Dancing Queen

Kinda Drunk
Smokin' a Bowl
Finishing My Baccardi
About to Go Wander the Halls
Not Prepared for Tomorrow
Happy, so Fuck It
11:33 pm
September 28, 2004

Dancing Queen

Maybe, it's genetic, but sometimes, I just have to dance. I get sucked into the rhythm, it burrows deep into my soul and demands to not only be heard, but obeyed. I love to dance and today was a rhythmic feast.

I started taking belly dancing classes today, and may I say, I was quite awesome. It was so much fun, yet there was a goal, a right and a wrong, but not as in judgmentally. There's a goal, an objective: be as structuredly seductive as possible. That appeals to me. The teacher is 7 months pregnant, kooky and really funny. She has a great sense of humor and makes the enviroment so welcoming and happy that you can't help but shake what God gave you, but the way she recommends, of course. I'm taking the classes on Tuesdays and I'm also a part of the performance troupe, so I dance on Fridays too. Nice.

Addditionally, Scott and Gavin came over and got me drunk, so Ayse and I had to have an ole' fashion dance party. This year, we have a lot more room but nobody lives direcctly across from me, so we'll use it as more as a fun thing to do instead of a way to avoid seeing Julia get it on. Oh, people should learn to use their shades. But, if that'd never of happened, A & M dance parties wouldn't be the wonder and joy that they are today. AND, Brandi next door is probably going to start joining us. She wanted to, I could tell. Damn Civ classes and the time they take away from The Dance.

I also might of found a job today. I have an interview Thursday with the Career and Placement Services center, here on campus to be an "application assistant" but, since there are many jobs up for the taking, I might just end up getting the one I'm most suited for. Working for CAPS would be cool, because then when I need to be placed, I would know just the people to do it. True, it's not exaclty in my field, per say, but the people at Strive Tutoring haven't called me back, nor the people at Blue Gargoyle.

I'm restless, so I think I'll go and wander. Adam hasn't called, so I refuse to wait by the phone.

Joseph Would Be So Proud. . .

You're Canada!

People make fun of you a lot, but they're stupid because you've
got a much better life than they do.  In fact, they're probably just jealous.
 You believe in crazy things like human rights and health care and not
dying in the streets, and you end up securing these rights for yourself and
others.  If it weren't for your weird affection for ice hockey, you'd be
the perfect person.
Take
the Country Quiz at the href="http://bluepyramid.org">Blue Pyramid

This was fun.

Here We Go Again

My Room
Still Battling Back Badness
Post House Meeting
Jammin' with Phish
Pre-Bed Bowl
Trying Not to Be Nervous About The First Day of School
11:49
Sunday, September 26, 2004

Here We Go Again

So, I officially have 10 minutes of summer remaining. I've looked up where my classes are, I've made lists, I've pre-packed my backpack, set my alarm clock and shaved my legs. I'm ready to get this show, this year, this session of learning on the way. I've got the jitters. I've planned what I'm going to wear about 72 times, and I still have no idea. Why do I care so much? The first day of school has always held so much magic for me. Those first few moments when you walk into class, virgin notebooks in hand, new pens, fresh scrubbed and bright eyed (at least I am), right before the teacher starts the class. Right then before the grades, before you know your classmates, before impossibly amounts of reading, there is an endless stretch of possiblity. Maybe because I'm a big believe in transcendence, but that moment fills me with infinite hope. You never know what you'll learn.

Tommorow I being another journey.

And, I descend into the third layer of hell called, "Trying to Find a Job" so that I don't have to descend further to the "Calling Mom for Money" level. That place gives me nightmares.

I have more things to say, more to think literally about, but my back hurts and Green Goodness (my chair) is calling my name. Good-bye to the greatest summer yet; hello to my best academic endeavor yet?

Home Coming

My Room
Listening to the Hudsons
Drinking Whiskey
Desperately Attempting to Ignore Back Spasms of Doom
Maclean House, 124
Chicago, IL
12:37 pm
Sunday, September 26, 2004

Home Coming

Since the bottom fell out of my world last year, I haven't know where my home was. Sure, my dad's house is always a home, a place where I'm always welcome and loved, yet there is an underlying transcience. But now that the boxes have been unpacked, my beloved books shelved, I realise the truth.

This is home.

I went and got raped by the scholastic book system today. Mind you, I'm a member at the Co-op bookstore (I own stock there) so I get a discount. They only had 2/3 of the books I needed, for only half my classes: $127. AND I have to buy the gigantic goliath of a book for my Neural Science class: $95. Oh, and $65 lab fee. Plus, a DVD for American Sign Language, and lord knows what I'll need for French. In addition, they're going to close the kitchen until everyone pays the $50 fee. How am I supposed to feed myself?

Damn, I need a job.

Okay, it's out of my system. I'm done bitching. It's been that kind of day. Let me start with last night so the whole picture can be clear.

Let me state, for the record, that I'm fundamentally opposed to frat parties. They give me the willies; I'm not a piece of meat boys, sorry. That being said, I decided I wasn't going out. Then Brian Ebling came by and said, "Party. Now. We're going." "But, I was gonna. ." "No. I'll give you 10 minutes to be girly. We're on a schedule. Get going." And promptly flopped down in my green chair of goodness and waited. So soon we're jaunting off to the apartement he lived in this summer and we drink Olde Style (I missed the stuff, I'll admit.) with Greg and Thea. (Thea and Mia. We're we cute.) Well, before I notice, we're walking to Phi Delta. Yea? To sum, there were people dancing on this mantle, shirtless because bras are generally white and there was a black light. Who am I kidding? Shirtless girls dancing = horny college people trying to get laid. Prepare youselves for a shock, or maybe not: I danced on the mantle. And the second time (Yes, I was up there more then once. Shut your mouth.) I joined the shirtless hunnies.

This morning, I woke up too hungover to go back to sleep. And then, when I bent down to get cold water from the fridge, my back started spasming. So, I spent the rest of the day in bed, eating anti-inflamatories, cursing myself for eating all my good drugs for recreational purposes, and generally feeling sorry for myself. Ayse was also in a strange state, and is frankly making me worry. I know she's fine, I just wish I could cure her stomach woes and emotionally aide her. I feel powerless, and we all know I can't stand that feeling. We celebrated her culture and heritage by drinking damn fine Turkish liquor and smoking yummy Turkish cigerettes, jamming to Tartar, a Turkish pop sensation. Matt came over and we went to my room, and then I started him on man jobs (crappy blind removal, scissor fixing, drapery adjusting. With my back, I'm kind of an invalid.) But, on the upside, during spasmless moments, I had a chance to continue rearranging, nesting. I feel kinda bad becaue I have storage containers in the hall way, and empty luggage that needs to be moved to the basement storage space. For some reason, I'm thinking that lifting and toating might not be the best plan right now.

Stupid moment of the day: I woke up this morning and realized that I'd shaken my money-maker so hard that I'd lost my soul (aka: U of C ID card) so I had to go get another one. Come to find out, I'd just forgetten that I gave it to Matt to turn in in exchange for dishes last night and never got it back. So, now I have multiple souls, and I'm out $10 bucks.

Oh, and in homage to the Great Goddess of All That Is Internet:

1. Think of a word you would use to describe me.
2. Go to Google Image Search and search for that word.
3. Select the picture you see as most fitting, and post the link to it as a reply.
4. Post this in your journal.

Tomorrow: The Story of the Dude Also titled "Jonathan's First Kiss"

I Have How Many Boxes?

My Momma's House
Detroit, MI
Less then 48 hours till Chicago
About to Go Shopping!
Tired of the Bullshit

I Have How Many Boxes?

I find no end of amusement in how much crap I require to function optimally. I mean, seriously people, it takes a lot of junk. There's nothing to make you realize your over abundance of shit like being forced to cart and haul all of it thousands of miles only to have it all perused and judged (merely on size, not content) by your Mother.

She won't take me shopping until I go through Mount Mia in the basement of Doom.

Yes, I'm being dramatic. It really wasn't all that bad, to tell the honest truth. I'm down to four boxes, two independent shelving/storage units, a huge pile of bedding, my giant duffel bag, my gargantuan suitcase, and my carry on. Not to mention the three boxes Dad's sending me and their two twin brothers that are chillin' at Grandma's house. Lord all mighty. And we're going to buy more stuff?

I would like the record to show that I didn't cry once yesterday. As I departed my dearly beloved land of sunshine and air conditioning, not one tear fell. Does this mean that I have somehow come to love my state less then I did a year ago? Impossible. If you can believe it, I love Texas more then ever, partially because I have forever proved to myself that I can return, and it can be amazing. Maybe it's my age, maybe it's my drive to put emotional space between Sean and I, maybe it's merely the consequence of fully embrace my life, but this has been, hands down, the BEST SUMMER EVER. So many friends, so much joy and laughter. I've gone on and on about this so I'll cut myself short. School year here I come.

My mom and I haven't fought yet, and personally, I'm a little freaked out. Don't get my wrong, I love my mother dearly, but for her as a person, I'm not sure where I stand. Had you asked me a year ago, I would have been adamant in my deep dislike for who she is as an individual: not someone I would have chosen to be in my life if it had not been for my bursting from her womb. But now, I see things a little differently. Can I honestly say I don't like her as a person, now that I don't know her as a person anymore? Maybe it's her underlying sadness at the fact that she's realized money doesn't make happiness that sparks my compassionate spirit. It could also stem from the fact that I can see her depression in the weight she's put on, her neverending catering to Joseph and her determination to keep her chin up. Seeing my mom this way make me infinitely sad, yet sadistically happy that maybe now she seeks my point: there's more to life then money. Fat chance.

All that being said, there are good things in her life. She live in a beautiful house, one I'm sure she's always wanted, and she doesn't have to worry about money or work her ass off for the first time in her life. Those things are blessings. But the incompatible factors that I first noticed about Joe and her are becoming more apparent. His lack of adventure, his fuddie-duddie ways, her love of life, his constant traveling, her constantly being alone. He has made her old prematurely, and that makes a part of me forever resent him. Yet, they sit in their matching recliners, in front of their obscenly large TV and hold hands. She wakes up to make him breakfast before starting on a day of nothing, and he takes her on nice, safe, planned trips. To be perfectly frank, I hope Mom got what she bargined for.

And on that note, I'm going to go give her a hug and tell her I love her. She never bargined for me; she was officially sterile. But I hope that I'm one of the best things she never expected, and I hope that I bring some happiness to her life. I'm like her in ways I won't admit, I admire her more then I let on, and well, she gives the best hugs in the world. I love you Mommy.

Last Ounces of Summer

About to Cash
Lauren's Still Very Hard Chair
Post-ACL
Two Days Till Chi-Town
September 20, 2004
12:35 am


I have jammed my self out. I am officially cashed. In short:

Friday

1-2:00 Asleep at the Wheel
2-3:00 Bob Schneider
3-4:00 Rosanne Cash + Nap
4-5:00 Sloan
6-7:00 Particle
8-8:45 FRANZ FERDINAND
9-10:00 Los Lobos/Sherly Crow

Highlights:
1. Me and Lauren Napped right in the Middle of ACL. Just camped out between a couple of stages and napped. It was brillant.
2. Met a really cool dude named Alex who jammed with me during Franz, after Lauren abandoned me. We designed the ultimate festival venue and smoke good buds. Away with you cute just legal Austinite.
3. I finally found me other peeps and we were trying to smoke dope. But we didn't have a pipe. We walked around going "Pipe, pipe. Anyone got a pipe." It was neato. We didn't find one, but we met some cool people.

Saturday

4-5:00 The Gourds
5-6:00 The Wailers
7-8:00 TREY ANASTASIO
8:45-9:00 TREY ANASTSIO

Highlights:
1. TREY. Trey trey trey trey treytrey trey trey trey trey trey trey. He rocked my clothes off, literally. I wore my hippiest shit, my tie-dyed strappy type shirt, and one of the straps popped off during the encore. (First Tube. )Trey is proof that God loves me and wants me to be happy.
2. We were going to see Modest Mouse just to waste time when we heard someone infront of us saying that The Wailers had switched times with G. Love & Special Sauce. Bryan and I sprinted, the most I've probably ran all summer. . And were rewarded with groove.
And we smoked with a girl named Uri.
3. Trey. Did I mention Trey?

Sunday

2:30-3:30 The Roots
3:30-4:30 Ben Kweller
4:30-5:30 Jack Johnson
6:30-7:00 Wilco
7:00-7:15 Dirty Dozen Brass Band
7:45-8:45 MEDESKI, MARTIN, & WOOD
8:45-9:00 Ben Harper

Hightlights:
1. Getting ridiculously high with B-man, then smoking with this dude named Travis from Denver. It was the first time I used my new pipe. I realized that Austin is in Travis county, and these were the GOOD Denver buds. So, I named my pipe Travis Denver. And then the Beat Rocked My Face Off. MMW was 37x more jammin' then they were last time. I rocked myself retarded.
2. As we left MMW, me and Bryan saw a shirt the said "DIGGITY DANK." We went back and took a picture with the dude. AND , we locked and loaded on being Team Leaders for The Omega Squad for Bonnaroo 4. I'm gonna ask my mom if she'll make us a flag, and shirts and such, we're going to try to rent a camper, and bring his friend's golfcart, the one with spinners.
3. I woke up this morning and rolled a joint specifically for the purpose of smoking with Ben Harper. "Burn One Down" came on, I smoked with Bryan. 3-4 people around us light up too. It was a salute to my roots: going to "Take Pictures" with Amanda, pimpin' the La Baron, driven on Oscar Burket and smoking shitty Tyler schwag. This one's for our dead homies. I miss you Neal. It was a nice moment.

I saw Jonathan York. TWICE.
He got on the bus that I got on, my first ever time to ride the Austin Public Transit System. Then, he showed up at the party that Lp and I went to. God is laughing at me, and I must say, he has a great sense of humor. If anyone out there doesn't believe in a purpose, a structure and system to the world, fate persay, all they need is to hear the story of me and a dude named Jonathan York. Lord help us all.

It's a truely beautiful moment when one realizes that they're's no where in the world they'd rather be. Austin was blinging, I was rocken. I've never felt so alive.

There are many many things I have to say about this, but I'm cashed. My knee is squwishy, I'm half-drunk, mildly-sunburned, and about to cash like a mo-fo. To sum: ACL live up to my expectations, I love my friends, I love the Music, I love the Jam. I'm ready to do it all over again. I love my life.

Amen.

So This Is It

Anxiosly awaiting Austin City Limits
Watching West Wing
Hard Chair (I should buy her a cushion.)
Lauren's House
Ausin, Texas
5 Days till my upcoming departure
September 16, 2004
Ass Early, I had to take LP to class




So This is It



After it's been said and done, after I've journaled, painted, cried, screamed, partied, and forgotten all the pain Sean caused me, this is what's I've been left with.

More amazing friends then I ever thought possible, each with their own brillance that I love and respect them for. They have all taught me so many things that I'm deeply thankful for, and there are millions of other lessons that I'm still learning.

I know I've been telling them all this multiple time over the past weeks, but the coming fall makes me nostaligic. And as we all know, I compulsively pull meaning out of my life, and these past weeks have offered me ample fodder. And to be perfectly honest, that's what I planned this trip for. Plenty of time for reflection, while surrounded by my best friends, jamming out to great music, expanding my mind, all in the coolest city in the world.

Then I treck to the frozen North.

As the new school year approaches, I can't help but roll the B footage of my past year, and wince at several moments and ask myself, 'Why, God, Why?" Will I catalog them publically on the internet? Nope. Regardless of the down points, I think I came out all right in the end. Instead of rehashing my wasted winter, soaked in Old Style, let's move on the shiney brand-spanking new year I get to soon tarnish.

I fucked off a lot last year. And by that I mean, I didn't do the best I could. My priorities got stuck so far up Sean's ass, that sometimes, crying and fighthing took center stage, as opposed to my assundry academic endeavors. But this year, that is no more. I was talking to Stephanie the other day, and she reminded me of my college entrance essay. "How do you feel about Wednesday?" (How I love thee, U of C, you crazy school.)

Senior year, at good ole' Robert E. Lee, I took classes at the local junior college so I could get out of school at 1:00. And to maximize on my policy of taking the least amount of as possible, I took College Algebra on Wednesday nights with nurses, moms, late bloomers, Mrs. Albertson (high school teacher in Brownsborough), and one lady, Mary, who had a learning disabilities. She sat in front of me, I'm a dedicated people watcher, and so she has become a solid inspiration for me to try my hardest. I can still distinctly picture her face the day she got a B+ on her test. She had worked through hours and hours of remedial math, and here I was, shirking classes is everyway possible, playing calculator games during class, not caring. She was working for it; I take it for granted.

So, this years game plan? Not be so manic. Get a better job. Don't close off my creative aspects: guitar and painting supplies are coming with. And while we're at it, my new room decor won't hurt.

Speaking of room decor, as mentioned earlier, I'm staying with my bestest friend Lauren Perdue in Austin. Lauren has been such a blessing in my life, and I am constantly thankful for all the things she's taught me, and all the kick ass, rockstar, Live Out Loud times we've had. To this day, one of the funniest things I've ever seen was when she scared herself with her own hand in Mrs. McRae's last period AP World History class, junior year. I laughed so hard I fell out of my chair. We recently encounted the Grackle Mafia, discussed the list of Things I Could've Told You. (1. don't makeout with Jonathan York.) and bought white wine this time because fuchia puke is gross. She's taught me scrapbooking, blogging, enlightened me as to The Hudsons and John Mayer, and is kind enough to let me sleep on her couch. In return, I'm going to go let my OCD tendencies run wild.

So this is it: Amazing friendships, great music, upcoming throw downs, rockstar hair, a virgin year, and soon, with luck, a clutter free apartement to chill in.