Green

2003-09-26T12:21:00.000-07:00

Thanks to its poor service, Blogger loses another customer to livejournal.

2003-09-23T21:39:00.000-07:00

Art sucks.

2003-09-22T15:16:00.000-07:00

I thought I was just touching it up! This is far brighter and darker than it ever was originally, and for good measure, my jawline is tinted blue.

2003-09-21T00:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, someone said that they didn't believe in atheism. I asked, what, you don't approve of it or you don't think it exists? They didn't think it existed.

I raised my eyebrows and said I'd have to disagree with him.

We all come up with the dumbest opinions when we base them on our own experiences and no one else's. Ma'am, I realize that you think you're atheist, but damn, I know you're just deluding yourself. Deep inside, you must know he exists, because I know he exists, and well, I can't be wrong.

When I was 13, I thought that all Christians really knew that there was no God, they were just scared to admit it, because that would mean this is it.

Subjective is objective is subjective.

2003-09-18T13:54:00.000-07:00

Let us state it clearly: I see that I must change completely from the roots of my being; I can no longer depend on any tradition because tradition has brought about this colossal laziness, acceptance, and obedience; I cannot possibly look to another to help me change, not to any teacher, any God, any belief, any system, any outside pressure or influence. ... So you are left with yourself, and that is the actual state for a man to be who is very serious about all this; and as you are no longer looking to anybody or anything for help, you are already free to discover. And when there is freedom, there is energy; and when there is freedom it can never do anything wrong. Freedom is entirely different from revolt. There is no such thing as doing right or wrong when there is freedom. You are free and from that centre you act. And hence there is no fear, and a mind that has no fear is capable of great love. And when there is love it can do what it will.

-J. Krishnamurti, Freedom From The Known

The boundaries in my mind keep me from being happy. I'm concerned and afraid, when I should be nothing but matter-of-factly myself. I am afraid of messing up when there is no messing up, only learning and experiencing and moving on. I am concerned about what other people think of me when deep down, it doesn't matter one iota to me. I allow it to stop me and to restrain me in place. I allow other people to make me angry, and where is the anger coming from? What am I even angry about? When has anger helped me? Why be angry about what I cannot control, when I can be content with what I can control?

2003-09-17T23:40:00.000-07:00

This week seems to be going better for me. No longer weepy and homesick, now socializing more, possibly a correlation between the two. I'm enjoying feeling artsy, taking both an art class and a music class. I desperately want to take more art classes, but it's overwhelmed by that need to be productive and graduate on time. I'm beginning to rethink my motivations and productivity. I have all these preconceived notions that I have to learn a job skill, do it quickly, get a job, work, work, work. If I don't, I'm a bum.

There is a tremendous sense of freedom in realizing that I don't have to do anything I don't want to. I can take nothing but art classes next year. I can get a job in something that doesn't have to do with psychology. I don't have to go to grad school. I could travel.

I want to take risks and stop living a carefully planned life.

2003-09-15T19:00:00.000-07:00

I need a new layout, because I think that shrinking the pictures down so that they won't distort the layout really takes away from the quality. For that reason, these pictures remain large and I'll link to 'em instead. :)

Shadow
Brandi + Sara
Dandelions
Gruening
Superimposed
Dramatic Timmy
Fierce Duo

2003-09-15T16:16:00.000-07:00

I would make such a good plumber, because I can fit into very cramped places. I have a few more pictures from yesterday that I'm really excited about and will get them up later today, yay!

2003-09-13T17:15:00.000-07:00

I am one of those girls who has a complete inability to do anything womanly: cook, clean, sew... crochet. I can't crochet. I threw the yarn across the room yesterday after attempting to get this stupid 2-shell pattern down.

A girl in my dorm saw me carrying my yarn, and asked, "What are you working on?" "Oh, I'm learning to crochet." She scoffed, "That's easy!"

I almost smacked that bitch.

2003-09-11T17:56:00.000-07:00

As of one week, I'm not very happy here.

I published this post and walked away. 30 seconds later, I have to elaborate because a week of bottled emotions is too much for me. I'm homesick every minute that I'm not home. I went home this weekend. I went home last night and came back this morning. It's been 6 hours since I left home, and I'm miserable. I'm slipping behind in my reading because I can't force myself to sit down and read the shit. When I do, I read the same sentence three times and I'm blank.

It's only the first week, and I will adjust.

But adjusting is hard.

I have never felt that I fit in among my peers. I meet people, I have so many opportunities. People are interested in me and my craaaazy hair. I am always too shy to pursue any friendships. You'd think that with all the people I know, I'd be some sort of social butterfly. All I do is say hi when I see them, smile my big friendly smile, and nothing else. Socially inept? That's me.

2003-09-10T15:43:00.000-07:00

Random stranger #13893731:

"So can I ask ya, why green?"
"It's blue."
"Well, it's kinda blue-green." (the back is. I'm so sad.)
"Pfft."
"Well, why not orange or something?"
"Orange is an ugly color."
"Well, some people might look at your hair and think it's an ugly color. Not that I'm one of them, but..."
"You're a great conversationalist, aren't you?"
"Not really."
(silence)
"So why blue?"
"For fun."
"Oh. Good reason. Thanks."

2003-09-09T23:11:00.000-07:00

It's autumn and I didn't notice.

2003-09-06T17:42:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I have to remind myself that not everything I say is going to sound smart or interesting.

Hi, sometimes I'm really dumb.

2003-09-04T10:40:00.000-07:00

I moved into the dorm yesterday, and prepared myself to be stared at. I have never felt so conspicuous in my life. Gazes always slid over me before, now they stop and stay for a few seconds, or they slide over and shoot back quickly for a second glance. I love you, blue hair, but you are not making this easy for me.

I went grocery shopping at 8 in the morning, when all the old folks are out, and they all shied away from me like I was going to mug them. I began smirking and couldn't stop, and I think that only made them even more scared of me.

My very tall father said, "People will respond to you in a whole new way now. And now you'll know what it's like to be 6'7. You have a presence when you walk into a room, and everyone will know you're there." It's true, I'm so used to it that I hardly ever notice, but sometimes I'm aware of people staring at my father or even whispering to each other about how tall he is. I suddenly want to go out with my dad and have a contest to see who gets stared at the most. I think I'd win.

2003-09-02T08:12:00.000-07:00

I think a lot in the shower. Thoughts turn into a jumble of passing words, and I can only catch half of them absentmindedly. I'm thinking about friends and who to keep and who to trash. Eventually, my brain grabs one thought and expounds on it. I'm debating cutting friends off here and there like a precise, emotionless surgery... I paused while rinsing blue suds out of my hair. I don't allow people to get close to me. No, maybe I do. Do I?

My thought process is often like two people arguing. You think you might have to cut him off because he can see through you. He has the ability to hurt you. "I tell myself that I won't let myself care what anyone thinks anymore, but if I'm afraid of being hurt, that means I care." Maybe you only care when it's someone who can really see you for who you are. "I shouldn't care even then." Maybe you're afraid that they're right. "And maybe I only want to cut them off because they might force me to see the truth." The truth hurts.

I twisted my face into a sour expression and sat down in the tub. "But I should be willing to expand my worldview, to learn from people who can teach me. It doesn't matter whether or not they might hurt me. What matters is that I learned something." Is putting yourself in a situation to be hurt worth the knowledge? "Maybe."

Maybe you shouldn't be thinking of cutting people off. "I don't know why I feel like I have to." They're wasting your time. "I shouldn't think of people as a 'waste of time.' I should be sweet and considerate and say that everyone has something to offer." That isn't true. And you're a realist trying to fool yourself into being the kind of person that everyone loves.

The mental conversation ended there when I got out of the tub.

2003-09-01T07:59:00.000-07:00

I have many methods of cheering myself up. Tonight I discovered a new one: vectoring.

What is vectoring? you ask. I will tell you. Vectoring is this.

In the picture, you can see that I am clearly UPSET! But after having vectored myself for four hours, things have metamorphized into a cartoon style of peachy keen.

Oh yeah, and this picture is called K² or something, I really don't know why I put that there.

2003-08-31T06:19:00.000-07:00

2003-08-31T04:12:00.000-07:00

I'm bored out of my mind. I added up my shopping spree expenses and they aren't as bad as I thought they'd be. Consequently, I may have some spare change after paying my university expenses.

I've been considering applying for a tutoring job, as this semester will be difficult and a flexible job would be extra nice. Tutoring people for only a few hours a week at $9.25 per hour? Cool! Then I thought, crap, people paying for tutoring are probably stupid, and I don't deal well with stupid.

But then I thought, well, you like opportunities to run your mouth on what you know, so maybe that will make up for it.

alksjflkjsafa;lks.

2003-08-30T02:36:00.000-07:00

I wrote a description of how I felt when I was stoned, and I took it down because apparently I'm DEMEANING myself. I don't feel demeaned, but gosh, I wouldn't want to embarrass myself. Because you know, I am too stupid to decide my own actions and how I wish to represent myself to the world. Thank goodness there are smarter people around to watch out for little ol' me.

2003-08-28T04:34:00.000-07:00

So today I was standing outside someone's apartment in this cute little neighborhood with a cat on a leash, because you know, she wanted to go outside and eat grass. This guy drove by and stared at me really hard, and I stared back, thinking, "What? Well, I guess it's a little weird to be walking a cat on a leash."

It was only when I went back inside that I realized, "Oh yeah. I have neon blue hair."

2003-08-26T21:21:00.000-07:00

I am my mother's clone. I always thought it was really really scary that my aunt has this picture of my mom at age 9, and in it, she looks EXACTLY THE SAME as I did when I was 9. I wish I had the pictures to show you how scary it is. We had the same buck teeth (and both had to have the same four teeth pulled when we got braces). The only difference was that she was blonde and I was a brunette.

So I just tried on my mother's pants from when she was a 21 year old airman, and like, they fit perfectly.

2003-08-26T20:52:00.000-07:00

Jerome Russell Atlantic Blue. Smells like blueberries. So serious yo.

2003-08-25T05:53:00.000-07:00

Who's rockin' the bleached hair?

Memememememe!

I'm tempted to keep it, but I already bought the blue dye. Two pics in a week, I am officially a camwhore.

2003-08-23T04:12:00.000-07:00

I saw a dark speck on Leo's pristine white cheek, and I tapped it to make sure it wasn't a flea. But the goddamn thing moved. I grabbed it and pinched it between my fingers and washed it down the drain. I couldn't pet him for the rest of the night without checking him over for fleas. I thought it was okay, because his white tummy doesn't have any telltale signs of flea dust on it. But I found two more little dark specks that moved away when I tried to pick them out of his fur and goddammit, he's sleeping in my bed and it's cold outside and we're dogsitting this dog that chased Chloe 30 feet into a fucking tree and I can't do anything about it because I don't want him to freeze outside or get eaten by that stupid dog.

And Chloe's still in that tree, but there's nothing I can do about that either, and I keep thinking she's going to get hypothermia or something.

I thought Alaska didn't have fleas. My pets have never gotten fleas in the five years we've lived here. Arrrrrrgggghhhhhhhaaaahggggggghhhhhhhhh.

And, just to whine some more, the other computer's hard drive died and it had all my photography on it. ALL of it. So no pics of Anchorage, cuz they're gone.

2003-08-22T02:36:00.000-07:00

I can't sleep, so I will write about my road trip to Anchorage.

We drove 700 miles total, 350 miles each way, eight hours of driving for me and eight for my mom. As usual, I had horrible luck with cars - she has no problems, I get behind the wheel and 1) a squirrel runs up to the side of the highway and nearly crosses in front of me. I think my heart stopped. I am proud to still have a clean roadkill record. 2) A dumbass tourist in his gigantic RV crosses right in front of me while I'm doing 70 mph and I have to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting him. 3) I hit a huge fucking pothole and am very lucky I didn't cause a flat. Later we looked in the trunk to discover that my father had put the tools for changing a tire there, but forgot to put a spare tire in. Snicker.

Oh, and on the way back, as soon as I got behind the wheel we got hit by a huge rainstorm. What the fuck? I'm cursed.

But, we had a great time. My mom and I always have good girl trips and we think we should ditch the men in the family more often. My dad would not go for this. He frets every time we go without him. And if I told him that we drove 70 mph most of the way (which is fairly conservative in a 65 speed limit zone), he would be pissed, as he usually goes 60 and all the other cars have to pass him. We got back early and I lied and said we left Anchorage at 11 AM instead of noon. Before we left, he lectured my mom about how to fix a flat (but as I said, he forgot the spare tire), told us to call him as soon as we got there, and said not to stay at the mall til closing time because we might get attacked in the parking lot. The funny thing is that we lived in Phoenix for eight years, but he acts like a paranoid country bumpkin now. Anchorage is nothing but a small town, despite being the largest "city" in Alaska.

I bought so much. I consoled myself by remembering that I only make one shopping trip a year, and a lot of my clothes are pretty worn out. But, seriously, I spent a lot of money. I bought some badass overalls and I feel like a little kid in them. I spent this morning swinging off escalators and bouncing around, getting in touch with my inner Osh Kosh B'Gosh-clad child. But I can't put them or the other three pairs of pants I bought in the dryer, because they will shrink and then I will have highwaters! I could not find ANYTHING cool in a long size. If only I were two inches shorter!

(I edited out girly talk about clothes here.)

But all the stuff I bought does not compare to what I got off ebay.

I took some pictures of landscapes but I'm too lazy to put them up now. Found out the glacier is further down the highway near Seward, so no pix 4 u.

P.S. Meadow Green kids, you won't be seeing me around there anymore. I got tired of it, and apparently my private access has been revoked anyway. So if anyone asks about me, just direct them here. :)

2003-08-18T04:36:00.000-07:00

Sorry for lack of pics. I give you the Self Portrait.

2003-08-17T23:01:00.000-07:00

Starfox Adventures pwns me.

I'm leaving for Anchorage for a few days, on Tuesday. I need to go shopping in an actual mall. And I might take some pictures along the way, there's a glacier or something next to the highway... I think.

2003-08-14T19:44:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about the ways in which we represent ourselves. When asked what we're like, we immediately describe the things we enjoy doing, but things that are entirely outside of ourselves. Or even worse, we define ourselves by our favorite stars and movies. We might describe our perceived traits, but I find that a lot of people are completely off the mark about themselves. And it's always narcissistic - we'll list our positive traits and never our negative traits. We're describing the things outside of ourselves and the disillusioned way that only we can perceive ourselves, but we never get straight to the bottom of who we are.

Maybe we'll describe the things we've done in our lives, the places we've been. Our religion. Our age, sex, and location. The occupation that we hold. How many pets we have. Whether we're single or married. How many children we have. Our ethnic background.

But I find that most people never attempt to enter that part of themselves that is more than what place they hold in the world. I think that most people never learn to know themselves, because they never realized that there was more.

I can tell you that I'm a 20 year old female, and I like reading, photography, computer games, psychology, philosophy and music. My favorite actor is Kevin Spacey, my favorite actress is Sigourney Weaver. My favorite movie is American Beauty. I am intelligent, kind, sarcastic, and fun-loving. I'm atheist. I've lived in Arizona, Spain, Germany, Japan, and currently, Alaska. I am a college student with a 3.7 GPA. I have three dogs and three cats. I'm single. No children. I'm Irish, English, Scottish, Dutch, and French. My father's family traces back to Cork, Ireland.

But there is so much left unsaid. I didn't say that my hobbies also include making up stupid names for my pets, including Chlobo, Lilybutt, Ivymunster, Timbuktu, and Tashabear. Or that in addition to my good traits, I'm also insecure, naive, hurtful, and frequently make an ass out of myself. Or that my atheism comes along with a petrifying fear of death. That I have a horrible, nasty temper. That I'm too nice for my own good and let people take advantage of me, because I'm afraid that they won't like me otherwise.

Even then, it's all in how I perceive myself. Who am I and how do I tell you?

2003-08-12T04:08:00.000-07:00

I keep writing things, letting out an unsatisfied sigh, and erasing them.

2003-08-11T18:28:00.000-07:00

Does anyone have a spare Livejournal code?

2003-08-11T03:38:00.000-07:00

I stay awake until I am too tired to lie there alone in the dark, thinking about death.

I think, maybe I should study Asian religious concepts. Would they have something I could believe in? I can't believe in Western religion. Anything is better than nothing. I wish I were religious.

2003-08-09T22:28:00.000-07:00

Moth taking off a little sooner than I would have liked.

2003-08-09T13:48:00.000-07:00

I'm three-quarters of the way through Xenocide, the third book in the Ender series. I'm really pleasantly surprised at the level of philosophical debate in this book... discussions of ethical dilemmas, and of all things, free will. I even recognized some snippets of Sartre and existentialism. Card goes on to slowly draw every alien situation into a parallel to our own lives. The way he writes is just so masterful. This book was hard to get into because there is so much more dialogue than the other two I've read, but it's very worth it once you hit the middle of the book.

I never thought I'd be reading a sci-fi/philosophy book. I didn't think the two meshed. Orson Scott Card is a genius.

2003-08-07T21:45:00.000-07:00

So Curt and I went to the fair, and I took way less photos than I should have. For example, when we were up in the air on the Cliff Hanger, I should have taken a picture. It was a very smooth ride, so I wouldn't have dropped my camera. I was sad, because I wasn't gonna spend another $3 to get a picture. I also convinced Curt to get on the Zipper, even though he was scared of it. I was scared too. I shrieked a lot, but he just went, "Oh my God" a lot. And I saw my vet's pet pig Daisy, and she was so happy when I fed her a watermelon. I wiped the pig slime onto her back. Daisy is cool.

I think this is a dahlia.

Curtmeistah!!

This goat was very photogenic.

Mauled by little kids. All. day. long. Poor guy.

2003-08-06T01:03:00.000-07:00

That's my mommy. In other news, I wonder if Geocities will ever figure out that the reason I use so much bandwidth is because I've been using the .txt cheat to remote link to images for over a year.

2003-08-05T16:14:00.000-07:00

Two years ago, my parents moved into this shit house from base housing. In base housing, the military provided us with a lovely 4 bedroom house, complete with 3 bathrooms, a spacious basement, and heated garage. The shit house is a renovated trailer, with add-ons. While it was a bad transition to go from the nicest house I've ever lived in to this shithole, I've grown used to it, and I admit that the area we live in is wonderful. They never could have afforded a nice house with the few acres of land they got with it. The dogs love their huge backyard complete with the occasional moose, and Leo's got a safe hunting ground where there aren't any big roads nearby. Plus, our neighbors always wave at us, and that seems nice. It baffles me, but it seems nice.

My parents have finally gotten around to remodeling the house (which was the plan when we moved in). They're starting with the living room. I think the bathroom needs some work too.

We're putting in laminate wood flooring, because the wall-to-wall carpeting went through our dogs' potty training phase. We're also painting the walls and putting in trim. Might redo the window frames too. And finally, we're tearing down the wall of a closet and turning it into a small computer nook, while putting a wall up behind it to create a coat closet for the entryway to the house.

Pictures? You know it. This is the plywood floor without carpet, the torn-up closet, and us washing the walls and ceiling. Note the hideous orange-brown trim the previous owners had on everything.

2003-08-03T21:34:00.000-07:00

I was going to write about how living with my parents for the summer is really starting to grate on me, and how maybe I am ready to be an adult, when a photo opportunity landed in my lap.

Do you see how cute that little guy is? Actually, it might have been a little girl, I don't know, her crotch was in the grass. She or he was soooooooooo cute, and luckily his or her mother was very relaxed and let me casually inch closer for pictures. It's in black and white, though, because the colors looked absolutely awful and I'm not sure why. Might be because it was getting towards dusk.

Do you see anything odd about this one? What is that in the grass on the left? IT'S MY CAT! I was taking pictures of the very awesome mother moose I named Mildred, and she was walking towards me to check out that little flashing light and stuff. She started munching her way to the left, and I saw some movement on a pile of logs. It was Leo, intently staring at her from a few feet away. Apparently he was stalking her, and she turned the tables on him when she walked right up and stared back at him. He freaked out when she got closer than two feet and ran away. My cat is so cool.

2003-08-02T10:30:00.000-07:00

Curt turned 23. They later went to a bar and me and the other 20 year old had to go home like, all sad and stuff.

2003-07-31T07:48:00.000-07:00

I said I'd be rethinking this blog. I have been. But in the end, there really was no question. I like having a blog, and I like writing out my thoughts. I like interacting with people and allowing people to read what I have to express to the world, whether it's interesting or stupid. I love that people care enough to read it. It makes me smile to know that some of you really do want to get to know me better. It would be stupid to stop because not everyone is going to be nice.

I said it because I was hurt, which I oh-so-cleverly concealed with anger. I let my inner drama queen out when that happens. I want to explain why I was so hurt, because I'm not sure if I appeared completely insane or not.

A few days earlier, I finished reminiscing about how I had let others put me down, just for the sake of being social. I vowed to start anew, and I felt secure in that vow.

As I read the words that mocked my stupidity, I grew so angry that I could barely read the words on my screen. Not because of the words themselves. It was because I had felt so secure, and here I was, back at Square One. I thought I was aware, and the wool was still over my eyes. That is why I felt betrayed--I was betrayed by myself more than anyone else. And, well, that sucks when you think you've finally gotten it together, and you really haven't.

I'm starting fresh. Again. I know I'll have to keep starting over again and again and again, but I'll keep trying.

Because, what would an entry be without a picture?

2003-07-28T06:10:00.000-07:00

I will be rethinking this blog for a few days.

I am extremely upset that what I have said in my personal blog was taken elsewhere and torn apart. My trust was violated. I lost my temper. I hate losing my temper, and now I feel like an idiot because of it.

I have no one but myself to blame, because I should have known.

2003-07-28T03:48:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting at a table in the university with various people from my present and past. My best friend from middle school, Keishla, gets up and walks to the bathroom, then pauses, looking sick. She asks if someone will come with her, and I volunteer. I follow her in and ask her what's wrong, but she just leans on the sink, with a strange expression on her face. I keep asking but she won't answer. On her face is this growing expression of terror, and my terror matches hers when I realize that she's slowly fading away. Suddenly the bathroom is this dark, strange, horror-filled place and I'm so filled with panic that I can't move. I look at the mirror and scream as I see a faint astronaut's head, reflecting from the mirror and bouncing across it like a TV screen. I look back at Keishla and she's gone. I'm looking around the bathroom for her, and it's so dark, so terrifying. I stare at the mirror and the astronaut's head explodes. I scream again and run out of the bathroom. I run across the street to my high school to talk to a counselor, because I'm sure that I'm crazy. I change my mind and run back to the university, deciding they would have better counselors. I pass a man and a woman arguing about the affair they're having. Once I reach the counselor's office, I've decided that I have a split personality.

I woke up there, and it took me like a half hour to get rid of the frightened feeling. I turned on all the lights. I still can't look at dark windows, they look too much like mirrors. :)

2003-07-27T06:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes Photoshop makes me go, "AARRRRRGGHGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! KILL!!!!!" and I have to push down this urge to maliciously erase its existence to the Recycling Bin.

2003-07-27T04:51:00.000-07:00

It's a good thing I have pictures to post instead of blank words.

2003-07-26T02:10:00.000-07:00

Tasha, cat supermodel.

I've got that itch again, and I really need to scratch it. It's the designing itch. I'd love to make a new template for this blog, but I'm too lazy to learn how to do it properly. As you can see, I've added a few things on the sidebar. I think it looks a little out of place, but wanted to pay homage to my favorites. The Notwist is especially good. Hint.

Also, I swore to Carson that I would dye my hair blue soon. I mean it. I must do it this time. And I'm going to buy more handkerchiefs, because I like wearing them on my head and stuff. I think they would look very NEATO with blue hair.

I've been doing some thinking about how I'd like to spend my year. Socially. I have this bad habit of settling for friends. I consider all the friends I've made at college, and there is only one I'd consider worth keeping. How sad is that? I'm wracking my brain, because come on, there's got to be more than one in three years. But that's it.

Don't get me wrong, I like the rest of them... er... some of them. But I don't connect with them. Any of them. I don't even really connect with the friend I'd keep, I just think he's cool.

I think of the people I've put up with, the people I've lowered myself for. The dipshit who was so incredibly rude to me, and I pretended not to notice because we shared the same circle of friends. Fuck, that is not who I am! That's not who I want to be! It infuriates me just thinking about all the ways I've shown a lack of regard for myself. No wonder you have low self-esteem, Kelly, you put yourself down just by being around these people.

I've thought: that's not what I want to do this year. I will not do that this year. I have a need for people, I know I do. I'm not a natural loner, I'm a loner by default. I am sometimes incredibly unhappy when alone. I've considered: how do I circumvent this? What can I do to keep my self-respect and remain happy at the same time?

I've done it before. The fall semester of my sophomore year, I was completely fed up with the circle I'd been a part of freshman year and avoided all contact with them. I had a lot of classes and kept myself busy, and I can't remember if I was happy or not... but I think I was. You grow accustomed to solitude after a while, and then it no longer bothers you. I simply have to do that this year.

The blue hair is a part of this. I'm already angry at myself for turning myself into who people want me to be. So I think, I need to finally do the blue hair. It's an expression of my new attitude: "I don't care what you think of me. I am me." I'm smiling sheepishly, because it reminds me of my hippie days in high school.

2003-07-25T07:26:00.000-07:00

Experimenting with macro mode.

2003-07-23T05:28:00.000-07:00

I would go to Creamer's Field to take pictures of the birds, but it's 4 AM and I'm a little paranoid. This is one of my primary resentments with being a girl. I hate the fact that I can't just go for a walk at midnight, or travel alone in questionable places. But I'm not going to be stupid about it either.

When I lived on Eielson Air Force Base, there was a lovely section of forest near my house. The trails were great; the trails around my new house in North Pole leave something to be desired, and it sort of ruins the experience for me. Instead, I have to climb around among the weeds and bushes, with scraggly trees overhead rather than the beautiful pines at Eielson.

I had an old dog named Wags, who was a lab mix. During the summer, I would gradually alter my sleep cycle until I could go to bed early and wake up at 5 AM, and we would go for a walk in the woods. Wags was a good dog, unlike the wild beasts that we have now, so I'd let him off his leash and we'd wander through the forest. We found an awesome trail that was raised above a rocky stream, and the old bones of some large animal. Something about that forest was just beautiful; maybe it was that it was lush and thriving as opposed to the toughened up forest we've got here. I'm not sure what the difference is.

When Wags died, the next summer it was Timmy and I who'd wander the woods. We took different routes than Wags and I had, we followed the train tracks and wandered into a memorial park with mounted jets and plaques. We found an expanse of rusty barbed wire overgrown with plants and I had to carry him over it. We'd find the beginnings of wooden forts, long forgotten.

For some reason, I just don't feel as safe here as I did wandering the base. What is it about the comfort and security of a military installation? I grew up on Air Force bases, surrounded by clean cut, well-mannered and friendly men in crisp uniforms. All the buildings were laid out according to a master plan, all lawns were green and neatly trimmed, there were flags and mounted jets everywhere. Every day at some established hour, the loudspeakers that were all over the base would play the national anthem, and you are supposed to stop your car, stop walking, and stand respectfully.

All in all, it was like the perfect family-oriented aura of the 50s. There's no worrying about getting mugged, or burglaries or car theft. Theft did occur, but not often. You didn't worry about getting assaulted at night.

Odd, considering that young airmen are not always well-mannered, good people. I suppose that people that join the Air Force differ in temperament than those that enter the Army or Marines, and maybe that was the difference. Though not consciously, I always trusted the men in uniforms. Never, in all the time I spent growing up on bases, did anyone give me a reason to think that military men could be bad people. I think that this is part of the reason I was a very naive and innocent person until I went to college.

I hate the idea of military. It's something designed to hurt. I don't like that it's a necessary precaution. I hate patriotism, because usually it's more ethnocentrism than anything. I roll my eyes when young men go on about joining the military to protect our country under God. Military people are usually patriotic, conservative, and religious. All the things that I hate.

When people ask me where I'm from, I say, "nowhere, I'm a military brat." But the truth is, I am from military bases. It's a culture of its own. Strangely enough, I feel a little homesick for a culture whose basis I hate.

2003-07-22T20:47:00.000-07:00

I took this picture of a flower and like, imagine my surprise when I viewed the picture later and found out there was a nasty bee on it. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE! I'm glad it didn't sting me when I shoved a shiny box in front of it.

(Click for larger picture)

2003-07-22T05:55:00.000-07:00

My brother plays Warhammer, this tabletop gaming thing where you get little miniature armies and paint them. GI Joe for adults, is what it is.

Anyway, he has all this paint, and I was soooo bored, and I thought, "Hey! That would make awesome warpaint!"

I should eat popcorn and watch Braveheart now.

2003-07-21T22:14:00.000-07:00

Who just got another scholarship? ME, that's who!

I can pay for my college all by myself despite irresponsible money spending wee! (Speaking of which, my camera is HERE. In Fairbanks. They just need to bring it to me. Oh oh.)

2003-07-21T11:09:00.000-07:00

In high school, I rebelled by dressing in weird hippie outfits - neon peasant shirts, green-tinted glasses, lovebeats, 2 inch heeled combat boots. During Spirit Week, on Hippie Day, I was offended when they thought my outfit was a costume. Now, I just have a blue and green tie-dyed retainer.

I crack my spine, fingers, toes, neck, feet, upper ribs, and on a rare occasion, my hips. My fingers and toes can be cracked three different ways. I'm big on cracking my toes, I find it really fun. You can pull them out, crack them to the side, push them down, etc. I look forward to horrible, debilitating arthritis.

I have had an inability to shave my knees satisfactorily on the first try for several years.

One time, I was playing chess online with a friend. He was whupping me hardcore and started getting all cocky about it. Halfway through the game, pissed off, I called over my dad, who proceeded to direct me in moving my pieces. In a startling turnaround, I whupped his ass. He never found out, and I never played chess again so that I would always be better than him at chess. I was smug about it for a really long time.

In another online chess game, this stranger really pissed me off, so I signed him up for thirty mailing lists. I still do things like this.

I cannot pee if someone is sitting in the stall next to me. Someone has to run the water. People laugh. It isn't funny.

In the fourth grade, I pretended to play the clarinet for months because I couldn't get anything more than a high-pitched squeal out of it. When my teacher planned playing tests, I frantically convinced my parents to hire a tutor for me. I went on to be first chair. Rarr! (But why didn't I just ask my teacher for help? I was a weird kid.)

In the sixth grade, I fought with my best friend all the time, but we always made up. After a while, I realized that I was always the first to apologize. I thought this was kinda shitty. Accordingly, the next time we fought, I waited for her to apologize. We didn't speak for three months, and then I moved to Germany. This was one of my first lessons that people suck.

Today I watched two moose eat plants in my yard 25 feet away, no fence between us. Once I realized it was a mother and her son (who had about 6 inches of velvet-covered antler stubs), I got a little nervous, especially since Momma Moose kept staring at me to make sure I wasn't trying anything. They walked in front of me, and stopped dead in their tracks, staring at something intently. I craned my neck to see what they were looking at over one of our parked cars. They walked forward and started snuffling our basketball hoop thing for a good 10 minutes, trying to figure out what it was. It was so cute. Momma Moose rubbed her ears all over it.

2003-07-21T01:39:00.000-07:00

I haven't seen moose in a few months... so of course, Mother Nature sends me two young moose in my backyard, a male and a female, two days before my camera arrives.

*shakes fist at the heavens*

2003-07-19T07:43:00.000-07:00

I often wish that I could just be genuinely interested in a boy for once. I am prone to little irrational crushes, but only on those that I can admire from afar. Like Bobby. And, of course, those that I can't have. If I happen to go on a date with an admired boy, or get to know him better, I am always struck by how stupid he is.

Well, usually.

For once, I met a boy that I could be genuinely interested in, but I'm just not. This isn't a new thing, I've known him for over a year. I still wish that I could force myself to have that interest, because he is so nice, sweet, and smart. And cute. He was interested in me (shock), and we went out on a few friendly dates, me trying to convince myself to like him in more than a brotherly way, until he presented me with flowers and I was instantly horrified, too surprised to stop myself from blurting out oh-so-eloquently, "Dude, you're freaking me out!" Because I was freaked out. Here I was, trying to pretend there was nothing romantic about these dates, just us buds doing stuff together, and he totally ruined it. I had to confront the fact that I had zero lust for someone that I should have had it for. Unfortunately, the hard way. For him, not me.

One of his friends was in a philosophy class with me. He found out who I was and began berating me for hurting the boy's feelings. I tried the old favorite, "It isn't him, it's me, I think he's great..." He shot back, "Well, of course it's him! Why would you reject him otherwise?" He was right, of course. I was ashamed at using typical woman logic. I later found out that the guy's wife had left him suddenly, so he'd been justifiably angry at my gender.

The boy and I are still friends (he's the one that invited me to see Julius Caesar, hence the provocation of this rambling post), and I'm unsure about his feelings toward me, but I think he understands. He never relaxes around me, and it makes me feel bad - well, he did relax that one time when we both got a wee bit too tipsy at his little party, but I started flirting with one of his best friends. It embarrasses me just thinking about it. Oops. And I never, ever flirt. I'm just not the type. At least it was subtle. I think. My memory is a little foggy.

I don't know why he is still friends with me.

Thinking about the failed interest in the only truly intelligent guy I know (in real life, that is) got me to thinking about what exactly it is that I require in a boy. There are so many traits, and it's really just unreasonable. But the main trait that he is missing is a good dose of sarcasm and cynicism. Why can't I just like someone who is really, genuinely nice? Does there always have to be a nasty streak? Think, Kelly: that preference has gotten you into trouble before.

Bah, who needs a guy. All this romance stuff can wait until I'm 30. It's too complicated. I've got things to accomplish until then.

2003-07-19T01:31:00.000-07:00

[music: ear parcel - lamb]

I have about five weeks til school. I had initially planned on getting a temporary job, but who knows if such things exist right now in Fairbanks, and, god, I'm lazy. I have lost all incentive to get a job. I just don't care. I have plans, though.

To do:
1. Move Sweet William to its own plot in the garden when it gets warmer.
2. Get gel seat for bike so I can ride without my ass being sore for two days.
3. Go for a walk in the woods to find Leo's collar, which is mysteriously missing. (Grateful that we got a breakaway collar so that he doesn't hang himself on something.)
4. Plan some sort of outdoor trip. Denali National Park? Even further? Seward or Valdez?
5. Call my ex-roommate back, finally, and plan something.
6. Clean room. (This may sound simple. You have not seen my room.)
7. Visit used bookstore.

If I put it here, maybe I will do it.

I always wish that I did things that were more meaningful - something not present in my hermit lifestyle. People that I know in real life would laugh to hear me say this, because I am, over all, the cynical skeptical atheist--but I consider myself to be a somewhat spiritual person.

spiritual

adj 1: concerned with sacred matters or religion or the church; "religious texts"; "monks of a religious order"; "lords temporal and spiritual"; "spiritual leaders"; "spiritual songs" [syn: religious] 2: concerned with or affecting the spirit or soul; "a spiritual approach to life"; "spiritual fulfillment"; "spiritual values"; "unearthly love" [syn: unearthly] 3: lacking material body or form or substance; "spiritual beings"; "the vital transcendental soul belonging to the spiritual realm"-Lewis Mumford 4: relating to or concerned with religion or spiritual things; especially dedicated to service in a religion; "a monk of a religious order"; "spiritual leaders"; "religious books"; "spiritual songs" [syn: religious] 5: like or being a phantom; "a ghostly face at the window"; "a phantasmal presence in the room"; "spectral emanations"; "spiritual tappings at a seance" [syn: apparitional, ghostlike, ghostly, phantasmal, spectral] n : a kind of religious song originated by Blacks in the southern US [syn: Negro spiritual]

What I mean by this is that I place importance on the things in life that are intangible. The things lacking physical substance; you can't touch or see them. The things that you can't quite put your finger on. My happiest moments have always been in the woods, or walking under a line of trees, feeling a connection with the world around me. I get such a feeling of serenity. I'm not sure if that counts as spiritual, but for lack of a better word, that's what I'll call it. I haven't felt that connection in a long time, and I think it's time to fix that problem.

It bothers me, a little, that I feel such an enormous amount of guilt over not wanting to get a job for the short month that is left in my summer vacation. My responsible conscience tells me, "You need the money. You have about $10,000 in bills coming up this year. You can only pay for $6,000 of that with earned money, scholarships, and your dividend check - or $8,500 if you actually get this scholarship, which you probably won't. Do you really want your parents to pay for that much?" My flowerchild conscience tells me, "Like your parents care. They would pay for all of it if you would let them, gladly. You have to beat your mother off with a stick in order to pay for the things you DO pay for. They want you to enjoy what time you have left as someone with very little obligations to take care of. With good reason. You should enjoy it, you have the rest of your life to work."

Why has money grown so important to me? It's at odds with my ideals. Yet here I am, constantly worrying over finances. It's ridiculous. I want to enjoy my life, not spend it worrying over something as stupid and tangible as money.

2003-07-18T03:00:00.000-07:00

Today, I did something. Yay!

A friend and I saw Julius Caesar. Outside. Was nice until it got really fucking cold and spent the last 45 minutes shivering in my sweatshirt, hood pulled up, bundled in the fleece blanket I thought I wouldn't need but brought anyway. Still, it was fun, and Cassius was awesome. It was one of those modern renditions (yet with complete original Shakespearean verse), so lots of gunfire and jumping in your seat.

I kept thinking, "Man, I could totally take pictures if I had my camera. I wish I had my camera. I want my camera."

It will come sometime next week.

And they had hoodies for $20, and I didn't HAVE $20, and I was so pissed off. I always want a cheap hoody, goddamnit.

2003-07-16T21:13:00.000-07:00

That bitch Adam changed his livejournal name again. Notice he keeps the first letter low in the alphabet so he always gets to be at the top of my list.

adamjnet: my journals called Elegantly Wasted now. Because INXS are cool.
kellygreen20: it's going
adamjnet: going away? or going to get the song
adamjnet: thats awesome.
kellygreen20: it's downloading
adamjnet: really awesome.
kellygreen20: elegantly wasted. ok
kellygreen20: i should just change it to Adam
adamjnet: I remember when i used to care about punctuation and grammar in AIM
adamjnet: hahaha noooo
adamjnet: then i look boring
kellygreen20: oh no god forbid!
adamjnet: haha
adamjnet: i want to be shrouded in mystery

Yeah, I got nothin.

But I am going to buy a digital camera tomorrow and drain my account so that I can't afford college weeeeeeeeeeeee

2003-07-15T18:35:00.000-07:00

Right now, I'm just basking in the relief of having finished my course. Successfully, even. Of course, since I had to write that damn paper, my sleep cycle is screwed. This always happens. Whenever I don't have a set schedule, I revert to going to sleep at 8 AM. I have no idea why this is my natural cycle.

It's been raining constantly, and my flowers go "agh!" and flop over every time it starts pouring. It's kind of funny, well, no not really. All the work I've invested into that garden and it's ruined by rain. My sweet rocket is especially affected, and has begun shedding flower petals in distress.

I have nothing interesting to write about. Blank. When I am recuperating from a long period of stress, I play computer games a lot. I mean a lot. It is my form of recovery, apparently. I always knew I was a semi-gamer, but I nevre fit myself fully into the genre. That would be admitting geekhood. But I may have to face the fact that I'm a full-blown geeky gamer, just one with a certain measure of control most of the time.

2003-07-14T01:14:00.000-07:00

www.ratemymullet.com

There's ratemywhatever site for everthing. Don't look at the poo one.

2003-07-13T20:45:00.000-07:00

When faced with a daunting task (such as, theoretically, an 8 page paper), the obvious solution is to play Warcraft III.

2003-07-13T02:24:00.000-07:00

In Alaska, it is very dark in the winter and very bright in the summer. No, it's not total sunlight or complete darkness. It just becomes dusk for two hours in the summer, but never night.

I was freaked out the other night, and I felt like things were going to jump out at me from behind corners. I could not figure out why things felt different. I finally realized it was because it actually gets a little dark in the house now with all the lights off, and I'm completely unused to darkness. I stumble around and trip over things, because I forgot that you need a light to see.

I miss you, midnight sun.

2003-07-12T04:37:00.000-07:00

Whoops. I can't take astronomy, I have to take the senior seminar. That means I have to take a history class in the fall too.

Blah.

Take a look at my bill, too. I'm getting around $1275 for the UA Scholars Program, and I'm still crossing my fingers over a $2500 scholarship from my mom's union. But, I'm starting to get nervous about that one. I only have $3200 in the bank.

Fall Semester 2003
Meal Board Plan $1,220.00
General Technology Fee $60.00
Mandatory Health Ctr/Semester $80.00
Music Class Lesson $120.00
Tuition Lower level $630.00
Tuition Upper level $918.00
SRC Bond Fee $75.00
Student Government Fee $30.00
Housing $1,650.00
Term Charges: $4,783.00

2003-07-12T04:03:00.000-07:00

I finally got my schedule mapped out for this year and I'm really, really excited. I managed to work it out to exactly 120 credits, which is what I need to graduate, by adding in a four credit science class. It also happens to be a class I really want to take: astronomy! This puts me at 13 credits a semester, which ain't half bad.

The problem I've got down for my spring semester three classes with labs. What is technically 13 credits comes out to 21 hours a week. And, I don't know what the day/time schedule will be, so if two overlap, I'm screwed. I think I need to maneuver my schedule again. And maybe meet with my advisor. Damnit.

Fall
ART 105 - Beginning Drawing
MUS 151 - Intermediate Guitar
PHIL 482 - Comparitive Philosophy
PSY 304 - Personality
PSY 445 - Community Psychology (Maybe I should swap this one out, I don't really want it and I don't think I even need it, but I might need a certain number of 400 level psych courses... I hate all this counting crap.)

Spring
PSY 455 - Clinical Psychology
PHIL ??? - something to finish up my minor
JRN 203 - Beginning Photography
PHYS 175X - Astronomy

So I was just telling Murray to graduate a semester late because it doesn't matter, but I'm a total hypocrite, because I'm meticulously organizing everything so that I can graduate on time. And I will forego a few of the electives I want if I have to. I suspect part of this is a smug pride on my part, wanting to graduate a few months after I turn 21.

2003-07-11T22:30:00.000-07:00

Spent the day writing a response paper entitled "Collectivist Thought in Dogon Culture" on the book Conversations with Ogotemmeli. Really interesting in hindsight, but a bitch to read.

My procrastinating abilities are unusually precise. The paper was to be 800-1000 words and due at 8 PM today. I managed 837 words, sent at exactly 8 PM. Should I be proud of this?

2003-07-11T00:17:00.000-07:00

Went to a funeral home for my class today. A few of my classmates seemed pretty uncomfortable there, but it didn't bother me at all. Was pretty interesting, actually. The crematorium was especially cool. I didn't get to see any dead bodies, but I stood next to a freezer that had a dead person in it, and the crematorium was cooling off from roasting a guy.

Did you know that even if you were to be simply cremated and scattered (my personal preference), it still costs $1500? Jesus. That includes the transportation costs from the hospital and everything. Dying is expensive.

The funeral director was super cool (I would have thought he'd be creepy, since he specializes in dead bodies and stuff), and I told my parents to use that funeral home if I die. Wee. I think that was why they agreed to give us a tour and provided all the refreshments - Dr. Grace even filled out a registration card to use that home when she dies, since she's 60. Give a tour, get new business. Good investment.

2003-07-10T04:44:00.000-07:00

Still can't sleep, so a treasure from me to you. I am beginning to think that Louise Rhodes rivals Tori Amos and Bjork as far as amazing singers go. Do yourself a favor and listen to this song, especially if you enjoy violins.

Zero - Lamb

There's no one here today
'Cause someone took the light away
There's nothing in my heart
Don't think I could even start to explain
I can't stand the pain of losing something so much a part of me
Though in reality you were hardly there in my heart, in my heart
You were everything, everything
You were everything, everything

In these few hours a breath of summertime has turned to winter rain
In such little time all my hope has gone
Will it ever be the same
All I ever wanted was to see your face
To see a little smile from my little one and let
You know, and let you know
You were everything, everything
You were everything, everything

Babe I did all I could just
To give you life
I'd have done anything
Just to give you life life life liiife

Out there in the dark your little spirit is lost without a home
Oh don't be afraid I'm thinking of you, no you'll never be alone
Someday, somehow, when the time is right
May an angel smile upon me and give you life
To give you life
I'd give everything
I'd give everything, everything
I'd give everything to give you life
To give you life
To give you life to give you life give everything
I'll give everything give everything
I'll give everything

2003-07-10T03:35:00.000-07:00

I'm miserable and I can't sleep and I can't do anything but lie there and bemoan my mistake, so what better to do than complain about it in my blog so that I can regret it tomorrow?

The hard part about this is that usually mistakes are negotiable. So I didn't get the scholarship, I get this one instead. I upset you, I'm sorry, can we start over? I can't negotiate this. My mind keeps trying to, and I remind it, she's fucking dead. I can't bring her back to life. She is DEAD. There is no negotiating this. The cat died because you got busy and forgot about saving her life.

So I'm lying there, crying and miserable and do you really need to know this? No, I'm just making you uncomfortable and so you'll probably feel like you've got to give some obligatory meaningless *hugs*. And I'm aching for my cat to come home so I can pet him and get comfort from him. Is that healthy to need reassurement from your cat?

It's like slipping on an old comfortable shoe, actually. In high school, right after I'd moved to Alaska, I was miserable because I was too shy to make friends, and high school kids suck anyway. I'd cry all the time, lying my head on my cat's side while he purred. That was Sammy. He died a year after we moved here. He was around seven years old and had Irritable Bowel Syndrome his whole life, and he had some complications with it one day. I don't really know what it was, the vet we had at the time was retarded. I was devastated.

I have always seemed to have these bonds with cats. My mother tells me that when I was in elementary school, our cat Thomas always preferred me and would sleep with me every night. All I remember is torturing the poor guy by dressing him up in paper crowns. I'm not sure why he willingly subjected himself to that. Sammy was the ill, unwanted cat that we restored to health by taking him to various vets until one figured out what was wrong with him. He slept on a little blanket next to my pillow every night, and sometimes he would rest his head on his little miniature pillow just like a person. Leo is my independent adventurer, and for some reason, he ignores everyone in my family except me, whom he adores. My mother is upset about this because animals always prefer her. (It's apparently not enough to have the worship of three dogs.) I woke up the other day with him sleeping curled up on my chest. Usually I wake up in a vaguely uncomfortable diagonal position, because someone has taken up the entire lower half of where my legs were supposed to be.

So, the shoe is comfortable. For some reason, when words can never do enough, a cat is total reassurement. That's part of the reason why Molly's death hurts so much. A lot of people would think I'm ridiculous for caring so much about the death of a cat, especially one that I only took care of for two months and didn't even particularly like. I feel so guilty saying that, but it's true. I don't know what to say, I just care.

2003-07-09T19:07:00.000-07:00

Molly and the kittens went back to the animal shelter a week and a half ago. The kittens were adopted immediately, I'm sure, but when I went back on Friday to check on Molly, she was still there. There were several empty cages, though, so I wasn't worried about them euthanizing her. They don't do that until they overflow.

I meant to check on her Monday. I got so busy with my schoolwork... I checked in today, and all the cages were full and she was gone. My stomach started to hurt. I had to stand in line for 15 minutes to ask if she'd gotten adopted or euthanized. I was hoping someone adopted her, but she wasn't really the most charming cat around. They euthanized her yesterday. I feel horrible, and I've been crying all day. "If only I had checked on Monday," I keep thinking. I failed her because of a stupid class.

I can't help but feel angry at my mother for not checking on Molly when I expressed my concern about it on Friday. I've been working my ass off, she had yesterday and today off. She could have gone yesterday. She didn't. I didn't want to foster these kittens, she did. And now I feel responsible for Molly's death. I'm trying not to be angry and depressed and upset, but there it is.

2003-07-08T21:31:00.000-07:00

2003-07-07T18:24:00.000-07:00

I love my girls.

Lily and Ivy are almost 2 years old. They are littermates and joined at the hip. Where one is, the other is never far away. Often, they follow my mother around hip-to-hip, they lie down at the same time in the same spot, they pee at the same time next to each other.

They love playing frisbee, because they can play tug-o-war with the frisbee, and they can both participate in bringing it back. With a ball, you watch them headbutt each other until one drops the ball, and the other runs off with it. They enjoy the frisbee much more (because Lily always wins when they play ball). The frisbee playing was brought to an end a few days ago, when the much battered frisbee finally died.

Gimme, gimme!

They're off!

Siamese dogs joined at the frisbee.

Murder in progress.

Cause of death: tug-o-war.

So, like, we bought a new frisbee today. We were so proud, because I couldn't find it at the main department stores, not even a toy store. We finally found it at the PX at Fort Wainwright. It seemed like it was tough enough, but I didn't take into account the fact that our previous frisbee was meant to be a dog toy and was probably much reinforced because of it. This was a kid's frisbee.

Here is the frisbee after ten minutes of play time.

I estimate its lifespan to be three days.

2003-07-06T16:25:00.000-07:00

"Kelly, I think you're going to laugh, but I'm going to make some changes."

I eye my dad suspiciously. "I'm going to laugh."

"No, don't laugh. I took EverQuest off the computers. I uninstalled it and cancelled the account. I threw the CDs in the trash. And I'm going to go take out the trash."

Pause. "Why? It didn't seem like it was causing much of a problem this time."

"Well, it hasn't caused any friction lately. But it's bothering me."

"Why?"

"Because that's not how I should be spending my time when I'm at the computer."

"Oh." Thoughtful silence.

"And I don't think I'm ready to grow pot."

"What?" Thinking, You're already growing pot.

"I don't think I'm ready to grow pot. All I do is get stoned all the time."

"Well... you seem pretty happy that way."

"Well, maybe. I might not feel this way if it weren't for the fact that my personal vices are affecting others in the household."

"Matt?"

"Yeah. We can't deal with having pot available all the time."

"Hmm."

I moved to the kitchen to check on my blueberry muffins. He started pulling the trashbag out of the trashcan.

"You seem like you're in a depressed mood."

Abruptly, "Yeah." Pause. "Maybe it has something to do with the fact that this is the one year anniversary of my brother's death."

Stunned. "Oh."

2003-07-04T17:39:00.000-07:00

How I spent my Thursday

A goddamn tree decided to fall over to spite us.

The Ranger huffed and he puffed, but he could not pull the tree.

We got an axe.

We attacked the tree viciously.

Very viciously.

Take that, tree!

We win!

Ehm, there's still more work.

2003-07-02T19:44:00.000-07:00

be sorted @ nimbo.net

I want to see if Emily gets Slytherin.

2003-07-02T18:09:00.000-07:00

Homophobes throwing temper tantrums

Hey, might not need a ban on gay marriage yet.

I hate the Republican party. I have no apologies for any Republican readers. I hate every "conservative" (let's use the real word here: bigoted) idea that goes along with the party platform. I hate their meddling in the separation of church and state, the lack of funds that go toward education and welfare, and their support of corporation over people. What are the values behind the Republican party? Because I don't get it. The only values I see are money and religion. Oh, and killing Iraqis.

2003-07-01T12:13:00.000-07:00

I was watching tennis coverage, and a male announcer started talking about Serena Williams. The camera went to the announcers and a woman was talking.... but not just any woman!

There's a transsexual tennis announcer!

Right on!

***********

Nevermind, that is the manliest woman I have ever seen in my life.

2003-06-30T18:21:00.000-07:00

While reading Perceptions, I wondered what amenorrhea was and looked it up. It means absense of menstruation, missing more than three periods.

I have always had irregular cycles, and I didn't start menstruating til I was almost 16. I usually menstruate every 2 or 3 months, so I suppose technically it's not amenorrhea, because they say more than three missed cycles. The articles never mention just being plain thin as a factor in amenorrhea, it's a freaking disease or anorexia or you work out too much (which I don't). They do say low body fat, but they attribute it to hyperthyroidism and various diseases. I know what hyperthyroidism entails, and I don't have the symptoms. Both my parents were just as thin as me, so were some of my aunts, uncles, and grandparents. But...

Increased risk of uterine cancer. Aw, shit. I never really cared too much, who wants their period anyway? I'm not paranoid about my health. I'm just thin, and that causes menstrual problems. No big deal. I don't want some doctor to put me on birth control to regulate my cycles, I've heard too many stories about how it fucked people up; not to mention a possible increased cancer risk there, too. I don't like messing with my body like that.

I hate doctors and their prying and cold hands, too. Someone yell at me for being so dumb when it comes to my health.

2003-06-29T19:16:00.000-07:00

I bought my first pair of shorts in a long time.

That's silly, that I don't wear shorts as a rule. I'll wear capris, sometimes. Rarely. But shorts? No.

Granted, they're modest shorts. Cargo-esque, midthigh. Not the type that allow your ass cheeks to hang out.

I saw them in the store, and thought, "Well, I might as well try them on." I did, and I looked in the mirror and thought, "You know, I don't think my legs look bad. Everyone else seems to think I'm some skeletal skinny monster, but I do not look that bad."

I bought them. Wearing them outside the house or garden, that's the second step in the road to my self-image recovery.

2003-06-27T21:41:00.000-07:00

The Continuing Adventures of Dr. Grace

Dr. Grace was not happy today.

In fact, Dr. Grace threw a temper tantrum worthy of a five year old.

I almost feel sorry for her, but sadly, I feel smug. She's isolated herself from everyone in the class--as though anyone liked her before. I shouldn't feel this way about her. She is a sad, lonely old woman with health problems and a lot of issues. She obviously has no one that cares for her. And here I am, smirking over yet another crappy thing in her life. But the woman is so goddamn obnoxious.

Our class has been reading Life Lessons by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler. It's a decent book, I suppose, if you like the sentimental wishy-washy stuff. I think they included too much of the "Be happy because you are God's precious child" stuff in it. Give me something solid to be happy about.

Anyhow, today we focused on the chapters covering surrender, forgiveness, and happiness. We split into groups and designed activities to better understand these principles, and randomly assigned each activity to another group. My group designed the Surrender activity (having your partner lead you around campus with your eyes shut - you have to surrender your control and trust the partner). Dr. Grace's group received the activity.

Immediately, Dr. Grace launched into a complaint about how she couldn't do it. "I've got to be careful," she whined. "If I fall down I might break something, I have so much pain, my bones are very brittle, I can't do that, it hurts too much to go up steps." Dr. M, the professor, tried to tell her that she could do it, they could take it slow and her partner could be explicit in their directions. That was what surrender was about. Dr. Grace absolutely refused.

She grew very upset. "You're not listening to me! I'm very angry right now. This is another example of me being left out while you people get to do things! I can't do that! I'm telling you that I can't! I have health problems!"

"Okay, Grace, okay. Calm down. We can work something else out," Dr. M said.

I suggested that Grace give the follower instructions on where they were going, while the other person was leading. That way she wouldn't have to walk around with her eyes closed, wouldn't have to actually climb up the steps, and could still participate in the activity.

She agreed and I thought it was resolved, but she never came outside with everyone. Apparently, instead, she had a conversation with Dr. M, whom I am beginning to admire for her patience. Meanwhile, we laid in the grass outside and discussed forgiveness. I tried to tan, because there is a faint white band on my wrist where my watch goes, and I feel encouraged by it. The other group led each other around stumbling, and another group got to play with a puppy. Why? They got the happiness activity. Lucky bastards.

I've noticed that elderly people often act like children when they are frustrated. I suppose it's hard, having people discount your opinion just because you're old, and not being able to do the things that young people can. I think the class could have been a little more understanding, but after dealing with Dr. Grace for a week, I can't blame them for not listening to her.

2003-06-25T00:56:00.000-07:00

My class, Living and Dying in the Global Tradition, is taught by a very odd woman. She is an African American woman.... who used to be a hardcore Methodist preacher, and became Muslim in 1998. She wears the long flowing dresses and a head scarf, which actually looks pretty cool, but the Calvin Klein emblems on the scarves ruins it for me. She tends to adopt a black preaching style to teach (if you don't know what this means, think Martin Luther King, Jr.). She seems nice, and somewhat intelligent (I'm not entirely sure yet, and it's hard to tell when she's got the urban mode of speech going - please don't think I'm racist), but she's really just... odd. I suppose you figured that out when I said she went from Methodist to Muslim, though.

I think I'm the only "nonreligious" person in the class. That's what I wrote on my index card with my name and phone number - nonreligious, rather than blatantly atheist. Better to say what you aren't than what you are, in this case. A lot of religious people take offense to the word atheist - as though just the word is me telling them that they're wrong and God doesn't exist, when in fact, I've become very tolerant. Yes, I went through the phase that all nonbelievers do, the religious arguments and making fun of the believers, but I'm over it. Believe whatever you want, who am I to tell you that you're wrong? You believe just as strongly as I do, and my belief is not magically more important or wiser than yours is.

Because the class is focused on living and dying, a lot of gushy crap is involved. Know thyself, love is important, it's all about inspirational sweetness. I hate it when this is the mood of the class, because the class becomes some sort of buddy-buddy, we're-sharing-our-feelings kind of club. I'm not into that. Leave me out.

I have the great fortune of having one of the world's most obnoxious women in my class; I remember her from my Computer Science 101 course. She was incredibly stupid, bringing up irrelevant opinions, and asking if the internet makes it easier for the terrorists to "get" us or something. She's in her 60s, and utterly self-important, believing her opinions to be very profound and insightful. She announced that she has a doctorate in homeopathic medicine and is working on another PhD, but modestly added that we didn't have to call her Doctor. When we split into groups of five, I had to bite my tongue and school my face into being expressionless, so that I wouldn't make faces at her ridiculous ideas. What is living? Well, for Dr. Grace, it's living life as a gift. Oooooh, how profound. Please be a little more condescending when you say that. Oh, and if you don't write her idea down on your list, she gets a little upset about it and pointedly adds that we're supposed to be writing things down. No matter that your ideas are shit and don't deserve to be written. She goes on to say that living life fully is about living with nobility, and quoted a famous Persian poet. Apparently. We all frowned a little, and a few of us tried to say that that's a sort of biased way to describe it. What about living passionately? But no, don't contradict Dr. Grace. She is always right.

One of my projects is to visit a cemetery and find all sorts of things among the graves. For example, I had to find an infant, someone with my name, someone who died on my birthday; all sorts of things. She wants 30 observations, and pictures for each. It was actually a wonderful experience, I've never really been to a cemetery. She didn't want us to go alone, so I brought my mum. We wandered among the graves and oohed and aahed over all the different stories that we found. Each one was a new person to meet and get to know. To read of the tragedies was like watching the tragic end of a movie, we'd read the headstone, gasp, and say, "Oh no! Come look at this! She died on her birthday!" Because that was one of the really sad ones, we found a girl who died on her seventeenth birthday. Her father was buried next to her, but he'd died after her.

There were so many couples. Some of the double headstones were missing a person who hadn't died yet. There was a few very touching inscriptions - James A. Thompson died, and on his headstone it said "briefly parted." Alice Poth Thompson died two years later, and on her headstone were the words, "together again."

We found a family plot, and again gasped, because the son had died at 27, the father died the year after, and the mother didn't die for another fourteen years. We sympathized for each lost person; how horrible it was that children died before their parents. You know it happens, but you hate to see it in a cemetery, for some reason.

George Buchanan was buried in 2001, but no one bought him a headstone. Instead, a tiny temporary marker was bolted down. The rain had rotted it away so that it was barely legible. There were no flowers for him, and we were really sad that his memory was forgotten like that.

Lindy Jay Williams died at age eight. There were a few touching quotes on his headstone, along with a picture that a child named Erin had drawn for him. In the picture, a child in a wheelchair and a standing child are happy to see each other. Lindy must have had some sort of disease that left him unable to walk, and sickly enough to die as a child.

The children's area made my mother cry. A lot. I cried a little too. There were dirty teddy bears and toys everywhere. There were so many babies that hadn't survived past their birth, and some heartbreaking inscriptions. I wish I'd written them down, but I got lazy at that point, and decided to get them off my photos. One of the babies who hadn't survived for more than a day had an inscription that read, "Sometimes you only love for a moment. Sometimes you love for a lifetime. Sometimes a moment is a lifetime." That pushed me over and made me cry, too.

We left after three hours, having visited most of the people there. We felt mentally and emotionally drained, but at peace.

And the UAF large animal facility was nearby, so we stopped and saw muskoxen that had turds hanging off their butts.

2003-06-23T01:17:00.000-07:00

I was flipping through channels at 11:30, and Radiohead was live on MTV! That's what I get for not watching MTV. I was so upset that I missed the first half hour, but guess what? Here are the dates that they will be on again. Eastern time.

Sun 06/22 3:00 AM
Tue 06/24 1:00 PM
Fri 06/27 1:00 AM
Sat 06/28 1:00 AM
Sun 06/29 8:00 AM
Sat 07/05 6:00 AM

I need to put this here so I won't forget. PS, they finished with True Love Waits.

2003-06-22T18:28:00.000-07:00

Every summer, there are wildfires all over Alaska. There is always one in this area. One day last summer, Fairbanks was covered with this smoke cloud, you couldn't see very much because of it. And it stunk. So when I went outside to water my garden this morning, the sky had this creepy orange tint. It's creeping all around the sky above our house, and it's grown dim outside. Dad is singing the Twilight Zone theme.

You can't see it in the picture, but the sun is crimson red. What you CAN notice is that it's dim out in an Alaskan summer. We have full-strength daylight at midnight--yesterday was the longest day of the year. It is NOT supposed to be that dim here.

As I write this, there is sickly orange light shining through the windows. I am so creeped out right now.

2003-06-22T15:40:00.000-07:00

When people make me mad on Battlenet, I add them to my friends list. During the initial incident, I spend the entire game tormenting them. The best way to do so is to appeal to their homophobia; you must reply "NO GET AWAY FROM MY BUTT" or something similar when they say "fuk u." It sounds dumb, but believe me, it works. Better than any other insult you can come up with; except maybe insulting their playstyle and calling them a noob. Or insulting their connection. "Are you 56k or what omg!"

I'm still waiting for 420homey and tester69 to log back on, so that I can join their games and fuck with them.

2003-06-20T19:31:00.000-07:00

Emily got me into the Sims again. Dammit! Why is this game so addictive? It's not even that fun!

I have discovered that I love children. Some children. I'm always talking to little Rachel, who is the most intelligent, sweetest, and adorable eleven year old I have ever met. I can't stop twirling her around in her chair to make her giggle, or braiding her hair, or grinning at the way she enunciates everything like a little professor. She wore a t-shirt yesterday that had a picture of George W. Bush on it and it quoted him, "Rarely is the question asked: Is our children learning?" I laughed so hard to see a tiny child who is all of four and a half feet tall wearing it. She knows a lot of academic people on campus; her father is a professor. They all seem to love her, and I don't blame them. Her presentation is better than the older kids' presentations. She's a brilliant child.

I have never been around children much, so I didn't really know that I liked them before. I knew that I enjoyed playing with kids, but did it so rarely that I wasn't even sure of that. I knew that stupid kids pissed me off, they still do, and I have zero tolerance for brats. (I have one in my group, and I have a difficult time pretending to be pleasant towards her. Fortunately, she's so self-absorbed that she doesn't notice.)

When you're a woman, there is always this notion that you're supposed to love kids and want them desperately. I never really wanted them much; I'd rather have a career. They're messy and obnoxious. Let someone else have them.

But I think I would like having a kid like Rachel.

2003-06-19T18:07:00.000-07:00

No more lectures and no more real work. Academy's over on Saturday, I start a three week course on Monday. My flowers' leaves are turning yellow because my thumb is black. The kids looked at photos and I rediscovered how not-photogenic I am, inspiring insecurity anew, a desire for better makeup and a thorough disgust for this reaction. Had health psychology lab and various body measurements. Have gained a few pounds and now weigh 110 lbs, which still causes mouths to drop open and prompts the question, "Do you eat?" I think that is a really stupid question. Played with bunnies. Must go finish Speaker of the Dead now because it is really really good.

2003-06-17T19:17:00.000-07:00

I spent yesterday evening feeling sorry for myself because for once, I can't just succeed in whatever I put my mind to. I'm used to getting the jobs I want, getting good grades, getting scholarships, being praised as a wonderful student and employee alike. It all sort of falls into my lap. I'm used to getting the highest grades on tests and projects, writing thoughtful essays, and knowing the material when other people are hopelessly confused. It's easy for me. But something so simple as talking to a few teenagers, or lecturing about material that I know so well, and I choke!

Today was a good day, and I do feel a lot better. I interacted with students that I hadn't talked to much before. The subject of the day was sensory perception, which is one of my favorite topics, so I knew the answers to all the questions asked and ended up helping the kids and lecturing a little bit even though today isn't my lecture day. One of the students who's been having a difficult time seems to be improving, and she loved dissecting an eyeball (I was equally excited in my explanations over the way way cool eyeballs. I'm a science dork).

Despite being caught in a half hour long traffic jam on my way home (!) and being low on sleep, I still feel pretty good. Even in the face of the lecture that I have to write tonight on the information-processing model, which I have never studied. Despite feeling like an idiot every time I lecture, because I suck at it. Despite the fact that I will probably get three hours of sleep tonight.

And you know when you're in a traffic jam and everyone has to move to the left lane because the right lane is closed, and so you do, and then like five BASTARDS fly by in the right lane who decide that they're just going to bypass the system and slip in front of you so that they can get where they're going and you'll have to wait even longer to accommodate them despite getting there first? I was about to go into major road rage, I was so infuriated. Argh! Selfish pricks.

2003-06-16T00:55:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, the topic of the day was Understanding Research, and the kids got to perform three experiments. First, we brought out crickets. Each kid got one cricket in a petri dish, and a q-tip. Crickets have these feelers on their butts and they're supposed to jump in the opposite direction from the way you push the feeler, so the kids were poking cricket butts for a good 10 minutes. Then we set them free. Little Rachel and I had named hers Bob and she wanted to keep him, but I tried to convince her that he wouldn't be happy living in a petri dish, and he would keep her up at night. She let him into the grass and said, "Goodbye, Bob! Have a good life! I'll miss you!"

Next, we brought out the lab bunnies. There are four, and each was set in its carrier at a table of two kids. The kids timed how long it took for the bunny to come out, and they found that male rabbits have much more risk-taking behaviors than female rabbits. They got to cuddle them for twenty minutes while Dr. H lectured on the differences between bunnies and humans. I have never seen a happier bunch of kids.

Finally, the broad jumping experiment. Which affects jumping more, leg length or muscle mass? Well, we found out that it was leg length. But the kids liked trying to jump far. They wanted to see how far Josh, the other assistant instructor, could jump since he is probably around 6'3. He jumped much, much further and they were delighted and stuff.

I have never been a very outgoing person, and I'm having some trouble trying to talk to the older kids. 10 year olds are easy, man, they want to chat your ear off. But older kids are more wary of adults (as if I could call myself one) and so I have to actually approach them and try to get them to talk. Whenever escorting them across campus, I just don't know what to say and either remain silent or talk to the little kids. I also have a hard time being in a leadership position, and I've got to start speaking up more, telling the kids what to do, as well as getting the more chatty ones to shut up. One of the little kids has a tendency to try to tell her best friend what to do (despite the other being very intelligent), and ends up slowing down their progress a lot.

The only reason I am making this post is because I'm in the middle of writing my second lecture and I am a procrastinator. It's almost midnight, but I won't be up as late as I was the other night. I hope.

2003-06-14T03:33:00.000-07:00

Yawn. I got 3 1/2 hours of sleep the other night, so I went to bed at 7 PM. Now I'm awake at 2 AM, and hungry and nauseous at the same time.

My lecture was scary to do, even if it was only eight kids. I felt I kind of rushed through it, and didn't interact with the kids enough. When I mentioned that to the other assistant, he said he didn't think I rushed it, that I did really good, but I might want to try speaking up a little. I hear that after every presentation I've ever given, but I can't seem to remember to raise my voice.

We're apparently supposed to keep track of the kids at all times from 9:15 AM to 4:15 PM, but the older kids aren't very happy with it. I don't blame them; I wouldn't want to be babysat and escorted either. I think that I'll stop doing that, and just tell them to meet me in front of the dorm when it's time to go back. If we run into problems, we'll just go back to babysitting.

I've got free lunches at the university commons, but I'm not sure it's a good idea to eat there. I have to anyway, to be with the kids. I was munching on a carrot when I suddenly felt extremely nauseous--I felt that way this morning, eating breakfast too, and I've felt it slightly for a few days. But this time I had to actually go to the bathroom (jog a little by the end) and throw up a nice orange carrot mess. Luckily it hadn't been long enough for it to be saturated with stomach acid, so it was actually the most painless barf I've ever had. Then I felt really good and went back to eat ice cream.

I think I'm still nauseous-feeling, and I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't want to throw up again. Oi.

We spent the last three hours of our afternoon dissecting sheep brains. I thought for sure that three instructors would be plenty for eight (nine in the afternoon) kids, but I was wrongwrongwrong. "Kelly, what's cross-axially?" "Kelly, what does the medulla do?" "Kelly, how am I supposed to cut my cerebrum?" "Kelly, can you help me get this stuff off my brain?" "Kelly, I can't get my brain weights to add up." I had to neglect the older kids to help our three 10 and 11 year olds the most, and I felt sort of bad since the older kids would ask me a question and I'd be bombarded with a barrage of questions from the other kids in the middle of my answer and sort of forget to finish it.

We do have one 11 year old girl who is not in the research academy, but has helped Dr. H with cleaning the lab and feeding rabbits for an entire semester, so Dr. H lets her sit in on our afternoon lab. She is not as quick as the other kids, and most of my time in the second half of the afternoon was spent helping her write her answers. I stayed a half hour past the time the other kids left to help her finish up, and she was very embarrassed about it. She kept telling me that she was sorry she took so long and that her answers were too messy. I tried to convince her that she had a right to be a little slower, as she was younger than a lot of the kids and she didn't have the added benefit of the morning class, but I don't think it worked. I wished that I was a more charismatic teacher for her, because I felt a little ineffectual in making her feel better.

I feel mentally drained right now. Explaining things for three and a half hours in one day seems to do that. I didn't know it would be this draining, and I have an enormous amount of respect for teachers right now. It's all a little overwhelming, and I admit I am dreading going back just because it's so much work. But I do have Sunday off, which will be spent writing my lecture for Monday.

I really don't know how teachers do it. They lecture enough all day to completely fry their brains, and manage to do it with enthusiasm and caring for the kids. Not to mention that they have to deal with a lot more kids than I do! Then they go home and spend the rest of their free time writing lesson plans for the next day. And they do it again with enthusiasm. I thank my lucky stars this is only for ten days. It's fun helping the kids learn, but damn, it's tough!

2003-06-12T23:44:00.000-07:00

Why did I wait til 10 pm to start writing my lecture when I have to get up at 7 tomorrow?

2003-06-12T19:40:00.000-07:00

[music: Little Things - Lamb]

Opening day at the research academy was very dull; I wisely skipped check-in (the other assistant told me it was a lot of standing around and being bored, as I predicted) and yawned throughout the Opening Session, which consisted of the people running and sponsoring the project talking all about how wonderful the opportunity was and how wonderful our lives will be and how wonderful the world is in general. I had an hour free, so I went to the lab with the lead instructor to feed her rabbits and check out the overhead projector transparencies she has. I got a bunch of brain diagrams for my lecture tomorrow. Her rabbits are way cute, but timid. I always hated the fact that rabbits freak out over anything and everything, so I didn't really want to mess with them too much. She told me that she raises rabbits at home, and casually tossed in at the end of the sentence, "to eat." Ah. Hmm.

The other assistant is a very nice guy, and I'm happy to be working with him. He seems very down to earth. We're both working on graduating this year and looking at grad schools, so it was nice to have something in common to talk about. I spent a lot of time standing around chatting with him after feeding the rabbits, when we went down to the kids' residence hall for "teambuilding." Yeah, TEAMBUILDING! Woohoo! So this consists of, basically, us instructors standing around in the sun for an hour, while the kids do stupid shit like organize into groups by birthdate. And then we all got together in our class groups to use straws and tape to make a case for our eggs, which we dropped from 20 feet. Yeah. I hate stuff like that. Do these adults honestly believe the kids will absolutely love using straws to shield their eggs? A lot of the kids looked bored and had their "I'm way too cool to get excited about this" faces on.

The psychology module's got six girls and two boys. They're all in their mid-teens except for two ten year old girls, who are best friends, and are very cute and smart. One boy is extremely odd, introverted, and something of a smart ass. I always like the weird ones best.

2003-06-10T20:33:00.000-07:00

I forgot to buy Radiohead's new album, and Tricky's. Damn. I was out shopping with my mother for like six hours. I was so tired at the end. I am not a shopper by nature (some sort of unnatural female I suppose). One of her coworkers/friends is moving, and they want to give her an appreciation plaque, but she has this crystal obsession, so my mom wants something crystal and plaque-ish. I have been to so many gift shops. Hot gift shops. It was 80 degrees today. Talk about a lot of sweaty, complaining Alaskans. Exclamations over the weather everywhere we went. Related to the weather is my flower garden, and my sweet rocket is developing buds. I am so excited about it, as I think they will be really pretty. I also have a mutant sweet rocket plant. Its leaves are all twisted and deformed, but seems to be perfectly healthy. I'm curious to see how little Mutie will do.

I am an assistant instructor starting Wednesday, and I've got to write three lectures. The lead instructor has given me very little to work with; "behaving brain," "fires of the mind," and "information-processing model." Oh, and stick within the limits of PSY 101. When I asked what exactly fires of the mind meant - I assumed it meant neurons and stuff - she said: "CNS evolution, development (including synaptogenesis), so it will be helpful to have prior knowledge of neurons, synapses, circuits and some basic concepts about signalling with action potentials."

Oh. Well, right. Good thing I asked for clarification on that. PSY 101. Right. Not that I don't know any of that stuff, I do, but that's not exactly what I would have figured.

Anyway, I am unable to work up the motivation for it. I studied a few days ago and now I'm all studied out. I'm so lazy. I'll do it tomorrow.

Have filled up wading pool for dogs, since it's so hot. They are black, energetic, and pant all over the place. But they're afraid of the damn thing. Maybe I'll go try to fool them into getting in.

I've taken up studying in our treehouse. Well. Playhouse. There's no tree connected to it. It's this rustic-looking contraption that the people who built this house created, but it's got railings and a roof and a connected swingset, so I'm not complaining. It's so peaceful out there. I curled up in the sleeping bag the other day (when it was cooler), with my hood pulled over my head so that the mosquitoes couldn't get me while I studied. Leo, my cat, came up and slept in my sleeping bag with me. Ivy, my dog, climbed up the ladder and pestered me. I laid there for a while, listening to the birds call back and forth, distant barking, and the occasional mosquito buzzing (which was halted abruptly by my hand). It's sort of nice to have that tranquility once in a while.

Not much going on around here.

2003-06-07T17:43:00.000-07:00

They're everywhere!

2003-06-06T23:19:00.000-07:00

[music: Sit Down. Stand Up. - Radiohead]

If you know what's good for you, you'll check out MTV.com and listen to the new Radiohead album, due out on June 10th. (If it convinces you, especially Nick, it's named Hail To The Thief, a supposed jab at George W. Bush. I love that they're unafraid to make political slams.) I don't know about you, but I am driving to the store first thing on the 10th to buy my copy. I don't buy my music for anyone but Radiohead.

Discounting the weak debut album Pablo Honey, Radiohead has never ceased being amazing over the years. I just can't expect anything other than genius from them, and they've delivered it again. Listen, and love.

2003-06-06T21:13:00.000-07:00

[music: Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding]

Negativity. Whoever's got it brings everyone down with them. I briefly wondered if it would be hypocritical for me to post about negativity, since I have my own negativity issues. But in this case, I don't think my issues come even close to the negativity that I will be negatively complaining about in these paragraphs.

The professor that I'm working with soon left an envelope on top of the Psychology Department's mailboxes for me, containing some registration forms for my Teaching in Psychology course. The administrative assistant that I used to work with picked it up for me and e-mailed me to let me know she had it, so I stopped by to get it. While I was there, she brought up one of the jobs I'd worked on a loooooong time ago, back when I was a mere office assistant as opposed to a research aide, and needed some help understanding what needed to be done on it. We went into the next office to peruse some files, and that office contained my dear ex-associate, the research assistant on the project.

She's a PhD student, very intelligent, very hardworking, and is the most negative, poisonous person I've ever met in my life. She is the primary reason that I quit my job, the other reason being the co-investigator on the project (who is the most pretentious and completely inept kissass I've ever met). It's really too bad, because I loved my job, but that enjoyment was completely ruined by the people I had to work with. I started out so enthusiastic, and gradually, over the summer months, I was worn down further and further. I got to the point where I was a total pro at diplomatic remarks, sympathizing with the Poison Bitch's continual stream of gossip and backstabbing, as well as giving Inept Kissass his needed reassurement that he was the competent bossman on the project.

Honestly, it wasn't hard to sympathize with Poison Bitch. Most of her complaints were legit. The other people on the project were completely inept. I knew that. It bothered me too. But she could not give anyone the benefit of the doubt. She'd complain about someone's inability, and I'd agree that yeah, they weren't really up to par, and then I'd throw in a "but maybe they just had trouble with this." Her response was always the dubious eyebrow raising, and I always justified her belief that I was too nice to people, and too naive about things.

The thing that bothered me the most about her was the fact that she didn't even try to pretend to be nice to people. Do you know that sarcastic thing people do, the thing that they can use to make people feel bad, but they won't really be able to respond to it? ".... uh, yeaaaaah." She is the master of the sarcastic uh yeah. It's so overt. I winced every time she did it - at first. Then I came to expect it, and pretended not to hear. Many people had to learn how to deal with the uh yeah. A few were flustered. I began to recognize Inept Kissass's tight-lipped look as meaning that Poison Bitch had been around.

The problem was that no one could like, fire her or anything - despite the fact that she was so subtly and yet not subtly rude to her supervisors. The reason is that she is the only competent person on the entire project. All of the success and progress they've made in the past year is due solely to her - well, and me. I've got to take credit for my own hard work, right?

Oddly enough, she also recognized my efforts. She took my injustices more to heart than I did - when someone didn't give me enough credit, she tried to get me to complain about it by saying, "And you did so much work on that and they didn't even mention it. They act like they know more than you do about the data. You should really bring that up." To this day, I have no idea why she likes me. She hates everyone, she sees faults in everyone. She uses the uh yeah on everyone except me. Yeah, we've had our spats, but she's never used it on me. She likes to talk to me. I'm sure she must badmouth me sometimes when I'm not around, but if she has one saving grace, it's that she is not false with her compliments. When she compliments my work, I know she means it. So when she bitched about how no one appreciated me, I learned to smile and nod, and tried to downplay my work to her. I told her, well, you know, that's how it goes in every psychology department. It doesn't bother me.

This was only after the first time she influenced me. She'd told me that Inept Kissass had left a whiny message on the Principal Investigator's answering machine about how I did something wrong when he told me to do the opposite. I was really offended, because it was not the truth - I'd set up the data exactly how he told me to, because I'd had no prior experience in research. It was only later that I realized it wouldn't work, after I'd obtained that experience. I went to the Principal Investigator with Poison Bitch, and we told him that it wasn't my fault and we hoped that he wouldn't blame me for this. The next day, Inept Kissass brought me flowers and kissed my ass.

I was horrified. I was very, very embarrassed. After that, I realized - wait, she magnifies everything. Oh, God, I went and complained over nothing. How could I have let her do that to me? After that, I didn't listen to anything she said, although I pretended to take everything she said very seriously. Despite that, I grew very jaded due to the constant poison spewing into my ears; gossip about everyone. I met consultants on the project and initially liked them, she'd pull me aside and badmouth them and I'd listen oh so seriously, and think, "God, what a bitch. She's an expert in picking up the slightest fault." Then I saw the faults too, and I couldn't hold onto my initial perceptions.

Negative people will bring you down with them, no matter how hard you try to resist. I had to get out of that environment.

So, on Wednesday, when I stopped by, I got sucked into an hour long conversation with her. I kept looking for an opening, and it wasn't there. My parking meter ran out and I prayed that I wouldn't get a ticket. She spewed poison on and on and on about everybody's failures after I'd left, about how this person fucked up and this person pissed her off, blah blah blah. We went into the other room, where she used the "uh yeah" on my beloved administrative assistant, whose smile immediately became forced. I was furious, but I couldn't show it - not to her. She'll find a way to get you back if you get on her bad side.

I'm not sure what it is that makes people this way. I know that with her, she grew up in a lousy environment - her mom ran off, her dad shoved her off to live with a crazy aunt. She's a recovered alcoholic, and she's only in her mid-twenties now. But how can she be so oblivious to the way people react to her, and how can she not realize how poisonous she is? She thinks of herself as a decent person, I'm fairly certain. She knows she's a bitch, but she thinks she's a bitch only to a certain degree, and takes pride in it. (as any well-adjusted feminist should, but she's not well-adjusted. at all.) I've thought, maybe now that I don't work with her, I should let her know exactly what I think of her. What good am I doing, just remaining silent and allowing it to continue? On the other hand, how will it benefit me to have a manipulative person who works in my department angry at me?

It makes me sad, because I'll be honest with you - I genuinely like her. She's very smart, and she shares many of my ideas. She's just got a very large fault that gets in the way of her positive attributes. I want to help her, I want to change her, but it just isn't possible.

2003-06-05T18:42:00.000-07:00

[music: Pick Up The Phone - The Notwist]

I really miss my radio show. I was jamming to one of my radio show tapes (I'm honestly not so egotistical that I record my shows and listen to them all the time, my parents did it for themselves, I swear) in the car on the highway today, and I thought, "Wow, this rocks. Where did I find all this music?" My musical taste was so underdeveloped before I did the show. It really is amazing how much it's changed. I hadn't looked into music for years, and my taste was so outdated. The only bands I truly adored enough to have all their CDs were Radiohead, Bjork, Tori Amos, Nine Inch Nails and Portishead. Everyone's heard them before. Nothing spectacular.

When I started, I wanted to present something fresh. I wanted my show to be different. I didn't want to play stuff that everyone had heard before (and most importantly, stuff I'd heard before). I wanted to play a song and have the audience go, "Whoa." So I started digging. I used amazon.com's related artist search to find stuff I'd like, and I found a lot of stuff using that and downloading it on Kazaa Lite. I found a triphop site and dug up more. I found artist after artist, song after song, that I adored. Amon Tobin, Baxter, Lamb, Tricky, Tosca, Archive, Radio Iodine. My show evolved from a random alternative show to a fullblown downbeat, mellow, groovalicious triphop show - and I'd never even known that was my preferred musical sound. All I knew of triphop was Portishead and Massive Attack. Who knew that there was an entire genre out there waiting for me to find it. Admittedly, not all of what I just listed is trip hop. Amon Tobin and Tosca are electronica-based, Radio Iodine is some sort of post-rock. But they all fit into the triphop atmospheric sound. It's a certain quality to the music that is indescribable. Music with that certain atmospheric quality is all I listen to now. When in the car, I can't stop grabbing a certain tape and rewinding it to the beginning of one side, to listen to Beautiful Day by Mellowdrone. It is my ultimate groove song.

I never would have found all this music if it weren't for my radio show. I feel as though I've discovered a part of myself that I hadn't been in touch with; because music is so important to me, and I'd been slacking on it.

The Notwist is what I'm listening to now, and it's a CD that KSUA's production manager burned for me. He said, "Here, I heard this song and it made me think of your show." I played it, and it's glorious. I immediately loved him. Pick up the phone, and answer me at last. Today, I will step out of your past. I love this song. So when I came home and popped it in, it only made me ache for my show more.

It was time to take action. I checked the KSUA site for vacancies, and they're all taken other than extreme morning and night, and a Friday afternoon slot. But I'm busy during the weekday afternoons. Okay, there's also a Saturday 12:00-1:00 slot, but I really don't want to drive all the way out there for only an hour. I want two hours, goddammit. I cursed myself for not applying when the program director asked me to (and since, I've been thinking, does he like my music? Does someone appreciate the effort I put into my show? Do I have a good show? Will you pat me on the head and tell me I'm good?). In the fall, I have crazy classes and not enough time to dig through music for my show (you see, I cannot do a half-assed job on anything). So. Spring. What a long wait.

Music is such a huge part of my life, and I'm so glad I found it again.

2003-06-03T10:45:00.000-07:00

Mom turned 47. We bought her five books, and she greeted the birthday table with, "Oooooh, books!" Some fluff in the form of Mercedes Lackey, the next three Ender books (which the entire family can enjoy, yay for efficiency!), and cute picture book entitled "Dear Mom, thanks for everything." She likes the sappy stuff. The picture book has pictures of animals in various cute poses that go along with the book's text, and so I figured it'd be perfect for my animal-loving mom. One of her friends brought along a chocolate torte, which was rapidly consumed.

But we forgot to make a birthday cake, which was sort of strange in itself--who forgets that birthday cakes go along with birthdays? This family, that's who--so I'm making one today. My family is made up of the most laidback people you'll ever meet, so it's not like Mom cared that we forgot the cake. She doesn't care if anyone celebrates her birthday or not. She is more likely to say that she just wants a kiss and a hug on her birthday. But I suppose I can't quite shake this idea that you have to express your love with material possessions. It doesn't make a lot of sense, I don't think, to show someone you care by spending money and giving them things that are completely unrelated to your caring. It's a nice gesture, but I think that the best way of celebrating someone's birthday can be expressed in words or physical gestures. "Mom, I love you sooooooo much and stuff. Like, you know?"

I shouldn't generalize the idea of gift-giving into something that is always superficial. Sometimes, someone can give the most insightful, thoughtful gift in the world and of course, that is an extremely effective way to show that you care. But it isn't the gift that makes the receiver happy, it's the idea that the gift-giver knew exactly what would make them smile, and that the gift-giver put the effort into making them smile. So I suppose it isn't really the material possession at all, in the end.

2003-06-01T15:58:00.000-07:00

Found a cat, he was really skinny. But it turns out he just lived across the road.

Was super cute and stuff.

2003-06-01T00:04:00.000-07:00

WE HAVE A WASP PROBLEM!

And I'm frightened.

At least six wasps have gotten into the house in the past two days, and I see them (or HEAR them!) whenever I go outside. There is a nest nearby. Last summer it was in the shed and my brother threw something at it and ran away very VERY quickly. It was knocked down and the buggers left, but I suspect they just relocated a few feet.

I suppose they aren't that frightening, but I can't help but flinch every time I see an enormous yellow and black striped insect. It's just reflex, you know. I've never been stung in my life and I was hoping to keep it that way, but with all these wasps around, I don't know. There was one that flew near my face the other day and I reflexively whacked it, realized what I had just done, and ran away like a little girl. Unwise, unwise!

2003-05-31T15:24:00.000-07:00

My violets!

They are not very impressive, but believe me, it's a triumph that they're even alive with me as their caretaker.

2003-05-31T12:44:00.000-07:00

I spike my hair out like I've stuck my finger in an electrical socket every time I get out of the shower, and I almost took a picture to put here because I love playing with my hair so much, and I took it with my fingers in one of those satanic symbols and a screaming face but then I was like, "Wow, that looks really ridiculous."

P.S. I don't keep my hair that way throughout the day, by the way.
P.P.S. My mom cut her hair short the other week (go Mom!) and I gave her a mohawk yesterday. It was so cute. I made her do a punk rocker face and took a picture with my good camera.

2003-05-30T13:37:00.000-07:00

I think one of the most clever names I have seen on Battlenet is "Tapewyrm."

2003-05-30T07:46:00.000-07:00

We've been a very happy household, despite Kismet's continued disappearance. Someone is always petting Lily. You just can't walk by her without leaning down and squealing, "We're so happy you're back!" She's pretty happy herself. Ivy and Timmy are acting like she was never gone now. The first thing we did was to give her a bath and buy a new pretty green collar with ladybugs on it to replace her dingy lavender one (it looked like it had been a lot places). Now all the dogs match, their collars all have a certain shade of green in them, and I feel a little silly about being so vain about it.

Where was she? We're not sure. She's lost so much weight that I suspect that she might have been on her own this entire time, maybe getting food from people's garbage. She was wet from wading in the nearby slough, so maybe she's been following that this entire time, so that she had a steady supply of water. Ivy was wet when we found her, so it might be where they split up on their little adventure. What I don't understand is why no one grabbed her on her way home, especially since the entire neighborhood knows that we're shelling out $500 for her. She might have been running around in the woods, avoiding the roads--Lily has a fear of cars. Maybe that's why no one saw her.

Every experience like this comes with a lesson learned. I will never take my dogs for granted again. I am a cat person, not a dog person, and I usually referred to them as the monsters, brats, or evil destruction machines. They irritated me with their slobbering and barking and jumping. I recognize the role that they play in my life. They are sweet little angels who can do no wrong. Until they chew up another pair of shoes.

I flip flopped my crazy sleep cycle, and now I go to sleep at 9 PM and wake up at 6. I've always loved being able to rise early, but I can only do it when I do the night owl thing and then stay up later and later until I'm suddenly normal. I hope I can hang onto it. The only bad thing about it is that our dogs like to stay up with us, and my dad and brother stay up to crazy late hours, and then I'm up early, and they end up being so tired that they can't keep their eyes open in the afternoon.

2003-05-28T22:33:00.000-07:00

I was sitting at the computer, when my dad ran by, out the front door, and shouted, "It's Lily!" Stunned, I managed a "Wh...WHAT?"

The front door opened again, and a black blur bolted in and onto dad, wagging its tail frantically. She ran over to my brother and jumped on him, ran to me and jumped on me, and ran to my mom and jumped on her (leaving a huge cut on her chest I might add). All the while makng whining noises in her throat, like, "Omigod omigod omigod!!" My mother and I both started crying hysterically as Lily ran back and forth between everybody. Ivy ran after her and made half-hearted growling noises--"who the fuck are you?" it sounded like she was saying.

She was sopping wet, bedraggled, and has lost about five pounds. She has some tree sap stuck in her fur. We don't know where the hell she's been, and we don't care. She found her way home.