Some day I hope to love you again/But not till after the party's over

Long-ish post for ya'll. But first, an item of little substance and less merit.

in 2005
[ January ]
1. Did you have a new year's resolution this year? Yes. (oh, you want to know what it was?) To not kill anyone.
2. Who kissed you at midnight? Nobody, I was asleep at home. Yeah, I'm pathetic like that.
3. Does it snow where you live? Snow, where I go for Christmas? Yeah, right. It snows in Indy.
4. Do you like hot chocolate? Yes.
5. Have you ever been to times square to watch the ball drop? The full extent of my time in New York City has been in it airports.

[ February ]
1. Who was your valentine in 2005? That's an awkward question.
2. What did your valentine get you? Let's not discuss this.
3. When you were little, did you buy valentines for your whole class? Yes, actually.

[ March ]
1. Are you Irish? Somewhat.
2. Do you wear green on St. Patty's Day? Not intentionally.
3. What did you do for St. Patty's Day in 2005? Nothing. Although this year it would be fun to get drunk.

[ April ]
1. Do you like the rain? If you can call what happens in Indiana "rain".
2. Did you play an April fool's joke on anyone this year? No, but I got revenge.
3. Do you get tons of candy on easter? Sadly, no.

[ May ]
1. What's your favorite kind of flower? Roses.
2. Do you like the spring? Not really.
3. Finish the phrase: April showers bring May flowers, what do May flowers bring? Allergies.
4. What would you think of as a spring color? Brown--mud puddles.

[ June ]
1. What year did you graduate from school? Technically I never graduated.
2. Did you go on any vacations last June? No.

[ July ]
1. What did you do on the 4th of July? Got stood up by my bartender.
2. Did you go on any vacations during this month? No.

[ August ]
1. Did you do anything special to end off your summer? Quit my job.
2. What was your favorite summer memory of '05? Quitting my job.
3. Do you go swimming a lot in the summer? No.
4. Do you go to the beach a lot? Yeah, right. Me, outdoors...

[ September ]
1. Did you attend school/college in '05? Yes.
2. Who is/was your favorite teacher? Mook, probably. He's fun.
3. Do you like fall better than summer? Yes. Everything is dying.

[ October ]
1. What was your favorite halloween costume ever? Coatrack.
2. What's your favorite candy? Hard question....Starburst, Almond Joy, Twizzlers, Twix, Pirulin, Cherry Gummies, Ring Pops
3. What did you dress up like this year? Me on 'roids.

[ November ]
1. Whose house do you usually go to for thanksgiving? I prefer to stay home and avoid people.
2. Do you love stuffing? No. It's nasty.
3. What are you thankful for? Surviving.

[ December ]
1. Do you celebrate Christmas? I hate commericalism, and I'm starting to hate Christians...
2. Have you ever been kissed under mistletoe? No, but I know a certain someone who's gonna have to fix that.
3. What do you want this year for Christmas? Health, wealth, and a single.
4. What's the best present you ever got for Christmas? Getting to stay home instead of being forced to join in the so-called festivities.
5. Do you like cold weather? Yes.

Alright, so that's done. A cheerful close to a cheerful year.

Operation follow-up:

Got out of the hospital Friday afternoon/evening. I was in surgery for 2+ hours instead of 30 minutes, but that was due to....complications. Apparently I not only have PCOS, I also have endometriosis, which was spreading and untreatable except by surgery (And I may now be infertile, too). Icky-poo, indeed. And there was an earthquake during the thing, which I think I remember, but I'm not altogether sure. Oh, and I can't drink anything carbonated until next Tuesday because the doctors say it will make me "gassy." And no, I'm not joking. But at this point, I don't care much; the pain is bad to the point of being unable to cough, sneeze, laugh, or sit up on my own. Stupid abdomen. I actually started sobbing at dinner because my dad made a joke and laughing hurt terribly. And the doctors are probably rejoicing right now, because this evening I had my first post-op BM.

Oh, and I've lost another 5 pounds. I'm down to 140. This is becoming a bit ridiculous. My pants are all way too big now; never mind wearing a 10, I could probably fit into an 8 when the post-op swelling goes down.

I won't be back for J-Term, but I will be back by the end of it--does that make sense? I'm going to have my mom discuss things with the housing dept. to see if I can get settled back in before the dorms officially open for second semester. And Whitney, I will be doing my utmost to ensure a fun time over J-Term break.

On a sad note, my mother has forbidden me to be rude to people I don't like, darn it.

And on that note, I shall retire to a recumbent or semi-recumbent position as it is more comfortable for me; and I may fall asleep...


Swear to make them cut me open so that I won't be buried alive

Surgery tomorrow morning at 7am. Icky-poo.

Wish me luck, people.


In one long yellow string I wound/Three times her little throat around/And strangled her...

I don't think any one of you really understands just how much I hate people. I say "I hate people," and everyone just smiles and nods, as though they understand. I doubt most of them do. This world would be a far better place without most of the people I know. I'd fix that myself, but I'd rather not spend the rest of my life in prison for mass homicide--even though, in my mind, it would be for the good of the world.

Consider this your wake-up call.


Eyes I dare not meet in dreams/In death's dream kingdom

Had a terrible nightmare last night. It was absolutely awful. As in, wake-up-shaking-and-in-a-cold-sweat awful. I finally fell into a decent sleep around 9am. Grr.

I'm hoping The Sale will still be in effect when I get back to the States...*crosses fingers* I need what they have, but can't afford it otherwise. Stupid scheduling issues.

A penguin was kidnapped last Saturday from a zoo on the Isle of Wight. Not just any regular penguin, though--the bird is only 3 months old; zookeepers and vets think the poor thing is dead from malnutrition by now. His (the penguin is male) parents are described as "devastated," and I thought that was bull, but then I read about how penguin parents care for their young more intensely than most animals...So. Somebody called the zoo on Thursday night, saying they left the penguin in a plastic bag in Portsmouth, but that is the last I know. If anybody has heard updates, I'd love to know. It's kinda sad, yeah, but it's also really dumb. I mean, who on earth steals a baby penguin?

I get to hang out with Steve on Monday! Yay! Steve has been one of the best friends I've ever had. He literally kept me too distracted to...do bad things to me. He was one of my only friends, and I love him dearly. He's been a rock. A crazy, psycho, genius rock.

I have thus far been polite to everybody I don't like here. If certain people call me, I won't be. But so far, so good. Be happy, everybody. I'm being good.

And I'm too sick to go drinking with my dad. Grr.

I go in Tuesday for more ultrasounds. I just want the whole problem to go away, now. Right now. But, it won't. I'm surprised it hasn't gotten more complicated yet; maybe life decided to give me a break for once.

Yeah, right.

Jon. Call me. Or at least stay awake when you're IM'ing me. I'm not mad. Just...yeah. You know what I mean.


The rain set early in to-night/The sullen wind was soon awake

Hey, all. Turns out the major bleeding thingy is more serious than I thought. I have joined the ranks of women with PCOS, huzzah. Oh, yeah, and one of my ovaries keeps misfiring, so now it's huge....instead of being the size of a small brussels sprout, it's the size of a lime.

Anybody know how far an ovary can stretch before it ruptures/tears/shreds/pops/explodes?

I think the worst part, is that I can feel it.


My life closed twice before its close/It yet remains to see

Feeling better. Not much, but a little. Thank you, Mom, Jon, Whitney, and Bekah.

I'm hoping I can make it through the semester...I have 4 days left. *crosses fingers* Wish me luck, peeps.

Oh, I finished the Christmas shopping! I've never had trouble shopping for my dad, oddly enough. It's my brothers that cause me problems....sadly, neither plays golf or wears ties, and James hates shoes and Sam lives in Texas (meaning socks are out of the question, too....grr.) And I splurged and bought myself some velour pajama pants.

I just asked Whitney, and she told me that yes, I am looking better than I was yesterday. Apparently, yesterday I looked like an old, chewed-up, mangled, much-used and -abused dog chew toy.
Today I just look tired.


Thy soul shall find itself alone/'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone

This has been the week from b***** f****** h***. I want to....do something. Like maybe kill someone. Violently.

Or maybe cry. A lot. Preferably in the shower, and then slit....something of mine and watch what little life-force remains run down the shower drain.

Well, with my luck, the drain will clog or back up, and we'll end up with a nasty sewage backflow into the bathtub.


Ascending from the damp savannas/And quiring angels round him sing

Stole this....

Open iTunes, go to your library, and supply the following:
Answer, no matter how embarrassing it is!

How many songs: 1658 songs, 4.5 days 6.73 GB

Sort by song title:
First Song: 'Til I Get Over You--Michelle Branch
Last Song: Zoot Suit Riot--Brian Setzer Orchestra

Sort by time:
Shortest Song: When I Go Out--Five Iron Frenzy
Longest Song: Symphony Number Nine in D Minor--Beethoven

Sort by artist:
First Artist: 12 Stones
Last Artist: Wolfstone

Top Three Most Played Songs:
1. WinterSun--Bond
2. Kismet--Bond
3. The Last Saskatchewan Pirate--The Arrogant Worms

First song that comes up on shuffle:
Sleepy Maggie--New Scots

Search for...
"sex": 2 songs
"death": 8 songs
"love": 88 songs
"drugs": 0 songs
"life": 69 songs


I cried, 'Come, tell me how you live!'/And thumped him on the head

Today was interesting.

I read poetry that made fun of Wordsworth's poetry. It was good (the parody, that is.).

I also, apparently, smell funny. In a bad way. According to Michelle, anyway; but then she made things okay by saying I can take her food and eat it.

In Early English Literature, I was told by Dr Ricke (as he chuckled) that I really "get into Middle English," in a good way. In such a good way, actually, that he doesn't have to correct my accent while reading out loud, AND he's going to check with the facilitators of the big medieval literature conference in Kalamazoo this spring to see if maybe they'll let me participate in the reading thing, even though I'm an undergrad and undergrads aren't usually allowed to participate. *squee* I don't think anything will come of it--indeed, I very strongly doubt it, but it was a nice compliment.
And we discussed avian mating habits. No, I am not kidding.

Oh, and Sparty amused me today after lunch. He quoted from the text of NetHack (if you don't know what NetHack is, shame on you! In fact, worse than shame! Fie! Fie on you! FIE!), saying, "It is very dark. You will probably get eaten by a grue." No, there was no real context for it, but it was funny anyway. And no, I don't know really what a grue is, because they live only in dark places and eat any people who invade their dark places.

Random quote from Monday's D&D session: "Can I climb him? He's a surface!"


Black milk of daybreak we drink it at nightfall/We drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night

It's been a strange few days....

Read a cool poem (the one quoted in the title) for one of my classes....It's called 'Fugue of Death,' by Paul Celan. I enjoyed it, although I can see why most people wouldn't.

Thanksgiving Break is close, so close; I'm so glad, I need the break. I'm starting to go nuts from the work. I slept for 22 hours yesterday and today; that is, I fell asleep at 5:30pm on Friday and slept through until 2:30pm today. It was wonderful. And, in case you were wondering, I am still tired. Welcome to my life.

Oh, I set fire to a book a couple nights ago. It was fun. Lots and lots of fun. The book was crap to begin with--one of the type you not only find banal but funny. Poorly written and based on a flawed concept, I had spent most of a year trying to palm it off on some unsuspecting Taylorite, without success. So, finally, Thellie, Michelle, Whitney and I set it ablaze (Outside, of course. What, you think I'm going to set the building on fire! Well, as much as the idea appeals to me, I'd rather not burn my books and computer. So, we had our little pyro-party outside.). Then we took it down to the lake to dump it, but it re-ignited twice on the way there. That was odd, considering the book's flames and embers had been stamped out pretty thoroughly. So, now there are TWO (yes, 2! Not just one!) charred spots on the concrete, plus a patch of grass that may be singed, but I'm not sure, because it was dark when the whole thing happened and I was too concerned about my poor, very cold feet to pay much attention to the exact location of a burning book. But we eventually got it down to the lake and chucked it in. And there was great rejoicing.

Had an awkward moment last week. Aaron (my ex) walked up to me in the DC and said, "hey, my parents are here and would like to meet you."
Me: Pause. "Um, okaaayy, when?"
Aaron: "Now."
Me: "WHAT?!"
Aaron: "Yeah, they're right over there. Come over when you're ready--no pressure."
No pressure, my rear. Meeting the parents of the guy who's heart I broke. No pressure.
But, I swallowed my extreme panic and followed him to where his parents sat. They were incredibly gracious, very kind people--his mom even hugged me!--but it was still nerve-wracking. Then I find out, from I can't remember who, that he's leaving Taylor. For good. Heading back to California to go to college there. Kinda weird. We're gonna talk tomorrow, see if we can reach some sort of comfortable peace.

D&D tomorrow! Yay! Maybe Lissar (my character; she's a half-vampire) can blood drain somebody else....hehe....fun fun. Hock is a great DM, by the way. Keep that random numbers generator, too. ^.^

I stole a stolen autoharp today. Long story. No, I will not tell you.

Still haven't heard about my Parnassus entries. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Oh, and my brother turned 20 on Friday. Happy birthday, Sam, even though I doubt you'll ever see this. I hope this year will go well for you, better than it did for me.


A noun's a thing. A verb's the thing it does/An adjective is what describes the noun/In "The can of beets is filled with purple fuzz"

I should be writing a paper right now, or at least doing the research for it.

But I'm not. Grr. Stupid distractions. Well, ok, they're not all stupid....

I might as well say it here, seeing as everyone has figured it out already. Jon and I are officially "together." There, I said it. Be happy, Jon. I have mentioned you in my blog.

I'm tired. Really sleepy. I honestly don't care about writing this paper at all. I don't want to write it, don't want to do it, I just want it to go away and leave me alone, forever and ever, amen. But it won't. I feel as though it's staring at me....."like it's going to eat me or something."

I talked to Jenn today, for the first time in....a long while. It was good to hear from her. Ah, who am I kidding, it's always good to hear from her.

I submitted two things for possible submission to Parnassus; I'm nervous beyond belief. I'll find out if they were accepted (yeah, right) or not (much more likely) within the week.....gah, I'm scared. I would love to have something published, even if only in Taylor's journal, but I honestly don't believe that anything I've written is remotely good enough for publication anywhere.

Gah. Life is stupid and frustrating.


If ever the Lid gets off my Head/And lets my Brain away

Rules of the game:
Post 5 WEIRD and RANDOM facts about yourself, then at the end of the list the names of 5 people who are next in line to do this. Also leave a comment on their blog to let them know.

1. I would give up Coca-Cola (and all similar products) if I could get equal quantities of Izze

2. I love shoes.

3. I look good in pink.

4. I can touch my elbows together behind my back.

5. I don't think I read enough.

I tag Bekah, Mateo, Tim Deal, Hock, and Tony.


I thank whatever gods may be/For my unconquerable soul

10 years ago, I was:
10 years old, living in North Dakota (aka the Third Level of Hell), and watching my younger brother slowly waste away.

5 years ago, I was:
In high school in Costa Rica. I can't remember much of anything else, because I suppressed memories of that fall and winter.

1 year ago, I was:
Just getting to know Jenn.

I did some laundry, worked at the front desk, and did absolutely nothing noteworthy.

Class, homework, work, friends, Jon....

5 snacks I enjoy:
EasyMac, Snicker's, chocolate-covered pretzels, Mini-muffins, Ruffles.

5 bands/artists whose songs I know the lyrics to:
Evanscence, Brave Saint Saturn, Metallica, Michelle Branch, Shinedown

5 things I like doing :
Reading, sleeping, being lazy, driving, eating

5 things I would never wear:
Burlap sack, puffy princess dress, something covered in sequins and/or glitter, toe socks, other people's skin

5 TV shows I like:
Animaniacs, Angry Beavers, CSI, A-Team, The Pretender

5 movies I like:
Dear Frankie, Boondock Saints, Underworld, The Game, U-571

5 famous people I would like to meet:
C.S. Lewis, Reese Roper, Flannery O'Connor, Margaret Atwood, TS Eliot

5 favorite toys (that I have or want to have):
Malvolio (my teddy bear), Jon, calligraphy pens, book thongs, computer

5 things I would do with 100 million dollars:
1) Buy my brother a Gibson LesPaul
2) Buy my mother a Steinway baby grand
3) Pay for my college, my brothers' college, and my sister's college, debts.
4) Buy myself a Rolls-Royce Phantom
5) Give the rest to my dad's mission work

5 places I would run away to:
Callejones, England, Austria, Russia, Australia

5 bad habits:
Procrastination, sarcasm, excessive bluntness, excessive caffeine consumption, oversleeping

5 fictional characters I would date:
1)Han Solo
2)Indiana Jones
3) Conor MacManus (from Boondock Saints)
4) Silk (from Belgariad)
5) Spike (from Buffy)


And I had put away/My Labour, and my Leisure too

I am desperately hoping that this will spur me on to writing my midterm Early English Lit paper. Grr. I am completely unmotivated, despite some lovely attempts at motivation from a dear friend of mine.

I drove up to Lansing today, to see "Lord Ben," who I have decided has the rank of Earl. So, Ben, you are now Lord Ben, Earl of Visger. At some point during the day, I strained my lower back to the point where driving home to Taylor was agony. I hunched up over the steering wheel like an old fogey, blasting the radio to keep my mind off the pain. I made it all the way to Auburn before I had to pull over and rest my aching back muscles for a few minutes. I can manage stairs--kind of--and a very, very kind young man in my dorm has very, very kindly loaned me his heating pad. I'm desperately hoping it works. Cross your fingers for me.

My brother Sam is pledging a fraternity of sorts. I'd love to give more information about that, but I don't have any to give. He's as communicative with my family as I am; we live in a perpetual state of relative ignorance about each other. I know more about his roommate than I do about him....yeah, that's a weird one. Go figure.

I said it before, but I'll say it again. Jenny came to visit. It was amazing. She is such a blessing for me; she has done so much for me in so many ways. I know she'd tell me the same thing about the way she sees me, but still. I feel almost beholden to her for all that she's done. I mean, if nothing else, she re-introduced me to Agatha Christie and we fell in love with James Bond together.

I need to fix Malvolio. His leg is falling off. (Eighteen million points to the first person to tell me the play which has Malvolio as a character) I don't know any leatherworkers, though, and I don't have the money to have him professionally repaired, either; I think I'll take him back to CR at Christmas, along with my leather jacket, and have them both repaired while I'm there.

Erm. Canterbury Tales. Yes. Paper. Yes. Ugh. Still nothing.

The three lit classes, though, are going marvelously. I'm pulling 2 B's and an A, and I know I can get straight-A's by the end of the semester. It's wonderful and I'm loving almost every minute of it, except when I have to write a paper that I don't want to write, but, thankfully, that's really quite rare, or else I might very possibly be screwed...

I'm working on figuring out my senior paper thesis. I've got a vague idea of what I want to do with it; i.e., I want to base the whole thing on The Waste Land by TS Eliot. I'd much rather base it on his The Hollow Men, but I doubt I'd be able to get enough material out of it for a paper of sufficient size...I'm thinking of pairing the Waste Land with some of Christopher Smart's work, or Margaret Atwood's, because I think Smart's nifty and Atwood's poems are great, but I'm not sure how I could pull it off...*sigh*

Oh, wish me luck, everybody. I'm going to submit 2 items to Parnassus this year. It will be my first attempt at publication, and, while it kills me to admit it, I would so dearly love to have even one of them accepted.


I felt a Funeral, in my Brain/And Mourners to and fro

This past weekend was not good. At all. Well, no, that's a lie. Jenn came. That was good. Everything else was bad.

When I say that the culmination of the whole bad-days thing was me falling down the stairs and getting a concussion, and that that was one of the better things that happened, I think you start to understand how crummy it was....


In this last of meeting places/We grope together

I'm broken, empty, and all I want to do is sob. But, once again, I can't. I'm hoping that some honesty will help, though.





Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp/Or what's a heaven for?

Got pictures taken tonight. Some turned out nice. Some would have been nice if they weren't blurry. And some, well... yeah. Some just won't be shown here. The bottom one is my favorite one... Makes me wish I looked like that in real life.


Out flew the web and floated wide/The mirror cracked from side to side

I should be writing my Early English Lit. paper right now. Or doing my Victorian Lit. bibliography. But, it's been a while since I wrote in this thing, so....yeah. I'm procrastinating. I will kick myself for this tomorrow, when I'm tired and crabby (well, I'm already tired and crabby. So, I will kick myself for this tomorrow when I'm even more tired and crabby).

Doing a presentation for Vic Lit tomorrow, on Browning's Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came. The title threw me, at first--I thought it would be something along the lines of Little Lord Fauntleroy, and how he comes to battle the forces of evil of the aptly-named Dark Tower.

Yeah, not so much. It's dark, it's grotesque, and the poem ends leaving the reader with no clue as to whether or not Roland dies, succeeds, or curls up into a little ball and whimpers.

In the past several days, I have walked the Loop six times. I am in awe of my physical prowess, as should you all be.

Oh, and I hit level 27 in World of Warcraft, and got another friend hooked on it. *evil grin* I'd feel guilty about it, buuuuut.....no.

I miss Jenn. A lot.


...I would like to be that unnoticed/And that necessary

I'm incredibly frustrated, but not from anything one would expect--classwork, extra-curricular, family,---oh, James got skipped into 9th grade, I'm so proud---nothing like that. But I'd rather not talk about it, either, for fear of the problem and the cause getting blow out of proportion, or worse, everyone realising how difficult it is for me. Grr. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable, and that upsets me because it means I'm no longer in control of myself.

On a happier note, I HAVE A TAN LINE!!! I can't believe it. I noticed it today as I was brushing my hair after my shower, that I have a tan line. It's faint, but it's there. I don't know whether to feel consternation or glee. I think I'm going to side for glee, because I haven't had a flippin' tan line in 4 years. So, yeah, everybody who thinks I'm unhealthily pale, I'm actually TAN!


There will be time, there will be time/To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet

It's been awhile, but that's okay. So much has happened in the last few weeks. Here's a little list, to give you an idea...

Moved back to Taylor
Classes started
Flashed Sammy guys (by accident!)
Got a job
Helped convince Berg to do Airband
Bought a chair at Spencer's
Hit level 20 in WoW (well, not quite--I'm 342 xp short)
Was quarantined for having my computer named incorrectly--stupid anal-retentive choads...
Saw Boondock Saints for the first time
Heard from Jenn
Had my TV mysteriously disappear (along with my bike and my beanbag chair)

All while keeping up with my 3 400-level lit classes. Whee.

Went back to Skee-Town this weekend; my roommate had a wedding to go to and I tagged along--it was fun. I drank Izze (the best drink EVER!), bought books at Narnes&Boble, slept in someone else's bed, ate bad lasagna and was bought a double-fudge chocolate chip brownie as reparation for aforementioned bad lasagna. Oh, and I called Dan hirsute. Which he is, by the way. Very hirsute.

On the way back, the car overheated so we stopped at Keaghann's Korner, which is a dumpy little truck stop approximately 30 miles north of that great urban center know as Fort Wayne where we waited for the engine to cool enough for us to see what was wrong (and before you say it, there was plenty of coolant). Apparently, the serpentine belt had shredded in the 25 minutes we had driven since our last rest stop in the lovely burgh of Coldwater, Michigan, and therefore nothing was being cooled. This, of course, meant we'd have to stay there for Lord-only-knows how long while we tried to find a mechanic who'd come out to the truck stop and fix the car on a Sunday. Since we needed to get back at a decent time, I called Austin (who should be nominated for sainthood, by the way) who drove up to get us and take us the rest of the way. While waiting for Austin to arrive, a rather intimidating-looking trucker helped us find a guy (in the truck stop, conveniently) whose father owned a garage only a few miles away. The aforementioned father of the aforementioned guy came, fixed the car, and didn't charge full price. Austin came as my roommate's mother (who was driving us down to school) was settling the bill with the mechanic guy.

So yeah, interesting weekend.

Life will be getting hectic soon....very, very hectic. I've actually got a couple hours of homework ahead of me, but I haven't gotten around to it yet because I suffer from extreme apathy and total laziness.....not to mention I'm the world's most ambitious procrastinator. :)

This is enough for now, I need to go Google-whacking (sp?) and write poems with the successful whacks. Plus read something like 9 chapters in various books. Fun. I'm loving every (almost) minute of it.


I taste a liquor never brewed/From Tankards scooped in Pearl

Sorry, Mateo, but I think I beat your weird hometown claim to fame...

*clears throat* Attention, everyone! Attention! I would like you all to know that your semi-beloved and quasi-cherished Two claims the Beer Tent Capital of the World as her hometown.

I don't know whether to laugh from the absurdity of it or cry from the embarassment.


"The time has come," the Walrus said/To talk of other things

Or maybe it's just time to talk, period. I haven't posted much of anything lately, and what I did post was either banal or a quick, "I'm still alive; more later." And once again, this is gonna be a quickie. I think. Depending on how long expressing the following takes.

I am about to disappoint my parents. Well, not about to, exactly--it'll be around Christmas time that I finally work up the chutzpah to talk to them--my mom, anyway--about stuff. And not about to, exactly, because it's been going on for, oh, about four years now.

It scares me. I've never really disappointed my parents before. I was always the good, well-behaved child....I was known as "the responsible one." Not "the funny one," not "the smart one," not even "the weird one." I went to church, was in a Bible study, active in youth group, accepted Jesus and was baptised (by my dad, no less). I never got into trouble at school (never even got a detention, and the only times I was sent to the principal's office was to pick up school supplies or something like that), always did my chores, never snuck out, never rebelled, never did drugs, alcohol, tobacco, nothing. I was the model daughter.

And they still think I am. Most of it hasn't changed. Most of it. I'm still a drug-free, responsible student who respects her elders and obeys the rules, even when I don't agree with them. But what will break my parent's heart isn't that--it's my total disillusionment with...things. I hate to think of how they'll react when I finally tell them what's been going on since I was 16, but I know I have to. Grr. Stupid conscience.

This went on longer than I thought. G'nite, all.


Six miles from earth/Loosed from the dream of life

Stolen (from Mateo) and a bit Stupid.

A - Age you got your first kiss: 17

B - Band listening to right now: Bond, "Sugarplum"

C -Crush: Erm. Not saying.

D - Dad's name: Ted

E - Easiest person to talk to: Dan, Austin.

F - Favorite bands at the moment: Bond

G - Gummy worms or gummy bears?: Bears

H - Hometown: Muskegon, MI

I - Instruments: Kazoo, piano, voice, really want to learn harp and cello

J- Junior High Memories: DayOne, First Priority, Sarah 1, The Guys, Dith

K - Kids: Um. No.

L - Longest car ride ever: Holyoke, MA to Galveston, TX

M - Mom's name: Juli. Not Julie.

N - Nicknames: 2. Two. Sarah 2. Sars. Norby. Norbs. Kala. Psycho. Costa Rica. PMS. Darth Saraious. Darthy. Macha. Machita.

O - One wish: Erm....go to Europe.

P - Phobia[s]: None I'll ever tell.

Q - Quote: "Engage in bloodthirsty combat with mortal foes. Win fabulous prizes!

R - Reason(s) to smile: Sleep, Coke, chocolate. Erm.

S - Song you sang last: "Holiday"--Green Day

T - Time you woke up [today]: 11:30 AM

U - Unknown fact about me: I can touch my elbows together behind my back.

V - Vegetable you hate: Squash.

W - Worst habit(s): Snacking, and Procrastinating.

X - X-rays you've had: Fingers, shoulder, knee, shin(s), nose.

Y - Your worst nightmare: My life.

Z - Zesty food you like: Aji.


The women come and go/Talking of Michaelangelo

I don't have a whole lot of time, but I figured that since it's been a couple days since my last post, I ought to put up something, if only that I don't have a whole lot of time, which really bites. I had a great post idea; it was going to be a long, dramatic telling of the Tale of the Broken Buick, but I don't have a lot of time. So, no epic storytelling tonight. I'll try to get it up in a few days. Until then, this ever-growing post in which I complain about not having a whole lot of time will have to suffice.


I dwell in Possibility--/A fairer House than Prose--

What has been a decent day has just turned very, very sour. Allow me to elaborate.

On 2 August, my dad is returning to Costa Rica, from whence he came. The house in which I currently reside will then be occupied by another family. The dilemma of housing me for the month remaining ere the recommencing of my studies in literature has thus far posed a bit of a problem. While worrisome, what worries more is the possible (and seemingly more likely) solution upon which my parents hit--that is, to have me spend the time remaining in the abyssal wastes of North Dakota.

And no, I'm not kidding.

I have no desire whatsoever to go to North Dakota. My relatives may live there, but I've met them all about 5 times (total, in the entire span of my life) and they're pretty much perfect strangers. Not only that, but I don't like them much. North Dakota's a pretty inbred place, and the longer you stay there, the stranger you become, and I'm not talking strange in a good way, either.
I know no one there, save my relatives, who are all older than my parents; which makes consorting with peers a problem. I would much prefer to stay here, in Muskegon--hell, I'll take just staying in the state--where I have friends and am HAPPY. (While not happy all the time, it's become a rather familiar feeling, and it's one I like. So I want to stay)

So, for those of you reading this who believe in prayer, pray for me. Hard. Very hard. The idea of moving to North Dakota makes me sick. And for those of you reading this who don't believe in prayer, set a plague loose in that godforsaken state so I won't be allowed to go there.


The supplication of a dead man's hand/Under the twinkle of a fading star

I feel compelled to write, although I have nothing to tell. Well, I discovered some very interesting things about Austin and, erm, Sesame Street.

I feel odd about this coming year; I know that it will be very, very different from the last two years. Friends have gone, relationships have ended or changed. I doubt I'll be spending a lot of time with all the same people...I doubt I'll be over at Swallow much, if at all--I have no strong bonds over there anymore. Sorry, Mateo, but let's face it--we're not all that close. Crim, Hock, Cassis are off campus, Jenn has gone; my harem of Bergwall men has been drastically reduced to two. Speaking of the harem, I need a new Italian lover, seeing as Tony's gone, too.

I wish I could fix things for people; but the things that usually need fixing can't be mended by me.

I'm trying to motivate myself to get up off my lazy butt and write a story or three, as I have about a million and a half ideas jammed in my mind right now. Sometimes being a world-class procrastinator sucks the big one.

Oh, and Thellie--call me! We need to figure out the final room thing, and we need to get bathroom stuff, too....722.0572. I'm free Saturday.


I have passed by the watchman on his beat/And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain

Why is it, that the people who know you best, often don't know you at all; and the people who know you least can see straight into your soul, and describe you more accurately that you can yourself? In the past 2 weeks, someone I barely know has defined me in two words; words that I wanted to vehemently deny at first, but they struck such a powerful chord in me that I realised, upon further consideration, that those two words defined me to my core. It scared me--both because I could be described in two little words; and because someone, who scarcely knows me at all, saw through the layers of masks and walls I so carefully constructed to keep the world at a safe distance and perceived who I truly am. Yet, of all my good friends, close friends, wonderful, dear, amazing friends, I don't believe that any of them could ever pin down (let alone believe) the two words that are, above all other words, me. Why is it that strangers know us better than our friends do, better than we, ourselves, do? The only people I can think of who could even dare to see me--the real me--are people I may never see again.

Maybe some day, one day, I'll be able to show my friends who I truly am. Maybe. Some day. One day....

Oh, and as a non-sequitur, I got the new Harry Potter book on Friday night (well, Saturday morning, as it was a little after midnight). :)


The Soul has Bandaged moments--/When too appalled to stir--

Your Slanguage Profile

British Slang: 100%
Prison Slang: 75%
Canadian Slang: 50%
Aussie Slang: 25%
Victorian Slang: 25%
New England Slang: 0%
Southern Slang: 0%

What Slanguage Do You Speak?

That was certainly interesting. Nice knowing that I speak the slang of the country in which I want to live once I finish at Taylor U.

Today was a bandage day--not bad, not good; just okay enough for me to (metaphorically speaking) suture and wrap my wounds. I'm frustrated, doubtful, hesitant, and pessimistic--in short, the same as usual. I'm just hoping that a day will come (ideally, soon) where, just for that one day, I can be me--the happy me. Goodness knows my happy side doesn't make many appearances, and it usually leaves battered and broken. Just one day...

On a brighter note, I made two people smile today. It's a bit comforting, knowing that even in my own gloom, I can still help others feel better.


...Round the decay/Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare/The lone and level sands stretch far away

I almost cried today. Not just a quiet little tear, either. I just wanted to sit and let my frustrations pour out of me, carried by a silent stream of tears. I wouldn't, though. I have such a hard time letting myself cry; on the rare occasion that I do cry, it's usually late, I'm tired, and a friend is going through a hard time, and Empathy rears its ugly yet compassionate head and brings forth tears of mourning for that person's pain. Apart from that, you can pretty much forget it.

Question: Am I unknowingly carrying around a sign that states, in big, bright, unmistakeable words, "Please Stand Me Up"? Because 7 times in 2 and 1/2 weeks is a bit much. Once or twice, that's fine, I can handle that. But I'd really like to know what I'm doing that causes it with such frequency. Nobody believes that the world is out to get me until stuff like this happens. Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me.

I'm tired. I want to sleep. But, quick note of thanks to Dan, because he put up with my crabby, petulant, whiny self this evening.


And time yet for a hundred indecisions/And for a hundred visions and revisions

Alright, fine. Here's the excerpt from the story, which is titled Singin' Aretha.

I’ve always believed that the highest form of blasphemy was white girls who try to sing Aretha.

Notice I use the word “try.” I’ve never met a white girl capable of singing like a black woman—be the black woman in question Aretha or some random member of a church choir.

I grew up in Detroit. Well, not IN Detroit, per-se, but within a mile or so of the actual city limits, and even there white people are most definitely in the minority. Most of my friends from home are black; most of the people at my school were black. Growing up so close to black culture definitely influenced me, and I’ve been told that I was born with the wrong skin color. The mind and soul of a black woman trapped in a white girl’s body.

So coming here to Covenant College was a big change for me. Mostly white and most definitely NOT urban, or “ghetto,” or whatever people want to call it. I spent most of the first month or so in my dorm room doing homework or reading. I’m not used to blending in with the crowd—I’m usually the lone white girl. Here it’s a whole lot harder to pick me out at a distance.

But like I said before, I’ve always found it offensive when white girls try to sing black.

Then I met Lia.

I’m not altogether sure when we met, other than some point before Thanksgiving my freshman year. Nor am I sure why we started hanging out, but we ended up spending a lot of time together; and for whatever bizarre reason, by the end of that semester we were pretty much inseparable.

Lia’s about as different from me as somebody could be—it seemed like it at first, anyway. I’m a short brunette with a middling build, and she’s a tall stick-thin blonde. I’m an English major, and she’s a—this is disgusting, by the way—accounting major! I grew up as “the blackest white girl in D-Town,” as somebody put it, and she’s, well, she’s from what I like to call Suburbia Hell. No, not the dysfunctional Desperate Housewives suburbia; I mean the average, run-of-the-mill subdivided community. The closest she’s ever been to a ghetto is me. Like a lot of white people, black culture fascinates her, but she’s never seen it first hand, so she’s always full of questions, asking about their take on Eminem (laughable) to church (very important) and everything in between. When she’s not pelting me with questions about life in Detroit, we sit in either her room or mine eating chips and salsa and drinking Welch’s fake wine from Wal-Mart while talking about politics, the economy, and wreaking havoc on the unsuspecting Covenant populace. By Christmas break I thought I knew her pretty well, that nothing she could do would surprise me. I was so wrong.

A week or so into spring semester we went on a midnight Wal-Mart run and nothing good was playing on the pre-set radio stations of the car we borrowed, so we were shifting through the frequencies trying to find something inoffensive—that is, not country—to listen to. We come across a random oldies’ station in the middle of playing Bob Seger’s Old Time Rock’n’Roll, and I start to sit back, glad to have finally found something decent to listen to. My good mood didn’t last for long, though, because Lia started singing along and almost gave me a heart attack.

I know what you’re thinking—she’s a pretty good singer, actually. She’s had a couple years of choral music and about six months of opera lessons and can carry a tune pretty well. I hadn’t actually heard her sing before; she’d hum occasionally to whatever music was playing and sing along in church, but that was it. Most of the stuff she liked to listen to was either classical, bagpipes, or heavy metal, and none of that’s really stuff to sing along with, anyway.

No, what scared me was the fact that she—the skinny blonde white girl—sounded like Aretha Franklin’s little sister.

Have you ever heard a white woman sing? A lot of them have power. A lot of them have presence. A lot of them are obviously having fun and just singing their hearts out. None of them have all three. None. That’s the realm of the black women (although not all black women can do it, either). But here Lia was, singing like a Motown pro. Let me tell you, it’s a very good thing I wasn’t driving, because we probably would have run off the road at that point.

I shut off the radio and started yelling at her, demanding where she had learned to sound like that and why the hell hadn’t she told me she could sing like Aretha? She pulled the car over to the side of the road and calmly told me to shut up. I sat there, gaping like a fish, as she proceeded to berate me for yelling at the driver, especially at night; for turning off the radio; and for freaking out over nothing. She then said that if her singing offended me so much—she knew my stance on white women trying to sing black—she wouldn’t do it again in my presence. Then she got back on the road and proceeded to Wal-Mart. I was still gaping.

Under the bludgeonings of chance/My head is bloody but unbowed

At work today, one of the kids, Javier, was being obnoxious, so I began to be obnoxious to him. It startled him, and after a minute or two, he asked me why I hated him. I looked him in the eye, and said, "I don't hate you. I just don't like you much." Oddly enough, he looked ashamed of himself and then proceeded to behave very nicely for the rest of the day.

Not much else to say, other than gas prices are nuts, it's really freaking hot here, and I'm bored. Very bored. But Jenny comes tomorrow! I'm psyched. I know it's only been a couple of months, and I've gone for years without seeing friends, but...I don't know, there's something different about my friendship with her.

Oh, and since someone *cough*Austin*cough* declared that he was interested in seeing "The Published Works" of me, (oh, I like the way that sounds.) I'll probably put up part of a story. Sorry, Austin, but it'll be the same part of the same story you heard me read aloud for that final...it's the only part of the only story I have typed that I'm happy with. So, you'll just have to deal with it.

So, yeah, the good part of my (only) good story will be posted within a day or so.


"Come into my parlour"/Said the spider to the fly

Quickie post.

I've always heard that confession is good for the soul, so, I'm going to confess two of my secrets (or maybe not secrets, depending on how long you've known me).

Number One: I am a closet optimist.

Number Two: I am a closet romantic.

There. I've admitted it. You all now have a slightly better view into my warped mind.

And yet to me, what is this Quintessence of Dust?/Man delights not me

Not a whole lot to say this time, other than the Sox lost to the A's...I feel kinda bad for my friend Dan, because he drove to Chicago today to see the game, but admitting that will ruin my reputation as a tough, compassionless ice queen, or something to that extent. So, no one repeats that, k?

I went to bed last night before 11, and I was out like a light. Well, ok, not so much a light as a banked and dying fire...Oh, that's pretty imagery. I'll have to reuse that. So I ended up sleeping until noon today, and it was fantastic. The stress of the past week has all but disappeared. Not for long, true, but I'll take what I can get.


Hope is the thing with feathers/That perches in the soul

Ever not dare to hope for something, because you don't think it has a snowflake's chance in hell of happening? Ever had that same not-hoped-for something happen?

As most of you know, my life is subject to the caprice of entropy. It's nice having something positive happen; especially if that something positive comes from an unexpected place.

Yes, I know I'm being enigmatic and vague, but I'm not sure I want to post details...For all my blogging and general openness, I'm still a fairly private person. I also figured out (by a rather brilliant observation made by a friend) that I am, in fact, quite shy. Talkative, but still shy. Face it--I met you either because you talked to me first, or I needed something from you. I don't do very well when meeting new people--I'm usually so nervous I either make a total nuisance of myself or don't say a word and leave as quickly as possible.

Huzzah for the weekend!


How doth the little crocodile/Improve his shining tail

OK, I lied. I wanted to post this quote. (Mad props to anyone who can tell me where it's from)

"Stanley looked quite bored and somewhat detached, but then, penguins often do."

Let us go then, you and I/When evening is spread out against the sky

Today was the second day I worked at the middle school. A total of 4 white people work there, and 5 white kids attend. Everyone else is black or Hispanic. Oh, and two of the white kids have been suspended for a week for fighting; and another is being sent to military school in a month--it's either that or he does 5-10 for grand theft and a federal offense. (Lovely kids, these)

It's odd, being in the minority race again, but in a way it's somewhat reassuring--although I have no idea why.

During the so-called "translating" part of my day (when all I do is sit around and read or write, because the kids speak English as well as your average American--not that that's saying a whole lot. I mean, their grammar and syntax are abysmal, but again, so is the average American's. But I digress), Pat, the woman I'm working with, asked one of the students what a particular piece of candy was called. The girl in question is not the brightest crayon in the box, and therefore was searching for words when I (not thinking) piped up from my doodling with "it's something like dulce de naranja." Only two of the kids heard me (the two boys), and they both stared at me like I had turned into a cow and started to moo. They gaped like fish for a good thirty seconds, when one finally regained his mind enough to demand to know why I sounded like a Mexican. (Which I took offense to. I do not sound like a Mexican.) I gave them my "watch-out-or-I'll-suspend-your-sorry-butt" look (which I want to copyright, by the way) and told them that I had grown up in South America, which elicited male demands that I speak Spanish, which I refused. When they pressed for a reason, I gave them two: One, there was no good reason for me to do it; and two, because I'm malvada (which, while not directly translatable, means something between wicked, malevolent, and mischeivous); and both comments were given with my standard glower (which I also want to copyright).

Funny part--both found my Spanish enticing, or something, because they suddenly became very friendly and courteous, a sure sign they either have a crush on me or are deathly afraid of me. I'm not sure which one I'm hoping for; namely because both produce good behaviour, cooperation, and diligent work; and that's what I'm hoping to get from them.

Well, it's dinnertime, and I'm hungry. Perhaps more will come later, although I doubt it. I've done enough writing to last me a month (I spent 4 hours today writing in the journal I brought with me, and only stopped because my hand cramped and thereby derailed my train of thought).


This is my letter to the world/That never wrote to me

I finally decided to take Mateo's words to heart and switch over to Blogger....gah, Mateo, shame on you. I'm the one who's supposed to influence people; not the other way around.

And yes, the name is rather different from the old one...I had a comment about how disturbing and somewhat upsetting it was, (after numerous similar comments) and I suppose it was the comment that broke the blogger's tenacity, so to speak. (Wow, that was a crummy metaphor. But I'm tired, so I forgive me) So, here's the new one.

Yeah, I know it's still not the most cheerful of names, but I've always loved winter, and the peace it seems to bring with it. It hushes the world, and when snow falls it turns even the barest, plainest tree into something beautiful. I guess I wish winter could do that to me, too.

Hopefully, I'll finally overcome my paranoia of "publishing" my fiction and post some of it up here. Hopefully. Maybe. Perhaps.