So, I'm standing there in my botany class, being my usual witty self, well I wasn't trying to be witty, I was just making small-talk, when the TA I was talking to started to get that look that I know so well. You know the look, the furtive and desperate look that comes over you when you are cornered by someone who is so amazingly dull that you can't actually break away because you are trapped in some sort of lameness gravity well. I tend to have this look a lot because I am famous for attracting the conversations of the socially inept, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, if you do manage to escape, the next person that you converse with suddenly becomes some sort of asylum that even Twisted Sister couldn't scare you from... well, Rachel did scamper away from me awfully quickly, and then very rapidly engaged another student in a meaningful conversation I wasn't able to hear. She also kept furtively glancing in my direction.
I honestly didn't think that mentioning the amazing crop of galium [it's that weed that sticks to everything and seems to be EVERYWHERE this year] that's covering the world, but most notably my yard, was such a hideous sin. I mean, it's a botany class, for criminy's sake. A botany class where we go out and look at plants growing in the wild, notable among these being galium.
But that's not the point I wanted to address. Is it possible that I'm not nearly as amusing and cute as I always thought I was? I like to think of myself as being endearing and charming, and maybe I am for now. But what about when I'm 30? Will the endearing become annoying and the charming be immature and pathetic? That's just a little more than two years away, and I really don't want to have to grow up and be normal. I've always prided myself on being 'Peter Pan trapped in Tinkerbell's body'.
Oh well.
So, next week I don't talk to Rachel about the thistles and sedum growing in my yard. I think I will manage to survive somehow.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
5.9.00 everyone's multimedia darling.
I was recently informed that I have a "very direct voice" when it comes to the things that I say and write. I prefer to consider it a very singular voice, in amongst a crowd of people shouting, and a quiet voice at that. I suppose it all goes back to wanting to be heard, recognized and adored. I feel like TV Guide's "The Best Show You're Not Watching," except even the cool kids I know won't give me a simple link from their page. I suspect it's because I don't have my own domain name. But, I'd rather be able to afford to access the internet, than be everyone's multimedia darling.
Okay, that's a lie. I'd rather be both, but despite what you have heard about the cosmetological profession, it's not all hand over fist glorious earnings of phat cash and glory that Jose Eber and Frederic Fekkai make it all out to be. I lack two very important yet remarkably basic features: 1) I am not a man. Men make the most money in this profession. I'm not sure why, but it is sadly true. Yes, Virginia, even the hair salon has a glass ceiling. And, 2) I don't have some distinctive thing about me like a snotty French accent or a gimmicky, feather-encrusted cowboy hat. Honestly, I could be making more as management at Taco Bell, but then I'd be management at Taco Bell, and I would have to kill myself in shame, which would also be at counter purpose to my goals. I don't think martyring myself as The Man at a fast food taco chain will get me the adulation I desire.
So, Pinky, it's back to the laboratory. We'll have to wait to tomorrow to take over the world.
Okay, that's a lie. I'd rather be both, but despite what you have heard about the cosmetological profession, it's not all hand over fist glorious earnings of phat cash and glory that Jose Eber and Frederic Fekkai make it all out to be. I lack two very important yet remarkably basic features: 1) I am not a man. Men make the most money in this profession. I'm not sure why, but it is sadly true. Yes, Virginia, even the hair salon has a glass ceiling. And, 2) I don't have some distinctive thing about me like a snotty French accent or a gimmicky, feather-encrusted cowboy hat. Honestly, I could be making more as management at Taco Bell, but then I'd be management at Taco Bell, and I would have to kill myself in shame, which would also be at counter purpose to my goals. I don't think martyring myself as The Man at a fast food taco chain will get me the adulation I desire.
So, Pinky, it's back to the laboratory. We'll have to wait to tomorrow to take over the world.
5.8.00 make new dreams
Have you ever fully invested yourself in a thought or idea, only to realize that it would never come to fruition? When you have those patent realizations that the dream you've been having - that sweet, happy place you go to in your head when you aren't at 100% - is, in fact exactly that, a dream?
Just stop.
Close your eyes. Revel in the simple things. Resolve to remove the stains from your upholstery. Finish your final projects for that art class. Focus somewhere else.
My illusions are shattered on a daily basis. The strongest sense of permanence I have in my life is little more than a tenuous thread, but I manage to get by. I acknowledge and move on. I find new distractions. I make new dreams.
Just stop.
Close your eyes. Revel in the simple things. Resolve to remove the stains from your upholstery. Finish your final projects for that art class. Focus somewhere else.
My illusions are shattered on a daily basis. The strongest sense of permanence I have in my life is little more than a tenuous thread, but I manage to get by. I acknowledge and move on. I find new distractions. I make new dreams.
5.7.00 e.e. cummings
Today I haven't anything interesting to say, except to say that I spent a greater chunk of this weekend reading Buffy the Vampire Slayer scripts. And as cliched as that is, it made me feel all emotional and gushy. So I am going to share a quote and a sonnet, and if they mean anything to you, yeehah. And if they don't, check back tomorrow.
"It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow; empty rooms, shuttered, and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead."
"It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow; empty rooms, shuttered, and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead."
--Angelus, 'Passion,' BtVS
5.6.00 anticipation
05-06-00
I have this strange, anticipatory feeling that I can't adequately describe. It's like when you read a fortune cookie fortune or a horoscope, and for that brief, fleeting, infinitesimal moment, you believe it with all the essence of your being. One of those feelings, except that you can't tell whether or not it's good or bad, and it feels like burning, and butterflies, and running for 15 minutes on the treadmill at a 6% incline, but all at the same time.
Or it could be heartburn.
I have this strange, anticipatory feeling that I can't adequately describe. It's like when you read a fortune cookie fortune or a horoscope, and for that brief, fleeting, infinitesimal moment, you believe it with all the essence of your being. One of those feelings, except that you can't tell whether or not it's good or bad, and it feels like burning, and butterflies, and running for 15 minutes on the treadmill at a 6% incline, but all at the same time.
Or it could be heartburn.
5.5.00 millertime in chihuahua
05-05-00
Why exactly do we celebrate Cinco de Mayo? It's not like most people gather in French restaurants to guzzle champagne and eat baguettes on Bastille Day every year. Maybe it's because Mexico is a hell of a lot closer.
Yesterday, I was listening to these women discuss the imminent currency conversion in Europe to the "euro" dollar. One of them was talking to the other specifically about how resistant the European people were to the idea. So, I had to chime in and ask her how she would feel if the President announced that the Powers That Be in North and South America got together and decided to make us all use "americos". Imagine how fucked up the economy would be if all the little Central American and South American economies were suddenly tied to ours. Black monday would look like a mild off white day.
I still have a hard time imagining a bunch of people in Chihuahua drinking Miller Lights and eating burgers on the 4th of July, though. Maybe I'm too cynical.
Why exactly do we celebrate Cinco de Mayo? It's not like most people gather in French restaurants to guzzle champagne and eat baguettes on Bastille Day every year. Maybe it's because Mexico is a hell of a lot closer.
Yesterday, I was listening to these women discuss the imminent currency conversion in Europe to the "euro" dollar. One of them was talking to the other specifically about how resistant the European people were to the idea. So, I had to chime in and ask her how she would feel if the President announced that the Powers That Be in North and South America got together and decided to make us all use "americos". Imagine how fucked up the economy would be if all the little Central American and South American economies were suddenly tied to ours. Black monday would look like a mild off white day.
I still have a hard time imagining a bunch of people in Chihuahua drinking Miller Lights and eating burgers on the 4th of July, though. Maybe I'm too cynical.
5.4.00 hoochification of your grandma
05-04-00
So, I spent some time pondering what to write about today, and I had actually picked a topic, when I decided to skip on over to see what Dana had to say on the 3rd [which is when I wrote this], and I'll be damned if she hadn't already beat me to it.
Dana had previously shown me how to see what sites people have visited before visiting mine, and pointed out that most of the people that visit her also frequent STRANGE porn sites. She regularly sends me site addresses like ancientbeaver.com*, where pendulously-breasted grannies are apparently sex icons.
And I would just like to say, that I very proudly discovered that two people have come to my site directly from porn pages. And I would just like to say, rock on. You make my day, perverts, just by letting me know you care.
Now, go to the wishlist page and buy me stuff.
*NOTE: I made this address up to make a point. As far as I know, it does not exist. I also neither endorse, nor condemn, the hoochification of your grandma. That's your business, spankers.
So, I spent some time pondering what to write about today, and I had actually picked a topic, when I decided to skip on over to see what Dana had to say on the 3rd [which is when I wrote this], and I'll be damned if she hadn't already beat me to it.
Dana had previously shown me how to see what sites people have visited before visiting mine, and pointed out that most of the people that visit her also frequent STRANGE porn sites. She regularly sends me site addresses like ancientbeaver.com*, where pendulously-breasted grannies are apparently sex icons.
And I would just like to say, that I very proudly discovered that two people have come to my site directly from porn pages. And I would just like to say, rock on. You make my day, perverts, just by letting me know you care.
Now, go to the wishlist page and buy me stuff.
*NOTE: I made this address up to make a point. As far as I know, it does not exist. I also neither endorse, nor condemn, the hoochification of your grandma. That's your business, spankers.
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