shots of cooking sherry

To be satisfied.

2012-01-17T10:17:00.005-05:00

I am a librarian in a what I commonly and angrily refer to as a 'shit town'. It's small and everyone knows your name here in a very Cheers'-like manner. This has its pleasant quirks, such as when old ladies bring us pie to have their fines cleared. Or when I have the opportunity to wander the stacks while holding a baby I am unrelated to.

However, we can't put up a Black History Month display because the openly racist will complain to us and their quietly racist children will deface it when we are not looking. Actually, their children will deface anything we put in front of them, racist or not. The vast majority of our patrons hold no respect for education, and our high school drop-out rate here is apparently appalling and at the same time considered normal. They come and sit on our computers for hours, alternating between Facebook and...well, still Facebook. They steal our DVDs and and sell our books at the flea market, they overflow our toilets and smile without shame as they walk out of the restroom.

It can be...frustrating.

I enjoy my work around 70% of the time though. I think this is a good percentage for any job. I am fond of the tweens in my youth programs and I feel they are fond of me. More importantly, I feel like I am doing something. I don't think they hate me, as I did in the first weeks when I flatly refused to let them choose Captain Underpants or Twilight for Book Club or when I tell them not to parrot their parent's opinions to me. When we hold group discussions over topics they've never thought of before, or at least not openly, I smile to myself and feel like a difference is being made. I feel like I am corrupting them in the best way possible.

I may make an hour commute five days a week for just above minimum wage, but this feeling that I could open any kind of door for one kid here is definitely worth something. For this I am grateful of my Humanities degree. I may never pursue graduate school or leave the Tri-State, even though I still feel shame and yearning whenever I hear my friends mention it or when old professors ask me of my plans. The idea of not continuing my education, my base of knowledge is a tragedy to me. But so is the idea of doing something that lacks this sensation I get now in my youth programs. This 'shit town' may kill me, but I'd rather it be me the irate librarian than any kid that has the chance to really escape the area and create a life that doesn't resort to stealing DVDs or trying to sell drugs in the bathroom.

I just hope I can be satisfied with whatever the future holds.

-K

Twelve Angry Kays Reflect

2011-11-20T22:39:00.004-05:00

If possible, listen to the entire 20th Century Master’s collection for The Temptations before you begin.

I should be writing for nameorhymeo….Which, I understand is not what National Novel Writing Month is called, but I, quietly frankly, could not give more of a shit about it. I have no urge to put forth a novel. I wanted to try to push myself into a genre beyond my normal nonfictional critique, but I can’t even handle actively working with my normal writing style for more than a few sentences at the moment. It’s not that am so satisfied with reality that I simply cannot immerse myself into some fictional dreamland, nor is that I am afraid to fail miserably. I wouldn’t mind failing miserably, I do it so often now that it has become the norm. No, I just really don’t want anything to do with fiction. Building plot makes me feel sticky.

I should be writing for the Herald-Dispatch book reviews. As western counties librarian this is a requirement. A requirement that rarely anyone actually fills, but I unfortunately am mistaken by the editor of these reviews as a newly emerging gal pal. Even more unfortunately, whenever I sit down to contemplate formulating a direct and simplistic 400-word book review, my throat closes and the backs of my knees become coated in sweat. My neck muscles tighten and my eyelids twitch. I hear humming that I can’t quite place. It’s very strange and eerily similar to when I would try to produce anything of quality before I dropped out of college (and returned a semester later in a glorious haze of determined mediocrity).

The oddest part (besides the fact that I have a Bachelor’s degree and am having trouble producing something that is, at best, set for the 8th grade reading level) is the book I’m actually reviewing I love in it’s entirely and can gab about said book for great lengths in the backroom to my coworkers who by now tune me out. It’s the first of the five part steampunk/paranormal series by Gail Carriger titled, Soulless, and it is shiteat amazing. ‘Shiteat’, of course, is my filler term as I am trying to not take certain dieties’ names in vain quite so much and I am too lazy to find another word. ‘Shiteat’ is also me foolishly playing around with the descriptor, ‘a shit-eating grin’.

I happen to find the book fantastic for several reasons I doubt will be put in print, which might be my problem. I am also reading at the same time A Cook’s Tour by Anthony Bourdain and Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me (And Other Concerns)? by Mindy Kaling. Both of these books also hold unparalled greatness for wildy different reasons. I wonder if I can switch titles this late in the game?

It’s the same issue as before, however. I do not, ever, feel like I need to be writing a formal review for anything. Much less a short one where I can’t use my own lexicon and standard level of inappropriateness. Much like I feel enraged after briefly considering targeting my body image to something more loveable or attractive to current standards, I too am obstinate when it comes to writing bullshit fluff (aside from this narcissistic blogging habit, of course). Given how I show throat almost every passing moment of the day, I am weirdly adamant when it comes to writing or eating or painting or oftentimes saying whatever the hell I want.

I could easily go on for the rest of the twelve things I should be up to at this moment, as I considered. Things I need to get done go much numerically farther than twelve though. Especially if you throw my laundry and taking out of the bathroom trash in the mix. I have done what I have intended to do here. I came, I pressed my meaty fingers up and down against the keyboard, I blew off some steam so I can more productively go back to the real world. Marcus Aurelius would be so proud (not true).

Until later,

K

I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.

2011-08-27T16:25:00.009-04:00

-Douglas Adams

I have been saying since before graduation that the first chance I could get, I would escape from the tri-state area and head somewhere most likely north. My eyes were on Vermont, but I would have really taken anywhere.

Here I sit almost four months after graduation, alternating between planning the layout of my apartment and going over the details of the retirement plan with my full-time position in “A Town Known for Its Adult Superstore”, WV.

By “planning” I mean “eating leftovers from Chili’s and listening to Queens of the Stone Age”. I love me some Josh Homme.

I did not expect this whatsoever. I kind of love it.

I may still be only thirty minutes from H-town and an hour from Ashland, but it is a different dimension for sure. Milton is small, sleepy, and possibly full of magic. The library is the epicenter of all activity, across the street from a town hall roughly the size of my parents’ house and right behind an amazing antique store, post office, adorable park, tanapas restaurant, and a Chinese buffet that I will soon be living above.

My life is different as well. I dress business casual five days a week and at least twice a week I wear a skirt. I’m in a knitting group [trust me, you’ll see the evidence soon enough], I am constantly in make-up, I know way too much about paperback romances, and I rarely screech explicatives in public. While I enjoy the breeze the skirts provide, I still feel like a disgruntled and un-showered undergraduate disguised as a librarian.

I guess no one can play the angry philosophy student forever. That shit don’t pay the bills. I think I’ve settled for the time being with the path I am on currently in Milton. I canceled my test date for the new G.R.E , haven't looked at grad schools, and I haven’t finished a book in months. Actually, I have not had an academic discussion in months. It bothers me a bit, but only briefly and then it floats to the back of my head where my diet plans and conscience resides.

I do not want it to sound like I am unhappy. I am not. I love my job. I love what Milton is giving me. I am extremely excited for the West Virginia Librarians Association convention I am going to in October [I’m going to be on the Preservation and Social Responsibility panels!]. I just don’t know if it’s enough.

Will I wake up ten years from now, still there with my B.A. and uncanny ability to know exactly what Inspirational Romantic Suspense author is appropriate for a patron? Will I advance to a M.A. in Library Science and take pride in my children’s programs and the social change literacy will bring to the poverty-stricken in the future [I like to make predictions about this at work]? Will my non-English speaking landlords get deported and I lose my apartment?

Will I finally get to house-train a puppy? Or a human child?

Or will I eventually pursue a PhD in Humanities and have actual pride in myself?

I have no idea.

What I do know is, it has been waaaaaaay too long since I last blogged. I haven’t taken this long of a break since I gave up Xanga in 2007. Sheeeeet. How do non-bloggers attempt introspection anyway?

-Kayla

This post brought to you by:

Turning on the Screw – Queens of the Stone Age
He’s Just Not That Into You
No Reservations
The Geisha Cosmo at Taste of Asia
Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows Pt.2
Mama Lola: A Vodou Priestess in Brooklin
memebase.com
This Picture:

Snapshots in Place of Thought

2011-04-22T22:20:00.014-04:00

Happy Earth Day! I made a terrarium! Sorta!

Yes, that is a fishbowl.

And my bed!

If this was the only image you had to judge someone on, what would you conclude? How old could someone be to mix space and Teletubbies pillowcases with a tasteful quilt? Maybe they have kids, or are kids themselves. Maybe they get hipster-ish kicks out of nostalgia. Maybe they genuinely love Teletubbies. And space.

I love Teletubbies.

School is winding down in a horrifyingly fast and action-packed manner. I’m remaining relatively calm, however. I have even taken up paper-avoidance bowling:

The Supreme Court edition!

This is mostly due to taking shots of NyQuil around 10 pm each night, unless it’s Thursday and I’m drinking with the Powell Enthusiast Association (a personal spin on your standard philosophy club). The NyQuil is not as much a sign of instability as it is me refusing to tolerate allergies in the middle of the night. If you want a sign of instability, you should look in my purse for the pack of sweet, sweet cigarillos.

I’m not twitching too much over the end of school; I prefer to follow the Han Solo method for handling stress:

Harrison Ford, you are an eternal badass. Anyone who says otherwise is a jealous Mark Hamill. Evidence:

see more Gifs

I can't really follow that up with anything.

-K

This post’s theme song: E.T. – Katy Perry

I know, I know. Blame 100.5 FM and my easily swayed ears. If it's any consolation, I still am not a fan of her or her constantly spewing tits.

Moods & Motivations

2011-04-10T09:57:00.014-04:00

As with most dweebs trying to distract themselves from all the work they must do in under a month, I'm really excited about a potential project I'm working on the side (see:front). This is due to my recent exposure to the wonderful world of ethnography.

My target: Westboro Baptist Church

Instead of my normal rage induced by their actions, I am really very curious of the motivation for these tactics. By having the Clifford Geertz definition of religion,

“1) a system of symbols which acts to 2) establish powerful, pervasive, and long-lasting moods and motivations in men by 3) formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and 4) clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that 5) the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic,”

pounded into my head by Clay, I can't look at the images of their protests without wondering what goes on within their Church when not protesting.

They look so calm and happy, articulate even. I just started following Fred Phelp's daughter on twitter, and I've been reading their court documents that have been published online. I want to understand the system and what the purpose of their actions are. The direct assault on outsiders' sense of tact and political correctness causes direct emotional distress, this is true. It is a direct challenge to our secularized society, demanding for introspection. The introspection is what I find interesting.

Most people see their signs and become enraged, but put no more thought into it other than saying how much WBC is wrong. How far are they (WBC) off target though? We have always had a sense that our modern society is crumbling, haven't we?

locus de saeculo is a timeless concept not foreign to the secular. The environment, political corruption, childhood obesity, it can be used with any topic. Everyday is worse than the last, the world is going to shit, back in the day...we've all heard it and probably agreed to it at some point. Doesn't it seem that WBC is merely suggesting the same?

Think also of our secular concept of responsibility. If we are responsible for our actions, then we are responsible for the suffering of society and the suffering of ourselves. I myself have argued this before. Instead of focusing on the ecological structure of causes and effects, Westboro suggests that our worldly problems are punishment by God for letting modern society succumb to a wasteland devoid of virtue. This isn't that different from most religions that believe in direct interactions with the infinite.

As for their tactics, they have been proven time and again as legally peaceful, yet they are horrifying to us. When the Buddhist set himself on fire in protest, were we not horrified and bewildered by his actions? Their message blindly enrages us; but perhaps only because we are outsiders that don't understand their purpose or worldview. Was much of our society not enraged at women's suffrage or the ideas of communism or even the protests to end segregation? How was America's rage then different from our rage now?

Are the followers of Westboro simply wrong and if so, what justification do we have to say so?

I have neither idea, nor real opinion. One thing is for sure though, I am totes not doing my homework.

-K

Much a Post About Nothing

2011-04-07T04:52:00.011-04:00

Okay, normally I'm all on my high horse over how very shitty and unrealistic and shallow romantic comedies are. Then I usually cry into a pint of ice cream while watching six hours of Pride & Prejudice at KT's Mom's house in the dark with Gonzington. However, this particular romantic comedy has Emma Stone in it. That is a game changer. Steve Carell is also present. As is Ryan Gosling, whose behavior is suspiciously reminiscent of the Situation. Anyway, I found this over at Splitsider and am now forcing it upon you.

In other news, I want to be sleeping. I want sleep right now. RIGHT NOW. Also, Your Highness comes out tomorrow and that is exciting. I also love Danny McBride. He licks Natalie Portman. I am also fond of licking people.

Not much else is going on in life. I'm doing spring girl-shopping on the side and have grown very fond of ridiculously bright shades of eyeliner and patterned headbands. School has been busy, what with there only being a month left before graduation and I have one hundred bafrooms/papers to write before then. Seriously, the total is around fifty-two pages of text. Double-spaced pages, yes, but I also have exams. Obviously I'm working hard everyday to write them. You know me, totes an over-achiever (this is a lie). Family stuff is consistently full of those normal wacky, emotionally damaging hijinks. I want to take Alisha with me when I move out and raise her as my own. That kid is going places (most likely juvie).

Aaaaanywhooo, I'm going to go browse the Craigslist 'free' section (and secretly the personals for humorous dick pics) and maybe take a shot of Nyquil. I need to sleep a minimum of four fours so I don't pass out during Spamalot tonight. Yeah, I'm going to see a Monty Python musical. U Jelly?

Picture is unrelated (and from the Superficial):

Oh, Dave Grohl. How I adore you.

-K

This post's theme song: Who Needs Sleep? - Barenaked Ladies

Innovation while in a dirty bathrobe!

2011-04-02T22:13:00.012-04:00

Because my floor is shaking with the echoing screams from the basketball fans downstairs, I am compelled to share this graph that perfectly depicts my sentiments on the sport:

Thanks, graphjam.

In other news:

You are about to be introduced to straight-up magic. I present to you, The Instant No Bake Cookie, alternatively titled: The Instant Weight Gain!

For those of us who simply don’t have the time to stand erect for more than two minutes. Simply take the mouthwatering-on-its-own Dark Chocolate Dreams peanut butter from Peanut Butter & Co and spread liberally on an oatmeal cream pie (please ignore that dust I am now calling attention to):

It also goes well with:

and

Now, that is what I call dinner/adult onset diabetes.

Speaking of dinner, there is a fresh-produce store called Kiki’s within walking distance of my house that I am really excited about. I purchased the pictured strawberries there the other day with some grapes and this horrifyingly large Peruvian sweet onion that I peeled as soon as I got home and munched some of it raw. The fact that there was a time that I hated onions disturbs me. This place also sells milk and eggs and smells amazing. I may never go to an actual grocery again while living in Ashland. I can (but most likely won’t) walk to Kiki’s for produce and hit the Clark’s revamped BP on the way home because it now sells everything (as in you can get raw Ribeye at a gas station), including their own line of homemade burgers (the one called the Big Texan intrigues me).

After spending my entire post-pubescent life complaining about how worthless and boring the tri-state is, I’m currently making attempts to debunk that claim. This change in mood was motivated by coming upon Fall 2010’s Tri-State Living at Saroch’s. While it did unfortunately hold a healthy amount of bullshit, the store and restaurant guides were interesting. For instance, I had no idea that the 4th avenue restaurant, Prime, even existed. Now I want nothing more to spend all of my cash there immediately. It sounds amazing (as does the 3rd & 9th Deli).

Since I’m full on food-gasming on this post I might as well share my new favorite go-to food that doesn’t revolve around chocolate spreads or cream cheese pizzas (though, omg, I love cream cheese for everything ever). Aaaannnyway, I have been obsessively making caprese grilled cheese sandwiches like nobody’s business. Which, I should be honest here and say that I do not have an unlimited supply of sliced mozzarella or fancy bread. What I’ve really been making is a strange whatever-I-can-find-french-toast hybrid sandwich monster that usually ends up edible. Normal butter grilling method, you are dead to me.

And I am now starving. We out.

-K

This post’s theme song: Boots & Boys – Ke$ha

Oh, look! A disillusioned girl with a blog, how novel!

2011-03-24T21:21:00.011-04:00

Not only was I too hung-over to go swimming this morning, I indulged heavily on the food group "cookies smeared with Nutella". It was not my most productive of days. Here are the highlights:

• Embittered Facebook stalking
• The Sims 3
• Enraged eating of a fluffernutter (with dark chocolate peanut butter, jus sayin)
• Watching DVR-ed Maury
• Shower
• Watching King of the Hill
• Online window shopping

I’m pretty sure that’s it. I also spent a few seconds messing with the settings of the ole blogspot. I felt some sort of theme was in order, lest I am eternally doomed to make this simply an infrequently updated and elongated Twitter account. Actually, it will probably remain such.

I believe everything that can be understood is only done so through context. This is my usual excuse for being a gossip, but it also works for using my experiences to explain my social idiocy. If you haven’t picked up on it, I’m a big fan of Freud’s ideas on childhood. I’m coincidentally wearing my ‘I’m afreud to love’ shirt as I type. The point is: I love lengthy experience-based explanations (this is not me claiming allegiance with empiricism) and the cause-effects in complicated systems (nor coherence theory).

I like analyzing people and their stories and their preferences and, more importantly, their mistakes. This is why I frequently try to explain myself through rehashing of my ridiculous and impulsive exploits, or the worst bits of my family history. If you want to honestly know someone, I think you need to also know what they hide from the outside world. This is also why no one should trust me with interesting secrets, because I will judge you and I will probably tell someone (see: KT).

Since this is my blog, it will be about what I should probably be sweeping under the rug. The focus will most likely be the fact that I am the living embodiment of the Forever Alone Meme:

So, get ready for posts about potential mate fuck-ups, pity-party drinking, therapy through crafts and interior decorating, media/academic commentary, insatiable lust, and lots of starch-dependent cooking. Pretty much everything you have seen before.

You’ve been warned.

-K

This post’s theme song: Wonderful Tonight - Cream

Not So Much News:

2011-03-21T11:28:00.006-04:00

Truth: I love men making out the way most men love women making out. Truth: I'm very fond of Darren Criss as Harry Potter, Disney Princess songs acoustic cover maker, man with fantastic eyebrows...and now as adorable gay man making out with another adorable gay man. He made me like a Katy Perry song. That is how amazing this creature is.

So, do I love this brief clip of Man on Darren Criss Mouth Touching? Chyeah.

I've got to actually pay attention to Glee now.

-K

P.S. It was the only video I could find that didn't involve a suspicious link. I'll be on the lookout for more.

Uuuuugh. Love.

2011-03-14T08:50:00.002-04:00

So, this entire album (21) is fantastic.

-K

Don't underestimate the things that I will do.

2011-03-10T08:53:00.004-05:00

I have learned two things from the 5:30-9 AM open swim at the YMCA:

Being an awesome swimmer at age 10 means shit at age 22.
I have no idea how to work my lungs.

Despite the fact that I floundered like a limbless goat at 6 AM in front of three old people, I think I like the pool. It's wet and quiet and OMFG I LOVE SWIMMING. Also, I will learn to swim properly or I will drown in my attempts. Eventually I'd like to, idk, not have to pause after a full lap to catch my breath. Kind of awkward when a man in his eighties elegantly swims past as you splutter and the lifeguard calmly suggests you try exhaling through your nose.

Anyway, I'm rolling out. I have to shower and study and whatnot before class. That is another accomplishment I may die in my attempts of.

-K

give me one more day, please

2011-03-03T08:14:00.005-05:00

I am so excited I could ride a horse. I'm having a Rice-Fields weekend! This is my favorite kind of weekend. The Pope, the Bishop, and Mary Magdalene are taking over Lexington, KY.

Not only is it going to be awesomazing, it also is providing my back door retreat from the inevitable pre-break, mid-semester gravitational collapse. Srsly, I'm losing my grip on reality here. Last semester and medication, please don't fail me now. I didn't realize that I was supposed to fill out my request for accommodations form per semester, and now I'm fumbling to explain once again to my professors that I am not truly a huge lazy dick. Instead I am an occasionally lazy and constantly erratic dick.

In the weather, which is pleasant, I'm spending a good amount of time being introspective. Surprised? I kno, rite? This is actually what I spend all my time doing. I can usually justify it by stating how important it is to organize one's internal state when you feel like you are going absolutely bat shit rabid. Due to just surviving February, much of my self-absorption has been dealing with the philosophy of very strong liking --think Aristophanes in the Symposium and not Socrates--and moving on from a certain colleague that has been friends, then enemies, then rivals, then friend-rivals since 2008. Beyond my tight unit of beloveds, this character in the solipsismal play currently titled A Streetcar Named Complete Jackass is my favorite person to argue, agree, complain, comment, and make fart sounds with my mouth with/to. However, we are not really friends beyond the classroom and will continue to not be friends after graduation--not even on the FB! Oh noes! So losing that source of entertainment will be tragic.

In sports, I'm using Twitter again and yes, I am following Charlie Sheen. He and Gary Busey are my new 50 Cent and whatever other celebrities I followed when I was last on there. Also, I'm going to start swimming again, and not secretly in the bathtub, in the mornings with the elderly and infirm at the YMCA. I have to buy my own membership when I hit 23, so I'm going to milk that place until then.

Most important thing to take away from all of this news is: I GET TO SEE LIZ THIS WEEKEND.

-K

Bitchpost!

2011-02-27T11:53:00.003-05:00

Let me, for a moment, be a calorie counting freak. Just for a second:

What the fuck, Pistachios?!? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU. I HATE YOU.

Now, for another moment, let me be an elitist academic snob:

Srsly, if you think the History channel is a legit source of knowledge that is to always be trusted, esp. the OMGNOSTRADAMUSALIENS, maybe you shouldn't be in the discipline Also, if you follow Vh1/History channel in such a way AND still make 'the French are pussies, LOL!' jokes beyond your second year of college...you should actually just wander off into the desert and die.

*I'd like to note that I still watch the History channel and History International and NatGeo and Discovery and Discovery Health and lots and lots of TV -- and I get all of my historical knowledge from Cracked. However, I luckily do not claim that I know shit about History. I legit can only think of 18 US presidents without looking through my change bank for clues--which I actually kinda jizzed at that amount. Oh, wait! Were there two Adams? 19?

**Idk, I'm not suggesting that the History channel lacks any credibility or that historical knowledge is concrete in any sense, but instead that if you study any subject for more than a few months you should be able to tell the difference between useful information and tabloid sensationalism and shows about lumberjacks that are awesome.

***The next time someone tries to tell me the pyramids were built by aliens, I will punch them in the heart.

****Also, ALSO, what's up with all these Police Women of... and Firewomen of... shows lately? Is this the right way to create equality among the sexes? By making a spectacle of any woman who takes on a masculine career? I would think a female cop should be found awesome because cops are awesome, not because she has to sit down to pee. Initially it sounds like a solid improvement to show strong, seemingly virtuous women in reality TV, but with the glorification of catty drama and stereotyping that drives reality television, I can only imagine the impact this new show trend will create on the already pitiful female standard.

Shew, that's better. Back to kindness and decency now.

-K

What kind of legacy do I want to leave behind?

2011-02-07T19:27:00.006-05:00

“It’s about mustering the courage to care and love, and be empathetic and compassionate”

– Cornel West.

Deciding what kind of human being to be is proving difficult. I want to be decent, good even. This week will be a test. If I fail, I guess I'll take the test again next week. I'm doing well in school and I figure it's because I have worked so hard to regain my previous academic status, that I completely left out trying to develop my also neglected personal life.

I guess this is my late resolution to not be a bitch.

So the current list goes:

learn how to love
get those Heine videos from the library
buy Becoming Jane
find a topic for Barris' paper
finish Hope on a Tightrope
fold my laundry

-K

Creme Fraiche

2011-01-26T06:32:00.005-05:00

Having a Koenig machine in the house makes getting hopped up on caffeine much too easy. It's not that I'm usually in my loincloth scourging the humid jungle for beans, but I'm simply too busy sleeping in the morning to hunt down a filter or even pour water. I'd rather chew on the debris found at the back of the oven that throw together a bowl of cereal before noon. Here I am, however, currently nursing a second cup out of my Boba Fett mug and it's not even seven.

Because I refuse to be productive while it is still dark out, I have time to reflect and watch South Park online. I have come to realize that my love of Randy Marsh is due to me actually being Randy Marsh. Along with my secret fondness for telling the difference between intrusive and extrusive igneous rock (it's the grain size!), I also react the same way to cooking channels:

Creme Fraiche
Tags: SOUTH
PARK Randy Marsh,Sharon Marsh,more...

That about sums it up. I watch something, spend too much money on ingredients and then Billy cooks hamburgers and everyone eats that instead of my steamed dumplings or orange-glazed turkey and green beans with balsamic-roasted shallots. Anything other than Hamburger Helper or mashed potatoes might as well go directly to the trashcan. While the above clip perfectly describes my situation, I have currently transferred my love of whipping shit up in the kitchen to make-up, specifically Urban Decay eye shadow. Sweet Mary, I love Urban Decay.

I used to hold myself to a certain 90s disgruntled female standard, but I can no longer hide my true self. I love lip tints, shoes (albeit androgynous ones), heavily sweetened coffee, and Ke$ha.

It's like a stray rolled around on stage after a drag show.

I still hold a large place in my heart for Pearl Jam and flannel, but restricting myself to just that is retarded.

Anyway, I have to drop Alisha off at school now and then work on some class work before I head up to Htown. Have I mentioned lately how much I love the Humanities department? I'm currently studying Vodou in Brooklyn in RST, and in my Classical Archeology class we got to look at slides of the expedition at the House of Agamemnon! I feel like Indiana Jones' graduate student. I love learning.

-K

millions of dreams come real

2011-01-06T18:10:00.003-05:00

Ummm...yeah. Hells yeah.

-K

Stuff and Things

2011-01-04T18:30:00.011-05:00

How to write a paper:

1. Ibuprofen (one bottle)

2. Large flat surface

3. Primary sources

4. Secondary sources

5. Heating pad

6. Large empty room devoid of art, pictures, humans, fish

7. Empty notebook for drafts

8. Lack of access to the outside world (internet, television, phone)

9. Highlighters and post-its

10. Diet Pepsi (one 12 pack)

Also, look at this puppy:

Little Dog had a litter at the start of December under a neighbor's shed that we couldn't access. This is the only survivor, who we have yet to officially name. Alisha and I secretly call her Aunt Jemima.

-K

walking into a club

2010-12-11T09:30:00.011-05:00

Have you ever found yourself looking at pictures of seals online, thinking "Oh, look how awesome seals are! Damn, son!" only to realize a second later that they don't have legs and that weirds you out? Anyone? No?

This is what happens when you are confined to a storage room for finals week writing papers, you find yourself alone and un-showered and looking at 101 cute baby seals and the 30 most important dogs of 2010 on Buzzfeed.

If you're me, you take it that extra mile and spend four hours squeezing oranges by yourself (are you noticing a theme here?) in a dark kitchen. I'll smell like cheap glass cleaner for the rest of this week, but I now have a gallon of fresh juice.

Which I shall drink as I wander the house in my dirty sweatpants (now with thigh-bearing holes along the pockets!) looking for crafts and things to cook, for I am triumphant. To explain, I now have a month off for winter break. This is special because my last winter break I had dropped out of school and I spent it in misery. I did not drop out this fall and, unlike in the spring, I even went to my finals. Therefore my holey pants and old black tee shirts from high school shall be worn with pride.

Also, I think Rach and I might write a paper together over break. Then, one day in the future we will teach a class based on it in our team-taught seminars. This is the most exciting dream ever, no joke.

A future is less horrifying to imagine now that I am so close to a degree. From there it's Vermont, a small apartment with a job while I take a few upper level German courses, then BGSU, Salzburg, BGSU, a teaching position while I work on my doctorate, and then producing a child with Wimmer's sperm and naming it after my undergraduate advisor. Somewhere in there I will acquire a squished faced cat and name him Douglas. We shall live near a forest, but not one with a large population of bears or big cats. It will be in the north.

That's the plan.

-K

The hilarity that is my playlist for waking Alisha:

2010-11-17T17:54:00.004-05:00

I'd like to note that we built this together:

Tik Tok - Ke$ha

One Big Holiday - My Morning Jacket
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
Eye of the Tiger - Survivor

The Final Countdown - Europe

-K

"Life... is like a grapefruit. It's orange and squishy, and has a few pips in it, and some folks have half a one for breakfast."

2010-11-15T11:32:00.006-05:00

Guess what I forgot I owned? The complete and unabridged Hitchhiker's Guide series by Douglas Adams. I mean, it was only my favorite book/six books mashed together in black leather and gold for a solid five years. My Livejournal and now-deceased Xanga were only themed after my favorite character ever, the eccentric Ford Prefect. How could I have forsaken thee, Ford? How?

Rembering came about from the most nerdy of circumstances. I was making an Excel spreadsheet for my last semester at Marshall and I really wanted to top my fall spreadsheet that was Hogwarts themed. Suddenly I thought of "So long and thanks for all the fish," and I knew what must be done.

It really is the perfect sentiment.

-K

I love your depression, and I love your double chin

2010-11-10T19:13:00.004-05:00

Songs to Throw Yourself off a Bridge By, Damien Rice

So, here is a good bit of advice:

If you have a mood disorder, don't start your day with six cups of coffee.

You know what happens if you do that? Yes, your day starts off great, but halfway through class (after making an excitable ass of yourself) you crash and stare at the table for the last 30 minutes because you are refusing to cry, then you cry in the bathroom of Harris Hall for an hour, then you cry the entire way home (not paying even the slightest attention to I64 and it's accompanying traffic) while listening to 9 and screaming when Grey Room comes on because everything seems to fit until you get to the "Have I still got you?" lyrics because you have no one to associate that with. You have...um...no one. Then you sit alone in your driveway because you can't bear the idea of entering your house that you share with your family. Then you quickly run upstairs and lock the door and put on your pajamas at 6 PM.

Fuck you, caffeine. Fuck you so hard.

Another bit of advice:

Don't cut your own bangs. You will end up with a mock-mullet that is half bowl cut from Dumb & Dumber and half Kevin Costner from Dances With Wolves (actually, it's more Mary McDonnell, but my point is still made).

Well, it is now 7:28 PM and I have browsed Buzzfeed all that I can for one day. I would go DVR tonight's Conan, but that would involve me interacting with another human. No Sir, I don't like it.

Edit:

Holy balls, nevermind! I forgot that I had recorded Glee last night (shut your whore mouth) because Darren Criss from A Very Potter Musical was on it! EEEE!

Do ye not know who Darren Criss is? Let me share some magic:

MMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmm.

"You're really starting to piss me off you piggly son of a bitch... CALL ME!"
-K

tee hee, I'm Hagrid!

2010-11-07T18:41:00.003-05:00

Things I learned in October (and now November):

2010-11-02T23:39:00.007-04:00

Using your words is not the best advice for someone who has a. verbal diarrhea and b. access to the public.
Never underestimate the supposed weakness of certain brownies before going to a potluck dinner for refugees sponsored by a religious studies program.
Boots, no matter how cool and western they are, are never appropriate for concerts.
A good paper takes approximately eight years to write and sometimes you simply cannot churn one out in one morning before class.
Spray paint on a car will never be acceptable.
I am a really fantastic Devil's Advocate.
'MERICA breaks my moderate heart.
A synthetic wig cannot be bleached.
Cats are secretly greased pigs.
Marx was a Sassy Gay Friend.
I am also a Sassy Gay Friend when it comes to mental health awareness.
Newsweek is the new National Geographic (mainly because I get it for free).
HP Deskjets refuse under any circumstances to delete a document in queue.
FB is full of wrong.
You can't take a nineteen year old anywhere.
I look great in powdered sugar.

Mmm...tasty business.

-K

Why can't you see yourself as beautiful as I see you?

2010-10-25T21:27:00.003-04:00

I literally have had this in my head all day like a dancing tumor. I promise that I am not lying. It doesn't help that I have been exclusively listening to just The Avett Brothers for the last few weeks (and saw them live Saturday). When I have feared burning out, I just switch to Jack Johnson and then eventually back again. It's an addiction.

With it now playing in the background via YouTube, I am working on a first draft of an eventually 25-ish page paper for MY LAST SENIOR SEMINAR! EXCITEMENT! It helps that I'm interested in my subject, which is on a basic level about how the natural human tendency to shy away from what is deemed as "ugly people" represents a darker paranoia of mental illness. Well, that is what I hope it ends up being about. Who knows how it will end. The best part about this is I'm using a published article written by my advisor/mentor/co-conspirator, Powell.

Speaking of, his Political Philosophy class is going really well. We're on Marx's early writings currently and last week while explaining alienated labour we demonstrated the concept by building shit with Lego's and trading our products for cookies. At that moment, I finally understood what it means to be a Humanities major. You are trained to take anything that represents childhood innocence and playfulness and destroy it utterly by making it into an abstract concept. If you are not convinced of this, take Philosophy of Sex. I can never look at Lego's or genitals again without thinking of philosophy (in the genital case, the Cave allegory).

I could probably make poorly executed jokes like this for several more paragrahs (thanks to the book, Plato and a Platypus Walk Into a Bar...), but I really do have a pile of books to read. Seriously, check it out:

Yes, I am using "Good Hair" as a source.

-KAAAAAAAAY

Who is a total badass?

2010-10-17T18:46:00.003-04:00

In case you didn't already know, the answer is me. Another thing you may not know is that making costumes is 'teh shit'. I just learned how to acid wash (see vest)! I am nearly complete with my John Entwistle ensemble. I need to finish dying (sharpie-ing) the wig dark brown and covering myself in powdered sugar. This is me trying to pull of the arrogant rocker look:

This outfit brought to you by Goodwill and Great Value bleach.

This next photo is of me and my new best friend. His name is Karl Marx and he is an amazing gift to me and the proletariat from Rachael. I have to give a big presentation at the start of November on Marx's early writings and I am tempted to use this doll as a puppet and have him agree with me and dance on the table. At the very least I will sit him next to me and make him nod approvingly.

Are you hearing the wedding bells, too?

We out.

-K

Ich spring von Level zu Level zu Level

2010-10-05T20:52:00.003-04:00

So, here I am looking at pictures of squished-face kittehs and listening to on3-radio and what do I come across? My new most favoritest thing: Endboss by Marteria

Or for those of you not into the Super Mario friendly white German rap/hip-hop genre, this:

Oh, oh yeah.

P.S. What is up with those suspenders?

-K

Ohio Renaissance Festival

2010-10-03T11:33:00.005-04:00

I know what you're thinking.

Why would anyone want to go as an adult (loosest sense here) to the festival that as a teenager was alright at best? Why would you pay to spend hours in a car and then mingling with people who mixed fairy wings and elf ears with black corsets and high-heeled boots?

The answer is Mead. Valley Vineyards Honey Mead.

-K

luminous cosmic bodies

2010-10-01T06:30:00.002-04:00

Being awake at 5:30 AM is not something I had looked forward to. Grumbling and groaning, I crawled out of my cocoon of blankets and pillows and made my way to the car and from there to Dad's house to get Little Brother ready for school. While fiddling with my keys by my car door, I caught a glimpse of the sky.

I had forgotten how wonderful the pre-dawn atmosphere is this time of year. The air is crisp, the moon is bright enough to walk by, and you can see the patterns in the stars as they shine against an indigo backdrop.

Mmm.

-K

well, I'm heavenly blessed and worldly wise

2010-09-28T19:47:00.009-04:00

Polar bears rule.

So, I think I have a graduate program that incorporates my interests, poverty, escapism, and potential. I stumbled onto it by...wow, this is hard to admit...doing my homework. I have some meetings set up with the graduate office and the head of the department I'm trying to quickly change my second minor to (suck on that, English). I must make sure I can get all my credits in by May (I have to apply by March to said program). After that it's a matter of dusting off those G.R.E. study books, retaking the test for a sexier score, and not collapsing in a pile of my own butt gnomes.

I would really enjoy prancing about my room right now in excitement at such a future possibility, but I am trying to remain level-headed as possible. 'As possible' is key here. While I have kept myself from the show-horse prancing, I am making up for it in high-pitched squealing over Gmail chat, Skype, and also in Professor Powell's small office while sitting in his floor. I'd like to mention here that Powell thinks this is a grand idea. I'd also like to mention that I was able to introduce (or perhaps reintroduce) him to Internationale Philosophie (I think his favorite part is at the end when the Germans are contesting, my favorite part is Marx jogging in place and the reference to Martin Luther, and Professor Ruff's favorite part apparently is when Confucius cards Nietzsche).

Anyway, the moral of this story is that I have a goal outside of mere graduation. I'm starting to gather my thoughts and hazily sketch out a future for myself that doesn't soley revolve around buying the world's best cat litter and eating bugs at the Audubon Insectarium.

-K

I'm Han Solo, I'm Han Solo...Soooolooooo.

2010-09-24T22:57:00.003-04:00

Look, I'm really sorry about this, but I'm not really sorry about this.

TEE HEE

-K

"One narcissist's quest to discover if her life makes her ass look big"

2010-09-24T18:26:00.002-04:00

So, I've been reading this book in my spare time between classes, homework, chores, biking to my Hurr Durr playlist. I fucking love it. Loooooove it.

-K

Madness?

2010-09-22T14:03:00.007-04:00

Okay, so I made this originally for Kristin, but I am so in love with it that I just have to shout it from the rooftops of blogdom.

Super Fun Biking/Any Activity Playlist:

Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes
Highly Suspicious - My Morning Jacket
Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand
What Up Gangsta - 50 Cent
Jump Around - House of Pain
Hotel Room Service - Pitbull
Sick, Sick, Sick - Queens of the Stone Age
Reptilla - The Strokes
She Hates Me - Puddle of Mudd
Vertigo - U2
I'm On A Boat - The Lonely Island (ft. T-Pain)
Diablo Rojo - Rodrigo y Gabriela
Blue Monday - Orgy
Killing in the Name - Rage Against The Machine
Stand Up - Ludacris & Shawna
Kick Drum Heart - The Avett Brothers
Somebody Told Me - The Killers
Here It Goes Again - Ok Go
She Is Beautiful - Andrew W.K.
Electric Feel - MGMT
All My Life - Foo Fighters
Strutter - KISS
It's Not My Time - 3 Doors Down
Rockin' The Suburbs - Ben Folds
See You Again - Miley Cyrus
Basket Case - Green Day
Gasoline - Civilian
Down With the Sickness - Disturbed

This will be expanded on.

-K

Hello, I am five years old.

2010-09-21T08:25:00.004-04:00

Eeep! Turtles scuttling! You don't know true happiness until you have watched a turtle run (yes, run) after a piece of bread.

the mind goes thump

2010-09-13T16:59:00.008-04:00

So, does anyone else think B.o.b is secretly Andre 3000? Any opinions, people who are aware that this blog exists?

I'm kind of tripping balls right now. My head is stuffed from a potentially non-life-threatening cold and I'm trying to get used to a new medication (after being off meds entirely since February) that is making everything sort of floaty and weird. My head kind of feels like a helium balloon that keeps being tugged by a weak child in rhythm with my heartbeat while standing up in a swaying boat. I think that is a rather accurate description of the sensation. I keep catching myself just blankly staring at the screen, lost in my own lack of thought.

I have a few vague ideas of what I wanted to say, but they are fading fast. I've been working hard on finishing my B.A. and gtfo-ing it out of the area (I've got a list of potential places including Vermont, Vancouver and Belgium). I don't really know what job I want or even if I want to go back and get a Ph.D. What I do know is that I refuse to forever be in the Tri-State area, and I really have nothing holding me here once I graduate. I shall wander.

Also, I'd like to mention my new favorite historical figure (that isn't young Karl Marx), Georges Bataille. Anyone who can write philosophical eroticism is my hero and mentor. He is right up there with Second City Network on my list of current obsessions (seriously check out Cougar Lesbians Go To College or anything involving Sassy Gay Friend). Sadly, I've also picked up that nasty habit of watching Jersey Shore (and the OMG, WHY HAVE I NOT WATCHED THIS YET!?! It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia on Hulu). Wait, did I say "sadly"? I meant "excellently". It's like Maury without Maury and the bodyguards being there to settle things down. They're so sassy and tan.

On the same topic, I also got my very own teal Polyhedral 7-Die set for DnD for my birthday from Meguselah. Even though KT's campaign is on hiatus for now, I am super duper excited about this. Spud the Barbarian's return shall be glorious.

My brain is officially shutting down now, so I'm going to go somewhere and lie down. I'll be back sometime before graduation.

-K

oh, this is awkward.

2010-07-29T21:34:00.001-04:00

So, is it more strange that I am curiously aroused or that he totally has my dad's chest hair?

Oh, oh god, I'm vomiting.

-re

a very brief update/note on our nation's media:

2010-07-27T21:54:00.001-04:00

Hokay, so I am up at Tam's with Mom and Lauren trying out my new spectacles on an outdated People magazine and what article do I come across? Actually, I don't remember what it was called or focused on entirely but the gist was this: Are fat women becoming too popular in the media?

Look, I get it. I really do. We are all examples of an unhealthy lifestyle and pretty much lack in aesthetic value...it's all true. However, Hollywood is not "glorifying" fat women by shoving them into the spotlight. They're not Bachlorettes and the stars of their own prime time sitcom. You know when you see a larger woman on TV? When she is being praised for dieting or getting a makeover. It may be time now for the heavier lady to get her 15 minutes of fame, but not until she is ready to admit to the world that she is something that needs to be drastically worked over. Even the newest "breakthrough" series on ABC Family that boasts a beefy girl in the star role is about her trying to lose weight at a fat camp.

I know I shouldn't be putting too much stock in such things. I mean the article that followed this one was on whose beach bod was getting out of hand and the article after that was about Tom Cruise...so, I really shouldn't pay too much attention. Still, this sort of thing just makes me so angry that I could spit lava...and then pour it over nachos that I continuously jam down my throat via shovel.

-re

le Carter Caves

2010-06-20T12:26:00.005-04:00

I'm now off to try and recreate something Google advertised to me as Spam Imperial Tortilla Sandwiches. It sounds just ridiculous enough for me to want to make it.

-re

to bike riding!

2010-05-31T21:26:00.003-04:00

So apparently eating Long John Silver's does not count as exercising. Actually, according to several sources, it is the exact opposite of exercising. These sources also inform me that chocolate cake and pork chops do not equate to dinner. Well, I personally had no idea.

It's a little difficult to stay on course when lacking in money to buy proper groceries/using ingredients your family purchases. I've discovered upon inspection that my family in fact does not buy food. They buy Country Crock, French onion dip, bacon, Mountain Dew, and Hershey bars. These are their staples. Have you ever tried to craft a salad out of just butter? It's difficult.

Also, the layout of the house is somewhat of a problem. Wherever you need to go in the house, you must pass the kitchen. Often times I will walk through it to get from the garage to the living room to find myself suddenly eating a chicken leg or potato wedge that mysteriously found its way into my hand. Many a time have I found myself unintentionally eating a complete meal before realizing that I was merely on my way to the bathroom.

As you have hopefully gathered by this point, I am in the slow, painful process of trying to maintain some sense of body image dignity. To put it simply (and not as nauseatingly) I am not comfortable with my current...ahem...surface area.

Currently it's going...poorly, but it's going. I'm realizing just how much work it takes and just how much procrastinating absolutely does not work in this situation. I've lived my life putting off just about everything until the last minute, and it just doesn't work now. It's a bag of dicks. A bag of dicks I must unfortunately suck.

My goal is to regain the ability to ride a bike uphill (like when you have to stand up and pedal), and comfortably wear short sleeves and skirts.

To do this, I have to kind of change my patterns entirely.

That's the part that kind of frightens me. Change can be horrifying to think about, even if you know it is for the better. Especially when you know that the change is seriously going to cut into your binge drinking.

-re

bearing signs on the avenue, for your own personal Waterloo

2010-05-12T07:31:00.005-04:00

It's 7:30-ish in the morning. Now, I'm aware that I am usually awake this frightfully early to take Alisha to school, but I'm usually not functional (certainly not enough to drive safely) and I'm definitely not awake for long. The entire semester I fought to be up before the afternoon (at the very least) and now that it has ended, I am wide awake. Oh, me.

Also, as soon as the year was over I wrote the first philosophy paper I was actually proud of. I hadn't felt that good about my critical thinking ability since last spring (which makes sense, considering I had not used this ability since then). It was actually really entertaining to work on. Choose six cultural artifacts (art, music, literature) from history to use to rebuild and sustain a civilization. It wasn't exactly a philosophy paper (and I wasn't exactly a student in the class), but I certainly worked it into one with my nerdy, nerdy choices.

I'm curious as to what other people would choose.

I'm a few months late for this change in attitude. Actually, I'm an entire year late. However, it's better late than never. Right?

Right.

I don't plan on ignoring the last year/semester/two months. They are disasters, but they are my disasters. I plan on rebuilding with this new knowledge and understanding and moving forward with a stronger foundation.

It's going to suuuuuuuuuck (as it does right now), but I doubt that will last forever.

-re

in memoriam

2010-04-28T00:26:00.003-04:00

I finally got a chance to watch Brief Interviews With Hideous Men, something I've wanted to see for quite some time. I was entranced by it, honestly. I loved it. When I was finished I was left wanting more. Immediately I found Google search and typed in the author's name. David Foster Wallace. I found quotes first, reading page after page and becoming more attracted to his opinions and insights. I was giddy as I usually am when I first meet a seemingly decent guy (you know, right before he shits on my face).

I felt downright inspired by his words. I felt...hell, I felt hope. Here was writing I could get behind, writing that I could identify with. I love that feeling. That was...until I got to the Wikipedia article. He majored in English and Philosophy (something I had definitely considered), he specialized in math and modal logic (holy shit, are we soul mates?), his M.A. was in creative writing (honestly, people...honestly)...he committed suicide in 2008 by hanging himself.

God damnit.

He apparently suffered from depression. Of course, it makes stupid perfect sense that he would. No wonder I felt so immediately connected.

It's the hope that got me. Hope that there was a thinker out there like me that had actually achieved something and was celebrated for doing so and had the answers and...and...and...he didn't make it. He didn't have the answers.

This is nothing short of heartbreaking.

-re

who's gonna save my soul now?

2010-04-13T01:26:00.002-04:00

I guess that will have to be me.

-re

to get a glimpse beyond this illusion

2010-04-11T02:36:00.003-04:00

I'm slowly losing the buzz I have carried around for most of the evening. It's not a completely bad feeling, it's a very slow goodbye to a kind friend. Goodbye, alcohol buzz, I will see you again soon.

Tonight's Redneck Party at Chuckie's was a complete success. There was flannel, King Cobra, techno rave in the laundry room, and Badkins riding a bike around The Village topless [and most importantly...THE UNICYCLE GUY! OMG!!! I have loved you since I was a freshman, Unicycle Guy]. I really don't think I could have asked for more. Except for perhaps a burrito. Oh, wait...there were also burritos. Yes, all around a good time.

It will be tragic to see the destruction of such a good group with the coming graduation. They really are excellent at making me forget when I feel I have been given the shaft [sadly, this is not literal].

And, oh, how I feel that shaft. I could very easily get myself worked up and raise some cane...which would be fun, but not productive. Besides, the only offense committed [?] is that I have been totally left in the dark. It's not exactly death penalty material.

It is, however, frustrating.

I have other things to focus on though. Such as Plato, the impending graduation [not mine], and getting the laundry caught up at the house. These are all important things that I have been neglecting.

Be patient, my responsibilities, I shall return to you...just as soon as this hangover wears off.

-re

in my head it's going down

2010-04-05T11:36:00.006-04:00

There is nothing quite as comfortable as being alone and naked (ish) in someone else's home. I'm an eccentric prowler, or at the very least, a house guest that should never be left to her own devices.

I'm over at Katie's apt for the moment whilst she is at work. She trusts me far too much with her Easter candy and her tequila sitting right next to me on the table. Actually, she trusts me just the right amount, because I am not touching that shit.

[shudder] My neck is still stiff, Mr. Cuervo. Though, I understand that it is not entirely your fault. The headbanging and sleeping on linoleum did play a significant part.

Right now I have a half hour to get dressed before class. This class is pretty much the only one I continue to go to, and that is only because I have an amazing corner of buddies in there. I'm sure my professors have given up hope. I know they understand what I went through last fall, and still love me deep down (deep, deep down)...but at this point all they can do is shake their heads and sigh.

I guess I'll just try again in the fall and be a fifth year senior. It happens to the most mediocre of us.

-re

a woman's rage

2010-04-01T18:21:00.004-04:00

"Ah, twenty and spurning one's mistress--that first unsullied thrill of sadism with a woman! And the dream of the women to come. I returned to New Jersey that June, buoyant with my own "strength,", wondering how I could ever have been so captivated by someone so ordinary and so fat." -Portnoy's Complaint, Philip Roth

I'm less than fifty pages away from finishing this book. It's kind of what I've been doing all day. It's interesting and funny and obscene. Naturally I like it. Occasionally, however, I find my self shaking my fist at the yellowing pages, screeching, "You fucking fucker!"

This rage is...unexpected. I don't think it entirely had to do with the fat, neglected girl being actually named Kay, but that certainly didn't help things. I don't want to say that everyone who happens to have a dick thinks this way, or is this way, or praises Alexander to be a hero...but there is a ugly part of me that wants to do exactly that. This part of me is very ugly. She is old and shriveled and bitter. She has no concept of hope or beauty.

Instead of being overcome by this sudden up swell of outrage, I understand that this is not the point of the book. I have yet to make up my mind on exactly what the point is (I'm waiting to actually finish the thing), but I'm pretty sure the idea isn't to just piss off single women with large asses.

Though, if that was the case, I would still read it...because that would be hilarious.

-re

"They don't call me Fellatio Young because I suck dick!"

2010-03-28T12:16:00.003-04:00

An excellent quote from an excellent evening with my darling Alexis and also darling Wimmertons. I don't think any of us are exactly sure what that statement is supposed to mean, but...you know, interpret it as you will.

Right now I'm sulking around the house, eating baby food and occasionally making groggy, nonsensical groans. The last day of Spring Break (a really excellent one, btw) and it's raining and cold and...harrumph.

In other news, I have regained the ability to chew. So, watch out.

I wish I could think of more to say, but my mind is completely fogged over.

Perhaps later I will fill you in on the exciting details of my life. I have a great story about a seesaw.

-re

I've got the cure you're thinking of...

2010-03-22T13:02:00.007-04:00

I totally just drooled blood out of my mouth in a very Gene Simmons fashion in the middle of a FoodFair parking lot. It was kind of badass in a sick, weird way.

I just wish I could feel my tongue. That would be nice. I need it for various things. Mainly shells n cheese-related things. Mmm. That'd be nice.

That'd be very nice.

-re

low quality brass chef

2010-03-14T21:07:00.004-04:00

I finally got my sushi satisfaction and I didn’t even have to catch my tuna Hemingway-style in a Cuban fishing boat, like I originally thought I would have to. I conveniently found raw tuna steaks at our local Kroger and within mere…er…thirty minutes or so, I had delicious, delicious sushi:

Okay, so it wasn’t the best sushi I’ve eaten, I still haven’t figured out to use rice vinegar properly, but it still got that craving out of the way. For dinner tonight I used the leftover cream cheese and crab to make:

Crab Rangoon! (an appetizer for our KFC dinner, heh)

I amaze myself.

I think my next target will be Lo Mein. I love me some of that. Then I’ll just go ahead and open my own Chinese restaurant. That could be fun. I would hang my philosophy degree above the register.

That is, if I ever get my philosophy degree. At the rate I’m going, work-wise, it isn’t looking like I will actually pass this semester. Oh, the guilt. It is so…minimal. I’m not exactly sure why. I wish I could figure out how to get back into the swing of working. Being successful, even in the teeniest amount, would do wonders for my self-esteem, I’m sure.

You know what does do wonders for my self-esteem, which really shouldn’t? Binge drinking. This is a problem. For one, in reality, it’s not that impressive. Two, look at my favorite pants!

Sigh. Poor pants, I have no idea what happened to you.

-re

distractions

2010-03-12T12:56:00.004-05:00

I really, really want to be making maguro sushi right now. I want it in my mouth this very instant. The want for this is very severe.

Of course this requires two very important things: Money and free time. I technically have neither. Actually I think I'm at a negative balance for both. Yet here I sit, chatting with Sarah on fbook and having masturbatory (almost) fantasies about raw tuna. Mmm...tuna.

-re

heh.

2010-03-10T15:52:00.006-05:00

This is part of a new series called Kayla sleeps in all day and then reads comics.

-re

it was long ago and it was far away, and it was so much better than it is today

2010-03-02T10:42:00.003-05:00

Can you tell me what Xenophon's Agesilaus tells us about Spartan culture, social values, and government? 'Cause I can't. Well, I probably could. I'll spare you though.

Me and my diet Mtn Dew are trying to pull a paper out of our ass. We are taking are time, however, because we sick for the day. Or maybe sick until 1PM. Nah, with the way my stomach is rolling it will probably be for the day. And here I was just getting into the swing of being a terrific student again. Last week I was 'the shit'. It comes and it goes. I just wish it'd come longer (don't you dare say it).

I was going to write ths this morning, but I fell back asleep. I was going to start when I woke up, but I started talking to Katie on Gmail chat. I could have worked on it inbetween messages, but I instead made a vagina (clitoris included) out of the wax my Babybel cheese came in. I could start now, but I'm busy blogging.

Actually, I think I am going to start now. I'll get back to you guys with my updates later (not that I have any).

And yes, I am listening to Meat Loaf. Don't you dare judge.

-re

the death of a nonexistent relationship

2010-02-25T19:29:00.012-05:00

I have a massive headache.

I don't know why it totally caught me off guard. It's a normal thing for people get get girlfriends. Even the, ahem, looser men. I'm astounded, really. Also ashamed, though I can't explain why. Well, I could...but, you see, I already have a headache.

It's probably not helping that I'm chugging Coke Zero like I'm trying drown myself.

I've just had a shitty day (and an even shittier evening to come), and not just because of some petty infatuation turned sour. Today started off quite excellent, class-wise. I was very close to being in my top form. I couldn't shut up and most of what I was saying was good, too. I even got a good couple of laughs out of my professors, including this little scene:

Powell is talking to two attractive young men about Marxism after his class is over. I enter with a large grin, just coming in to drop off my backpack in my seat and then go to the bathroom before Barris' class starts. Just as I turn around Powell raises his voice a little.

"Kayla is another Marxist problem."

I slowly whip around and immediately laugh in a false, very Jim Carrey-ish way. "Oh ha ha ha!" and glare. Powell laughs loudly and the young men nervously follow along, unsure if I'm just being funny or if I'm just a bitch. Just as I'm leaving the classroom I yell back, "You're a douche!"and walk out to the sound of more shocked laughter (a very pleasing sound involving hoarse guffaws). Then I ran down the hall to the room Wimmer was in to tell him. I think my strange student/mentor relationship with Powell freaks out his other students. I doubt anyone else talks to him about tentacle porn.

I walked to class with Lloyd and dropped the s-bomb in Current Philosophic Trends and even walked out of the building with Brian (who I had previously thought disliked me). All in all, excellent class day. Except when I hear the girlfriend news. That's when the headache began. However, when I get home is when the s-bomb really hits the fan.

Mom is crying. My oldest sister's daughter probably won't make it out of childhood. My six months pregnant sister's unborn child may have down syndrome. I can't even look at Billy. It's horrifying to comprehend.

I'm currently listening to my 'heartbroken mush' playlist. It's not helping anything, but I'm in the mood for it.

I have a midterm on books I-V of The Republic. I'm currently in the middle of book I.

I have a massive headache.

-re

I'm a nerd!

2010-02-24T14:23:00.011-05:00

So, I'm in the computer lab in the basement of the student center that is commonly known as the "geek lab". I could go to the library, but I'm supposed to meet Chico here so I can help her on a project and use her Tivo afterwards. I'm exceedingly uncomfortable and quiet (something very unusual) because these kids kind of freak me out with their loud chatter and louder music and even louder RPGs.

Fuck them.

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate geeks. I'm pretty geeky as it is (or is it nerdy? possibly nerdy). These fellows, however, do not want. They have their own club and I am not part of it. I have never felt more like I don't fit in then when down here. I should, though. I should fit in.

Let us define "geek":

geek Slang.
–noun
1.a computer expert or enthusiast (a term of pride as self-reference, but often considered offensive when used by outsiders.)
2.a peculiar or otherwise dislikable person, esp. one who is perceived to be overly intellectual.
3.a carnival performer who performs sensationally morbid or disgusting acts, as biting off the head of a live chicken.

I really know next to nothing about computers, I'm pretty likeable (just because your unfuckable does not mean you are unlikeable), but I am well known for my disgusting acts.

What about "nerd"?

nerd /nɜrd/ Show Spelled[nurd] Show IPA
–noun
Slang.
1.a stupid, irritating, ineffectual, or unattractive person.
2.an intelligent but single-minded person obsessed with a nonsocial hobby or pursuit: a computer nerd.

I am certainly irritating at times and I'm not exactly hot. I do even have an obsession with blogging and co-authored smut writing (those are a little social though). Men, probably, should also go under the obsession heading as well. Let me admit that right now.

Hrrrrm. I wonder what the definition of "cool" is.

cool /kul/ Show Spelled [kool] Show IPA
adjective,-er, -est, adverb, noun, verb
–adjective
Slang.
a.great; fine; excellent: a real cool comic.
b.characterized by great facility; highly skilled or clever: cool maneuvers on the parallel bars.
c.socially adept: It's not cool to arrive at a party too early.

Yeah, no.

Let's just solve this problem with a quiz.

Your result for The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test...

Pure Nerd

57 % Nerd, 43% Geek, 35% Dork

For The Record:

A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.

A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.

A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.

You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.

The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendencies associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful.

Congratulations!

Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST

Take The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test at OkCupid

Problem solved.

Btw, they misspelled 'tendencies' in the results, but I fixed it. Excuse me while I push these nonexistent glasses up my nose.

-re

rise and shimmer slightly

2010-02-23T08:05:00.007-05:00

I've been out of bed since 7:20 am! This is an accomplishment considering I didn't go to bed at four in the afternoon. Being up this early pleases me even though I'm really drowsy and nauseous. It's worth it. I miss being able to waste time before everyone else wakes up. I can sit here watching it slowly get lighter outside, listen to the winter mix and ponder what I'll get done today.

This morning I have a final draft to print off and about twenty or so pages to read. In reality my list is much more extensive, but I starting light. The key word there is starting. This requires two things: Coke Zero and

not dry heaving. I could avoid this nausea by eating something, I'm sure.

I'd rather be nauseous right now.

-re

this time baby I'll be bulletproof

2010-02-21T14:34:00.006-05:00

I have a pair of bright red jeans. They don't fit. They will. They will if I have to sit here and drink coke zero and equate shakes until my stomach eats itself.

Also, talking about things that will happen, The Hott Gates (under a new name probably) will eventually be published and be the best co-written smut/fantasy novel ever. It will be a movie. Tom Wisdom will be Bacchus.

I have several papers due...a while ago. They will get done. Now.

-re

the craft of wasting money

2010-02-16T20:37:00.009-05:00

Click here for more info.

I wanted this necklace. This necklace, however, was $25 (w/o shipping) on Esty (which I do not trust). It was also from Canada, not that has anything to do with anything. I'm just naturally untrusting of websites that aren't Amazon.com, and sometimes not even Amazon.com itself (fuck you, TigerDirect).

So I thought I'd try my hand at pendant-making and create my own. Mistake. First off, Hobby Lobby is limited in the "make your own pendant" category. They have only one style of backs, which have no rims. They have no cabochons or resin bubble shit...or anything. They have glass pebbles. Pebbles. The kind that you find in fish tanks and gardens. Secondly, I didn't realize that you couldn't just buy one flower and be on your merry way. No, you have to buy a bouquet. I dropped $35 in Kroger to use one goddamn flower. I should have just stole it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

At this point all I am doing is trying to stay positive. It'll still look good even without a rim. You can put those leftover flowers in a vase and make the table pretty. Pebbles are close to what you're looking for...and so on. I go home with my ~$50 in supplies ($15 at Hobby Lobby) and realize...fuck, I forgot about the letters.

That stumped me. I figured I could use maybe clear labels or something, so when Megan arrived we left for Wal*Mart in hopes of finding something for the letters and more flowers (curses cannot even describe the rage at buying more flowers, only this can come close: :/ ) Luckily, Wal*Mart had nothing useful (except for cheesecake,which I bought). I did buy some roses though (thus making the new total ~$60). So, no text for me.

We get home and begin (after eating cheesecake) our process of cutting and gluing and fucking up and eventually had to give up before Megan got snowed in at my house. This was one of our products (my pendant):

It's just a first attempt. I'll eventually figure out how to make the lettering and find a better backing (maybe in Barboursville?). I will win this. Even if it costs me a jizzillion (heh) dollars and my G.P.A.

And my sanity.

-re

the healing process

2010-02-14T11:26:00.011-05:00

Alexis used to say this often in her Julia Child voice and only now am I starting to listen to it. The same goes for Mr. Coffman's K.I.S.S. method (and no, it's not to rock all night and party every day). Keep it simple, stupid.

I'm going to start up another craft once I get a chance to venture to Hobby Lobby. I want to try my hand at making a round floating text pressed flower bubble pendant. I don't want to sign up to shady Esty to buy one from Canada, so I'll just make my own. I mean, all I need is the little text letters, diamond glaze, a flower, glass or resin cabochon, and a bail plate (preferably with rim). It's going to be hot, I tell you. Hot.

It's all part of my own twisted version of a healing process. First I change my hair, then I make a playlist, then I write down all the finest moments of a period that I need to get over, then I blog, then I start a craft. Finally, I forgive myself.

I blogged last year about how we are defined ultimately by the impressions we give others. Those impressions are your immortality. You can't explain yourself after you die, so all that is left is what people saw, read, and understood. Your intentions of the past don't mean diddly squat now.

This bizarre belief is why I am always apologizing, always trying to make up for something foolish I did. If I can't, I let it eat away at me in the middle of the night. I stay awake for hours groaning into my pillow. I should have been born in ancient Greece because I am allllll about shame culture. The times when I stand in defiance against this belief and stubbornly plow on, doing just what I wanted, I end up suffering in the end.

It's a very dangerous thing to do exactly what you want.

Learning that truth and moving forward with it is all part of my process.

-re

the non cubicle

2010-02-12T14:59:00.010-05:00

I'd like to dedicate this blog to my desk. It is a sacred space. I've even numbered the most special parts (click for larger image):

1. This is a beautiful photo of me trying to lick Liz before going to a Tool concert. I will always remember our special handshake for Stinkfist.
2. The Awkward Award. I received this last spring, along with six other awards like it (brushes off shoulder), for my numerous speeches on sex, love, and pornography in CMM 103.
3. Discourse on Thinking, it will sit there gathering dust until my anger has abated.
4. This one is hard to see, but it is a little statue of John Paul II (the bestest Pope ever). I'm not catholic, "The Pope" just happened to be my nickname in high school.
5. The Great Moustaches mug, it goes very well with my old man pipe. I'm particularly fond of the Teddy Roosevelt.
6. The Boba Fett mug. That's alright, you go ahead and be envious.
7. Smut novels, they get me through trying times.
8. Books on Scientology that I borrowed from Wimmer and a DVD featuring L. Ron Hubbard. I figured I'd need to get to know the religion before I could properly make fun of it.
9. Of all the useless certificates you get in high school and college, the most coveted is that of the Class Clown. I like to tell myself this and try to ignore the fact that this award pretty much made me an equal to the guy in my senior class that would eat shit for money.
10. A "homemade" telescope that the Boyd County Science Club crafted my junior year. Its name is Red Shift/Blue Shift (can anyone tell me why?).
11. Artemis, the violin bass. She stays in her bag most days because looking at her makes me feel guilty for never playing.

This is my current and extensive to-do list. This is why I am making a blog about my desk.

This is a hamster trying to get under my chair. Hamsters are assholes.

This is me and my pipe. I pretend to smoke it while working. This usually leads to me drooling on my papers.

...

Well, that sucked an hour of my life away. Back to work!

-re

bum bum bah badda bah

2010-02-10T03:08:00.009-05:00

It's 3 AM, I must be lonely. Heh.

It's hard to sleep with your head on spin cycle. Whirl and tumble, whirl and tumble. When you're a bitter young woman like myself most of that whirling and tumbling is rather negative. My gears, they be grinding. My goat, it has been gotten.

Why, you may not ask? Let us count the ways. Or, instead, let us simply sum up.

Academically, I'm behind. Health-ness, I'm behind. Friendships, I'm behind. I'm a giant behind.

I blame Law & Order: SVU marathons. I blame you, Elliot Stabler...you damn loose cannon, you.

How the hell have I lived my life without seeing this picture? Good night, Irene.

Did Rocky ever blame Christopher Meloni for his problems? That answer is no.

This hits a little too close to home.

We all should be a little more like Rocky (by 'we' I mean me and my swinging, hip moods). Climb those steps! Knock the shit out of that giant Vanilla Ice looking man! Cue the theme music!

Man, I need to watch Rocky again.

By again I of course mean for the first time. It's just something that needs to be done. Maybe that is the rite of passage I never had. Maybe this will make me a real man. Maybe it will slap some chest hair on me and give me a penis...yeah. That's what I need.

Yeah! Let's do that! I think I've just discovered my Valentine's Day plans for this year. Last year was shooting various household appliances with WWII rifles. I was thinking of blowing shit up with gun powder this year...but watching movies about boxing seems a bit safer.

...

Why, you're not a paper on Book III of The Republic. You're a self-pitying blog written by a crazy person. I must have confused myself. Well, I better get on that.

HA.

Fools. I'm going to bed.

-re

reality is a harsh mistress

2010-02-07T00:08:00.006-05:00

I am not going to get a reprieve from the governor. My gut, she tells me so as she rolls over and over like a shoe in a dryer. What seemed like such a good idea leaves me now nauseated and miserable. Granted it's only been 19 hours, I just know. Cripes. Why did this realization not hit me then? Oh, wait...it did. I just ignored it and acted like a stubborn idiot. It's that sort of behavior that got me in trouble in the first place. Le sigh.

I suppose I'll go back to watching Austin City Limits and try to swallow this bile that is creeping up my throat.

-re

now to play the waiting game

2010-02-06T14:18:00.007-05:00

On a scale of one to ten, how inappropriate is it to send an apology over fbook to someone who doesn't want to know you exist anymore? One to ten, how inappropriate is it if the person thinks you were a creep? What if it was something that went down last semester? Just curious.

I wonder if it will change anything for the better. I mean, that was the intention. However, if it doesn't...idk, I suppose that will be it. That's the bullshit part about apologizing, it's always up to the other party to accept it. Okay, here is the, ahem, situation:

Two girls show up randomly at a friends house last December with the intention of gaining acceptance in the way of chocolate covered strawberries and leftovers from Coldstone Creamery. The friend and his roommate have company. Insert fellow. They all hang out and throughout the evening a somewhat friendly status is achieved. Fbook friending confirms said status later that night with fellow. Girl 1 notices several things in common with fellow such as academic interests, perversion, and an affinity for pancakes. Cool. So the Girl 1 invites him to hang out a few times throughout the winter, but it always seems to fall through (red flag).

However, friendly texting begins and increases as the spring semester starts. Fellow sits next to Girl 1 in class and they share a common bond for mischievous grins and filthy insults. Even cooler, thinks Girl 1. As the semester moves on Girl 1 begins to unfortunately develop a crush for fellow as girls sometimes do. Another problem, Girl 1 isn't that good at playing it cool. A third problem, fellow is not just a bit of a player (big red flag). She tries to maintain composure, but everything she does comes off as awkward and now she is texting him much more often than he is texting her (oh, the red flags) and she starts getting pissed as girls most of the time do.

Somewhat aware of the dangerous line Girl 1 is walking, she makes an attempt to distance herself a bit. Her intentions are good, her willpower is weak. He seems pretty tolerant of her idiocy though and she is thankful for that. Spring Break comes and Girl 1 decides to swear off of the texting for the break. A third party enters. Third Party is an acquaintance of both fellow and Girl 1 and is privy to the most top secret of Girl 1 information. Sometimes Girl 1 gets excited and says shit that does not need be said. Third Party reveals said top secret information in a bar to fellow and proceeds to tell Girl 1 about it.

Girl 1 is now fucked.

Girl 1, though still on her strike against contacting fellow and further creeping him out, breaks and texts him late one night asking to talk. Big mistake. Fellow states he doesn't care that she has a crush on him and that he is busy. Girl 1's response is say she is going to kill Third Party. This is the point where Girl 1 feels the quasi-friendship has died. She still tries to make it right though. She apologizes and tries to be friendly on fbook, but now its just coming off as weird. One final Star Wars quote on a status update and Girl 1 is defriended for being, as fellow says, a creep. Girl 1 is devastated/infuriated (to put it mildly) and unwittingly tells him so via text (everything pretty much was through text...yet another red flag).

The semester is not over, however. Even though they no longer sit next to each other, there is an attempt to remain cordial. Girl 1 mistakes this for forgiveness. After slowly figuring it out that it's not, she deletes his number from her phone to prevent further dumbassness.

The summer begins and then ends and a new semester starts. They have class again, which isn't unexpected considering they have the same major, and fellow seems friendly and talkative. Girl 1 once again mistakes this for friendship. Girl 1 is conflicted. She would love to be friendly again, but she wants blood more. Girl 1 acts accordingly, being occasionally nice and then acting like a complete cunt. Girl 1 couldn't help herself. She tells him off a little too much. Feeling guilty about it, she fbook messages him twice throughout the semester. First to casually ask a question about the class, second because she was up too late and made some reference to an old joke they shared once in a backwards attempt to be funny again. Nothing changes.

Girl 1 ends up dropping class (actually she drops out entirely that semester (but for different reasons)). The next semester starts up and the brooding comes back. So she apologizes again through fbook for being cazy/a prick.

So...yeah. That's a pretty boring summary, but you get the idea. Most of it in reality was really, really funny. Maybe I'll tell those bits another time.

-re

I am not a good philosopher.

2010-01-31T13:37:00.005-05:00

This is a post I made a little while ago on my lj. I reread it and thought, "You know what? I'm still pissed about this." So, I thought I'd post it again. Take that!

I'm miffed at the guy who wrote the intro to Discourse on Thinking. He is a tool. First off, an intro does not need to take up forty pages. Especially when the piece itself is only 47 pages. Fuck you, guy. You don't need to prattle on and on about your theories and what you thought Heidegger might have been like and blah blah blah. I can't get to the goddamn material because I'm too busy clawing out my eyes trying to understand what the fuck intro-guy is trying to convey. It's not that I'm stupid or don't understand what he is saying, it's that I don't see why the fuck he is saying it...or even more importantly why the fuck he takes so long to say it. Paragraphs and paragraphs could have easily been condensed down to sentences. Who the fuck are you, Charles Dickens? Are you being paid by the word?

That is a common problem in philosophy. Instead of thoroughly explaining the point they are making, they instead blow it up to a proportion that no one can really swallow unless they are Socrates himself, and even he would be like, "What the fuck are you trying to say, man? Spit it out!" AND they use their own lexicon that most people have never seen or heard of. This is why people hate philosophy. I realize what you are trying to do, intro-guy, but come down off your elitist cloud and use your goddamn logos properly. You would never use that speech when actually communicating with someone, when actually engaging in a conversation with a human being. Okay, maybe if you are only talking to other high brow philosophers, but what is the fun in that? Shouldn't we be out there teaching and learning from the our fellow man? You are not going to find the meaning of anything just talking amongst your snooty selves.

I personally think that people like that are snobs. Why would you not want your philosophy broadcasted to a wider audience? The more people who understand, the more people you can converse with and the more you will learn.

Um...yeah. Fuck you, assholes of academia.

Anyway, now that I am all worked up over this INTRODUCTION, I'm going to move onto something else.

I'd like to note that I stopped reading Discourse on Thinking after this post and have still yet to get past the intro. I'm a mule.

I'd also like to note that what I moved onto was porn.

-re

I'm in love with Zach Weiner.

2010-01-29T09:19:00.002-05:00

what's your fantasy?

2010-01-21T18:11:00.013-05:00

Get it?

I need to stop writing fiction. It's gives me an unhealthy dose of hopeless romanticism (a very perverse form of it, I assure you). Like, super unhealthy. I feel like Rapunzel squatting up here in my room eating meatloaf and writing smut. I'm a very trashy Rapunzel, I guess. I even made a playlist specifically for the writing of...unmentionables. I'm rather proud of it. It's centered around two very different, yet exactly the same, songs:

Sick, sick sick - Queens of the Stone Age

Crown Royal - Jill Scott

A large portion of the rest is hip-hop that I've gathered over the last year or so. Some Biggie, some Pitbull, some Ludacris, and just a dash of Salt N Peppa. I threw in Prison Sex just because.

This is what I've been doing the last week. Sitting in my room listening to my sexin' playlist and rocking back and forth thinking of naughty things to write. I might even have drooled once or twice.

Oh, yeah. I also watched The Hangover again. It was a lot funnier considering that I wasn't high. I wasn't in an almost panic over how much I wanted another Hershey bar.

I'm a little worried that I'm on my way to insane hermitage. I like my writing just a little too much. Instead of reading someone else's blog, I'm too busy scanning over old posts of my own. I'm surrounded (literally) by books and I'd rather read my own fiction. Hanging out has become almost painful, I definitely prefer sitting alone in my room and thinking. I go to restaurants alone, I go shopping alone, I sleep alone. I remember in high school being okay with this idea, but now...actually, I'm not too miffed by it.

The times when I am are few and far between. When they happen, however, they register close to ten on the Richter scale (heh, geology humor). I'm still having the after shocks from last week. All it took was one elevator ride in Drinko and I was nearly on my knees. I vividly remembered the last time I rode it. I remember the squealing of glee in my head, the guy I had just asked out standing next to me, the laughing and the smiling. It was a really excellent memory that hadn't crossed my mind since my sophomore year. Then I remembered being stood up on the second date. Ah, memories.

Having to sit next to him the rest of the semester was just the perfect icing on top of that great shit cake.

Sigh. Well, let us leave on a positive note. I will share with you some lyrics from a gem in my sexin' playlist (and about every other playlist I make). I would like to first thank Lee Harvey. Thank you, kind sir, thank you for taking rap to a new plane for me.

Chicks nickname me Pilot, they get high off my dick

I take em' to my home, they call it the cock pit

Time to take off, their panties they drop quick

Now that's first class fuckin', ain't that some fly shit

Poetry.

- re

success!

2010-01-10T21:40:00.004-05:00

Today I have once again proved myself to be absolutely awesome. I was watching Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations last night and he was in China eating dumplings. I, watching him devour these delicious-looking lumps, had a sudden craving. I ignored it like a good dieting lady and went to bed. This morning, however, the craving returned. Dumplings...mmm. So I went online. I couldn't just go to a chinese restaurant, no. I would have to make these dumplings myself.

The simplest recipe (aside from the fried dumpling ones) I found was for a type of dumpling called Shao-Mai. Intrigued by the unfamiliar name and simplicity of the ingredients, I decided on Shao-Mai (even though I'm pretty sure they aren't the kind Anthony was eating). I found a recipe, accidentally got it mixed up with another recipe, and added ingredients that I remembered from some Food Network show on potstickers (bbq sauce). Several rounds with my rice cooker/steamer and I got...

Won-tons. Steamed pork won-tons. Or at least that is exactly what they tasted and looked like. So naturally I decided that won-ton soup was in order (after eating several questionably cooked first-batchers). I run back to the store for chicken broth and green onions and in mere minutes of returning home I had a large bowl of delicious won-ton soup. I sent a tub home with my papaw and he called me just to tell me how much he loved it. Mom spit hers in the trash, but hurrah for me anyway!

-re

beerfest on mute

2010-01-02T20:40:00.003-05:00

My New Years resolution is to watch more things on mute.

Also, I want to clean my room less, drink out of coffee mugs more often, not cut my hair, and make my advisor love me again.

I'm accomplishing almost all of these as we speak (or as I type). I'm sitting on Jacqueline, my beautiful new chair, drinking diet Pepsi out of my Great Moustaches mug, and browsing The Unemployed Philosophers Guild website.

My cousins are downstairs most likely destroying something of great value, but at the moment I could care less. At the moment I am trying to relax. Its either because of my exhaustion after the action-packed last couple of days, or my little relatives, or my inability to let shittiness go, or all of the above...that I am fighting this very sour mood.

Harrumph, I am saying out loud every few minutes (which really means I am whispering, "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you," over and over again).

I'm just tired, I'm sure. I did happen to drive over 700 miles (I checked) in a 48 hour period. Without cruise control, I might add. I had a sudden opportunity to go to Nashville and I took it before I even had time to think about it. I'm glad I did that. My New Years was amazing. The company (Rachael & Co.), the concert (Old Crow Medicine Show at the Ryman), the barhopping down Broadway, the mix of whiskey and orange soda...it was all absolutely terrific.

Actually, just thinking about it is cheering me up. A good start, as Dilios would say. I have high hopes for the rest of the year. I'm not planning anything big, however. I'm not getting clean, getting thinner, or even getting off. I don't intend on focusing on that meaningless bull. I plan on being more comfortable, more threatening, and generally more awesome (even if only to myself).

So here's to a fresh, virginal year. Be prepared, 2010. Be prepared for the back alley Tennessee hand job that is Kayla Young.

-re

hernia

2009-12-15T16:48:00.009-05:00

Moving furniture is better than meditation. I don't mean coffee tables and little chairs. I mean big couches and heavy recliners into the backs of trucks that you previously hauled wood out of and then pushing them up flights of stairs.
I'm not much of a runner, I don't like the the way my stomach smacks me in the face. Lifting weights in public would be an embarrassment and my elliptical buddy currently is gone. If I had a good supply of furniture to move around, I would be a happy lady.

Today's project, the playroom (which is now my personal living room). Tomorrow, Kristin's room (which will be the spare bedroom in what I like to call 'Kayla's upstairs'). There are three bedrooms sitting up here unused, so I might as well get something out of them.

Actually, I may start on Kristin's room today. Just to get my mind on track. It need not meddle in the affairs of dragons.

I'm feeling good.

I'm okay being alone. Besides, I'm used to it by now. If other people can do it, so can I.

I'll transcend one piece of furniture at a time.

-re

serial relationship killer

2009-12-10T21:34:00.016-05:00

This is a serial killer.

This is me.

A common bond is shared between us, and it's not just a fondness for creepy grins.

-re

a slow evening

2009-12-02T21:06:00.008-05:00

I never imagined a person could be as bored than I am in this moment. I'm bored enough to fuck a horse (whatever that is supposed to mean).

I've gone through all my friends' livejournals, chatted on fbook, napped, and rinsed and repeated. Right now I'm looking at straps for Alisha. She is getting her first guitar so she can play in her band, The Mysterious Mammoths. I'm literally giddy with excitement for her. She wanders around the house with Kristin's fender asking if anyone wants to hear her play Smoke on the Water. She is even showing her first signs of music snobbery (which I'm trying to steer her away from) and musician-stalking (Steven Tyler).

I will mold her and live vicariously through her, yes.

Duke and Wisconsin are doing something on the screen. I'm not paying much attention. They could be knitting very loudly for all I care. I'm focused more on internet-creepin' and trying not to overdose on throat spray. Damn you, colds! This is what I get for eating cheesecake in the park at midnight with Izzacock & Dustina. My nose runneth over.

But back to this boredom. The bliss of being worry free is starting to fade and contentment is no longer doing the trick. I'm happy with where I am, I promise. I'm right there at the golden mean. I just...I don't know. A small part of me misses the passion and excitement that came with the drama. There were such crippling lows, but with that came really good highs.

Trust me, I don't crave it that much. I still remember the lows. I'm just bored.

Bored. Bored. Bored.

This break from reality is making me eager to get back to the grind. I'm excited for next semester. Plato's Republic, Existential Philosophy, Current Philosophic Trends, Ancient Sparta (that's right), and my last German class.

It should be excellent as long as I keep riding this wave of cool.

Will she make it? That is the question.

I think I'm going to go fuck that horse now.

-re

full circle

2009-11-28T12:15:00.006-05:00

I feel so good right now.

I harbor no bad vibes. Not for friends who are saying goodbye or the old ones who are saying hello again.

It is a brilliant feeling, not being bitter or worried.

I suggest you try it. Let the wave crash over you, sink down into the sand, and reemerge. It is the meaning you find in nothingness, the creation from the destruction of a damaged self.

That is some fucking zen shit right there.

I've been so down and out for the last few months. It's almost over though. These last few weeks have helped incredibly. I have a few more errands to run in htown and then I'm free. Free like a goddamn bird. Freeeeee biiiiiird ( waves lighter in the air).

-re

my blood before me begs me open up my heart again

2009-11-24T19:05:00.003-05:00

I want to be this ring.

My ring, my beautiful class ring. I should wear it more often, I spent plenty of money on this mix of platinum, peridot, and symbolism. I spent even more time trying to decide what I wanted on it.

The center stone with the atom was my way of showing my devotion to science, to reason. The peace symbol and the tiny accompanying dove represented an aversion to fighting and needless theatrics. The scroll and torch was academics and a focus on obtaining knowledge.

I'm watching Law & Order: SVU and thinking of just how far I've fallen from my original path.

Here I sit, emotionally unstable and entrenched in the very same kind of drama I always said I would avoid. There is a very specific reason I'm usually a pushover. If anyone has known me, they know I try not to fight. When others do, I usually flee. However, when I do actually become engaged it usually is very, very destructive. I react very, very badly. "Don't be mean to Kayla!" needs to come with the tag line, "or she will break your shit off." Like the incredible Hulk, you won't like me when I'm angry. It usually takes some time for me to regain composure.

I lost my peaceful, academic, and rational way. The only thing left to do is to work hard to find my old path. I need it. I have to prove myself to my ring.

-re

I will choose nightmares and cold stormy seas, I will take over your grief and disease

2009-11-19T11:50:00.005-05:00

I'll stay beside you and comfort your soul
When you are lonely and broken and old

After a brief half-hour period were Alisha slips out of the often enraging "I'm a sassy tween!" mood once she exits the junior high building (not that anyone calls it that anymore), we become quite the pair. We hog the living room together, we sleep together, we get the same food from McDonald's. I pick her up and take her to school, to physical therapy, and wherever we can think of to go waste money. Last night's target was PetLand, tonight's will be Claire's (we are going to clean the house for monies).

We were given $60 to feed ourselves and get gas while Billy took Mom to Lexington for her surgery (which I have not yet been called about). We spend this money (and $28 more) on two hamsters, Beyonce (Alisha's) and Chaka Kahn (mine). Beyonce is a bit of a nibbler, and Chaka is a bit handicapped mentally. They both fight for the use of the glow-in-the-dark wheel. It is all very amusing to us.

If only Kristin were here. She is going to be pissed when she finds out she didn't get a hamster. I remember when Alisha and I tried to pick her out a fish while she was gone once (poor, poor Nermal, may he rest in peace). Kristin is moving back in December though. Then all will be joyous once again. My sisters are very important to me.

I'm watching our dog out the window right now and I am confused. She seems to be running in circles, just circles. She'll be going to the farm soon. I think so anyway. I never trust parents when they say they are sending your pet 'to the farm'. Lies.

I like being near my family. I like feeling like I am necessary and really loved. I like having my brown walls and green carpet. I like not paying for food. I like just about everything.

What I don't like is this Cold War scenario I'm in currently. I'm not exactly doing much to help things by not outright apologizing and groveling like I usually do. Fuck that. I got angry and I had the right to be angry. I sent out my olive branch, now to just wait. Which may be some time.

I think I'm going to go get started cleaning, though. Perhaps even put away the clothes I've left in a huge pile in my floor.

Maybe.

-re

living it up while I'm going down

2009-11-16T20:55:00.002-05:00

Alisha is dancing behind me while Aerosmith is playing. It is quite a sight. I'm hogging the family computer that resides in her room until I figure out how to get the wireless up on my laptop. Apparently I'm a wireless moron.

Other than that and the small Everest of clothes in my floor, I am moved in. Pictures of my bitchin' setup to come later. Mostly likely after I vacuum.

I'm ok. I miss everyone, but I'm ok.

Love,
re

I've done all I could to see the evil and the good

2009-11-13T10:09:00.005-05:00

Let me tell you something I've learned from extensive (not for pleasure) reading from Jung. Let me tell you something I've learned from personal experience (sometimes for pleasure). Dreams mean shit. Not 'shit' in the idea that they mean nothing, but that they have a purpose and a goal and they definitely are not random. They come from that irritated, suppressed part of you called the subconscious. Dreams are what your subconscious creates because it is bored and wants to torture you.

When you want to escape, pretend a bit, or ignore what gets under your skin, sleeping should not be the answer. Once you hit R.E.M. sleep, you're fucked. There is no point from running away from it all. Every aspect of what you hide from is locked away in your head waiting to jump you when you are most vulnerable.

Why not face your fears then? You're going to get haunted anyway.

Maybe now I'll go to that classical feast thing.

Ha. ha.

No. I'd rather choke on this four lb box of Twizzlers that is slowly diminishing beside me.

Just think of it as my conscious telling my subconscious to fuck off.

-re

ira bigelow!

2009-11-11T22:32:00.011-05:00

Blog contest with Alexis! Who will finish first? We may never know.

Currently:

watching The Sacketts (Can you say Tom Selleck? I think you can.)

(this is not Tom Selleck)

thinking about Alexis scrubbing hairy man chests

(this is Tom Selleck)

thinking about myself scrubbing hairy man chests

trying not to hump the couch in this sudden fit of unquenchable lust

pondering whether or not I should go to this classical feast thing on Friday

digesting an okay-tasting waffle cone sunday from DQ (I should have got the brownie thing I usually get.)

saying IRA BIGELOW in my head

wishing I was listening to Wasted by Paranoid Social Club.

wishing it was summer (sans job)

ignoring the fact that I'm currently a failure

pretending I'm Toshiro Mifune

still thinking about hairy man chests

I'm winning this contest! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Wait. No. I lost.

godgoddamnitdamnit.

-re

surfin' on a lonely sofa

2009-11-09T07:49:00.005-05:00

I am sleepy. I am awake. There is a problem here.

I woke up this morning with a goddamn cricket on my mouth. That's right, on my mouth. Imagine my surprise. Then imagine my crazed, half-stupor jumping around the bed with a sock and a shoe trying to de-life said cricket. Now imagine a drowsy, irritated me on the smelly couch in the living room.

Meh, the living room isn't horrible. There are good aspects of it. For one, we have a Barbie dream house next to the painted bookshelf. Now you may ask, why would three adults need a Barbie dream house complete with dolls, accessories, a flushing toilet and small gold Oscar? Well, if you need to know that, then you're ignorant.

You just don't understand the uses of Barbie dream houses (that include spinning washing machines). Not only adorable, they serve a practical purpose of keeping adults' minds off of adult things. In Barbieland there are no school loans wasted and no rent to pay. Barbie doesn't need a job unless she wants one (much like Alexis' Crazy 80s Doctor Barbie!). There is only shopping and dressing up and lots and lots of Barbie sex. Ah, is it so wrong to play out such a fantasy?

Call it regressing. Call it socially inappropriate. Call it one of the reasons I'm still a virgin. I assure you, there are more reasons than that.

One of which, I'd like to think, is my being way out of shape. I might remedy this by building up my endurance at the gym. My goal isn't to be thin, but to be able to endure more than 40 minutes of cardio without needing a break for weeping/an asthma inhaler . This is preparation, my friends. Preparation.

One day...one day...one day I'll hire a prostitute. It will be easier that way. I am really burnt out on picking out a potential mate and then bothering them until they dislike me. It will take some time before I'm serious about going down that sad little road again. Until then, I'll just be chill and hope someone comes along and makes a move (someone who is not more of a creeper than I).

I feel this isn't an unreasonable thing to hope for. Women get hit on all the time. Just need some low cut blouses and a better tolerance for bars. Maybe run a comb through my hair. These things can all be done. I'm trying to get the guys to go with me to The Union for trivia night, maybe I can go trollin' for ass there (or whatever).

But until then, I'm going to look up ways to kill camel crickets and play with my dolls.

-re

no, we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it

2009-11-05T00:41:00.003-05:00

It is hard fighting those really gay, emo urges. I would love to spend all my posting time focused on why I suck, but that gets old after a while. My head is so mean, always going on and on about blown chances and poor reactions which result in more blown chances. Tonight's topic is the very same.

I wake up around midnight with a slight headache and the remnants of what on the surface was a pleasant dream. Oh, subconscious...you cruel fuck. I also seem to have 'we didn't start the fire' playing over and over in my head. Strange. But back to the dream.

Actually, no. Not back to the dream. Screw that noise. I'd rather talk about my new love, the gym.

The little nice person that hides under my gelatinous layers is very proud of me at the moment. Go me! it shouts in a squeaky, timid voice. The little nice person doesn't get much air time these days and it is always nice to hear from her.

Okay, so I've only had the courage so far to go twice (I still fear to go alone and wait around for someone to go with), but I've always been someone to fall quickly. It's something about the wide open spaces and the availability of machines and the cable. Oh, how I love the cable. I also really dig the machines. They have an option where you can watch your progress around a little electronic track. I base my self-esteem on how many times I can make it around. I could never quite make it around a real track, but it is so much easier with the rap rattling your eardrums and Man vs Food on the screen. Plus, no one else can see your progress. I find that especially pleasing.

After coming home from le gym, I was joyous to find the forgotten leftover Uno's pizza. Yum, breakfast. It isn't the celery sticks and soy beans I should be eating, but it is soooooo delicious. And deep too.

The little things, man. That's what counts these days. Be it making someone you like laugh, devouring deep dish pizza, going around the track 20 times (that's right, baby), or a quick game of Busted! (which is the shit).

I've suddenly realized I am ravenous. Perhaps some Taco Bell is in order.

Soon. Soon.

I know I didn't really focus on blown chances much...but hell, I spend too much time on that as it is.

Stay positive, kiddo. Screw love, lust, and the like. You don't need any of that horse cock. All it does is bum you out. You crave what you no longer have. Focus on the now. You have the gym.

That is, you have the gym until you withdraw.

Oh, the downsides.

-re

an eleven dollar flashback

2009-10-10T16:54:00.000-04:00

Aaaahhhh, it's been a long time since I've been here.

Here being sitting in the dark, listening to soft acoustic rock. I feel chill. I have a thousand things that should be rushing through my head, but they are silenced. I'm lacking the usual ADHD nervousness and constant need for the rythmic thumping of heavy bass beats and the over-sexed, degrading-to-any-human lyrics.

I'm not saying I'm done with my affair with hippety hop, just that I missed being here. I missed Jack Johnson and Jim James and my favorite Bens. I miss hanging off the edge of my bed with my gigantic goofy headphones and just wasting an evening listening to music. I miss Rolling Stone and ranting about music with my friends. I miss the radio game and cruising with the windows down.

This album is giving me flashbacks to the past. Flashbacks are very hard, they remind you of what you let go, what you left. The moment is gone. Dead.

I went to a place I hadn't been in a long time the other night, Rosie's. I saw the young high schoolers there and I remembered exactly where I sat when I was their age (even if it was just a few years ago), eating a BLT and making bubbles in my chocolate milk while everyone else drank coffee.

I think about Rosie's and Katie's Corner and Tim Horton's and Boy Scout Road...

I'm not trying to bring myself down. I'm just flashing back.

-re

warm woolen mittens

2009-09-30T06:44:00.000-04:00

I'm falling for fall. As with all the other times I felt (retardedly so) like I was in (gag) love, there is a certain amount of agony. Oh, the cold. I didn't expect you so soon.

No matter, for it is the time for the earth tones and the pumpkin carving and the (gush) HAUNTED HOUSES!!?!11!? I thrive on ghost stories. I, of course, internally freak out and spend a lot of nights worrying that demonic presences are trying to crawl under the covers with me...but that is all part of the fun.

The paranormal is fascinating to me, scary as clowns, but fascinating. If I felt like being even more usesless than I already am (hello, philosophy), I would definitely consider paranormal research. I think I'll just settle for reruns of Ghost Hunters and A Haunting.

Speaking of the useless and the scary, I'm considering changing plans for graduate school. Instead of possibly killing myself trying to get into some far off PhD program for ye olde philosophie, I could much more easily (I assume) obtain a master's here at Marshall in English. This might not be a horrible idea. I could finally learn how to write (like, with grammar and stuff). I would love that.

I have to break it to Mom though. This will be unpleasant. It means another semester as an undergrad (I'd need a minor at the very least to be considered for the program). A master's only takes like two years though, right? So we would be looking at an extra two and a half years as opposed to four. I could also do more with English. I could teach high school?

Also, since it will hopefully be at Marshall, Mom won't have to break that umbilical cord hold she has on me just yet. Truth be told, I'm not ready. Claiming independence would be very destructive to our family bond. I don't know if she'd even let me in the house after that.

I should start moving though. I plan on taking a shower, blow drying my hair, and calling off work. I plan on coming in on Thursday and working a little bit and I'll be there Friday. This whole depression aspect of bipolar disorder is really cutting into my work/class/life schedule.

-re

2009-09-23T18:36:00.000-04:00

shit. fuck. damn.

I'm awake.

There is much to be done.

Like ice cream to be eaten and that one ghost movie to watch (and I do not mean Ghost).

I could be reading that Buddhism text. Or perhaps Derrida. Or even Jung.

But I could also be eating ice cream and watching a ghost movie.

Mom says I can live at home forever and make nothing of my future.

It is tempting.

-re

you say you want passion, i think you found it

2009-09-19T20:36:00.000-04:00

I'm running out of things to look up on the internet.

Bored.

I do happen to be comfortable tho. In my outfit made entirely of sweats and my small carton of cold lo mein at my side, I sit here and enjoy my mom's cable. Can you say Maury? Who's your baby daddy?

This non-exercise, chinese food eating, sweats and serial rapist glasses wearing new style of mine is working out swell, me thinks. It's all part of my new non-interest in men, relationships, futures, and basically anything that isn't this lo mein.

All this not-work is exhausting however. I better get back to my Maury before I fall asleep.

Love,
re

i'm a beast when you turn me on

2009-09-09T18:39:00.000-04:00

So here I sit, skipping class, skipping work, skipping general hygiene requirements. The world is my oyster. But I hate oysters. So I'm throwing it away. And going back to bed.

Bed is nice. It's my favorite place. I'm always asleep. And by always I mean approximately 60-70% of my day. It could be sleeping sickness. Maybe it's the swine flu. I hear you can catch it from swimmers.

I do this though. It's not surprising. It'll shake off eventually. God, I hope so. I'd love to feel awake again.

I'm trying out a new hippety hop playlist to wake up currently. Check this shit out:

hotel room service - pitbull (oh, you the healthy type? well, here goes some egg whites)
calle ocho - pitbull
i gotta feeling - black eyed peas
boom boom pow - black eyed peas
birthday sex - jeremih (so much lol. tell me where you want your 'gift')
move - mims
lapdance - n.e.r.d. (fuck yeah. always, I'm always listening to this)
elevator - flo rida

and the very best:
no reply at all - genesis

How can you not tell me that I'm the shit? I know, you can't help it. I'm just too amazing.

I might walk down the street to get some coffee. This rap makes me want to move. To shake it. I guess that's what I'm going to do. Shake, shake, shake it.

-re

an actual friday five!

2009-09-04T10:47:00.000-04:00

1. What time of the day is your favourite, and why?
Any time of the day I am not in class and not doing homework. Usually the mid afternoon.
2. What's the best time to take a walk, and where to?
Never. Movement is best avoided.
3. When can you work best?
After a long, long nap in a cold room.
4. What to do on sunny mornings and stormy evenings?
I hide from the heat on sunny mornings and I sit on the porch on stormy evenings.
5. When you look outside right now, what do you see?
Bright light. I plan not to go into it.

Well...this just proves that I am boring as all-get-out.

-re

you're a jerk! (I know)

2009-08-29T12:32:00.000-04:00

I was in the men's section of Wal-Mart today was a specific goal in mind. To be a lazy dick. I found sweatpants with huge crotches that I would later cut the elastic out of (at the ankles, not the crotch) and white cotton v-neck t-shirts that come in five packs. I proceeded to walk around campus dressed thusly with my unbrushed hair and unmatching flip-flops.

This might be a direct response to the vagina-stabbing hormones coursing their way through my body at the moment, destroying any sense-making abilities I may have left floating around upstairs. I also bought a purse with sunshine and bunnies on it (true story).

This could also be a direct response to school, which in the first week seems much to overwhelming. I have so much reading that the idea of it makes my eyes want to bleed (I even made a schedule and bought serial rapist reading glasses), so many presentations to prepare for that I may jump off a cliff, and so many meetings with Powell about my future that I may want to jump off a cliff twice. Ah, to be a senior.

This could, however, be an indirect response to my encounter (and future class encounters) with another dick of all trades. It seems like amends have the potential to be made...but I don't want amends. I want suffering, I want vengeance, I want blood. I understand that this could be the red tide talking. The very same red tide that I blame for missing classes in the first week and skipping out on work (well, I'm always looking for an excuse to skip out on work). I think I'll settle for amends if I can get them. I don't really want this to be like how things with indie dick ended. This could have something to do with the dream I had last night about baking a cake with first dick mentioned.

I don't want to be that person that says all men are dicks, or shit heads, or whatever I was telling Riedel last night. It is tempting, though. It seems so true. All men are dicks and all women are crazy. So simple. So clean cut.

But back to the original point.This sudden urge to look like a extremely lazy man could stem from a lot of things. All of which are nutty.

I need to bring this up to my counselor. Which I get to meet on the 14th. I'm excited.

-re

change your ways while you're young

2009-08-21T08:46:00.000-04:00

It's Friday and I'm alone in the lab with very little to do. What a perfect opportunity to blog!

I have healthy ideas on my mind. Perhaps with the beginning of a new school year (my god, my senior year of college) will dawn also a beginning of a different way of seeing the world. Or perhaps a healthier way.

I'm thinking less drugs, more rock n' roll, and a moderate amount of pears.

I'm changing my ways while I'm young. Well, not that young. I'm 21 now. I'm an adult. Sort of. I always claimed that I wasn't an adult until my frontal lobe was fully developed. I'm not neurosurgeon, but I'm pretty sure that ain't happened yet. I still have that excuse to act like a jackass.

But no more, my friends! I shall be good. Maybe. I'll do my best to do.

Unless, of course, I die of boredom in this lab.

-re

fetishes

2009-08-13T10:12:00.000-04:00

I have something better than tentacle porn for you, my dears.

And his name is John Krasinski.

Rawr.

-re

Saturday Not-Quite-Six!

2009-08-01T21:56:00.000-04:00

I'm doing this for you, Alexis. And myself. But mostly myself.

1.) Do you like your handwriting?

I suppose it does it's job. It's mostly legible and of a good size. I always want someone else's penmanship, tho. I'm usually in love with everyone else's handwriting. Except Katie's.

2.) Do you prefer to print or write in cursive?

My preferred scrawl is a mix of both. My letters can start off cursive mid-word and slide gently into a rolling print by the end of it. My 'm's and 'n's are never cursive, but my 'r's mostly are. I think it has to do with laziness.

3.) Do you think handwriting should be graded in school?

Not to sound like a dick, but yes. And no. I think there should be some way to grade or take marks off or something for people with really, really small handwriting. If I have to squint to see whatever the hell you wrote down, then you're doin' it wrong.

4.) Do you prefer writing in pencil or pen?

Pencil. Hands down. I'm not satisfied enough with my handwriting to fully trust pens. I'm a frequent eraser. I'll make a list out five times just to get the word 'tomatoes' to look right. I do the same thing with math.

5.) When you write in ink do you prefer a neutral color, such as black or blue, or a fun color like purple of green?

I use navy blue almost exclusively. It's not as stern as black, but not as flamboyant as purple. I would never use gel pens. It's like glitter. I'm too afraid to draw that kind of attention to myself.

And now for my new trend! A picture I took!

Yes, yes, I'm aware that posting quasi-artistic photos is a crime that only douche bags commit when they are trying to spice up their myspace...

buuuuuuut I don't care. At least not enough to stop.

-re

Then he climbed my tower, and off the edge of me he ran

2009-07-30T12:00:00.000-04:00

The Lighthouse's Tale by Nickel Creek is one of the best songs I've listened to in a while. I've had it on repeat for most of the morning. I had forgotten how much I enjoy the mandolin.

The song itself is incredibly sad. It starts off so happy, then the light keeper watches his love's ship crash against the rocks by the lighthouse, buries her, and then commits suicide. It's soooo sad and soooo pretty.

I should have started listening to this band a long time ago. I've had this album on my iPod forever and a day.

But in other news:

I'm good. Gouda. Grood.

I'm not freaked out by the GRE on Monday. I'm not worried about my interview tomorrow. I'm not even concerned about anything to do with the male population (they can all blow me).

Today was, is, a new day.

I think it's the song. It kick-started my morning.

-re

i give great NJs

2009-07-28T20:31:00.000-04:00

I've discovered a career. Professional napping. I'd be like a prostitute, only without the actual doin' the nasty (though that is optional).

It's something I practically have a degree in. I would call them napjobs...or NJs. It could be great.

I developed this idea after waking up from a nap just a few hours ago. I fell to the bed like a beached whale around six or so. I had binged for about a half hour on anything I could find (including nasty taffy) and felt like pretending I didn't exist for a while.

Overeating is something so foul and disgusting and private. It's like taking a dump. Well, it's like the opposite of taking a dump. However, similar noises are made. There is the groaning and the whimpering and the begging for death.

I think that's what I'm doing when I overeat. Begging for death. I eat until I can't breathe and then I go to sleep. I should get a bear costume. I'd make a good bear.

I've been doing this more and more often as of late. I've been showering less and less. You don't even want to know how often I brush my hair (or my teeth). It just seems pointless.

I'm not depressed.

I'm just...

ready for a nap.

-re

Fine by defect, and delicately weak.

2009-07-17T13:12:00.000-04:00

"It's not that some people have willpower and some don't. It's that some people are ready to change and others are not."- James Gordon

I want to write a book called Only Human: A Bird's Eye View of Ethical Weakness

I think it will be mainly about the concept of willpower in today's society and our glorification of those who lack a moral code. Or maybe it will be more of a quasi-memoir concerning inabilities to commit to one's own ethical standards.

Or something crazy like that. I know I want to focus mainly on weakness and how we are conditioned to respond to challenges. I want to analyze the cultural differences as well. I think I could compare the third world to the first and modern day America to maybe something cool like the old values of the samurai.

It could be bad ass.

This is the ridiculous shit I think about on the way home from work...which I left early from.

I apparently don't like having money.

I am a philosophy major, after all.

-re

tides that I tried to swim against have brought be down upon my knees

2009-07-14T14:30:00.000-04:00

I'm struggling with the urge to reach down the neck of my lab coat to scrape and pull at the dead skin that is covering my shoulders and back. Its crusty and itchy and flaky and generally unpleasant. I feel my oil smeared nitrile gloves would not be very effective.

The week off was nice (I'll tell you later of the story of how I sang 'Clocks' with Kristin in front of a group of people while in a sleeveless shirt). So nice that I took Monday off as well. It's not that I don't like my job, I just don't have the urge to wake up in the morning. I couldn't tell you the last time I was here at 8 am.

I kind of just want to take out another loan and quit entirely. This is a very bad decision, but I'm in debt as it is and will be in even more debt during grad school (especially if I get in where I want to). So what's a few grand more?

Bad thinking.

Very bad thinking.

A lot of this bad thinking may come from the fact that I came back to work with a whopping 94 special NIR samples waiting for me, a box full of regular NIR samples, 12 hydrotreater composites, a list of chores, and an immensely cluttered lab. That's not even counting the crude assays I have yet to receive.

The good thing is that I have about and hour and a half left today and then I get to go home. My own home. Sorta. I may not have it that long, my roommates have both mentioned not staying the full year...which means I would be fizztotheizzucked. One may go on to grad school (which is totally understandable) and the other recently brought up the idea of just fleeing at the end of fall semester (which is not totally understandable). It bothers me a little.

Actually, I don't even get to go to that home. I'm headed to my mom's house for a bit because I'm currently using my sister as a ride. My car's battery finally decided to commit suicide.

It's all gouda, I was planning on staying there for a day or so after my littlest sister's surgery (which was today).

Buuuuuuut, I must be off. I'm a busy, busy bee.

-re

take me out of this dead end nightmare.

2009-07-01T11:16:00.000-04:00

Laaaaaaaaaaaammmmeeeeee.

Is how I feel.

The most exciting part of my day thus far is balancing my checkbook. Not every day is meant to be full of excitement, but I'm nearly bored to tears.

Here is what I'm doing:

Waiting on an email.

Chatting with KT.

I should just leave early.

I might do that.

-re

i'm more like a vulture, far from a dove

2009-06-25T09:52:00.001-04:00

Help, help! I've been stabbed in the taint! Or so it feels!

Note that my taint is currently located in my lower abdomen.

It's a sharp pain that I think may be cause entirely by a physically reaction to my mental retardation. I've been getting bored as of late (today mainly as I wait for a chance to use my Mettler scale, yes, my precision scale). And when the re-re gets bored, fan hits the shit.

Like when I look at the profiles of people (okay, dudes/men/cowboys) whom I am no longer on speaking/texting/name calling terms with. Damn, they have nice profile images.

I should be ashamed. I'm not. But then again, I didn't feel ashamed when I first purposefully fucked up my friendships with them. As a matter of fact, I was rather gleeful at the time. It felt right. It felt like vindication. It felt like smores.

And smores are delicious. They spread your ass like an oceanic trench, tho.

Okay, I'm lying. It was miserable.

-re

Wow. I'm gonna go buy that new sport coat I've been wanting.

2009-06-16T08:15:00.000-04:00

The first thing I did upon arriving to work was to check fbook. I've decided my first 30 minutes here are to be wasted on interneting. I'd watch South Park episodes (I've recently discovered that I love Randy Marsh) at my desk if I thought I could get away with it. Actually...I probably could. I would just feel very guilty about it.

This is also the first time I've been to work on time in...a week? Maybe two? They just don't say anything to me. I don't think they really even care all that much. Its bad for my wallet, tho.

Tho. I kind of hate and love using that txt version of the word. It makes me feel hip.

This is my goal currently. To be as chill/hip/bamf as possible. I want to be what I've always admired in the guys I used to like/crush upon/stalk. I have my classic adidas, my ultra stylish/crazy shades, and my homemade hemp necklace. Add my useless major and affinity for indie rock (or maybe the top 40 of indie rock) and you have one cool/useless mother trucker (I'm also trying to tone down my profanity).

Aside from that, my goals are small. I want to take the GRE at some point (hopefully before the summer is out) and I want to wean myself off from dropping the socks. I know, I know. What is life without sock dropping, you say.

Life is stable without the constant desire for gettin' some. Well, hopefully it is. So far it's just kind of boring.

-re

all these bitches crawl.

2009-06-10T22:41:00.000-04:00

Reidel likes to tell me that there is a clown hiding in my room. I like to tell him to suck on my nuts. Clowns are evil. You've heard of IT. I need not explain.

Other than fearing death by clown, life is good here.

-re

Soleil rouge

2009-05-14T13:29:00.000-04:00

I was about to switch channels from Red Sun on AMC to watch Cheaters. I was going to pass up Toshirô Mifune and Charles Bronson for some Maury-ish show about looking around for people fucking in vans in the dark with night vision cameras.

My brain must have rotted. I'm what is wrong with the world today. I'm sure of it.

You can't just pass up an opportunity to watch Toshirô. He is that cool.

I think that is the one thing I've learned this semester.

Yep.

But back to the show.

-re

you were so right when you said that I've been drinking

2009-05-10T23:14:00.000-04:00

Romantic commercials make me want to vom. Facebook makes me want to vom. Sandwiches make me want to vom.

I kind of just want to vom.

Projectile, burst blood vessels in your eyes, taste the inside of your stomach kind of vomming.

Or maybe just go to bed. The sole reason I'm staying up is to make sure the dishwasher is not leaking during its cycle. Exciting, yes?

I saw an ad today for some new show that looks up blogs to make fun of. An interesting idea. A frightening idea, but interesting. We all have our blogging pride, you know.

It kind of makes me want to drop this one like it's hot. I enjoy blogging too much for that though. It's like...pissing in the shower. You know you shouldn't.

Besides, it gives me something to do other than constantly checking my gmail. Annnnnd fmylife. I'm mildly obsessed with fmylife.

Schadenfreude, my friends. Schadenfreude. It is the cure to cancer, the middle east, and children's tears.

I should be going. Must make sure the dishwasher hasn't ruined Mummy's new wood floors.

Btw, the move out countdown is 5 days. Count them.

-re

there is much in the search for truth which is done for the sake of adventure and for the sheer joy of its beauty

2009-04-30T22:27:00.000-04:00

I'm a philosopher. Hear me roar.

I really, really dig that title quote. It's by C.D. Keyes. I think it sucks that he isn't more popular in the intellectual circles. I say this as I puff away at my pretentious pipe.

I'm taking a break from writing a paper that is waaaaay past due. I kind of like writing the paper and I kind of like the material I'm using. I just don't like the actual reading...if that makes any sense. I enjoy the knowledge but I hate obtaining it.

The end of this semester is sooo close. I have three tests and five papers left. Err...four and a half papers left. Oh, and a portfolio of shorts. I think I can handle it though. I have energy drinks on hand. I also probably have a tumor on my bladder from them.

I feel good though. Chilled out. Productive. Somewhat sick to my stomach (its the caffeine) I'm working hard to get over this mountain of work.

I am also working hard to get over my epic fail of a man experiment. Oh, so much fail.

I regret very little though. Most of it was hilarious and exciting and oh, so beautiful.

But maybe that's the caffeine talking.

-re

Biggie Biggie Biggie can't you see, that sometimes your words just hypnotize me

2009-04-19T20:28:00.000-04:00

I'm unwillingly watching a TV special on the world's heaviest man. I have decided that broccoli & cheese rice goes poorly with this. I suppose I just have to deal with it though. I made everyone watch Warriors and music videos most of the day. Tony Schappert from Warriors looks like Henry Rollins and is therefore attractive.

That show is awesome. It makes me think of the Bacchus character from The Hott Gates. I don't care that it has a poor beginning. That story is 'teh sex'. Matter of fact I might just go read that.

Sometimes I feel it is bad to love a fictional being you've created. It's like the imaginary boyfriend George Glass that Jan had on The Brady Bunch. Yeeeaaaaah. It's super lame.

But sometimes I don't give a tin shit. Right now is one of those times. He's hawt...and we know how I feel about hawt people.

I feel like that's all I really have to say. Yep. Es geht.

-re

when all you touch turns to lead

2009-04-14T20:17:00.000-04:00

Coke Zero is going to end up giving me a kidney stone. But I chug it like...like...well, whatever normal people chug. Beer? Semen?

I'm going over to The Romans' place for a small party. A pity/displeased/homework extravaganza for two. Most likely there will be video games involved. I hope she plays Oblivion. Oblivion is sexy. It's the thong of video games.

I had a long post planned out on the woes of life and how much I'm a loser and blah blah blah.
Gag me.

Seriously. Gag me.

-re

mustache culture is pretty cool!

2009-04-13T21:03:00.000-04:00

I be watchin' the Family Guy.

Not much else is going on.

I wish my lappy wasn't on it's death bed.

I didn't go to class today. So much for goals.

My hair is killing me.

I'm bored.

Omgz. So bored.

Yet, I should be busy.

Hrm.

-re