Picture: Crash
Edit: Geez. I should've placed bets.
Notice
I'm going to be playing around with the design on this blog in the next few weeks, so if it looks weird or something isn't working, that's why. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Monday, February 27, 2006
San Diego Barbies
Recently announced the release of Limited-Edition Barbie dolls for the San Diego area market:
La Costa Barbie - This princess Barbie is only sold at the brand new La Costa Forum. She comes with an assortment of Kate Spade handbags, a Lexus SUV, a long-haired dog named Honey, and a cookie-cutter house. Available with or without tummy tuck and face lift. Workaholic Ken sold only in conjunction with "augmented" version.
Rancho Bernardo Barbie - This modern-day homemaker Barbie is available with Ford Windstar minivan and matching gym outfit. She gets lost easily and has no full-time occupation or secondary education. Traffic-jamming cell phone included, headset sold separately.
Escondido Barbie - This recently paroled tattooed & nose pierced Barbie comes with a 9mm handgun, a desert/river ready lifted Chevy truck with dark tinted windows, and a meth lab kit. This model is only available after dark and can only be paid for in cash, preferably in small, untraceable bills. Unless you are a cop, then we don't know what you're talking about!
Del Mar Barbie - This yuppie Barbie comes with your choice of BMW convertible or Hummer H2. Included are her own Starbucks cup, credit card, and country club membership. Also available for this set are Shallow Ken and Private School Skipper. You won't be able to afford any of them.
Santee Barbie - This pale model comes dressed in her own Wrangler jeans, two sizes too small, a NASCAR shirt, and Tweety Bird tattoo on her shoulder. She has a six-pack of Coors Light and a Hank Williams, Jr. CD set. She can spit over 5 feet and kick Mullet Ken's ass when she is drunk. Purchase her pickup truck separately and get a confederate flag bumper sticker absolutely free.
La Jolla Barbie - This collagen injected, rhinoplastic Barbie wears a leopard-print bikini outfit and drinks cosmopolitans while entertaining friends at t he beach house. Percocet prescription available.
Lakeside Barbie - This tobacco-chewing, brassy-haired Barbie has a pair of her own high-heeled sandals with one broken heel from the time she chased Beer-Gut Ken out of Lemon Grove Barbie's house. Her ensemble includes low-rise acid-washed jeans, fake fingernails, and a see-through halter top. Also available with a mobile home.
Leucadia Barbie - This doll is made of actual tofu. She has long, straight, brown hair, archless feet, hairy armpits, no makeup, and Birkenstocks with white socks. She smokes good sinsemilla buds and prefers that you call her "Willow". She does not want or need a Ken doll, but you if purchase two Leucadia Barbie's and the optional Volvo wagon, you get a coupon for a free wheat-grass smoothie at any Whole Food's Market.
National City Barbie - This Barbie now comes with a stroller and infant doll. Optional accessories include a GED and bus & trolley pass. Gangsta Ken and his '79 Caddy were available, but are now very difficult to find since the addition of the infant.
Chula Vista Barbie - This Spanish-speaking-only Barbie comes with a 1984 Toyota with expired temporary plates and three baby Barbies in the back seat, but no car seats. The optional Ken doll comes with a pick up truck loaded 10 feet high with mattresses. Green cards are not available for Chula Vista Barbie or Ken.
Hillcrest Barbie/Ken - This versatile doll can be easily converted from Barbie to Ken by simply adding or subtracting the multiple "snap-on" parts. Bonus: free rainbow flag with proof of purchase sticker along with valuable discount coupons to all "F" Street bookstores.
PB Barbie-This Barbie is always bitching that she can't find a good man in PB
La Costa Barbie - This princess Barbie is only sold at the brand new La Costa Forum. She comes with an assortment of Kate Spade handbags, a Lexus SUV, a long-haired dog named Honey, and a cookie-cutter house. Available with or without tummy tuck and face lift. Workaholic Ken sold only in conjunction with "augmented" version.
Rancho Bernardo Barbie - This modern-day homemaker Barbie is available with Ford Windstar minivan and matching gym outfit. She gets lost easily and has no full-time occupation or secondary education. Traffic-jamming cell phone included, headset sold separately.
Escondido Barbie - This recently paroled tattooed & nose pierced Barbie comes with a 9mm handgun, a desert/river ready lifted Chevy truck with dark tinted windows, and a meth lab kit. This model is only available after dark and can only be paid for in cash, preferably in small, untraceable bills. Unless you are a cop, then we don't know what you're talking about!
Del Mar Barbie - This yuppie Barbie comes with your choice of BMW convertible or Hummer H2. Included are her own Starbucks cup, credit card, and country club membership. Also available for this set are Shallow Ken and Private School Skipper. You won't be able to afford any of them.
Santee Barbie - This pale model comes dressed in her own Wrangler jeans, two sizes too small, a NASCAR shirt, and Tweety Bird tattoo on her shoulder. She has a six-pack of Coors Light and a Hank Williams, Jr. CD set. She can spit over 5 feet and kick Mullet Ken's ass when she is drunk. Purchase her pickup truck separately and get a confederate flag bumper sticker absolutely free.
La Jolla Barbie - This collagen injected, rhinoplastic Barbie wears a leopard-print bikini outfit and drinks cosmopolitans while entertaining friends at t he beach house. Percocet prescription available.
Lakeside Barbie - This tobacco-chewing, brassy-haired Barbie has a pair of her own high-heeled sandals with one broken heel from the time she chased Beer-Gut Ken out of Lemon Grove Barbie's house. Her ensemble includes low-rise acid-washed jeans, fake fingernails, and a see-through halter top. Also available with a mobile home.
Leucadia Barbie - This doll is made of actual tofu. She has long, straight, brown hair, archless feet, hairy armpits, no makeup, and Birkenstocks with white socks. She smokes good sinsemilla buds and prefers that you call her "Willow". She does not want or need a Ken doll, but you if purchase two Leucadia Barbie's and the optional Volvo wagon, you get a coupon for a free wheat-grass smoothie at any Whole Food's Market.
National City Barbie - This Barbie now comes with a stroller and infant doll. Optional accessories include a GED and bus & trolley pass. Gangsta Ken and his '79 Caddy were available, but are now very difficult to find since the addition of the infant.
Chula Vista Barbie - This Spanish-speaking-only Barbie comes with a 1984 Toyota with expired temporary plates and three baby Barbies in the back seat, but no car seats. The optional Ken doll comes with a pick up truck loaded 10 feet high with mattresses. Green cards are not available for Chula Vista Barbie or Ken.
Hillcrest Barbie/Ken - This versatile doll can be easily converted from Barbie to Ken by simply adding or subtracting the multiple "snap-on" parts. Bonus: free rainbow flag with proof of purchase sticker along with valuable discount coupons to all "F" Street bookstores.
PB Barbie-This Barbie is always bitching that she can't find a good man in PB
Friday, February 24, 2006
Patiently waiting
I think that my greatest passion in life is making plans. I plan parties, I plan nights out, I plan my day. I have 5 or 6 post-its hanging from the bookshelf above my desk: movies I want to see, grocery list, possible jobs, possible apartments. I'm obsessed with planning my life. I have an excel spreadsheet on my computer with every class I want to take during college planned out, along with a list of activities and clubs to do, and a list of possible graduate schools (if that's the way I end up going). I look at apartments and furniture and part-time jobs on Craigslist practically everyday. I even like to go to Target.com and pick out dinnerware sets for next year. It's a sickness.
So tonight, while Chelsea's at home for a funeral, Heather's on a date, and the women's figure skating finals were on (side note: way to fuck it up, Sasha Cohen. Add therapy to that training regimen), I tackled my excel spreadsheet some more. Actually, I have to back up, because this planning was spurred by my sudden inspiration to get back into my sports, because I'm hella lazy, as they say, in college so far. I pretty much go to class, go to the gym, and party. So I looked up the public session times at the Yerba Buena ice rink downtown (it's a 40 minute Muni ride but whatever) and after I bring my skates up here this summer I want to try to go at least twice a month, hopefully once a week. I also found a good dance studio downtown, printed out their class schedule, and put it on my wall. I'd like to take one ballet and one jazz class a week, but that's pretty ambitious, so I'm thinking maybe one of each every other week. A block of four classes a month costs $42, not too bad. And drop-ins are $13, which is a nice option. The only hitch I've found so far is the four block walk back to the Muni station after night classes, because SOMA isn't exactly Carmel Valley. Note to self: make friends with classmates.
ANYWAY. I filled in the class times I want for next semester (which I got from last fall's schedule, which is usually the same every fall) so that I only have classes Tuesdays and Thursdays, all day. Hopefully I can pull this off for the rest of college. It's sometimes nice to go to a school that caters to working people. So this would leave Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays for working, the gym, dance class, and skating. The chances of all of this happening every week is low, but at least half is fine with me.
Which brings me to the job hunt. I'm pretty set on getting a job soon and working during the summer in San Francisco and coming home for a few weeks starting right before my birthday. Hopefully this summer I can get into a skating/dance/working routine. Right now I just want to get a job at Stonestown (the mall next to campus) because I really don't want to commute. Plus the gym is at Stonestown so I have no excuse not to fit my work out in before or after my shift. There are a bunch of job openings at the mall, the most promising of which is Bath and Body Works. I'm thinking two or three shifts a week to start, more in the summer. We'll see.
Yeah. We'll see about all of it, actually. It's a nice plan, though, don't you think?
To end, I'll tell you about a strange experience I had today. There's this little old Russian man at the gym (not gonna lie, he's creepy) who keeps asking me, in Russian, if I speak Russian. Up until today I pretended that I didn't hear him, but he caught me on the elliptical. He said "stravutsya" (that is the most phoenetic spelling of "hello" in Russian I can manage), and I said "I don't speak Russian." "Oh, what do you speak?" "English." "Do you speak anything else?" "French." "Ah, tu parle francais, Madamoiselle." "Uh huh." "Do you come from France?" "No." "Well, wherever you come from, you are very beautiful." "Thank you." It sounds cute in theory but you had to be there cuz it's creepy. Anyway, I know I look like I'm from the shtetl, my mom likes to tell me all the time. I'd be a sex goddess back in Poland.
Speaking of the Eastern Bloc, I'm thinking of Eurail-ing to Vienna, Berlin, and Prague for winter break junior year. Yes, I've thought this far ahead. You should come with me.
So tonight, while Chelsea's at home for a funeral, Heather's on a date, and the women's figure skating finals were on (side note: way to fuck it up, Sasha Cohen. Add therapy to that training regimen), I tackled my excel spreadsheet some more. Actually, I have to back up, because this planning was spurred by my sudden inspiration to get back into my sports, because I'm hella lazy, as they say, in college so far. I pretty much go to class, go to the gym, and party. So I looked up the public session times at the Yerba Buena ice rink downtown (it's a 40 minute Muni ride but whatever) and after I bring my skates up here this summer I want to try to go at least twice a month, hopefully once a week. I also found a good dance studio downtown, printed out their class schedule, and put it on my wall. I'd like to take one ballet and one jazz class a week, but that's pretty ambitious, so I'm thinking maybe one of each every other week. A block of four classes a month costs $42, not too bad. And drop-ins are $13, which is a nice option. The only hitch I've found so far is the four block walk back to the Muni station after night classes, because SOMA isn't exactly Carmel Valley. Note to self: make friends with classmates.
ANYWAY. I filled in the class times I want for next semester (which I got from last fall's schedule, which is usually the same every fall) so that I only have classes Tuesdays and Thursdays, all day. Hopefully I can pull this off for the rest of college. It's sometimes nice to go to a school that caters to working people. So this would leave Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays for working, the gym, dance class, and skating. The chances of all of this happening every week is low, but at least half is fine with me.
Which brings me to the job hunt. I'm pretty set on getting a job soon and working during the summer in San Francisco and coming home for a few weeks starting right before my birthday. Hopefully this summer I can get into a skating/dance/working routine. Right now I just want to get a job at Stonestown (the mall next to campus) because I really don't want to commute. Plus the gym is at Stonestown so I have no excuse not to fit my work out in before or after my shift. There are a bunch of job openings at the mall, the most promising of which is Bath and Body Works. I'm thinking two or three shifts a week to start, more in the summer. We'll see.
Yeah. We'll see about all of it, actually. It's a nice plan, though, don't you think?
To end, I'll tell you about a strange experience I had today. There's this little old Russian man at the gym (not gonna lie, he's creepy) who keeps asking me, in Russian, if I speak Russian. Up until today I pretended that I didn't hear him, but he caught me on the elliptical. He said "stravutsya" (that is the most phoenetic spelling of "hello" in Russian I can manage), and I said "I don't speak Russian." "Oh, what do you speak?" "English." "Do you speak anything else?" "French." "Ah, tu parle francais, Madamoiselle." "Uh huh." "Do you come from France?" "No." "Well, wherever you come from, you are very beautiful." "Thank you." It sounds cute in theory but you had to be there cuz it's creepy. Anyway, I know I look like I'm from the shtetl, my mom likes to tell me all the time. I'd be a sex goddess back in Poland.
Speaking of the Eastern Bloc, I'm thinking of Eurail-ing to Vienna, Berlin, and Prague for winter break junior year. Yes, I've thought this far ahead. You should come with me.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Untitled.
Letting go has to be one of the hardest things I've ever done. I'd rather clutch whatever it is close and let it continue to boil my blood with whatever particular odors and connotations it concocts within my heart and brain.
With Mike I let go. I let go of being in control of everything in my world, I let go of the fear, and I can't even say I did it on purpose. It just happened.
Letting go has to be one of the easiest things I'll ever do. With school, it's so easy to let go, to not care, to let it sift under all of the trivial STUFF that somehow seems exponentially more important. It's the easiest thing in the world to say, "fuck it. I don't feel like it."
But the consequences are anything but. Because two weeks later I'm scared to go back to class because I don't know what I've missed, because I don't know anyone in the class. Because I'm scared of being alone, being alienated, being unsure, being OUT OF CONTROL. It's easier to watch yourself do nothing and scream it from the rooftops than it is to quietly try to piece together what you've taken for granted and what you've missed.
I'm older now. Wiser. I'm almost 19 and still...
I don't want to rant and rave about my inconsistency in school. I'm tired of that. And one of these days, trembling and proud, I'll walk back into that lab and I'll get over myself. Someday.
Whatever.
Ideas, moments are fleeting. Time passes, things change. Someone rocks your world, someone breaks your heart. And through this and that and everything else that LIFE entails...do we ever figure it all out? Do we ever STOP ASKING annoying questions? Do we ever stop stalking our friends? Do we ever stop being completely unsure? And what about the fear...does it ever go away?
I told Abbie today that I liked that there aren't answers to all the questions, because each time you ask someone new, you learn. You ask and you receive something new. A memory. A belief. An anecdote. A laugh a cry a hug a cringe. A bond. And you take one step outside the box that is inevitably YOU, that's all your thoughts and ideas within.
I personally don't have little quotes to fall back on. I wasn't raised that way. I'm pragmatic, I'm practical. When the game is over, the king and the pawn may go back into the same box, but that isn't because in the end, the maker of the game is trying to spread the message that big or small, black or white, royalty or peasant, we're all the same. That's just the way it is. It's a GAME. You need somewhere to store the pieces. Somewhere they won't get lost, where you can consistently come back and find them and use them when you need them.
And Jesus, maybe that's a huge metaphor for those sayings I don't believe in. Life isn't a fairy tale. Those always end up in happily-ever-after, and really, in this world, no one wants that. We need things to bitch about, to hate on, to gossip about, to complain... we're not nice, we're not "happy," we're HUMAN. We're not programmed to live happily-ever-after. We can't handle the lack of pain--we seek it out, we like the flaws, the challenges. It gives life depth, meaning.
"Happy" is one of those words your fourth grade English teacher told you was BAD or BORING. You were supposed to use "jubilant" or "satisfied" or "accomplished" or "content." Not happy. Never happy.
I told a couple people the other day that I thought chocolate changed the world. And I'm convinced it has. But like the proverbial butterfly who flies over Kentucky and causes a monsoon in Asia, history and the past are hard to fathom, especially their impact on our lives.
I'm in college now, I'm on my own. I now make choices that hugely and obviously and immediately change my life and my future. I made a decision to go to UCSB, to go to FSSP. That, of course was life-altering. Why wouldn't it be? Had I not gone, I wouldn't be the same person I am right now. I wouldn't know the same people, I wouldn't have been through the same drama, I wouldn't have discovered what I have about life and people and humanity.
I can't put my thoughts into words well. I can't create perfect, flowing, personality-filled paragraphs with correct grammar and syntax the way Matt does. I'm a terrible story-teller.
But the ideas in my head are valid. They're me. And as totally incompetent as I feel expressing them publicly, especially in writing, I do feel a desire to share my thoughts with the world. And in the end, I may go back a day later and be horrified at the utter SHIT that I wrote, but as a certain friend of mine likes to quote, "do one thing every day that scares you." And so I try.
I may not be able to face that lab or ask for real help when I need it, but at the end of it all at least I've written something down, taken a deep breath, and shared it.
"One step at a time," my dad has told me, all my life.
So I'm taking baby steps. Into what? Toward where? I don't know. But if I've learned anything at all in the past six months, it's from Abbie, and it's that life is HERE, and even if I don't go to class all the time and don't do my work perfectly, I can't waste my time worrying about it or being afraid I might do it again. There's too much around me I might miss. Too many new facets of someone's personality. Too many conversations, too many walks or quiet moments of clarity.
I often feel like I need to excuse my posts here for some reason.
Today I just felt like writing, and this is what came out.
With Mike I let go. I let go of being in control of everything in my world, I let go of the fear, and I can't even say I did it on purpose. It just happened.
Letting go has to be one of the easiest things I'll ever do. With school, it's so easy to let go, to not care, to let it sift under all of the trivial STUFF that somehow seems exponentially more important. It's the easiest thing in the world to say, "fuck it. I don't feel like it."
But the consequences are anything but. Because two weeks later I'm scared to go back to class because I don't know what I've missed, because I don't know anyone in the class. Because I'm scared of being alone, being alienated, being unsure, being OUT OF CONTROL. It's easier to watch yourself do nothing and scream it from the rooftops than it is to quietly try to piece together what you've taken for granted and what you've missed.
I'm older now. Wiser. I'm almost 19 and still...
I don't want to rant and rave about my inconsistency in school. I'm tired of that. And one of these days, trembling and proud, I'll walk back into that lab and I'll get over myself. Someday.
Whatever.
Ideas, moments are fleeting. Time passes, things change. Someone rocks your world, someone breaks your heart. And through this and that and everything else that LIFE entails...do we ever figure it all out? Do we ever STOP ASKING annoying questions? Do we ever stop stalking our friends? Do we ever stop being completely unsure? And what about the fear...does it ever go away?
I told Abbie today that I liked that there aren't answers to all the questions, because each time you ask someone new, you learn. You ask and you receive something new. A memory. A belief. An anecdote. A laugh a cry a hug a cringe. A bond. And you take one step outside the box that is inevitably YOU, that's all your thoughts and ideas within.
I personally don't have little quotes to fall back on. I wasn't raised that way. I'm pragmatic, I'm practical. When the game is over, the king and the pawn may go back into the same box, but that isn't because in the end, the maker of the game is trying to spread the message that big or small, black or white, royalty or peasant, we're all the same. That's just the way it is. It's a GAME. You need somewhere to store the pieces. Somewhere they won't get lost, where you can consistently come back and find them and use them when you need them.
And Jesus, maybe that's a huge metaphor for those sayings I don't believe in. Life isn't a fairy tale. Those always end up in happily-ever-after, and really, in this world, no one wants that. We need things to bitch about, to hate on, to gossip about, to complain... we're not nice, we're not "happy," we're HUMAN. We're not programmed to live happily-ever-after. We can't handle the lack of pain--we seek it out, we like the flaws, the challenges. It gives life depth, meaning.
"Happy" is one of those words your fourth grade English teacher told you was BAD or BORING. You were supposed to use "jubilant" or "satisfied" or "accomplished" or "content." Not happy. Never happy.
I told a couple people the other day that I thought chocolate changed the world. And I'm convinced it has. But like the proverbial butterfly who flies over Kentucky and causes a monsoon in Asia, history and the past are hard to fathom, especially their impact on our lives.
I'm in college now, I'm on my own. I now make choices that hugely and obviously and immediately change my life and my future. I made a decision to go to UCSB, to go to FSSP. That, of course was life-altering. Why wouldn't it be? Had I not gone, I wouldn't be the same person I am right now. I wouldn't know the same people, I wouldn't have been through the same drama, I wouldn't have discovered what I have about life and people and humanity.
I can't put my thoughts into words well. I can't create perfect, flowing, personality-filled paragraphs with correct grammar and syntax the way Matt does. I'm a terrible story-teller.
But the ideas in my head are valid. They're me. And as totally incompetent as I feel expressing them publicly, especially in writing, I do feel a desire to share my thoughts with the world. And in the end, I may go back a day later and be horrified at the utter SHIT that I wrote, but as a certain friend of mine likes to quote, "do one thing every day that scares you." And so I try.
I may not be able to face that lab or ask for real help when I need it, but at the end of it all at least I've written something down, taken a deep breath, and shared it.
"One step at a time," my dad has told me, all my life.
So I'm taking baby steps. Into what? Toward where? I don't know. But if I've learned anything at all in the past six months, it's from Abbie, and it's that life is HERE, and even if I don't go to class all the time and don't do my work perfectly, I can't waste my time worrying about it or being afraid I might do it again. There's too much around me I might miss. Too many new facets of someone's personality. Too many conversations, too many walks or quiet moments of clarity.
I often feel like I need to excuse my posts here for some reason.
Today I just felt like writing, and this is what came out.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Violence is not the way, kids.
[edit 2/14: the "hunting comapnion" had a heart attack today]
Cheney accidentally shoots hunting companion
By JoAnne AllenMon Feb 13, 9:46 AM ET
Vice President Dick Cheney accidentally wounded a companion with shotgun pellets on a weekend quail hunt in Texas, his office said on Sunday.
Cheney's companion, Austin lawyer Harry Whittington, 78, was listed in stable condition after being brought in on Saturday night, said Yvonne Wheeler, a spokeswoman for the Christus Spohn Hospital in Corpus Christi, Texas.
Cheney's office said Whittington had been sprayed by birdshot while hunting at the Armstrong Ranch in south Texas, about 200 miles south of San Antonio.
The shooting was first reported by the Corpus Christi Caller-Times. The vice president's office did not disclose the accident until the day after it happened.
Katharine Armstrong, whose family owns the ranch, was a member of the hunting party and witnessed the accident.
She said Cheney, an experienced hunter, did not realize Whittington had rejoined the group without announcing himself, which is proper protocol among hunters.
"They had no idea he was there," Armstrong said.
"A bird flew up, the vice president followed it through around to his right and shot, and unfortunately, unbeknownst to anybody, Harry was there and he got peppered pretty good with a spray of 28-gauge pellets," Armstrong said in a telephone interview.
"He was turning, facing the vice president, but turning to the right, and it sprayed him across the right side of his face, his shoulder, his chest and along the rib cage area," she said.
Armstrong said Cheney's medical team attended to Whittington before he was taken to the hospital.
She described Cheney as "an excellent, conscientious shot."
"The person who is not doing the shooting at that moment in time is just as responsible and, should be, as the person actually shooting," Armstrong said.
Cheney spokeswoman Lea Anne McBride said the vice president had been with Whittington at the hospital on Sunday.