multa novit vulpes, verum echinus unum magnum

4. trans. To perceive (with the senses). Obs.

2010-07-08T13:45:00.003-04:00

What to do when you realize everything’s changing (different)? Also, it’s a strange thing, also, to not want to write because people might read-especially because no one reads anyway. I think at this point in my life, im less sure than ever, mostly because, at this point in my life, I always thought I’d be more sure than ever. Like when you were little, and you played house (which always came uneasily to me anyhow), and you said ‘pretend I’m 22 and my husband is 25 and we have two kids and we live down the street from you.’ 22 seemed like ages away, and does still, but from a different end, or maybe through different eyes.

So, it’s a strange thing, getting older. Everyone says, and knows, it, of course; however, it is in these moments that you really understand. I can look back on the decisions I made when I was so sure that they were right, and I can see now that they were wrong. Sure, there’s talk of ‘well, they lead me here, so they cant have been that wrong’ and we want to believe that because it means that ‘who we are’ is this amazing culmination of all we’ve done (or haven’t), but I don’t know that that’s true…or even that it matters. I can say I was wrong to hurt my parents as much, and as often, and as long, as I did. I can say that. And I can say that hurting myself now with questions and doubt is maybe wrong too. The threat of the questions is always worse…or maybe it’s the threat of the answers that plays on our minds. It’s hard to say when questions don’t have answers, I guess. Doesn’t your mother just always tell you that ‘you’ll know’? I think this is a dangerous theory. Or well, it certainly is for a person who’s never sure about anything, moves when she feels stuck (or in love), tries 3 (4?) different careers in 10 months, and worries when he gets too close. I mean, don’t you agree? If I will ‘just know’ the right job, the right town, the right man, the right baby name, the right outfit for the interview, what happens if I’m never sure? No, I don’t think you ever ‘just know’, I think you decide one day…and the decision is the ‘knowing’. But, of course, your analytical brain is saying ‘well, if you don’t know, it’s because you don’t know yet’ you know?

I. 1. a. trans. To perceive (a thing or person) as identical with one perceived before, or of which one has a previous notion; to recognize; to identify. Sometimes with again; also, later, with for.
b. To recognize or distinguish, or be able to distinguish (one thing) from (another) = OE. tócnáwan.
c. intr. To distinguish between. rare.
2. trans. To recognize in some capacity; to acknowledge; to admit the claims or authority of: = BEKNOW 3. Obs.
3. a. trans. To acknowledge, confess, own, admit: = ACKNOW 2, BEKNOW 2. Obs.
b. refl. To make confession, confess; also with compl., to confess oneself (to be) something.
4. trans. To perceive (with the senses). Obs.
II. 5. a. To be acquainted with (a thing, a place, or a person); to be familiar with by experience, or through information or report (= F. connaître, Ger. kennen). Sometimes, To have such familiarity with (something) as gives understanding or insight. to know like a book (see LIKE adv. 1c).
b. refl. To know oneself; esp. in imp. arch. phr. know thyself.
c. To have personal experience of (something) as affecting oneself; to have experienced, met with, felt, or undergone. Also fig. of inanimate things. Chiefly in negative forms of expression.

Etc. etc. etc.
Et
l. before you know where you are (and similar phrases): very soon, very quickly.

the time to narrow

2010-06-28T00:28:00.003-04:00

tonight my dad told me a secret

and i think i knew exactly what he meant

he said, 'this is not the time to narrow, this is the time to expand.'

and for once i think i know exactly what he meant.

planning

2010-06-23T22:42:00.002-04:00

i feel like i should blog. it's weird that i would feel like i should sit at a computer and write another thing when all i do is sit at a computer and write things, but oh well.

it's so hot here that the ice cream melts in the container faster than i can eat it.

i think now i feel like im treading water. it's amazing. i guess things like blogging and facebook and friends and relationships are really for people with more time on their hands. right now i have almost no time on my hands. i havent sent my mother her birthday card and i bought it a week ago. i just havent figured out how to run my new life yet, i guess. i think my job is perfect for me, and once i learn how to do everything, it will be great, but the rest of my life is sort of falling away. i always throw myself into my work. i even bring proposals home to read, though it makes no difference that i do...i could just as easily read them at work.

part of me wants to delete my facebook and my twitter and just drop of the face of the internet. i dont have time to maintain all these connections i made when i had more time to maintain them. i have over 50 messages in my facebook inbox and i dont even want to know. i think im giving up in that regard. why dont people write letters? i think about this a lot: what will be left of our correspondences when we go? will people read the emails we send to one another? that will interesting to see....well, it will be interesting to see IF we do that....what we find will most likely not be interesting, however. my favorite thing is to read the letters of famous people. though, i doubt i'd like to read their emails; there's something so informal about an email. everybody knows it. we tell each other the stupidest things over email. no one will care about them. or at least they shouldnt.

anyway, i give up on all of this. whatever this is. it's just too hard right now to plan everything all day at work and then plan everything all day in life. i just like planning at work only. i like having a list and i like checking things off on it. i dont like that i also have to begin doing that in my life too...or so it seems. this is a boring post. no one likes feeling this way, but i guess everyone does feel this way.

why cant you ever just write to me and say 'hi. how are you?' why do you always have to....make me feel....bad.

something about goals

2010-06-15T23:17:00.006-04:00

isn't it weird when you get to a point where all...or at least a lot....of the short-term goals you had for yourself have been realized? it's bazaar. it almost feels like you need to come up with new goals in order to keep wishing so that you won't die. isn't that what they say? the minute you stop dreaming you die, or something ridiculous like that?

anyway, i'm doing some of the things i always thought i would do (albeit not in a place i ever thought i would do them....geographically), and it's odd. it's a little sad, in a way also. i've had to give up on dreaming about doing them. does that make sense? it sounds ludicrous, i know, but it's true. you get married to the hoping, and stressing, and wishing, and things of that nature. and then, when they're gone, you almost can't enjoy the fulfillment of the wish because you a) can't believe you actually made it happen and b) don't know what to wish for anymore....on stars, or turned-around necklaces, or stray eyelashes and things of that nature. i dont know, i guess you come up with something new. but that seems awful too...like another reason you cant enjoy fulfilling a wish.

ugh this is sappy, i think. but you get it. also, speaking of wishes etc, i deposited my first real paycheck today. i have to keep reminding myself that all of the money is mine. i've checked my bank account 3 times in the past couple hours to make sure that the check was real, and no one made a mistake. i think they might have...made a mistake, that is. i feel like i robbed a bank and will soon be found out. isn't that funny? i've been getting paid so little for so long that i feel like im rich when i make more than $10 an hour. i guess by some standards, i am. it feels that way anyway.

also, caitie, i feel like i could sense your longing for me to post and distract you...which increases exponentially when you are studying for various things. fun. maybe i'll even post some new poetry soon.

oh well

2010-06-08T19:10:00.003-04:00

oh i'm just awful at blogging.

really. awful.

but, i have this new life now, and all this new time, and so i'm hoping that i will blog more. i think i need to do it because my brain is getting the best of me lately, and ive been foisting thoughts onto people who dont need them. today i told a brand new friend at work that i was nervous about the possibility of living with my boyfriend. i think it's ok though, she didnt seem to mind.

i started a new job. did i tell you that? it's pretty fantastic. it's hard, though, but i like it. it's a new challenge. im an editorial assistant for routledge, and i work on the media and cultural studies list. it's the best list, as far as im concerned. the other day i got to look over a chapter on lady gaga.

anyway, i guess im putting a lot onto this new job. i feel like it will make my life better. i wonder if that's true? i know people tell you all the time to change yourself, and it's not the outside things that will make you happy, and shit like that, but i dont think they every lived in new york and made $10 an hour. i also think my quality of life will improve infinity much. mostly because i get off work at about 5 these days. although, my quality of eyes will certainly decrease because i read a lot and look at a computer a bunch. good thing i have vision in my health insurance plan.

i don't know what else there is to say. i guess nothing really. i cant wait until im done with all the things i have to do this month. i want to have an actual weekend. every weekend for the entire first month of this job is booked. can you imagine? i'm exhausted already thinking of all the things i have to do. oh well, i think that's what growing up is....maybe?

the re-return

2010-02-18T11:10:00.006-05:00

hi. so i havent blogged in a really long time. it comes and goes in waves, i guess.
i'll be better as soon as we get the internet in my apt again. i have a lot to blog about. quitting jobs. getting new jobs. ending internships. starting new ones. meeting famous people. talking about clothes and sending clothes to things like italian vogue. my life is kind of weird right now, but i think it's fun, and i'm doing things ive wanted to do for a long time.
so, more on that later.
also, i went to ash wednesday mass yesterday, and that was good. lent is starting and so maybe i'll talk about that too. but, for right now, i'm at work and shouldnt be blogging at all.

sincerely,
cvm

a red head in viet nam

2009-12-04T00:02:00.007-05:00

i just got off the subway and forgot what country i was in kind of. that happens sometimes. like i got off at my stop and walked for half a block and the vietnamese guys who own this dry cleaners were outside, there were like 8 of them taking up the sidewalk, smoking and sitting on the fire hydrant/in the chairs that they keep outside, and yelling/talking. it made me feel, for a split second, like i honestly wasnt in america. it brought back this weird sensation i had in china a lot where you realize that there is NO WAY they even think you are one of them....they dont even think you can understand them. you are just totally 'other'. i think that's a good feeling to have every now and then for obvious reasons.

mostly what it made me think about, though, was my dad (also for obvious reasons, i guess). sometimes when i think about how my dad did 3 tours in vietnam, i forget that that also means he actually just lived in vietnam too......for years. i mean, it's one thing to fight a war and be stationed in a country where you might have a chance of blending in (if you didn't open your mouth in some cases), but there arent a lot of red headed, blue eyed, vietnamese. yes, of course he spent years fighting a war, but there are also other things he did in those years that are almost as surreal, in a way. it's weird to think of it like that. of him just living there. and going to the store. and getting a drink. and speaking vietnamese with his 'mama san' and the family he lived with. you know? like, he also just lived in vietnam. not only is this odd because i never think about how my dad did anything in vietnam but fight a war, but it is also odd because no one our age goes and lives in vietnam. it has this strange sacred air about it now. like this permanent scar on it, and people our age, and even a little older i guess, just seem to think of vietnam as some sort of place toward which we should be reverent because we once fucked with it, etc. i guess what im saying is, it's not really 'a vacation spot'. people our age move to/visit costa rica, or thailand. vietnam is not very en vogue...in fact, if you were like 'oh im totally moving to vietnam, just like, to do it, kind of for fun, etc' people would just think that was so weird. they would actually probably think you were some kind of asshole. so, i guess the idea of anyone (not real vietnamese people, obviously) just living in vietnam and going to the store and having a beer seems like a strange thing to think about....but especially when it's your dad. and it's the '70's. and there's a war on. and he is tall, with red hair and blue eyes. and you've never known him to live anywhere but where you lived with him. so. so. weird.

fox and foxy dudes on the subway

2009-11-28T02:14:00.003-05:00

man. tonight was one of those nights where you just cant wait to get off the subway. not because it's particularly gross (which it can be) or slow (which i often is) but because you just have that feeling that something is going to happen. you know? like, i had to skip 'in the air tonight' when it came on on my ipod....too scary. ugh, there was just this insane crack head on the g tonight, and he just sat there, blowing me kisses and like licking his lips and kissing the air in my general direction. it was so creepy. just nothing felt right. ugh. sometimes the subway is freaky when youre just alone and it's 2am. it's really just way worse when there's only a few people on the train too.

OH! and i saw 'fantastic mr. fox' tonight. so good. so so good. i wish i was watching it again already. more on this later.

ok, so that's all i have in me right now i think. im just so tired. i have more to talk about, maybe, but it's 2.30am and i need sleeeeeeeep.

night.

acis

2009-11-23T21:56:00.004-05:00

i submitted a paper proposal to the ACIS today. i wonder what will happen? they do more modern stuff, and my proposal is for a paper on the irish language in medieval ireland, but the guy wrote me back right away and said he was glad to see a proposal on the irish language....so maybe that's a good thing. if so, then i wish i'd written a more dynamic proposal....i guess i can get the paper to me a more dynamic paper. it's interesting, i guess, or so i think, but i guess i'll need to make it more (or maybe less??) about the historyography behind language study? actually, maybe more about that. that's the interesting bit anyway: the history of the history of the irish language.

anyway, this is all i can think about. this and how i wonder if i'll make rent this month. both are boring to talk about unless youre thinking about those things too, so i guess i'll stop here. i'll let you know how it goes with the proposal.

going rogue

2009-11-22T22:03:00.004-05:00

sarah palin's 'going rogue' is causing a minor stir these days, and i think i'd like to comment on it. caitie, if you're reading this, you already know what im going to say, so i guess this will be boring for you. i apologize especially because i know you are in need of a disctraction from finals. i promise to blog about something more interesting soon.

now, i would like to offer you a link to an article to which i will be referring: Bay Area Not Maverick Enough to Read Palin Book.
the attitude espoused by one or two booksellers in this article is, as they say, 'what is wrong with america today', not palin's stupid book. see this quote:
"Our customers are thinking people," said Nathan Embretson, a bookseller at Pendragon Books in Oakland. "They're not into reading drivel."

is that right, nathan embretson? how interesting then that your establishment carries almost the full run of Nora Roberts books. the pure DEFINITION of 'thinking literature'. this is not a slight to nora, i read my first nora roberts book this summer and actually quite enjoyed it....probably more because there was a murder mystery involved and less because there was weird romance-y sex, but still. enjoyable. this idiot, embretson, carries Nora but not Palin and purports to be a bookseller who prefers not to carry drivel??? your suspicion should be peaked.....

what about this gem in reference to palin's book by emily stackhouse:
"Anything like that we wouldn't carry, we're a small store and it would probably gross us all out. Some things you carry because of freedom of speech, but a book like that is just gross."

UGH! infuriating. if the measure of what you carry in your bookstore=books that aren't gross, then i would be very interested to know exactly what is so fantastic and enlightening about 'Vampire Kisses: Dance With a Vampire' or uhmmm that Desperate Housewives cookbook, both of which Cover to Cover (the establishment in question) carries. i hate this. this is CLEARLY a more important book than the Desperate Housewives cookbook. Of COURSE it will be a ridiculous book, it will probably be idiotic at times, intolerable, difficult, and certainly annoying, however, all of this is important.

the book is written by a woman who could have been the vice president of this nation. she has written a book. i do not think that necessarily means she has anything interesting or valuable to say, though i havent read the book so who knows i guess, but i do think this is very important....especially since somewhere inside me i believe she may, one day, run for president. what a valuable tool for liberals and palin-haters (not that they are synonymous) alike! if this book is really as 'gross' and stupid as everyone is anticipating, then we should all read it, and hold her accountable for the things she says in it. the worst thing to do in a situation like this is to squeeze shut our eyes, plug our ears, and shake our heads. i am not advocating the purchase of this book, per se, but i do not think censorship, other than in extreme cases, is ever a good thing. unless palin is advocating genocide, teaching the average person how to build a bomb and hide it in a building, etc etc then no, i do not agree with the 'social banning' of her book. have some balls, california booksellers, carry it in your stores. instead of encouraging ignorance, encourage knowledge. if you hate palin, have a reason....not just that you think she's an idiot. read her book and quote her back to herself....or to your palin-hating friends, they'll def think you're super cool and funny.

this brings me to another point. do i think bookstores have the right to do 'good business'? yes. the article cited above also mentions the fact that this book is not selling in the bay area. one of the bolder booksellers, sheryl cotleur, carries the book and reminds us of the monetary motivations behind carrying limited, if any, stock in saying:
"Nobody around here is particularly interested in her politics or her opinions. There's a certain curiosity, sure. But I don't think that translates into what people are willing to pay money for."

no surprises there really, but thank you for your honesty, sheryl! SO do i think these bookstores are making a conscientious decision not to carry a book by which they are politically, socially, or personally offended...no, i dont. 2 of the sellers mention here carry books by which i could actually be offended if i let myself really think about it. i mean, honestly, i do not think a book about how to cook in lingerie and seduce your man really does anything too positive for women. i think they are making a smart business move by not buying a book that they know they cant/wont really sell; in other words, they know their demographic. i just wish they would stop pretending they are supporting some sort of fucking noble cause, and would admit to their own desire to be successful bookstores. i mean, really, are these people seriously pretending to get behind fucking vampire-sex novels? no! vampire shit sells right now, so they buy it because they can sell it.

essentially, it never ceases to amaze me how narrow minded people on both sides of the party line can be. and i mean, censorship is a pretty dangerous practice to applaud because it goes both ways. i'd love to hear the uproar that would ensue upon the discovery that somewhere in the country, and of course this is certainly happening somewhere, a bookseller refuses to carry either of obama's autobiographies....this scenario is complicated by the fact that he is the president so, yes i agree that this lends a certain amount of importance to his books, but what if he'd lost and booksellers refused to carry his books because they thought they were 'gross'. imagine.....

tbc

2009-11-20T00:30:00.002-05:00

remind me tomorrow to talk about why it's not a thing to be like 'oh, well im a bitch, that's just me' and think that excuses your acting like a bitch.

yours,
carolann

what can you do with a sentimental heart?

2009-11-17T19:49:00.006-05:00

i feel like i have failed NaBlaPoMo....not because i dont blog everyday, i do (almost). but because my blogs are almost all the same. other people are writing humorous things in their blogs, but i write the same old pap about how my life is unsatisfying at the moment. i'm not sure how to break this cycle....i am too invested in it....it's all i can think about.....i eat, breathe, and sleep this unsatisfactory life, im afraid. i wish i had more to offer you. but i dont know that i do at the moment.

so, here we are again, it's time to blog and i have various funny quips to make about lady gaga (who is a genius) and sarah palin (also a genius) in my arsenal, however, i almost feel as though writing about them when im so clearly obsessed with something else would be entirely exhausting. and, as we have already established, i am exhausted most of the time.

it's obvious that NaBloPoMo has fallen on the worst possible 'Mo' for me. it's only halfway done and already i have decided both my path in life AND that i have missed the boat on walking it and will have to wait a year before i can attempt to walk it again. ahem, my apologies for the extended metaphore. so, what does one do when they've decided too late to go to school? i have a year before i can apply again, and a year and a half before i find out if i will actually be going anywhere.....thus the question remains: now what? what to do with a year and a half of 'freedom' and no money? i wonder where i'll be a year from now. i'd like to think i'd be in italy, living with my family like i've been promising to do for the past 5 years, but who knows....i have been promising to do it for the past 5 years. i wonder if i'll be here in new york still, working some sort of random job and going out a bunch. i guess that wouldnt be so bad. i'd like to get to know new york better i think....and i dont mean street name and directions, of course. maybe this will just be the time when i was 25 and lived in new york. and i'll look back on it and think it was silly, but that it was fun. maybe i'll spend this year pining away after graduate programs, like i am already doing, and then i'll apply (this time next year) and then i'll take off for france for a few months. that would be ideal. spend a year getting together a great application and taking some more irish and maybe latin classes, submit to a few conferences, apply and then move again for a bit. obviously the plan is to make a little money over this next year too.

who knows. all i know is that there is blog about lady gaga brewing in my head and the only thing that comes out is existential b.s., oh well.

also, this is for caitlin: oh, what can you do with a sentimental heart?

blah blah blah

2009-11-15T15:38:00.003-05:00

let's be honest, i'm basically just treading water right now. it's making me feel crazy. i just paid my credit card bill, which was basically doubled (almost tripled actually) due to late fees....which were incurred because my card number was stolen and someone MADE A FAKE card and used it all over michigan. i tried to protest these late fees, but it's sunday and no one's around and i dont get off work early enough during the week to actually talk to someone, so i just paid it instead. i am also writing checks to the hospital for my emergency room visit....and the checks are big because i dont have health insurance....because i cant afford it. it's a vicious circle, really. and i dont make enough money to do anything to begin with so now i reallllly dont have money to do anything. so, i'm just treading water. let's just come out and say it.

man, i think this is going to be a whole blog post about complaining, so if you'd rather not listen to (or read, i guess) complaining, stop reading immediately because here we go!

i also need to stop this internship. for real. im glad it's ending in a couple weeks because i really cant afford to do it anymore. internships that pay you minimum wage are for college kids....or trust fund kids. real people cant work these things; they cant survive. and like, also, they are kind of a waste of time. i guess i learned some things, no, i mean, i did learn things, and it was fun, but it's not real. it's not a job. and it might not even lead to a job right away, so there's not really a point. i guess it looks good on your resume, but what if you're starting to realize you might not even want to work in publishing anyway? then what? i guess 3 months isn't really long enough to tell whether or not you want to work in publishing, but right now it just feels that way....probably because there arent any jobs right now and people are actually getting laid off in publishing.

also, i miss academia. i miss the stimulation and the excitement. and i miss teaching. i miss feeling like im doing something, like im contributing something to the world. i dont know. it's not that i think everyone needs to contribute, or that people who do other jobs arent contributing, it's just that i'm good at teaching, and i'm good at thinking, and reading, and writing, and i feel like realizing what youre good at is important. i miss being creative also, and inspired, and excited. all these other things i'm doing, going out, and seeing famous people in the restaurant, and doing sort of new york-y things, they just feel very transitory. like im grasping at these things in order to provide some sort of stimulus, and it works for a while, but then i end up back here, in front of my stupid computer, complaining about how i'm not doing what i want and how i have no money.

i fear the worst has begun......i think i am becoming boring.

halfway point, i guess

2009-11-15T00:18:00.004-05:00

ok. so i cant talk about lady gaga right now. im too tired and this is a topic which deserves my full attention. instead, i will talk abouuuuuut.....never wanting to go out on the weekends? no. decidedly not exciting. but, true nonetheless. i just get too tired during the week and then on the weekends i want to watch tv on the internet. UNLESS it's like im SO crazy all week that i have 4 cocktails at work (but after i clock out etc) and then go out until 4am. i guess that is also a result of being tired all week as well.

anyway, needless to say, i'm sitting at home right now watching deadliest catch and i am perfectly happy. i also love having the house to myself on the weekends. i just have to talk to and deal with people all day....like i just talk....all day....and so it's nice to just be quiet. even if trey is here we can be quiet. he's good at that sometimes and that's fun.

so, yea, my manager offered to talk to the pr firm for our restaurant about me. so that's an interesting idea. i really love them, and i think it would be so fun to work with them. they also do a pretty great job for aldea (the restaurant). oh! that reminds me, apparently aldea got named one of the top 10 best restaurants in the country by GQ. isnt that sweet? it's so exciting for george, the chef/owner....and actually, for everyone who works there i guess really. it must be really rewarding to have your very first restaurant of your own get the accolades that his has. i mean, not only GQ but great reviews by all these food writers like frank bruni etc. it would just be so exciting i think.

that said, i dont think i want to own my own business. it's just your whole life. i guess other people have jobs that are their whole lives, but i mean, it's different i guess because they dont necessarily put all their time and money and effort into it like small business owners do. it's just such an intense investment. man.

WHOA sister hazel (remember that band?) just came on the tv. theyre old now. maybe they were one of those bands who were always old, but dang, now it's just too weird to see them up there singing that one song they had that was famous for a second. mute.

ok. this is a stupid blog about nothing. NaBlpPoMo is certainly at fault for these shitty posts i'm making a few times a week. i guess normally i just wouldnt post, so, maybe i shouldnt keep doing it? i mean, it's way better to just commit to like one or two more significant/substantial posts, but that's not the point, i guess. hopefully that will be the point going forward. i'm half way through the month already, so i might as well stick it out, but i promise that after this month ends i'll try to just post better/more interesting things. for now....you get random rambling i suppose. my apologies.

better luck next time.

sincerely,
carolann

ps my spell check (yea i spell check because im a freak) just told me to capitalize 'internet'....someone needs to update that....now.

pps i love brooklyn. some drunk girls in retarded naked outfits (it's raining outside) are singing in the street and a guy just opened his window and yelled 'shut up!' to them and when they laughed and were all 'awww you dont like our singing?!' all cutesy he yelled 'no! you suck! now shut your freaking mouths and go home!!' haha. srsly.

the swiss escort

2009-11-13T22:11:00.004-05:00

i lied about talking about that stuff i said last night. im already bored of it. what i will say, though, that the swinger thing was weird. i guess she wasn't a swinger, like, the couple was maybe? she was clearly hired by the couple for some sort of sex and she made that very clear to the restaurant....like even verbally. then physically. anyway, it was funny because she was working the woman in the couple pretty hard, stroking her face, shoving her hand between her legs, kissing her, etc all for the obvious entertainment of the woman's husband. it was all very interesting. she (swiss woman...i know she was swiss because she told me....it went something like 'im sorry we're late, i'm swiss so i'm always on time, it was these inconsiderate americans!' they were 40 minutes late) was like some sort of pseudo sophisticated educator or something, ordering champagne for the table, and wine with every course, and then giggling into her glass etc etc. it felt like the 1920's. i can't explain why, but it just did. maybe because she sort of looked like the 1920's/dressed like it too.

anyway, all of this is whatever. it's weird, i guess, and like pda is gross whether youre some sort of escort or not, but the stupid part was how 'okay with it' everyone felt they had to prove themselves to be. does that make sense? since it was girl on girl AND the husband was there, like, everyone felt like they had to be like 'oh yea that's nbd' whereas if a dude and some girl came in, all boozy and making out, people would be like 'ughghghg gross get them OUT of here!' it's just so funny that the minute it's two girls people feel like they can prove their liberalism or something by pretending it's totally casual. like, no. people shouldnt shove their hands between anybody's legs in a fine dining restaurant....if for any reason other than it makes lots of the other guests annoyed. and, dont worry, your liberalism is not affected by thinking EVEN girl on girl pda is annoying. i dont want to deal with anyone making out and spilling their wine at 10pm when i've been there since 9.30am.

the other funny thing is how girls who witness girl on girl pda feel the need to announce that they too have indeed hooked up with a girl and like so what's the big deal. like....oooookay, everyone shut up.
1) this is a lie in most cases/never involves the girl announcing this actually going down on another girl or anything like that
2) this is an ENTIRELY different situation that involves a monetary exchange
and
3) why are we talking about you? i'm pretty sure that every time you see a guy and a girl making you dont go 'whatever, you guys are so ridiculous, i've hooked up with a guy before, it's not a big deal' hahaha like what!??! imagine. i think i should start doing that.

i'm just still so curious as to why girls feel it's necessary to get attention by pretending to be bi. it's so offensive. like, how nice that you can just slip in and out of your sexuality like that. i'm sure a lot of people who are actually bisexual and really struggle with it have a lot in common with you. and also, what a great performance for men. funny how so many of these chicks who pretend to be bisexual...or even lesbians for a minute....also consider themselves to be some sort of advocate for women....or even, dare i say it, feminists. i work with one such girl, but i know a good handful of them, being from california as i am, and it is THE most ridiculous thing in the history. you are a problem for feminism. like, how is that so hard to see? feminism just has nothing to do with sexual preference. but i guess chicks who pretend to be bi dont really read books or essays on feminism...or if they do, i am almost certain they dont understand them.

anyway, we're starting to get into feminisim, on which i've written many an essay, and will have at least a chapter on in my (eventual) dissertation, of course. so i'll stop there.

tomorrow, we will be discussing lady gaga and what she has done (and will certainly continue to do) for our generation.

until then, i remain,
yours as ever

thursday is a hard day to blog for me....

2009-11-13T00:11:00.003-05:00

...because i go to work at 9.30am and get off work at 11.30pm.

uhm also, fyi i just found a coat check tag in my bra. that's the kind of night i had at the restaurant.

more on that and the swiss,swinging escort who came in tomorrow.

oh, and remind me to tell you about restaurant pr vs phd's as well.
cool. bye.

my day off

2009-11-11T20:33:00.003-05:00

well, today was a weird day. i picked a sort of fight i think with trey about becoming vs not becoming catholic. i called my dad and thanked him for being a soldier and told him i loved him, and that was kind of random and weird. then i just watched a weird dance performance by some dancers from alvin ailey on tv.....which is only strange because i was JUST looking into taking classes with them yesterday. maybe it's a sign.

i need to do something like that though. dance, i mean. i miss it. too bad im so weird about dance now that i cant even bring myself to ever do it since i had to stop years ago. the only dance i've done since i quit ballet etc is african dance. isn't that funny? i mean, of course it makes sense. i had to quit ballet because it was getting serious and effing with my life so obviously the only thing i can do after that is something completely different. isn't it also funny that the first time i did african dance i cried after? im so bad at emotions.

so anyway, i guess i'll take some dance classes and get back into it, etc. whatevs. what else can i tell you? i had the day off today because the whole rest of the office went to london. our imprint is actually in the uk so i guess they go over there a lot, which is fun. all i did with my day off though was grocery shop and move my car. i know this doesnt sound like much....but it kind of is. i hadnt actually gone 'for real' grocery shopping since i moved to brooklyn. it felt pretty good. i like, drove my car and everything. you know, loaded up. but then i had to move my car. which takes no less than an hour, in case you didnt know. god, parking in new york is a joke. this whole street cleaning thing is retarded.

what else. fall is really changing my opinion about new york. i guess mostly because i like it now. i love that i work off 5th ave in the city and i can just walk down after work and see all the store fronts lit up for christmas. it's awesome, and i usually hate christmas. god, and the other night i went down to wall st to visit an old friend from high school, and getting off at the wall st stop is amazing. there's like, wall st, but then there's also trinity, and some monuments, and tiffany's etc etc. it's just this whole other new york. she and her fiance live in hanover sq, which is really just a little square/street off wall st, and it's pretty wild. just tall buildings that have been converted to apartments, but are really cozy at the same time. wild. it was nice seeing her too. i havent seen her in something like 3 years, and it's funny how you can just fall back into 'it'. her fiance is pretty great too. i wasnt sure what to expect because he's some sort of guy who makes tons of money and works for the federal reserve or something. but he was nice, and normal, and was wearing jeans. i dont know, i could say that there were strange moments where it seemed like they had totally opposing goals, or that money came up more than im used to, and i guess those things are true; however, it didnt really matter, it was just nice to see them.

maybe the fact that i just enjoyed them even though he makes quadruple what probably even my dad makes says something about me growing up? i dont know. i didnt feel jealous when they talked about moving into a 3/4 of a million dollar home in marin without going into debt. it could be that im not actually ready for things like homes and weddings and that's why i wasnt jealous, but i think it's also got something to do with appreciating the things you have and blah blah blah....even when you only have $4.67 in your bank account (which is what i had until i got paid on friday). it was funny though that she talked about another mutual friend of ours and how she and her boyfriend wanted to buy a house....like they were in the process of buying a house for a while but we never heard whether or not they did. anyhow, she brought this up and sort of was catty about the fact that said other friend's parents were obviously paying for it....like she just was kind of a major brat about it and made fun of said other friend's job as a manager at a clothing store and how that's not going to get you a down payment on a house. like, oooookay, true, but still how much different is it if your fiance is supporting you totally vs your parents? i mean, she's a dancer, albeit and incredibly talented one who is like living her dream, but it's not really like she's working her ass off to make a down payment on a house, her fiance is. so, who cares? who cares how the money comes as long as it comes? god, i cant WAIT for the money to start coming for me. honestly. it will someday, right???

anyway, that's all i've got on this fine wednesday. and i suppose you know that you wont be seeing me tomorrow, really, because i work from 9.30 am to 11.30pm. i'll try to write a little something small when i get home, just for posterity's sake, though. ok. bye.

non-blog

2009-11-10T00:01:00.001-05:00

too tired to blog. but have lots of things to say about wall st and seeing an old friend....who lives right off wall st in the financial district.

time for bed though.

sorry. i guess this doesnt count as a blog, really. oh well.

go out and enjoy the day.

2009-11-08T23:47:00.004-05:00

well, today was a blog fail. i had the whole stupid day to blog and do nothing and instead i looked for, and applied to, jobs for which i am not really qualified. my apologies.

i will, however, say that i do not feel bad for not 'going out and enjoying the day' today. i HATE how people are always thinking you should 'enjoy the day' or 'get outside, it's beautiful'. who cares? just because it was 72degrees today doesn't mean it's a particularly special day, or that the day would be better spent 'outside' sitting in some park. no, instead i applied to jobs, looked at grad school programs, did my laundry, and talked to my mother on the phone. if you'll forgive me for saying so, i truly believe that i had a better day than some assholes in the park playing frisbee and sitting around staring at the grass. furthermore, i reserve the right to do this on ANY 'sunny' day ever, on any 'nice' day ever, on any 'beautiful' day ever. i dont believe in feeling pressured on your day off to enjoy anything....i think the sense of pressure does, in fact, ruin any chance of actual enjoyment. don't you agree? i think people should stop freaking out about 'getting outside' and 'enjoying days' like it's the goddamned apocalypse and they should just spend 5hours on the internet if they want to. it's only new york, afterall, it's not boston or maine where you really only do get about 6 nice days a year anyway.

more on this later. i guess i have to stop blogging now. trey's done brushing his teeth and is poking around the living room with his retainer in, looking for things to look at, of which there are not many so he will surely get bored any minute now.

goodnight.

brandon and bars

2009-11-07T17:39:00.003-05:00

well, i didnt blog yesterday. i went to work in the morning and then went out after...though i didn't plan on it. got home around 4 or 5 am. yikes!
my friend/co-worker, brandon, moved back home to montana today. crazy. weeee stayed out until like 3 or 4 and then he had to fly out at 8am or something. also, crazy.

anyway, so it was weird saying goodbye to brandon. mostly i think it's because we had a lot of life-plan similarities. he's moved around a bunch since finishing college too, and he taught english for a while like i did, he started at the restaurant at the same time i did (albeit as a manager), and we just had a bunch on common personality-wise. we felt the same about new york, and life, and our boss, and about ways people should act, and about how we should act, etc. i mean, we didnt know each other that well, but still, in the time that i knew him, a lot of similarities revealed themselves.

so, it's strange that he made the call i've been thinking/wondering about for a while now. you know? he just said, 'fuck it. im going home' and he did it to be with the girl he loves. i think this is a brave decision. scary, of course, but brave, in my opinion. i just wonder, sometimes, when i'll really be ready to, like, move home, or settle down, or whatever. he's a little older than i, so i guess it makes sense; it's still a decision i'm not sure i'd make...but, i still feel young, so maybe the thing is that i just can't see myself doing something like that yet. i guess i hope someday i will....like get married, and have a family, and go home, and have a real life and an apartment or house or something with someone. i think that would be nice. i'm not really ready for it yet, but i think maybe i will be eventually?

whatever, why do blogs wind up being weird existential musings all the time?

ok, what else can i say? i love going to bars. i guess i can say that. bars are just fun. it's fun to be with a bunch of friends and get beers and laugh and just do shit to make other people laugh. i laughed so hard that i almost peed last night, and it felt so good. it just really feels good to be out with a big group of people you like, and to not have anything to do. does that sound weird? like, all you have to do is sit together and have fun. i guess this is a very reductive description of what it is to 'go out to the bars with friends' but when youre working two jobs and feel stressed all the time, maybe you start thinking of 'going to the bars' this way. i dont know, i do, apparently.

thursdays.

2009-11-05T23:54:00.002-05:00

so, i forgot that i can blog every day but thursdays. thursdays i go to work at 9 in the morning and get of at 11.30pm. i work a double on thursdays. so this is all you get.

we need a bigger coat room at work. the coats dont all fit, and i hate it. it's too hard and it's too unorganized. we need a bigger coat room (closet, it's actually a closet) at work.

bye.

life things again.

2009-11-04T20:56:00.003-05:00

im watching the world series on the tv, and during the commercials im watching the sharks game on my computer. sports are so fun to me. i dont know why i feel so good when im watching baseball and hockey, i just love them. they remind me of home a lot i guess, so that's part of it. i feel pretty good watching basketball too, but i dont care a whole lot about it so it's a little less fun.

i wonder when i'll move home. there are so many things i want to do. it's strange though because in order to do those things you have to do stupid shit too....like hostess at a restaurant. i dont want to do that anymore. in real life, i cant even afford to do it anymore because i just dont make enough money. i make only enough to survive. like just pay rent and bills. it's so stupid. im a little bit worried that if i get a real job, however, that i'll get stuck here. i feel like if you get a job as an editor or a publicist then you cant just leave it....but you know, if you got one of those jobs maybe you wouldnt want to leave for a while. i'd love to live in new york and have a little money. that would be fun.

in other news, it's getting harder and harder to focus at penguin (the other job/internship). i think it's because i know it's not permanent, and there's no way it can be. i just feel like every minute i'm there i could be out looking for jobs, or even working at the restaurant where i at least get paid more than minimum wage. i love it there though, i wish there was a way i could stay. i wonder if my experience there will actually turn into something. i feel like it has to. i mean, i dont know, i have a masters in english too, like there's got to be something out there for me, right?! im pretty sure i want to go back to school eventually, but i want to do something else for a while. i want to know i can do something else, and what if that 'something else' turns into something great? blergh. i still feel in limbo i guess. and then, of course, there's the part of me that wants to like save the world, and teach kids to read, and things like that. i think maybe the only way to satiate both the desire to do exciting things AND good things is to go get my phd at some point and then teach. right? but then, you know, there's the other part that wants to do exciting things and NOT toil in poverty while working a life-consuming job, so then what about that part? cant you maybe do one of those fancy jobs and then volunteer or something? you know, with all the money and free time you'd have?

day 2

2009-11-03T22:09:00.002-05:00

so it's day two and already im feeling like this is going to be hard. however, the good news is while riding the subway, i think of things to blog about....the bad news is, i forget them almost immediately upon exiting the subway.

anyway, forgotten ideas does not a blog entry make....sooooo what to write. well, i was talking to my friend camilla today about my fear of intimacy and her opposite fear of uhm non-intimacy. it's funny how total opposite fears can result in the same thing. like, she always lives with boyfriends, i never do/can barely even call anyone my boyfriend ever. and yet, it leads us both to basically fearing relationships. maybe everyone is afraid of relationships; theyre scary. but i think what im trying to say is that it's interesting how two people can want two totally different things and end up with the same result. she loves to cuddle, i've only just really learned how, she loves to love and i hate it and fight it at all costs, etc. i think we're both learning, however, so maybe at some point we'll be perfectly even and then we'll be ready for things like marriage etc.

also, i wonder what im so afraid of sometimes. on the one hand, i'm entirely uncomfortable with relationships and boyfriends and intimacy and losing any tiny shred of independence (it's ok, trey knows all this already), and on the other hand, im so worried that i'll end up never getting married/all alone because of these ridiculous fears. you simply can't have it both ways, but sometimes i try to. i think that ends up hurting people only, however. im like that in friendships too. im friends with lots of people, and i guess i pride myself on making easy friendships...easily, but with my really close friends, i'm practically an impossible person. i love having friends, but also love to keep them at a distance so that i can still do whatever i want. but then there are a few people i get insanely close to and form these intense relationships with and, well, basically, it's intense.

i'm also such a hardass and do try to work on it. just the other day, another friend, quite possibly the very best friend i've ever had, caitlin, was trying to tell me about a fight she'd been having with her friend. and i could hear myself being retarded and trying to make her see reason, and trying to support said 'other friend's' cause for reasons unbeknownst to even me, but it wasn't until later that i realized that that wasn't even the point. i was just supposed to maybe be an ear, or a shoulder, or what have you, and not be a hardass and be like 'well, look at it this way...blah blah blah'. i do that a lot. i'm almost never a good ear in situations like that. i need to learn to turn that off, i suppose, because i know it drives my loved ones crazy.

so, that's my blog for today i think.
it's late and i need to go to bed....and by late, i mean it's 10.30pm. sigh. keep your fingers crossed for this job i applied to (that im in no way qualified for, but would be RAD)....just fyi it has to do with publicity for the rza's book. get over it.

bye.

NaNoWriMo

2009-11-02T22:31:00.004-05:00

this is funny, but im also not going to let it stop me! no one reads this thing anyway, so i'm not too worried.

a new spin: NaNoWriMo

NaBloPoMo

2009-11-02T21:45:00.004-05:00

(this is from 2007 i guess, but you get it)

National Blog Posting Month (like this http://www.nablopomo.com/).
so that website is just for anyone who wants to make any month NaBloPoMo (funny), but i guess november really is national blog posting month....if there can even exist such a thing.

aaaaanyway, i will be trying to do what NaBloPoMo asks, which is post every day for a month. this will be a practically insurmountable task, mostly because i tried to post once a week for a while and couldnt even do that. but i will try to remember. i hope caitlin will keep reminding me....and will do it too.

ok, so what can i say....hmmmm not a lot, i guess. today was the first day that i really said 'i love new york' to myself. so there's that. it was early in the morning and i was walking to work. it was chilly and nice and crisp and all those fall-type things, and i had hot coffee. i was in the west village...well, i'd just walked through it, and come to that busy, wide, intersection on varick and carmine and the wind was whipping across the intersection, between the buildings, and i looked down the street at the tall office buildings and for some reason, i just loved new york. i had just walked through these tiny little, italian-feeling, streets into this strange industrial-feeling space and it felt so familiar (i guess because i walk that exact route multiple times a week, but still) and so totally odd at the same time. so anyway, new york felt good. it's actually felt really good since i've had my own room. staying with trey was great, but i really just need to have a dresser and some hangers for my clothes. and i need to be anal and fold things and put them in rows in my drawers. i'm so insane and chaotic on the inside that i just need order in my personal space. so now i feel better. PLUS i live in the best spot in history, so that helps too.

now all i need is a real job.....

what is it?!

2009-10-26T15:02:00.002-04:00

I’m, like, yearning for something right now and I don’t know what it is. I feel like there’s someone I want to call or talk to, but I cant think of who that might be. I talked to previously mentioned ex-whatever-he-was last night, but it was unfulfilling and strange. It was small-talk, as I guess it would be since we haven’t really spoken in months. I guess I’m being overly critical; it was fine, it was normal. We almost avoided entirely a discussion about the carolann song, which is also fine. Mostly I wanted to say that I hate that it makes me sound pathetic but then I guess everyone’s pathetic at some point, so who really cares. Anyway, he talked about business things, which is always weird to me, and I talked about teaching, which bores him, and that was that. A little catch-up, a little discussion about New York, and goals, and life, a little biting my tongue when he says one of his principles to live by is to be ‘nice’, and that’s it. So, obviously it’s not him I need to talk to, because I did that and I still feel unfulfilled. I wonder what it is that I’m needing? I just cant tell…and that’s pissing me off.

I also wrote this really weird poem…well, it’s weird because it’s not a poem like the ones I usually write…it’s got onomatopoeia in it for pete’s sake. Anyway, I wrote it and it’s strange. I don’t even know what it’s about. Maybe I’ll post it soon.

Blergh.

no comment.

2009-10-24T16:43:00.005-04:00

dear blog, I've been neglecting you, yet again, but here goes nothing.

so, as we all know, i live in new york now. i got an apartment, or a room in an apartment, rather. i painted said room, got a bed and some bedding, and it's starting to feel like home. it's nice to have a place to put your things...even if that place is about 6ft x 10ft or so. it has a nice big window, though, so that's helping.

what else is going on? i dont know really. i'm still working for penguin, still working at the restaurant. still unsure about what to do with my life. same old. it's weird how i'm here, in new york, and i still don't feel like i've moved. i'm making all these changes, all these decisions, but it still just feels temporary. i dont know why. i guess moving here was sort of a non-decision. i just sort of did it for lack of a better idea re: what to do when grad school was over. hmmmm

in other news: my ex-whatever-he-was has finally released the weird song he wrote about me. it makes me feel so weird that private aspects of my life have been put out into the world....and not by me. more than that though, i think it makes me sad because the song isn't....well, nice. and not that it has to be nice, not all songs are nice and this one didn't come out of a 'nice' place, but like, it just gets me wrong. i mean, i guess there are other songs on the album about me, and the album is named after a 'nicer' song that's about me or something, but like, i dont know. this song feels like it's directly to me/directed AT me, and it makes me feel....uneasy, or sad, or frustrated...or all of those? it's strange how you can really care about someone and have them care about you and realize one day that they don't know you at all. i think that's how i feel. i was close to this person at a time in my life when i was really sad, i mean, i've been close to him for a while and we're friends etc etc, but the song is sort of about this certain time when i was young and sad and confused....like most young people are, and it's just sort of about how i was those things and it sort of rubs them in my face, it seems. and that's odd because he was a person who was closest to me then, and who i shared a lot of that with. what a feeling to have that used as artistic fodder and twisted to make you sound like an idiot. i guess that's what happens, though. i don't really hold it against him for not knowing me at all, or for using it to try and become a rock star, it's just....strange. it also uses my name, so that's also....strange. and now that it's out our friends are hearing it and sending it to me and asking me about it and that's uhm....strange too.

i guess that's what's happening now. it all sounds very melodramatic, but it's not really. things are just i guess eye-opening or something. whatever. it's also raining in brroklyn and i cant get a hold of caitlin so, you know, that's stupid.

ok, more on real things some other time. i need to clean/actually move into my room some more.

bye.

what they don't tell you is that you can 'make it' anywhere.

2009-09-08T12:51:00.007-04:00

hi. so i said i'd blog once a week....looks like im having trouble with even once a month. wow. well, so anyway, here i am. new york's been alright. it's been interesting. it's an interesting place, i guess. i mean, i feel like it's a place where people either know exactly what they want, or have no idea what they want. there's really like no in between. i mean, this is not a place where you 'find yourself' or learn about yourself. i guess we have california for that. there are no long drives here, or walks in the woods, or even quiet moments/moments of solitude. and don't tell me that people can 'find themselves' in other ways; they can't. you have to have moments of solitude and reflection. you just have to. you have to be alone with yourself to figure things like that out. you just dont find yourself in new york.

i guess new york hasn't ever really had that reputation, and now i suppose i see why. too many distractions, too many frustrations, too much to do, and never enough money to do it. i feel like people who come to new york in search of something never find it....but maybe that's why they (we) really come. you can live in this sort of hanging limbo here. you can stay here for 5 years, and never get a real job, and always struggle to make ends meet, but you can feel good about it because you brush shoulders with famous people, and you can go to art gallerys and fancy bars, and you can feel like you're doing something because really what you're doing is living in new york. that can be what you do, you can live in new york and that's what you're doing. but what does that even mean? what does that even mean if you can't afford to do most of the things that make this city a big deal? hmmmm....that's what i think im trying to figure out.

because, all that said, i still think i might want to live here. but im worried that the draw is that you can start to think that doing what ever it takes to live here is doing enough/is actually doing something. i mean, how many people our age who are living here are actually going to shows on (or even off) broadway? or going to museums, or galleries, or incredible restaurants? how many of us are writing, or painting, or making music? or even like doing anything but work enough to pay the rent in a tiny apartment, and to afford your subway pass? OR even doing anything but riding the subway to and from work all day? it's hard to say. i think those things that we cant afford, and dont have the time, to do are what might make this city great, but is there a point to living here if you cant actually do those things? sometimes i see it. i mean, sometimes it does feel great just to be here (and i've only been here for like a minute so maybe that feeling will grow), it is new york, and maybe there is 'an energy'...i cant tell if there's 'an energy' though because we've been told for so long that there is, or if there actually is. a lot of new york seems to be like that. i can't actually tell if there's anything to it. a few weeks ago i felt that like 'energy' or whatever, when i was talking with a bunch of people about the things they are interested in and the things they want to do. it was totally intoxicating. but then it's like you realize that no one (well, almost no one) can afford/has the time to actually do those things. everyone has a million hobbies here. there's a lot of 'jacks of all trades' or something, but not many 'masters of one'. most people dont get the chance to do what they love in new york. that's what i think. i think people fall into jobs that pay the rent and they keep them. and that's fine. that's what i'm doing. but it feels forced, or something. what i'm about to say sounds snobby but i'll say it anyway: i have a masters in english from a really great school, and i'm a hostess at a restaurant. there's a lot of that here. i'm a hostess and an intern. i'm not doing anything great, or important, or even interesting right now. so maybe that's just my frustration.

i mean, i guess you have to have money to live in new york. like, to really live in new york, or whatever. to really appreciate it and what it has to offer. otherwise, you're just one of a million kids who's here, living in this liminal space/moment in their lives; on the threshold of something possibly great, but toiling in the service industry for a few more years because they're too afraid to actually do it...and they think toiling in the service industry in new york means they're doing something. i'm one of those kids, i think. and i think it's ok to be one...for a little while. i think the danger is that you might simply forget that that's only something you should do for a little while. you won't become great or important supporting someone else's dream...which is what you do in the service industry in new york. i work for an important chef, i'm making his dream a reality, but it's not mine. i'll never be a chef. i dont want to be a chef. so i can't be a hostess in new york for the next 5-10 years. that would be foolish.

one last thing. this concept of 'making it in new york' is fake and annoying. when people move to seattle for a year and then leave no one says 'oh, they didnt make it. they could hack it' they say 'oh, i guess he/she didnt like seattle. maybe it rained too much for him/her.' we've been duped into thinking that struggling in new york makes you more capable in life or something. it doesn't. it just means you wanted to live in new york and were willing to sacrifice some things to do it. and that's ok, but it doesn't make you tough, or strong, or special. it's just something you did. it's just acclimating to another city. personally, i think moving to another country or continent makes you wiser or stronger than just moving to a big city in your same country, but, actually, i still dont think even that makes you particularly suited to like take on the world or whatever. it's just something, it's just another thing, you've done. i think this mythos of 'making it in new york' has really affected my generation and i think it's very interesting. some people just don't like big dirty cities, and don't want to pay lots of money for shit apartments just to be in new york. does that make sense? i might be one of those people, i might not. i can't tell yet. i've never liked big cities. i moved to galway rather than dublin. life would have been easier in dublin, for various obvious reasons, but i've never liked big cities so i didnt go there. so, i guess though it was culturally harder to to adapt to, moving to galway was actually easier for me in a way. maybe that's my challenge in new york: living in a big city. it's not like i can't do it, i've just never been a city mouse. but ok, back to 'making it'. 'making it' is making your like dream come true. so yes, opening a restaurant, or a boutique, or a school, or becoming an editor, or an artist, or head of a gallery, or a designer etc etc, in new york is a big deal. a huge deal, perhaps, because of all the riff-raff you have to sort through, and all the dues you have to pay to get to the top in a city this size. but just living here and not moving away is not 'making it'. when talking to people it feels like those two things sometimes gets confused.

basically, living in new york is just living in new york. it's just looking back and realizing you paid way too much for a room that was way too small, you had a shit job and never did become a writer, but you probably had fun, and went to bars with your friends a lot, and maybe you saw some famous people, and you got to wear outrageous outfits. maaaybe you had/have a dream that can only be actualized in new york, and should that dream be actualized then chances are, you are amazing and happy, but most of us, i think, just like the comfort of a bunch of 20-30 somethings who are also existing in a liminal space and aren't fighting it...but we have to be wary of that permanent liminality that seems to trap a lot of people here. i think that trap is the danger. but also the draw.

to an old friend.

2009-09-07T12:15:00.000-04:00

happy birthday, willie.

we still miss you, you know.

2009-08-05T19:46:00.002-04:00

ok. i guess i'm back. i need to be back anyway. caitlin did it, so i will too. i guess that's a bit melodramatic...im not 'back' because it's not like i left. i just....stopped i guess. so anyway, here's the triumphant return of the prodigal daughter(?). i'm on the brink of some big changes so i'm going to try and do this at least once a week. we'll see how it goes. (why do i do that? defeat it before it even begins?)

basically, i finished my masters, and now i'm in limbo. i have to be out of my (rat infested, ahem) boston apartment by sept 1st, and into an apartment in....new york? i guess that's what i'm doing. i was thinking about moving back to ireland, but i want to try something new and different that's not living in ireland. ireland is too familiar. i know how to live there. i have an extensive network there. why would i do that? so, ok new york it is. i dont know how to live in new york. it's hot, and it's hard to get around. you dont just live near a grocery store and get groceries whenever you want. anyway, that's what im doing, i guess. i'm actually in new york now trying to find a job and an apartment. hmmm new york.

i mean, it's exciting. it's frustrating. it's all the the things moving to a new place are, i suppose. god, when i think about it, it just feels so good to move....i wonder if i'll ever stop? maybe you dont ever have to really. i'll be sad to leave boston though. i love it. i love boston. new england really is amazing. it makes you feel alive or something in a weird way, the way your emotions and thoughts are so tied into the weather. california isn't like that. there's no community of misery there. you never look over at someone who is trudging through the same 7inches of snow and negative degree weather and shrug and smile and say with your eyes "what the fuck is this?!". it feels good to do that. new england is also one of the most beautiful places i've ever seen. ugh. well im leaving it now, so let's move on.

i guess, i mean, i finished my masters. so that's something to move on to. it's over. 2 years, done. it feels strange...like i never even got it. i just....have one now? strange. i'm taking a year off (obviously. hence, the new york move)...maybe two. i want to know that i can do something else before i go back. i want to experience something else, i suppose, before i dedicate the next 5-7 years to something/a place. i sort of have to decide soon whether or not i want it to be just one year though, and that's the current dilemma.

anyway, i'm getting too hot with this computer on my lap to write anymore...for now! just for now.
i'll be back. i promise. it might take me a while to get into the habit of once a week, but i think it'll happen.

so, goodbye. for now.

long lost blog of mine

2009-04-17T12:37:00.005-04:00

ive been ignoring you for my flashy new(ish) tumblr but i know that there's no substance there. i will try to be better at substance. that's the goal for next year and/or the rest of ...well, life.
right now, i am at work:

and it's nice. the library is obviously some sort of source for respite for me. too bad i hang out on the interwebs a lot while im here....and stalk people. whoops! it's true.
anyway, here are the things im grappling with right now:
stress about school
stress about finding a job
jealousy (what's new)
and hunger (i forgot my lunch today)

so, stress is fine. like, i clearly thrive off of it, hence the whole 'oh i'll get my phd and be stressed for the rest of my life' plan. i probably love stress on some level, that's why i do half the shit i do. so whatever about that. hunger? fine. i'll just get a weird bbq chicken wrap on campus. but jealousy? how do you get over that? therapy i guess. obviously jealousy =rooted in insecurity etc. but who cares. it is what it is and it is obviously ridiculous. obviously. anyway, it comes and goes, so it'll go again, im sure. just right now, when im all stressed out and crazy, it sneaks back in. barf.

ok. so there's my first update in like 3-4months. i'll try to be better, guys. promise.

no pencil or not to pencil....THAT is the question??

2009-01-26T21:50:00.005-05:00

dude. why the hell dont girls have eyebrows anymore??
like, when did that become cool again? i say 'again' because there was a 'super skinny eyebrows are cool' stint in the mid to late 90's. but, like, i thought that went the way of the buffalo? yano? shit.

also, i tried to find an example of what im talking about...and i got this?

weird.

doing and not doing

2009-01-08T19:17:00.003-05:00

god! there are just people out there who are doing things. you know? and not just doing things, but like, doing things. you know? like, creating. that's what im talking about. there are people out there creating. writing. painting. drawing. music-ing. whatever. i'm not doing any of that. i'm just thinking. which is nothing sometimes. sometimes it's something, but sometimes it's also just nothing. i dont need anyone to tell me that what i'm doing is important right now. that's not the point. the point is, there are people out there who are putting awesome shit into the world, and i'm not one of them. it's okay, it just makes me feel crazy, a little.

read this: 'breath' -billy ramsell

that's what i'm talking about. i feel like i've had that poem inside of me before (maybe that sounds lame??) but i just never wrote it. obvs, it wouldn't have been as good, this guy is really pretty good, but you know what i mean. do you ever feel like that? makes me feel like im wasting time. i just watch snails eat fish all day on the science channel, which, while totally awesome, is not at all productive. don't get me wrong, i love tv, but like, could i please just do something with my life already?! like, im going to start school and teaching again next week and then i'll just be too tired to do anything awesome. so, fun that i just wasted a whole month, i guess.

oh well, i guess i do have a whole year off next year. remind me not to waste it. okay? okay, thx.

tumble!!!

2008-12-18T11:10:00.003-05:00

i started a tumblog (finally)!!!
it's soooo fun.
basically, ima use this thing for text posts, and my tumblr for fun video/picture/short posts.
i already love it! you should get one; you'll love it too!
also, you can use it to just basically help you streamline your internet presence. don't worry about it, im a huge nerd (it's also fun because you can really write your own/alter an existing themes' code, so you can customize the crap out of it! holler!!!!)

get one.
do it.

here's mine: http://carolannosaurus-rex.tumblr.com/

it's the same story the crow told me, it's the only one he knows.

2008-12-14T23:20:00.016-05:00

WARNING: this post is sort of filled with feelings. sometimes that happens, i guess.

i love thinking. i just do. i love thinking, and talking about it. i know sometimes it makes me impossible, however, i guess the people who really love me don't mind.
it should be noted that even though i love thinking, it's also the bane of my existence. i cant turn it off. that's the problem. especially when you do something like go to grad school. all you do in grad school is think, and think, and think. and it's amazing, but it's also impossible to separate life from your 'job' in this instance. lots of people in lots of jobs have this problem, so im not saying it's a condition specific to grad school. anyway, when all you do is think, how do you make it stop? like, i spent 3 hours on the phone with caitlin today and we just analyzed one another as though we were texts (literary for me, legal for her). really though. weird. i guess it's the chicken/egg issue. am i in grad school because im overly-analytical? or am i overly-analytical because im in grad school?
i lied. i know the answer to that question. im in grad school because im overly-analytical.
also, i love caitlin. that's got nothing to do with grad school, it's just a thing.
caitlin, if you're reading this, i love you. more than that, actually, i appreciate you.
it's always strange to hear things about yourself relayed back to you. sometimes i forget what an asshole i had been between the ages of about 13/14-20. i know we're all assholes during those years, but i really was. tonight caitlin reminded me of how she threw her shoe at me, and about how i deserved it. and about the time that i called her when i needed her, and she snuck out to help me, but never found me. i just lost it for a while i guess. i've blocked a lot of that time of my life out, but it's important to remember sometimes.
caitlin, if you're reading this, i'm sorry.
isn't strange not only when we look back on our lives and see the mistakes we've made, but also when we see them happen as we're making them? i knew, i think. i knew what i was doing, but i did it. i allowed myself to get lost. you know that feeling? how awful. it's especially sad to think that i had so many people who loved me, and wanted the best for me, and that i was awful to them. caitlin will always know that my rational facade is just that, a facade. i'm sure she'll never forget the things i said, or did, or didn't do. it's good to have those people around; they keep you honest. i really do forget who i was then. well, i guess it's a sort of active forgetting. i think we all have periods in our lives like that. or maybe, a lot of us do? it's probably the 'teen years' for a lot of us. it's just sad when you make mistakes in those years that you will never shake. hmmmm. i just remember my parents telling me that i was closing doors at the precise time when doors should be opening. i didn't understand that then, or anyway i didn't care. now i do.....both understand and care.
how do you instill that in your kids? i guess you just never stop working/trying with them. well, except you might have to at some point. i also remember my dad telling me that, if it came down to it, he would give up on me. i dont know what he really would have done if it had ever 'come down to that' but he scared the shit out of me nonetheless, which was probably the point.
anyway, i guess all i'm saying is that growing up is hard, and what they don't tell you, is that growing up doesnt actually start until your mid-twenties. before that, you're just aging, and maybe learning a little. i see that now.

us, circa the beginning of time:

dearest, dearest friend,
we have the ability to survive so much. so much that happens, so much that we do to ourselves. it's amazing really. it's like, one day youre in the thick of it, and then the next youre looking down your hands, and you realize that you've used them to dig your own way out. and it worked. or that you were shit up a creek without a paddle, and used your hands as paddles. whichever metaphor you prefer. either way, we are just so strong sometimes that it's shocking. you are that strong. i know you know that, but i just wanted to tell you. i wanted to tell you that, and that i've learned something from you. youve taught me that being honest about things like love, and sadness, and disappointment, and joy is a strength. that loving, and caring, and doing these things to the point of distraction is a strength. youre afraid of other things, i am sure, and you are weak in other ways, i am sure, but you have a braveness i have never had; you let them right in, you let them build a little fire in your chest, a fire that you stoke, and fan, and keep burning for as long as you can. i hope i dont sound too trite. i probably do, but i dont care. you should know that i admire you, even when your strength leads to your downfall i admire you. and i love you, and i am just glad that i found you, or that we found each other, and that you didnt let me let you go. im glad that we sat in your car when we were 17 and you told me that you'd always love me, and that you'd always be my friend, no matter what i had done. and im glad that you meant it. and im glad that, somehow, i heard you, and i knew you weren't lying. anyway, you should know that the same goes double for me. it's taken me a bit longer to learn about things that seem to come naturally to you, but i am learning. and i love you. a lot.
that's all i really wanted to say.

sincerely,
carolann

dude-writer vs chick-writer....

2008-11-18T16:44:00.001-05:00

ok ok, i lied. i've been testing every single blog i know of (outside of my group of friends, even) with genderanalyzer and a lot of them come up female, or whatever. interesting, however, that a lot of my girl friends come up dude-writer. i wonder about the girls who come up as chick-writers. what's difference (not on the level of linguistics; i still have doubts about how this thing actually works)?? probably has something to do with the idea that, like, women who are actually in touch with their woman-ness write their woman-ness, or something. whatever, i only have brothers, i don't know about things like that, i guess.

it's also interesting to see who comes up as the opposite sex. right? almost all of my girl friends come up as dude-writers, but my guy friends are made up of a pretty even mix. maybe it's just as simple as, i'm a dude-writer so i like other girls who are dude-writers?

it'd be fun to know exactly what's the deal with this genderanalyzer. especially because i'm into linguistics. hmmmm.....

*nb: my poetry blog is even 68% man. wild.

I always knew it; I'm a masculine writer.

2008-11-18T15:35:00.004-05:00

http://www.genderanalyzer.com/
Results:
We guess http://carolannosaurus-rex.blogspot.com/ is written by a man.

weird. well, i guess it's not actually that weird, i've been told i'm a masculine writer before. i don't really know what that means, but, uhmm, whatevs. it IS weird that this thing exists though.

also, what's weird is that i've tested a lot of my friend's blogs, and most of them come up 'man'. i'm not sure if that's because the genderanalyzer doesn't actually believe in female writers, OR if it's because i only hang out with dude-writers. hard to say.

keys and crabs

2008-10-11T22:59:00.008-04:00

ok ok, im blogging!
it's been a while, i know.
today was weird on multiple fronts (don't worry, i won't go through all the fronts), the first of which has to do with house keys:

i threw some away today. what a strange thing. throwing away keys!? but what else do you do with them?
today i threw away the old keys to two of my favorite homes: myrtle beach, and the morgan hill house. the morgan hill house. the morgan hill house. my first real home. but what's the sense in keeping the key? the people who live there now have surely changed the locks, and even if they haven't, it's not like i could ever go in there; just sit on their fancy couch, sit at their table....their table in my kitchen. you can't do that, and even if you did, it wouldn't be your house (caitlin). it's someone else's house now, and the home they make in it won't, and wouldn't, ever be mine. so why keep the key? it's strange how lives get boiled down to things. no, im not making some sort of comment on the materialistic nature of society. things really do, for lack of a better word, 'contain' our lives, in a way. and i think things have meaning, that's why we keep them, why we accumulate them. i now know why my mother keeps so many things. she didn't grow up like my dad and i did, she grew up in a home. she grew up in the same home on the same street, and she lived there almost all of her young life. i used to sleep in her old bed, in her old room, on the same sheets even. it was always there for her, as long as her parents were alive it was there. and it's funny, because it was italy in los altos. and that's why my mother has, and keeps, so many things. her parents had to make a home in a country that wasn't theirs, so they accumulated italian things, things that made where they were feel like home, and that's what my mother has been doing my whole life. all of our houses have had the same furniture, the same paintings on the walls, the same cups. she keeps them around her so that where ever we go, where ever we live, it feels like home.
my father, of course, is different....from her. he keeps very few things. the memories hurt more for him, i think. he'd rather not remember because it makes him miss places, and people, etc, and i guess he's passed that on to me in some ways. i'm a mix of them i guess. i do this weird thing where i'll keep things, usually in a shoebox because i know, or at least i think, i should (mom), but i never ever, look at them. until one day, i do, and then i usually throw the box away. or, i throw the box away without even looking inside (dad). it's totally weird. also, at least every few months i go on weird rampage where i go through my room and just wildly throw things away without even looking at them. sometimes i regret this, but that doesn't change the fact that it happens every few months. moving is even worse. i throw everything away in a move. it sometimes gets to the point of insane insensitivity. at least that's what my mother calls it.

anyway, the weird thing about moving is how it makes us like shellfish.

we just trade shells. it's so strange. not in, like, and existential way, or anything, but like, well, i guess in an existential way. like, when i was 17 i kicked a hole in the wall under the stairs in the morgan hill house, and the new crabs will walk by that place on the wall everyday until even newer crabs move in. wild.

in other news, i went to bloomingdale's today and everyone had thick boston accents. like, huh? it was bananas.

in other other news, i hate rachel zoe, maybe, but i can't stop watching her show. i'm so predictable.

dragoon does not = dragon

2008-07-30T15:30:00.005-04:00

also, i've been coming across the word 'dragoon' a lot lately (that's what happens when you work in a rare books and archives library) and couldnt for the life of me figure out what it was that made a soldier a 'dragoon'! well, here's the deal:

-Dragoon is the traditional name for a soldier trained to fight on foot but who transports himself on horseback, in use especially during the late 17th and early 18th centuries. The title has been retained until modern times by mounted cavalry and armoured regiments in a number of armies.

neat!

also, this editor's note comes from the 1909 edition of "Charles O'Malley: The Irish Dragoon" by charles lever:

editor's note
"of all the men i have ever encountered," says anthony trollope, "lever was the surest fund of drollery...rouse him up in the middle of the night, and wit would come from him before he was half awake." it is just this unfailing spring of sheer jollity and animal spirits that constitutes the charm of charles o'malley, with its copious stream of anecdote and vigorous characterizations from life.
charles lever was born in 1806. he attained no special distinction at school or college, but succeeding at last in taking his m.b. degree at dublin, he practiced for a time as health officer to various localities. it was not, however, until the pressure of gambling debts had become embarrassing, that he contributed harry lorrequer to the dublin university magazine. the immediate and unexpected success of this book encouraged him to meet the editor's demands for 'more sprigs from the same shillelagh' by writing charles o'malley, with every installment of which the circulation of the periodical went up by leaps and bounds.
in 1842, when charles o'malley was published in book form, lever undertook the editorship of the dublin university magazine, but resigned in three years' time on account of political friction inseparable from the position. the consulates of spezzia and trieste subsequently afforded him an easy income, and leisure for literary work. lever died in 1872, three years after the loss of his wife, whose death was a blow from which he never recovered.

dum in dubio est animus, paulo momento huc illuc impellitur

2008-07-30T10:58:00.008-04:00

i am not a strong person. worse still, im a prideful person. that's something that i've figured out recently. im not down on myself about it, i just know that it's true.
a conversation with a good friend yesterday made me realize how very little i actually care for other people, or at least don't do a great job of convincing them otherwise, and how often i just do whatever the fuck i want (i mostly mean in relationship-relationships here, but sometimes it applies to long-standing friendships too). i just come and go as i please, only half expecting people to be there when i get back. on top of that, i very rarely come back, which is clearly indicative of my emotional immaturity and inability to get going when the going gets tough, so to speak. i just walk away from people. like, i really just do. and with no explanation, which i realize is unfair but do anyway. it's like, some switch flicks on, and then i just change my mind. it's happened recently, and it, among other things, was brought to my attention yesterday, albeit by a totally different individual. it's horrible, really. and it means that i really havent changed that much since high school. which is not something i should be allowed to take lightly.
it all started with the recent discovery of an ex flame's fame that forced me to relive my ridiculous behavior. after that, i was regaled with a series of similar tales (from two of my closest friends) that were all just different versions of the same story. then, even on top of that, i was reminded that there is a whole group (groups, plural, i suppose) of people out there who know me as someone who, quite literally, cares very little for the feelings of others and just does whatever the fuck she wants. how awful. and you might say, 'well they dont know you' or 'dont listen to those a-holes' but that wouldnt help me in my endeavors to grow, and change, and become a better and more open person. these people do know me, on some level, and that's what i think im starting to realize. there really is a part of me that acts like this.

i think this is what makes me insane. i always feel like people are going to do to me what i do to them, and so i get insanely difficult and jealous, and then just abandon the cause all together. you know, wade into new waters that haven't yet figured out that i'm an excellent swimmer.

my dad recently told me that i had to be careful because the man i fall in love with will not love me at all. he said that the man who gets me won't love me and he'll get me because he wont care enough to buy and/or take any of my crap. apparently, if he doesnt love me, then he won't care, and that will keep me honest and true, and also interested. he seriously says this shit, btw. he then said that every boy i've ever dated loved me too much, and thus, never saw me for what i really was, never held me to a higher standard, let me do whatever i wanted, and believed me when i lied. anyway, i dont believe any of this to be true, at least it's totally not true in some cases (though i suppose it may be true in others), and is not true the way my dad believes it to be true. i mean, my dad's pretty fucking intense, if you cant tell that already. i guess im also pretty intense because i wrote these things down as he told me so that i could one day read them and think about how my dad's crazy, but then again, my dad knows me better than most people. so what does that say about me? he can't possibly be right. can he?

im also a lot like him, which i hate. it's a battle i tirelessly fight, and inevitably lose. i guess you cant help being like your dad. im constantly holding others to standards that i dont even hold myself to. making people make promises that i would never keep. i sabotage perfectly good things, im insanely jealous, and if i love someone deeply, i trust them even less than if i never even cared for them at all. im a lot like my dad.

why is it that even when we see our own faults, we cant stop perpetuating them? i seriously wonder if there's something in every person that just really doesnt want to change and is comfortable in his or her own failings. i guess that's a very obvious thing to say.

i hate how trite and boring this post is, but im on the verge of having a very important conversation with my brother in which he'll tell me who he really is, and it's forcing me to think about who i might really be. also, sometimes what people think about you is important. the way people see you, and the image they project back to and on you should matter. because who the fuck cares 'who you really are' if no one actually sees it. also, im not saying any of this in the hopes of it being disputed; im saying these things because i think im growing up. and because malus ubi bonum se simulat, tunc est pessimus. and because maybe im learning that things like honesty, and loyalty, and trust are important to everyone, and that maybe people who have difficulty trusting people do so because they know that on some level, however innocent, we are all, our own selves included, somewhat untrustworthy. maybe it's important to realize that, and to say it out loud that you might change. or something.

i dont know. i just know that i want to be better. better at trusting. better at loving. better at treating people right. better at assessing the value of the people in my life. or maybe just not assessing or assigning value at all, but just valuing everyone, because surely everyone in my life is valuable in some way.

also, i need to get better at keeping in touch with people, i think. i mean, maybe i dont. i dont know. i just suck at it and know that some people have to make far too many allowances for me, and maybe have to compromise a little too much to be my friend. ugh.

the blog that is (mostly) about men's style

2008-06-24T16:10:00.014-04:00

well, so the number one problem in my life right now is that i have to listen to sinead o'connor for homework. like, okay, now i just basically feel like i'm supposed to fling myself off the cliffs of moher. right!? right.

in other news: im in ireland on this fellowship right now. it's pretty sweet, minus the fact that i have to live in dublin. i know, i know, i must sound like an asshole: "ohhhh i haaate how i haaave to live in duuublin." srsly though, it's okay, but it just sort of feels like another big city. AND my apt is in the northside which is, well, not the very best side of dublin. let's just say, i need to bust out my track suit and gigantic hoop earrings + slick back my already-too-tight ponytail, and start saying 'howz i goin, bahyz' if i dont want to get a beat down......from the 10-14year olds that hang out on the street corner. w/e

in other other news: i want to know why it always feels so great to see fat-pictures of ex-girlfriends? like, they don't even have to be the ex-girlfriends of a current boyfriend, they can be pictures of an ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend too. it's just soooo incredibly gratifying. like, what!? why do we care?! i mean, it's not like they're fat now. no, now they're probably skinny, and pretty in a weird sort of way (mostly just in the way that you stare at pictures of them and try to figure out why the afore mention boy, or ex-boy, thought they were pretty). but still, just knowing that they WERE fat is totally awesome. not even that they were obese or anything, just sort of chubby will do as well. it's so twisted. w/e you all know what i'm talking about.
on a related note, a while ago i talked to a friend about, well, friends. it's always interesting to me how hard it is to be friends with your boy/girlfriend's ex-boy/girlfriend. it's also interesting how both sexes find it difficult, but for totally different reasons. for dudes, it almost always has to do with sex, and they usually hate most the last dude you were seeing on the regular. it's totally territorial, in this blatantly animalistic way. you know, something like this:

it fascinates me. especially because, for me and most women i know, the sex is part of it, but the main thing is like, whatever stupid bond you had with the other girl. that's the kicker. and what sucks about that is that for us sentimental bastards, the torment (too strong a word) continues as long as you remain friends with your last girlfriend. it's so ridiculous. whereas for most guys i know, it's more about the physical-ness of your last relationship. like, they mostly just hate the last person who you slept with or were physical (yes, i now have 'let's get physical' in my head too) with. i mean, whatever about your past loves, if they never kissed you, or saw you naked, or whatever, then it's like, guys are all 'who cares', or at least they feel less threatened. interesting. i think THAT'S something that could make us (men/women) tangibly different: what makes us jealous.

in an unrelated topic, the men here have incredible style. like, yea, their casual wear blows, but formal/business wear? forget about it! incredible. like, i'm talking suit-shirt-tie-shoe combos any gal would die to be seen with. the shoes on these men are incred. they wear dress shoes that are so stylish; KILLS me! like, tan exaggerated pointy toe oxfords, or shiny (but not patent leather) black and gray wingtips, or light tan polished leather pointy/square toes, etc etc.
here's some tight shoe-examples:

(this next one is appropriately called 'the lust boot' by one, ted baker)

(sometimes when i'm wearing my girly oxfords and i see a boy in shoes like the ones above i think we're meant to be)

im sorry, im just blown away by the shoe-choices in this country. dudes actually, like, ROCK shoes. you know? they wear some fucking shoes in this place and it just think it's the hottest thing. is that weird? im totally into dandies though, so that should explain a lot. i mean, the guys actually wear these sort of pointy men's shoes, and it's so tight! even when they dont wear pointy shoes, they wear awesome, old school, shoes. love it.
also, here are a few outfit combos ive seen and been way into:
-navy suit, sometimes pinstripe, light pink shirt, pink (or white) and navy stripped tie (thick stripes), tan shoes
-black and gray pinstriped suit, light yellow (or light gray) shirt, gray and yellow (or white in case of grey shirt) tie, tan shoes (i know! bold move, but it works! ESPECIALLY in the case of the yellow shirt)
-navy suit, light blue and white stripped shirt (with white cuffs and collar), navy and white tie (once i saw a navy BOW TIE with this combo), tan muther-ehffing shoes.

i wont go on because i could forever. the kicker is....THESE OUTFITS ARE ON DUDES OUR AGE! like 20-30somethings. so dashing. that's maybe lame, but 'dashing' is just really the word for it. i think if i were a dude, i'd be stoked to work in dublin. you get to have fun with the ish you wear, not just like, black suit blah blah blah. like obviously there's some of that too, but it's still super classy, AND you can wear a funky suit and people won't be like, 'gaaaaay'. you know? i guess im just into the fact that these dudes are into having a style. i think that's fun. why should girls be the only ones that have fun clothes!? maybe other people dont think clothes are fun....hmmmm....well, w/e everybody likes to look good, so that doesnt even count.

okay, time to go shower and read. also, i'm poor as hell in this freaking country.
ps what a ridiculous thing that it doesnt get dark until 10.30pm here and gets light at about 4.30am!!
pps read friel's translation/version of chekhov's 'three sisters'. i saw it in the abbey theatre last weekend (friel was in the freakin audience, secretly, the night we were there, nbd). god. i loved it, but some people couldnt stand how heavy it was. anyway, it's good, i think.
OH! and i have a friend from queens now! im so stoked on that.

Socrates to Phædrus, obvs.

2008-05-20T14:11:00.003-04:00

"Now I quite acknowledge that these allegories are very nice, but he is not to be envied who has to invent them; much labour and ingenuity will be required of him; and when he has once begun, he must go on and rehabilitate centaurs and chimeras dire. Gorgons and winged steeds flow in apace and numberless other inconceivable and portentous monsters. And if he is sceptical about them, and would fain reduce them one after another to the rules of probability, this sort of crude philosophy will take up all his time. Now, I have certainly not time for such inquiries. Shall I tell you why? I must first know myself, as the Delphian inscription says; to be curious about that which is not my business, while I am still in ignorance of my own self, would be ridiculous. And, therefore, I say farewell to all this; the common opinion is enough for me. For, as I was saying, I want to know not about this, but about myself. Am I, indeed, a wonder more complicated and swollen with passion than the serpent Typho, or a creature of gentler and simpler sort, to whom nature has given a diviner and lowlier destiny?"

oh god, i mean, RIGHT?! right.

also, re: gorgons, this is funny.....

cut. it. out.

2008-05-14T23:25:00.004-04:00

gaaahhhhhhhhh!!! i hate the idea of all the ideas im having right now.
also, here's this:

N-E-WAYZ lupus shit all up in his crate today. so that was rad. like, i got home at about 9, after dinner with james, and sure enough....no one had walked the dog (not the yo yo trick, either). thus, lupus had to sit in his shit for probably hours (i noticed that it waaaaas pretty cold when i was scooping it up). what a miserable day. augh, and cleaning it up was no party either, that's for sure. why do people get dogs when they dont actually want a dog but just want a friend? i guess the answer to that question is in the question itself, so that's unfair. but AUGH! like, what the fuck, basically. the only thing i could think to do after scraping shit off the bottom of his crate AND throwing away one of his fav chew-rope things, was to take the beast on an long long walk. right? it lasted for almost two hours.
in all honesty, we both needed it. i think we'd both had a pretty miserable day.....you COULD say, we'd both been knee deep in shit (ps look at all the 'ee' that just happened!), not that you would, but you could. lupus, i guess, was actually in shit and maybe that's worse. but i was in the mental mire, you know? i've been obsessing lately, and it's totally weird....mostly because i didnt see it -the obsessing- coming. now i just sit around and think. like, what?! oh god, and i do that thing where you think of something that sucks and you shudder and close your eyes. you know the one. augh, i hate that. yea, been doing that for the past 2days too. what a weirdo.

okay, that's all. OH! wait, i lied. two more things:
1) joel let lupus out of the crate before he realized he'd shit all in it aaaaand we found poo-prints all over the upstairs. hilarious.
2) lupus was so backed up after having had to hold it in for so long that, several times during the walk, when he had to go he couldnt. however, the last time....he farted.....audibly....twice. hilarious x1,000. audible dog farts?! imagine.

seek and ye shall find......oh, right, that's a threat too......

2008-05-14T00:36:00.007-04:00

so, the good news is.....im back? yea, finals are over and i guess im back to being totally obsessed with "the internet."
as a result, i found this which im pretty sure deirdre will like.
right?!
right.

in other news, im exhausted. exhausted. tired of thinking, tired of analyzing. tired of all that shit. i mean, not only do i do that shit on my own, like in my room, listening to otis, but now i do it for a living. can i really sustain this level of internal examination for.....well....ever? i think that's what im trying to do, and it's so strange. you start to think you know things you cant possibly know. start to feel things that dont make sense. but in real life it's like, you've become so internally aware that you cant actually tell what youre really feeling or thinking.....you could just be convincing yourself of all of this.

do you ever get information that you wish you didnt have? and isnt it just terrible when youve been the asshole actively seeking it out? and then you get it; like, your suspicions are confirmed and you wish you'd never asked the question in the first place. i hate that. ive been doing that a lot lately. augh. makes me want to vom.

what else...well, i got the fellowship thing in dublin. i dont know how much money they're going to give me, though....so i guess i should say, i got into the seminar thing in dublin and am waiting to hear about the fellowship. w/e i dont even want to go anymore. i just want to work at the burns, and go to the cape, and eat corn dogs. that's what i want to do for the summer. and drink beer and/or root beer. i dont want to 'rub elbows,' and go to lectures, and read every book ever published on the topics of the lectures (srsly, the reading list for the three weeks is INSANE).

also, im just blacked out. and as a result im totally overreacting about stupid things, and underreacting (not a word...should be)/not dealing with the big things. what's new, right? that's clearly the right thing to do (no sarcasm).

okay, bye.

life and not life.

2008-03-29T00:32:00.008-04:00

do you ever have those moments when you just think "this is not my life. this absolutely cannot be my life." do you ever have those? i hate those. im having one right now. i feel like im watching an a&e special, or maybe a lifetime movie or something. this absolutely cannot be my life.
when i was home for easter my dad and i talked about leonard cohen. we sat in the living room and listened to 'alleluia' and didnt say a word. my brother was there. my poor poor brother. and my mom, and stacey, and the kids were playing with tractors and cars on the floor. my mom was making pesto. then my dad looked at me and said 'he's so good. he's so dark, but so good', and i said 'so good', then he said 'he's just soo sooo dark', and i said 'i think that's why he's so good'. and he said 'yea' and then we didnt say anything else. later that weekend, after my dad had opened a champagne bottle with a sword, we were sitting at the table, the night was winding down and everyone was a little drunk, and very full, which always makes big families feel even more familial, and my cousins were all drifting around, and my aunt and my mother were fighting. my dad and i were sitting at the empty dining room table, eating pie, and drinking champagne, and he turned to me and said, 'growing up sure is hard, isnt it?', i nodded, and he said 'and you know what, it only gets harder', and i nodded and rested my head on his shoulder for a minute.
i guess he's right, and i guess we all know it. and i guess the question is, 'how do we manage? how do we proceed?' or, in this case, 'what can we do?' we can pray. all that's left to do is pray. so, i do. we do.
over the course of those 5 days i would stare at my brother as he read the paper, ate a croissant, drank his coffee, hugged his daughter, dressed his son, and i would try to imagine him as the person i had just learned about. i couldnt. he's my brother. that's all. that's all he can ever be. the jarring experience of learning that he is so much more than that, that he is perhaps something terrible to other people, is just too much to bear. actually, that's almost a lie, because i can only barely imagine him being anything but my brother. it's like when you were little and you saw your teacher at the store. it's too weird. so you just shake it off and wait for them to become your teacher again. only i guess it's different, because when you learn things about your family, you dont really forget them. and it's weird, because when you find out things about your family, it's like youre finding out things about yourself. it's all part of you. and you start to question whether or not you even know your family at all, and furthermore, what does that say about you? do you know you? right? how strange. because i know my brother, and i dont know my brother. but regardless, i will always love my brother. always. regardless. which is the hard part. the love, i suppose, is always the hard part.
in the middle of breakfast on easter morning, after we'd all gone to sunrise mass, and secretly cried a little alone together when the priest turned off the lights and made us look at the sun rising, my brother said 'so, are you still smoking cigarettes?' what a moment to say that. but i knew why he did it. i wouldve done it too. i laughed, my dad scoffed, and my mother smacked his shoulder, and we all laughed, and i said 'well, i gave them up for lent.....but lent's over, so we'll see'. then, of course, my mother smacked my shoulder, and we all laughed.
i wish we could just all laugh all the time. i know that we cant. i know that that's not the point, but at times like these it just seems so appealing.

ultimately, all that matters is this: nothing's changed. you are my brother. i am your sister. we are a family. we still love each other. so that means very little has changed. it could be better, and it is not worse. so now just pray.

the cape is all it's cracked up to be.

2008-03-12T23:29:00.030-04:00

well, the cape was everything it's cracked up to be. i dont know, i guess it just felt really good to get out of the city. it's funny how easy it is to forget that things are different in other places. like, when you live in a city, and you just take the subway (t) everywhere, you never really get out. god, you just forget that there even IS an out.
i guess it's also funny how easy it is to just slide back into your city-self. i mean, the minute i got back into boston i was flipping out in my car, and yelling at everyone, and i saw the skyline and cried (dont worry, there was just a lot of crying in general on the cape......well, not cry-crying, mostly just getting misty).
ok, so here's how i summed up our time on the cape for a friend:
we walked on the beach, talked, collected seashells, talked, ate pizza, drank beer, talked, watched my so-called life, drove around, had feelings, talked, read comic books, ate ice cream, talked, watched a horror movie about a gender-bending teen, pretended to do work, talked, got a free LARGE cheese pizza, bought souvenirs, talked, ate sno-balls, talked, and then i came home and left everything important on the cape.....including my cape cod shot glass. luckily, deets and howard brought everything back for me. all in all, i guess you could say that we did all the really important stuff.

i think that's basically all you need to know.

oh, minus the fact that i totally cried (almost, like, big tears too) when we drove into provincetown. ok ok, i know what youre thinking...very funny. no, i dont know WHAT it was all about. ok, actually, i guess i kind of do. mostly it had to do with the fact that deirdre and i had forgotten to eat. i guess we both do that, and then dont realize it until we get all crazy. i mean, i know i do that, but i didnt know she did too. that's fun. anyway, yea, we just got in the car one day, and we said we were gonna go to cvs and get supplies (toilet paper, etc), but instead we just drove. we drove, and drove. past all these incredible things: old cemeteries, a TON of closed-for-the-season crab/lobster shacks, lakes, bay, ocean, etc. it was maybe my favorite part of the trip.....well, minus when we went antiquing....anyway, we just kept driving until all of a sudden we were almost in provincetown. fun. the mist/tears came when we were driving up this little incline and on either side of us were these east coasty sand dunes, and there was sand all over the road, and we could see the ocean on the left, and the bay (we think) off in the distance on the right, and (are you ready for this) the sun was setting, and we were listening to leadbelly. of course, my meta-self recognized the superb ridiculousness of the situation, and i started laugh-crying and saying "im crying????!! is that what's happening???!!" and deirdre laughed, and then i laughed, and it was over. then we looked at all the little bungalows that line the shore in truro, and deirdre said "i thought you'd like this" and she was right. i love that. i love when people say "i thought you'd like this" or, "i knew you'd like this" and they're right. it feels good. it feels like they know you. and they must, because they thought you might like it, and you do. i love that.
anyhow, we had come that far, so we decided to keep going until the very end. the very end. it's so weird to think that you can just drive out to the very end. we were two girls from california on one of the most easterly points of these united states. crazy. also, there was this cool rock/monument for the place where one of the pilgrim ships of 1620 landed. not the mayflower, but another one. that's a real eye opener. oh, and instead of taking a picture of the monument (which i didnt even think to do until we were all the way back to the bungalows in truro) i took a ridiculous harbor/sunset picture. but what's a trip to the cape without a ridiculous harbor/sunset picture anyway??
also, if you click on that picture, first of all, it comes up huge, BUT that's fine because that means you can see that that boat-thing is called "summer place".....CLEARLY it's meant to be a summer place. right? augh, i actually cannot wait for summer. i know i'll be buggin out about the humidity, but ehff it, i still cant wait.

oh! and it rained. it was great. i mean, it didnt rain the first day. that was the day we walked on the beach and froze, but we collected seashells and chased seagulls, and it was perfect. ok. more on the cape later. it's time for bed now. here's another picture that no one who wasnt at the cape with me and deirdre will think is cool (ps it's the view from the roof of grammy and poppy's cottage):

dang

2008-03-08T18:22:00.003-05:00

wow. i just realized that that last post (below) is reeeaaalllly long.

so, if you dont read it all, it's okay, i know you still love me.
it's just a ridiculous rant anyway.

sheesh.

so, here's this to make up for everything:

more like 'slam faux-etry'

2008-03-08T14:27:00.008-05:00

today, someone sent me this:
"god, slam poetry is what's happening in poetry right now. get back on the wagon, and make a difference. thought you'd like this. much love,___________"
along with this:

now, first of all, dont EVEN get me started on the phrase 'much love'....
second of all, NOOOOOOOOOO!!

okay, so, yes, taylor mali is awesome, and yes, im going to be a teacher and i love the idea of people standing up for teachers, and yes, mali is right, and cool, and totes has his finger on the pulse, or whatever-whatever. BUT slam poetry is NOT where poetry is going. it is not even poetry. did you hear me!? SLAM POETRY IS NOT POETRY.
side note: many of you know my feelings on 'slam poetry' so feel free to ignore this post entirely.

back to it: slame poetry is not poetry. it is a performance art. that is what it is. if you take taylor mali's poem and transcribe it, it would not be a good poem. in fact, there would be a part that reads:

if you think with this (mali yells and points to his head)
then you use this (mali yells and points to his chest, implying he is pointing to his heart)
and if anyone tries to judge you based on what you make,
you give them this! (mali yells really loud now, and brandishes his middle finger/flips the audience the bird)

that is not good poetry. that is acting, and the parenthetical asides are stage directions. and this is why, after a brief stint in the 'slam poetry' world, i retired my thoughtfully placed inhalations, and saul-williams-inspired halted speech.
it's trite, my friends, and it's not poetry.

the real thing that did it for me happened at the house of blues (i think it was the house of blues....c'mon, this was 6 years ago) in san jose. i was 18, and had won a place at this thing in san jose with a poem i had written for my friend, who's father had just passed away. my poem was soppy, and sad, and not about rape, or my vagina, or oppression, or starving people. it was just a poem about how much i loved my friend, and how sad i was for her. but it got me to this 'competition' which, at the time, i thought was some sort of exciting honor or something. i was wrong. it was about a month before the thing, and i was at the house of blues(?), at a slam competition, with some people who were "poets." it was fun, i mean, i was 18 and people were, i thought, bearing their souls on stage, or whatever. i was intrigued. anyhow, long story short, the night was, of course, filled with either angry performances or funny performances, basically just crowd pleasers. and at the end of it all they were down to three people: one chick with a totally moving (albeit trite in its own right, but less performative and more poetic) poem about her grandmother, a dude who was mostly just funny and talking about his lack of luck with girls, and another dude who had an angry poem about how his ex-girlfriend or fiance had his child, and never told him, and now he's missed out on his first steps, and words, etc, rreeeeeaaall crowd pleaser, and also possibly genuine.
the dude with the funny poem about his lack of luck with chicks won.

i was incensed.

this man's "poem" was faux-etry. it was stand-up comedy (which, dont get me wrong, i do love) barely dressed in internal rhyme, alliteration, and assonance. not that poetry can't be funny, it can, and often is, but what im getting at here is that this poem wasnt even a good poem. it was funny, yes, but because of his delivery and subject matter. the grandmother poem was at least a more of a poem and less of a performance, i mean, at least on paper it would have been moderately good and poetic.....thus, the kind of thing that should win a POETRY competition. and when i said this to my one of my "poet" friends, she said, 'yea, but it doesnt really matter about the poem, you gotta win over the audience and get the points (she literally meant points: each poet was given a score after their performance....im infuriated just saying that)." it was like a bomb or something went off in my face, and that's when i realized that slam poetry is not about poetry really at all.....even when youre not competing. it's all about the drama, quite literally speaking....oh, and usually the cash-money and prizes. there was a cash prize for each of the three performers. augh.

now, i would be a hypocrite to say that slam poets are assholes for competing for money; im not saying that i've never gotten monetarily rewarded for my poetry. while i do have a problem with the idea of poets competing directly against each other for money, or forming 'teams' that compete for money, i do understand that every time i submit poetry to a magazine or organization who rewards you with money and publication, that i am essentially competing with other poets. i get that. however, we are at least competing over the quality of our poetry, with our words on the page, not with how well we can perform, or how good we look on stage, or how well we recreate/slide ourselves into the prescribed 'slam poetic delivery'....you know the one....YOUknow *inhale* theone.

the idea that the friend who incited this post wants me to come to new york, and re-enter this world, and to 'make a difference' via slam poetry, sickens me. slam is not my art. obviously. and it never was (i withdrew from the afore mentioned competition, not for any noble reason, mostly just because i knew i was in the wrong boat with my sad-death poem). obviously. i dont think my poetry is really stage-adaptable. obviously. i mean, the last time i won money for a poetry submission, two of the five poems were sonnets. does he really want me to get up on stage and read a sonnet? does he really think anyone would even get what im doing?
doesnt matter if he does, or if they would; i would never do it. i know i sound like some sort of asshole (what's new, i guess). i am not saying that slam poetry is not an art, or that it's not a legitimate form of expression. it is both of those things. but it is not poetry, that is not the art that it is. like i said, it's a performance art.
if it is to be considered poetry at all, i guess we can say that it's poetry for the tv generation. right? for the generation that wants it fast and hard and loud with flashing lights and major entertainment value. for the visual, auditory generation that needs to see it, hear it, to even care. for the generation that wants it fed to them (us) in plain language, and exciting forms, rather than having to read it and/or work for it.

it's also, more often than not, completely sensationalist. which is why i often feel like it's so contrived.
i mean, how many times do i have to be yelled at about a vagina, or 'spic/wop/nigger/kike/cunt', or orgasms, or well, how many times do you have to yell your 'poetry' at me in general? im sick of being manipulated by this swill!
slam poetry is like watching a michael moore movie: you think maybe it's real, but then you reeaally think about it, and it's totally not, and you just got duped into believing in this dude who's really just trying to make a buck. i mean, you walk out of the movie thinking you learned something, thinking youre inspired, then you realize it's all crap, and youve just been made the fool. and slam poets are just like michael moore: it's all about self-presentation. you know, the rich dude in the baseball cap, pretending to give a shit when really he's just feeding you crap and manipulating the hell out of you. AND all the while he's calling it 'documentary filmmaking'. if those things are documentaries, then im freaking cleopatra. please. i mean, just like michael moore, it just feels like these people are capitalizing on these terrible things, LIKE rape, LIKE abuse, LIKE racism. ESPECIALLY when you get the ones who get up there and 'speak for'. you know, 'ive never been through it, but here's why it's wrong, and here's why im not like that/would never do that'. it just feels so incredibly exploitative.

so, is this really what poetry has come to? is it really no longer about meaning and craftsmanship? god, jonson and donne, yeats and eliot, etc, are surely rolling over in their graves right now. not that these, and other traditional poets, were necessarily anti-sensationalists, or whatever, in fact, all of them were sensationalist (maybe not jonson), and exciting, and powerful.....but in these incredibly thoughtful, insightful ways. their words can stand on their own. and these poets dont have to plan/practice their delivery, and get behind a microphone to be powerful and/or get their message across. know what i mean? does any of this make sense?

im just sick of this. and i guess there's just this really incredible world of writers and poets (our generation and older) out there who i feel are being ignored, because they're not up on stage crying their crocodile tears for an audience. but i mean, i guess they'll have their day. like, the written word has the power to last forever, and how many of our grandchildren are gonna be up on youtube checking out def poetry jam.......well, i guess i cant really answer that, but if my grandkids are all up on youtube checking out def poetry jam, they'll also be all up on the broadview anthologies as well. so, there.

ALSO, im making my kids read this, which we've all read but should re-read often, next semester.....because im the teacher.....and it's my class......and because i can.
so, there x2.

right!?

a mammoth typewriter

2008-03-01T00:54:00.004-05:00

i have so much work to do over the course of the next week. it's ridiculous. just thought i should put that out there.
OH! and im going to the celtics/detorit game with my housemates on wednesday. so that's fun. i dont know, it's like when in rome, or whatever, right?! right. i just hope they have hot dogs, and that eddie house asks me to the movies after the game. what?!

on to the important stuff: we got a dog. yes, we got a dog and he's pretty much the tightest. however, he and i have aaaaalmost the same eyes......only his might be a prettier brown. i know. as if. anyway, he's fun. oh, and he has all these idiosyncratic mannerisms and random fears, so that's kind of interesting. i mean, he's two, so he really lived a whole life before coming here. it's just funny because dogs are a little like kids in that when you meet them you can tell exactly what their owners/parents are like. like lupus' owners were clearly really big on 'out of the kitchen' because he wont even go in if you invite him. you have to really encourage him to come in if youre cooking/hanging out in there. i guess that's good, but then i thought about how we keep his food and water in the kitchen and i worried that he would never drink water and would eventually get really dehydrated. i know, weird. anyway, lupus is tight, and sleeping at the end of my bed right now, and i guess there's nothing nicer than a dog sleeping at the end of your bed while you type.

speaking of typing, i'd really like to have a typewriter again. i just like typing (as opposed to longhand), it's clearer, faster, etc. but i think something gets lost (in writing for fun) when i write on my computer. is that weird? i like having multiple drafts of stuff so that i can see where it was, and can kind of remember what my original intentions were. know what i mean? do you ever just re-work something so much that you cant even remember what it was originally? sometimes i try to keep multiple drafts on my comp, but that just gets confusing.

speaking of confusing, what am i even talking about?? anyway, im thinking about getting this typewriter, you know, for the sake of ease and all:

so, yea.

god, i cant wait for winter to end. i like it, but i also just feels like im getting slapped in the face every time i walk outside....no, literally. like, 19 degrees is definitely NOT enough degrees. augh! not to mention "wind chill". lame. i think when the sun starts working again i will lay prostrate in the sun for weeks on end. i'd give anything for a sunburn, i think. just to feel, like, sun rays or sun beams, or whatever you call those things, would be incredible at this point. well, i guess it's also nice that i'll reeeeeally appreciate the sun when it does get its act together. so yea, i guess i just feel like that counting crows song about 'i need a sunbuuuurrrnnn' or whatever. god, the counting crows shouldve been from the east coast. i mean, as if december even means anything in california. dude, remember how there were about a million band members in the counting crows! weird. then they wrote that song for shrek and it was like they were never an angsty alt rock band of 90's fame. puh leeze.

i hate that i fell asleep from like 6-9.30 because now im not even tired. ugh.

also, living in a hundred+ year old house means that every time one of your upstairs roommates has sex your whole room shakes. i used to pay no attention to this shuddering because im from california, so id just brush it off as a mini-e.q. or something, but then one night i realized that they dont even have earthquakes in these parts......and even if they did, they certainly dont have them like every other night. augh. it's ridic! my bed shakes, my bookshelf shakes, the water in my glass sloshes around. offensive. offensive on all counts. geeze, 1900 new england, try reinforcing your house frames for once.

cape awesome

2008-02-19T22:58:00.005-05:00

ok. so im really getting excited for spring break. mostly because me and deirdre might go to the cape (yes, cape awesome......fine fine, cape cod) for a few days. i know it won't really look like that picture because it's all cold right now, but it's still the beach, and it's still sand, and it still smells like the ocean, so that's good enough for me. also, it's just an escape from the city. i think i need an escape from the city. it just seems like the best idea ever. i understand that things might happen to make this not happen, but i have a feeling that we might actually go. AND that it might be just what the doctor ordered. just hanging on the cape in the house deets grew up playing in!??! perfect, right!? anyway, we talked about it, and i think we're just gonna get hella emo, and watch movies, and read j-books, and drink things (wine? beer? all?) and im definitely going to write. i need to start putting out some work that im actually proud of......rather than the ish that's just been spilling out of my gullet as of late. i need to, like, go back into my 'the work' folder, and pull out the stuff that is salvageable and revise/rework it. i havent done that in a while. which is lame.

anyway,

also, ive decided that im going to grow up a little bit. i need to stop this ridiculous obsessive behavior where i freak out about little stupid things so that i dont have to deal with the big non-stupid things.
oh! and today, i was walking home listening to tupac and i was in sort of a bad mood. just kind of feeling weird, and then feeling like the world is weird too, and then this thing flew into my face. i was sure it was a bug and i was like, 'obviously a bug flew into my freezing face right now'......but it wasnt a bug. i looked up and saw all of this glitter floating around in the street light and realized that it was snowing again. that just felt nice. i just stood there and laughed and watched the flurries float around. perfect.

then i thought, maybe it's more than 'just heaven sent', tupac; maybe we will 'live to see a black president'. THEN i came home and found out that obama beat out hillary in wisconsin. and that also felt pretty good.

well......

2008-02-18T21:56:00.009-05:00

sooooooooo, im copying my friend, dani, and starting a poetry blog. that way, people who don't want to read the ridiculous poetry i've been writing lately don't have to. AND the people who only want to read the ridiculous poetry i've been writing lately can just do that.......or something. besides, it just clutters up the page anyhow. i mean, i guess some poetry will still sneak into this blog because i never can seem to shake that gall' dang poetry, but whatevs. this isn't a, like, real blog anyway. pshhhhhhhhhhh....whatever that means.

n-e-wayz, here's the new one: the north african journals

in other news: i have done, like, next to no reading as of late. so, that's fun. i've also been drunk ENTIRELY too much.....which seems fun at the time, but then it's not always fun when you drunk dial people you hardly know and talk to them for way to long about stuff they probs don't even care about. augh.

i also should go to the dentist someday. i mean, i dont have any cavities (i know, right!?!?) but i also don't want to get any, so i should be more proactive in my dental care. non??

what else? well, as you can see from the poem below, this is freaking me out:

it's just weird that my dad was a seawolf. it just is. and that there are people, who dont even know him, who technically know more about what he did in viet nam than i do. obviously polly (g-ma) had to tell me about the book/told me right after my dad sent it to her......which only happened because she insisted that he send it (she's 86, she can do things like 'insist' stuff of lew madden). my dad doesn't even mention it to me, or anyone else. i guess there's pictures of him in it, and like, a chapter on him or something. i dont know. i mean, obviously i ordered it but i probably won't even be able to read it. could you??

"..........the liberated algiers became a sort of literary capital. gide was often in north africa, camus was talked about a lot, new literary journals and new publishers sprang up everywhere. all of this fascinated me. i wrote some bad poetry that i published in north african journals, i kept a "private diary," but even as i withdrew into this reading or other solitary activities, well, in a dissociated, juxtaposed way, i also led the life of a kind of young hooligan, in a "gang" that was interested more in soccer or track than in studying."
-Jacques Derrida

work majorly in progress....like, this =the first draft.

2008-02-17T19:15:00.014-05:00

The Heat of That Uncontrollable Flame.
upon learning of the book, Fire from the Sky, from a woman who knows you well.

We’ve wiggled, fallen, wandered
I’ve wondered.
You are my father and not my father
you are a warrior and
you are a tramp
country
raised on all the things that tramps have seen
the road, the dirt, the collard greens.

With secrets buried deep
you raised me
to know
and not to know
raised me to ask only when I wanted answers
and so,
there are many things I know,
that you don't know
I know.
You with buttoned lip
the soldier
the beacon
my southern cross.

I have looked into those steely eyes
and pulled the love right out of them.
I have been wrought in that iron,
wrought in that gaze
drawn through the furnace
and passed through the heat of that uncontrollable flame.
And I have been born;
armored in full,
and wholly unkempt
and wholly untouchable.

My father.
And not my father.
And who can tell
the secrets you have told
the wooden handles on your heart
one handle I forever hold
are worn with the telling
and not telling.
You and I have wrists wrapped
in either end of this tenuous tie that binds
and my love travels down this rip-hand rope to you
silently
and without knowing
we are tied to one another
and, oh, the binding is unfortunate.
all at once
just like he said
a terrible beauty was born.
My father.
These secrets are kept safe with you
with me,
these noble, desperate, family things
those honest words we never speak.
You have told me once
and twice
some things I need to know
but who can ever trust the words of one who's so
important
and so insistent
that actions say what words do not

but wait

that’s not it.
It’s 'actions speak louder than words'
or is it?

Ah, my fury

alas, my father.

2008-02-09T14:01:00.001-05:00

Philip le Bel, seen here ------>
burned the Knights Templar at the stake. whoa.

also, sweet painting, kind of. right??

so, that's what yeats is talking about w/ 'vengeance for jacques maloy' in "I see Phantoms of Hatred and of the Heart's Fullness and of the Coming Emptiness"

he's so wild.

+ read that poem. maybe it'll blow your face off like it did mine......

the zombies will change your life.....

2008-02-08T01:02:00.001-05:00

.......so will THIS:

deets showed me this vid. im obsessed with it now.....maybe forever(?). augh. amazing

don't you ever just miss your brother?

2008-02-07T23:30:00.000-05:00

first things first:i cried in church last night. yea. alone, on ash wednesday. ridiculous. i mean, and the totally horrible thing is that my fellow parishioners probably thought i was crying because i had major sins to repent or something but, i dont really (i dont think....no. decidedly no major sins to repent).
[side note: catholicism is cool because no one asked my why i was all teary/asked if they could save me, or whatever. i like that my faith is personal. maybe that's not your bag, but it's def mine]
so yea, nothing major to repent, i was crying because i missed one of my brothers. ok ok, so it all started because i was remembering how my brother chad would do this weird thing with his fingers on the pews in church; he would, like, put his thumb and pinky on top of the pew and tuck the other fingers behind, and then do that with his pointer and ring finger, etc. and when i was little i used to secretly try it out too. im sure he never even noticed he did it, or that i copied him every sunday. i just, i did everything my brother chad did. i liked what he liked. i even wore the things he wore. i dont think he ever really knew that, i guess while i was trying to be like him he was trying his best to be different from our older brother.
anyway, i cried because i'll probably never do that, copy his fingers in church, again. i just have to do it on my own now.....like yesterday, and then i get all misty (?!). i know it's maybe weird, but i wasn't upset that he stopped believing in god when our mom got cancer - i think that god, if He does exist, would understand why chad doesnt know if he believes in Him anymore after everything else that's happened to him- but i was upset that i wouldn't ever share these things with my brother again. it just seems weird, i guess. it is, it's weird that when we all go to mass at christmas, my brother and his family stay home. i mean, most of it is just tradition, it's what we do, it's just something we do...as a family. so, it's strange when he's not there, because family is important to him. i dont know, it's just sad, i guess. it's just sad, and it makes me miss my brother.

re: ash wednesday, it's kind of wild. when i got home with this black ashen cross on my head brittany said it felt kind of medieval, and i guess it does. you wear the mark of a repenter, which is essentially the mark of a sinner, which is like, whoa. and we do this because in the old testament jonah talks about repenting in a pile of ash, and also, in the old testament we are told how, when people had kind of major sins to repent, they would smear their faces with ash and be made to wear 'sack-cloth'(i know, i imagine dudes in potato sacks too). THEN j.c. talks about smearing ash on your face as the mark of repentance, etc in the new testament, too. plus, the priest dabs his thumb into this little pot of palm ash and puts a big black cross on your forehead and says, "remember, oh man, you are dust, and unto dust you shall return," or "turn away from sin, and be faithful to the gospel" which are both pretty heavy. SOOO all that to say this: yea, it's kind of ancient and a little medieval. i love it though. basically, catholicism can get pretty medieval on you if youre not careful......and also if you are careful, i guess.......but im pretty sure that that's what's rad about it.

in other news: i think my 'minor existential crisis' has a lot to do with yeats. he's just making me think too much about.....stuff. stuff like love, and suffering, and passion, and writing, etc. you know, all the major stuff that wrecks your head. isnt it amazing that maud gonne just didnt love him? i guess it's not, you know, 'you cant help who you love' and all that, but still. he proposed to her 3 times, maybe 4 (?), in the span of about 5-6 years and she turned him down time after time. then she goes and marries john macbride, who is abusive, and a drunk (and later dies in the easter rising.....and, according to marjorie howes "no really, he deserved it"). i mean, i dont know, she just didnt love him, and he never really got over her. i think that only men love like that. every woman i know is much more practical when it comes to love. maybe not when it comes to other things, or something, but when it comes to being in relationships/being in love, women are often coldly rational. it's amazing. probs has something to do with mating. i mean, yeats probably wasnt the best mating candidate. he's all waify, and dreamy, and poetic, etc. also, probably pretty intense and a little insane.
let's look at this picture of maud gonne:

kind of incredible, right??

what about yeats:

i dont know, i think it works. but then again, pain=poetry for yeats, so i guess we should all be glad it didnt 'work' between them. or maybe it did 'work' and they were just meant to be the passing ships (if you know what i mean).

im tired. i dont know what im writing about anymore.
but just in case youre wondering, 'i cant stop your memory from breaking my heaaarrrt', etc, etc.

marie annette forbes

2008-01-30T18:12:00.001-05:00

well, so i thiiink the 1/4 life crisis might be over a little. i dont feel as insane, and it could be due, in part, to the fact that some of my really good friends are totally happy, and that gives me some sort of (dare i say it??) hope.
some people i love are making connections and unmaking connections with other people, and all of this is (seemingly) proving to be pretty good for them.
im into it.

in other news: i started back at the library today. it was incredible, as per usual, to be back. the burns library is an amazing environment. it's just this microcosm, or something, it's this world of nerds (like, REAL nerds. not the kind that wear "i heart nerds" shirts, and/or who wear trendy tortoise-shell rectangular glasses,+ dye their hair black. more like the kind who geek out on microfiche, and know what 1684 is in roman numerals w/o even having to look it up on novaroma) who are all there for the same reason...books. could i imagine a more perfect environment for myself in all the world?? nope. anyway, so today i was cataloging away, when i came across this little book called "The Human Body and Its Health". It was INCREDIBLE. Published in 1868, this little book had NO IDEA what the human body was all about. Par example: they straight up said they had no idea what the thyroid did, but that maybe it helped clean out the body, buuuut also, maybe not, they werent sure. Then it went on to talk about how, in verrrry rare cases, the thyroid would swell up, basically this only really ever happened in India and Switzerland, and this was a direct result of drinking too much 'hard water'/water with lime (not the fruit) in it. ALSO it talked about what to do in the "unfortunate event of a mother being unable to suckle(god, i hate the word 'suckle') her child," and how "cow's milk" would have to be "administered" instead.....with three tablespoons of water and sugar, per wineglass amount so that the child would drink it. THEN it went on to talk about how mothers would have to be really careful not to give their children sour milk "as we all know how easily milk sours, and how dangerous sour milk can be".....the kicker is the fact that the next two paragraphs went on to talk about how grocers often rob 'us' and give us sour milk and that these grocers should be put in prison and made to do hard labor, etc, etc. it was pretty redic.

Ok ok, but the REAL DEAL is that this book belonged to some girl named Marie Annette Forbes, from Dungannon, Co. Tyrone, Ireland. It was incredible because here is this little book, and clearly its owner was a young girl because she had practiced her signature allllll over the thing. She practiced using different names like "Mimi" or "Minnie" or "Ann" or "Mary Anne", all variations on her own name, as well as practicing different styles of impeccable cursive. I dont know, it was just so personal. I could picture her being bored, and writing all these names out. And it didnt stop there, she doodled throughout the whole book: faces, flowers, you name it. Then, at the end of the book, she wrote out part of your typical morning prayers, and then signed it: May 24th, 1883 Marie Annette Forbes (she chose her real name for this one), Workhouse, Dungannon, then wrote the scripture "give me your tired, your poor, (etc etc) and i will give them rest." blew my mind. she was in a fucking WORKHOUSE in ireland. i couldnt/cant believe it. imagine.

well, i guess i should probably go read now.....not like i dont have about a million pages left to read for my yeats class.

my writing has been sucking, but here's what im working on right now

2008-01-27T19:10:00.000-05:00

The Sin of the Sodomites

This is like the sin of the Sodomites
unknown
to all but the sinners themselves.
We have little or nothing to say these days to each other
feeling
longing
lost.

What constitutes change. and when.
I've changed.
I have little, or no, ground to stand on anymore.
Who can
stand upright among the pillars of salt
bend, and break, and make me new.
Unbeknownst to you, happy and alive with life, love, and all the things people should be living for,
you have become my inspiration,
and we havent spoken in months.
It is the gravest sin of the Sodomites.

And it never had anything to do with sex.

From the gnostic texts to the bloody book of John, we have mapped our course,
so far
from the mouths of babes,
we are
the ones who wrecked the world
brought the wrath down upon us
and we can never know
the cause.
Ambiguity,
so history repeats itself.

Wrapped in salt, and blown away
to mix with sand by way of wind,
and walking 'til the break of day,
we ne'er look back and, thus, begin

new lives;with hands washed clean of sin
and walking through st. peter's doors,
we challenge milton, answer donne
in wretched ways been done before.

Our cleanliness we would adore,
and with slate wiped clean, begin again,
having forgotten what's in store.
Oh, the paltry lives of men:
to want things well beyond our ken.

________________________________________________

The Mallachtai
You are a fool to think you’ve heard me well,
and I a fool to think I could ever quell
your desire to succeed, exceed, excel,
I am your island
you are my Cromwell.

Whose preachers are dusty?
Whose?
Mine, born out of spite,
born out of violence
mine, who live in it still?
Or yours.
Born out of cracked earth, dust,
yours,
desire
less
yours, born out of home
and feelings of home,
and lawlessness.
Yours born out of dirt, born out of faith, born out of sticky summers
and live in them still.
Or are they both,
though, only to they who have none.
It’s easy for them
isn’t it
isn’t that the way it always goes
and why is it easier
to believe
in nothing.

Oh, to be that soiled Madonna
I will be that soiled Madonna
for you
always.
With no escape,
with much regret
and that is our burden
that is our cross
and wont we carry it for eternity.
Rosaries
and ovaries;
The death of every nation.
what shall we do with her?

You have come to the right place
put me here
and I can hold you now, can’t I.
Can’t I
what else could I ever be good for?
Now that you have made me just like you
now that you have told me that my guilt
my passion
and my rage
are well-founded.
Oh, I am desperate
that I am,
and I need you now, for that very reason
and yet
you would never understand
and so
can never.

What a sorry girl, who cannot stand up.
Who has tried,
and doesn’t that always make it worse
and doesn’t that make her fall so delicious?
and who has failed.
Who has proselytized
and also
fallen.
Isn’t she marvelous.
Wouldn’t you love to have her;
the Madonna and the whore
or
were they ever different.

There is no room for dichotomy
in the faithless space where you reside.
You must pick one
God, or no
good, or bad
you must decide.
I believe in one holy, catholic, and apostolic church,
I acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sin
I look for the resurrection of the dead
and a life in the world to come
You need not worry for me
don’t fret,
you have not shaken me,
not ever
not yet
not you, that’s for certain, anyway.

Your tearing at me,
your sharpening your claws on my back,
has only passed faith through the fire:
you have become stronger
by my bones,
have you not?
Perhaps you did not know
you were feeding on that in which you do not believe.
But alas, you do
or you will.
You will take him down, and you will eat your fill
someday, in the middle of the night
while you are hanging on her every breath
you will.

just seven people smoking, talking their lives away

2008-01-27T18:31:00.000-05:00

right. so things are definitely weird right now.

do you ever have those days, maybe weeks or months, where you feel like youve lost control of everything. maybe one block or brick is removed from the wall, and the whole thing just crashes to the ground. well, im not having one of those moments, but i can feel the brick coming loose. which seems terrible right now.

in other news, i hung out with three people i seriously like last night. it's just so nice to be with people you like. i know that 'nice' and 'like' are personality-less words, but those are the words. that's exactly what it was....nice. pat's house also smelled like a home. sort of comfortable. i love that deirdre loves to know about people. ive just become really good friends with her. isnt it weird how when you have no expectations THAT'S when good things happen. good things like meeting people you care about. i like that.

i made a decision about cliches the other day. i think they're ok. that's all.

i have some friends that are doing really exciting things. it's incredibly incredible. they're just making music, and making movies, and painting, and writing, and having kids, and getting married. the last two freak me out majorly, but they are incredible things, i think.

what do you do when you realize that someone important to you really just doesnt get you. i dont think getting has anything to do with loving. but getting is maybe just as important. or at least that's what im finding out. and THEN what do you do when someone else you know really gets you but is.....oh, nevermind.

everything ive been writing lately has been so....weird,or something. i feel like it's been really disingenuous. like i just cant get a grip on what im feeling and make it work on paper. ive just been writing this weird, lame, banal, free-verse. i dont know what that's about. it's so weird because im writing stuff like the stuff i write when im totally uninspired but make myself write anyway. what's stupid is that im totally inspired as of late, and writing all the time. i mean, im seriously in this mode that i get into sometimes where im constantly writing thoughts and lines of poetry on any piece of paper i can find.....and it's funny because when i get like this, i dont even remember what ive been writing. i find these napkins, and scrapes of paper, and full poems that i dont even remember writing......like REALLY dont remember writing.....like, i wouldnt even know that i wrote them were they not in my handwriting. i know, it makes me feel a little crazy, but then, what doesnt make me feel crazy.

i havent yet decided whether or not im going to post poetry on this thing. however, since no one knows im back on blogger, maybe i just will.

anyway, so one of my friends doing something incredible is julie kleiber. she just writes kind of smart lyrics. i love that. so here's a link (since i dont really know how to post actual songs on this thing) to one of her songs:
julia dawn:darwin's fall

im just kind of proud of my friends who are actually creating. i think creating something and putting it out into the world is one of the most important things you can do (yea, yea, see the afore mentioned decision about cliches).

bye.

sooooooo im blogging.

2008-01-26T01:33:00.000-05:00

fine. so im blogging. ive had this thing for a year, right? and i was all into blogging and then i deleted everything becauuuuuuse....who knows.

god, i might hate blogging. also, has anyone noticed that the font is HUGE right now?? let's work on that....better.
anyway, so yea, blogging. i mean, it's kinda weird, right? who's gonna even read this thing? well, i guess i read other people's blogs like a real stalker. so, someone (me) out there is reading blogs at random. i think. whatever.

ok, sooooo what should i write about [this is a liiittle weird], well, for starters: i guess im going through a quarter life crisis (i know, again!? right, again). it's kind of ok, though. it mostly just entails going to the movies and listening to otis redding a lot, and maybe some other stuff like chicken wings. it DEFINITELY entails listening to nostalgia-music. you know, the shit you couldnt listen to for a while, but then you started going through a quarter life crisis so you drag out all the old stuff that you just KNOW will make you crazy, and then you listen to it while doing the dishes. what else are you gonna do. i think.

i think maybe it has a little to do with the fact that everyone has marriage on the brain.....minus me and most of my lit friends (miiiinus the ones who are already married, of course...well, i guess they technically have marriage on the brain.whatever!). anyhow, i just think it's wild that people my age are getting engaged/married. really, it probably just makes me think about the fact that the course of life i have chosen involves a highly prolonged, if not perpetual, childhood-ish lifestyle. like, my parents will be flying me home when im 30. for sure. when will i be able to buy my own plane tickets!? maybe at 40, we're shooting for 35 but i dont wanna jump the gun, or anything. i guess the problem is this: i just FEEL so young. which is strange, because for a little while, i felt kind of old and rad. but i guess that was just because i actually made a decision re: my life (the decision=going to grad school). however, that which made me feel grown-up is now making me feeeeeell....'not grown-up' (?)....what's the word there?? i guess just 'young' will do. yes, wildly young, and inexperienced. also, just basically wide-eyed and (not bushy-tailed) terrified. sheesh.

what? where did this come from?

also, what about this line : "for He who made you bitter made you wise"
pretty good, right. i think so.

i guess we'll move on to yeats now. not a whole lot to say on him, other than he's kind of really incredible. right, what's new? i dont know, he just is. how much do you love the fact that he HATED being asked to read 'the lake isle of innisfree' ? love it. also, what an ego! i dont know what it is, but i just love a poet with a MASSIVE ego. i think they make the best poets. also, you have to love it when poets lace their love poetry with blatant bitterness/ill-wishing (clearly not a word). see, the ever famous, but ususally for the wrong reasons, 'when you are old'.
i guess yeats is just tellin it like it is, etc.

ok, so im done blogging now, i guess.

weird.

2007-02-11T01:11:00.000-05:00

blog.