Like drinking poison, like eating glass

Here I sit. Ten o'clock at night. I should have at least three pages done on this paper, but I have two sentences. I have had two sentences for a day and a half now. It is supposed to be 6-7 pages. Progress is slow. Maybe the words are all caught up in some Bureaucracy of the Mind, the existence of which I am now becoming painfully aware. I imagine a long hallway in my gray matter with wooden doors, each with a carefully stenciled name in black or gold letters. Quite official, but not terribly productive. My paper will be passing from hand to hand through the proper channels for months! Why even bother trying to write?

Today I heard that Dominos was big in Saudi Arabia. I do not know if this is true or not, but I also heard that milk was scarce. Now, the big question here is: What do they make the cheese out of? It was speculated goat milk. But why would goats be so prevalent? I've no idea. It could all be false information! I'm not sure how one would go about looking into this, but I think it would be the right thing to do. "The right thing" obviously meaning: it would satisfy my curiosity.

One page done. It's 11:12. I had hoped to get more done than that, but I'm having to read the research at the same time and skip between six or seven different sources trying to remember which one a certain quote or number of idea was in. 12:18. Two pages done. I'm only averaging a page an hour. This is not good. Must pick up the pace. 1:23. Almost four pages complete. 1:57. 5 pages. 2:44. 7 pages. One works cited page to throw on, and I will be finished. 3:18. Printing. Took longer than I thought to cite 10 references.

I gaze into my Crystal Light and see many things...

Wherein Marjorie sits back and thinks of what some of her friends will be doing when they are 30 years old.

Wolffy He is surrounded by computers and many things of which we will never know. For our level of technical understanding is quite lower than his growing genius. But in his spare time he'll be writing a poetry/photography book.

Kellan Working on 3^rd book. About to find a girl named something like Antonia or Emily in a random chance meeting. Overcome by her charm and beauty, he will forget his usual shyness and dare to ask for her phone number. Marriage and triplets shortly thereafter.

Sarah Married. Still trying to make money without any actual work. Will call me to ask, "Do you think people would pay me to make customized, hand-folded envelopes for them? Would you pay for that? Hey, some people LIKE letters, not just email!"

Kari Opening her own gym next to my used bookstore. We will have crossover sales and fliers. Possibly a taqueria.

Steve B Professional poker player. Financially stable with an art studio which at times in his poker playing travels, he neglects, but always comes back to in the end. Also, proud owner of a well-stocked bar.

Mikey Will have spent short bursts of time in dozens of different careers. Finally settles down and writes for a magazine that appreciates his occasionally pretentious style. He will frame his first death threat.

Spin the Choice

John Redcorn: Dale, I don't eat people! For God's sake, it would be like me accusing you of cannibalism, just because that nut in Michigan who boiled body parts in his stove was white. Or that disc jockey in Philadelphia who ate people in his basement. Also white.
Dale: Boy, you're sure up on cannibalism, John Redcorn. Well, look at the time...

1 + 1 = 1

I'm eating apple jacks (no milk) out of one of those little glass bowls you normally would put condiments in, maybe salsa for one. The apple jacks are the Halloween kind and have marshmallows in them. It doesn't seem right. But then again, Halloween is supposed to be different. The town is awash with even more orange and black than usual, and usually there is quite a bit. Pumpkins everywhere. One of my favorite times of year. I almost expect the air to taste like apples and cinammon every time I walk down the sidewalks strewn with colorful, fallen leaves. It is football season, the best time of year.

I woke up feeling awful about everything, and I haven't bothered to shower. Instead, I sit in my jammies with coffee cups and scones spoons on them watching television and memorizing names and locations of countries, cities, bodies of water in North, South, and Latin America. Watching Fantasy Football scores posted. I think Gerald has mostly given up on his team, even though there are 16 weeks or so and he easily could pull a fixer-upper. It is an idle pursuit though. All of it really. The TE I drafted a day or two ago since mine has a bye week did quite well--much better even than most normally do. Not a lot of them rack up points. Kind of hard to do as a TE.

I think we have it

Ahhh, internet. Without it I would have no idea that I have a 66% chance of surviving a T-Rex attack or that my arch-nemesis is Orson Welles. That seems unlikely though because I love Orson Welles. He is super precious. I'm didn't go to Geo today, as I felt I would just be sleepy and bored out of my mind. So we stayed home and will go for the 3:30 classes that we have. Can't miss film class! He is the most entertaining, and I learn a great deal there.

I'm starting a little blog group (http://readzeebooks.blogspot.com) to post about books, book suggestions, reviews, quotes, anything related to books that people feel like posting. If you would like to contribute, and I know you do, let me know and I will send off an invite quick! Like a bunny! I find I always am looking for new book suggestions, and this shall be just the thing. I need to change the layout a great deal and make it pretty, but I have plans for it to be nice, and much easier to read than white text on Scully hand, for all of you blind-as-a-bat people.

My weekend will be filled with homework and football. It's midterms week right around now, and I have things to study for and papers to write that I do not want to write, and other things such as that. I got the David Eggers short stories book yesterday and have been suitably distracted from homework by that. I watched Shadow of the Vampire last night, which was very amusing. Willem Dafoe as Max Schreck was wonderful. I, too, felt a bit morose when I read that Dracula didn't not have any servants. It made me grimace when Harker saw him setting the table.

Max Schreck: It made me sad.
Albin: Why sad?
Max Schreck: Because Dracula had no servants.
Albin: I think you missed the point of the book, Count Orlock.
Max Schreck: Dracula hasn't had servants in 400 years and then a man comes to his ancestral home, and he must convince him that he... that he is like the man. He has to feed him, when he himself hasn't eaten food in centuries. Can he even remember how to buy bread? How to select cheese and wine? And then he remembers the rest of it. How to prepare a meal, how to make a bed. He remembers his first glory, his armies, his retainers, and what he is reduced to. The loneliest part of the book comes... when the man accidentally sees Dracula setting his table.

Give me the strength to split the world in two

I think I was nice in my peer review, even though it was frightfully difficult. It was perhaps the worst writing I had ever read, and that is saying something. I was trying to be eh... gentle? in my explaining of just what was wrong with it, but it was hard to decide what to focus on when so much of it was just all over the place. You cannot just go about covering hard concepts when someone hasn't mastered the smallest ones yet. Just making a paragraph is difficult for people. It was as though he never was taught how to read two things and compare them or include his own thoughts without only stating the obvious. It's not like it's terribly tricky stuff in 100 level classes. But I certainly have no desire to embarass the fellow or have him feel even less like writing. I want everybody to write, and to write well! I know it's harder for some. And me being an ass won't make it any easier.

I'm listening to Monster Magnet because "Space Lord" is awesome. I am quite tired, but given that every time I go to bed I cough and sputter and have a rather unpleasant time, I'm staying up a little bit longer.

I finished Tricked. It was good, but now I am sad as I do not have anything really good lined up to read next. I have a list a mile long, but nothing actually here. I suppose I'll check something out at school or buy something in the bookstore tomorrow. I shouldn't spend so much money on books. But they're more interesting and satisfying to me than food. Besides, surviving on Mike and Ike's and DXM wouldn't be such a bad thing, would it?

"Lordy" is an expression I picked up from Matt when I lived in Portland with him and Kelly. I do not hear many other people using it, and that's just fine, as I probably use it enough for all of us.

I do not like Library Skills for Literary Studies. Guided research is not my cup of tea. I like to find things my way, which really does seem just as effective if not more so than this lame step by step annoying practice and worksheets. Once a week for an hour and I complain. That's right. My way. That's how I like things. Particular. I also dislike whiteish hard pieces of lettuce. It make salad horrible when it is included. Same goes with corn. The other day in a blog I read about a person who does not like sunscreen and never uses it. I find this amusing because I put on sunscreen every day, rain or shine. A thin layer of oil-free sunscreen on my face every day underneath my makeup, which also is like SPF 15. Yes, I put on a face. It is so the world does not have to face my hideousness.

You know you did, You know you did, You know you did

I did my damn volcano assignment. I predict: Copahue. It's easy when one of the three volcanos I chose hasn't erupted in 1600 years. Did a current event on Crime Rates dropping. Sort of, anyway. Now it's Russian and then reading some of Tricked if it is not too late. It makes me sad to have to limit my reading of books I enjoy and use so much time reading about things that do not interest me, and even worse writing about those things. We'll be watching the super Soviet movie: The Battleship Potemkin in film tomorrow evening. Soviet formalism. (Go CCCP and all that jazz.) There isn't enough time in the day for all the things I want to do, and all the time I wish to waste in the process of doing them. Time is so fickle-seeming. I personify things too much. I imagine Time and Death and Nepotism and bunches of others sitting in a little room together playing Risk or Monopoly, Time pissed because he somehow managed to get all the almost useless properties like Mediterranean or Oriental Avenue. (Who really wants Baltic Ave? Be honest.) On a side note, I am always the shoe when I play Monopoly. If anyone reads this, meaning all four of you or whatever (Hi Scarah! Hi Laura! Hi Shane! Hi Gerald! Hi maybe Jon and occasionally Kellan!), you should most definitely post a comment telling me what piece it is you use. If you do not have a piece you regularly use when playing Monopoly, then something is wrong with you and maybe it's best if you just go to the Island of Misfit Toys, where I used to dream of living, but have since changed my mind in favor of warmer, more rainy climates. This "paragraph" has little continuity, but I really could care less. Interesting fact of the day: Blossom (Mayim Bialik), who was accepted to Harvard and Yale but chose UCLA, has a PhD in neuroscience. I think that's great. Education is a wonderful use of child acting money. I am a big fan of education. And the Valley Library. I used the compact shelves for the first time today and was utterly thrilled. I want to work there and be surrounded by happy resources and books and paper. I know it will soon be an arcane form for any kind of text, so all the more reason to enjoy the wonderful smell and sights of rows and rows of books, all just waiting to be read. There was a funny dialog in Russian today where the woman on the cd said, "You are Canadian? I have heard of Vancouver. Oh, I'm just dying to visit Vancouver. Do you live in Vancouver?" To which the man replied, "No. I live in Toronto." The woman said goodbye shortly thereafter. I guess Toronto just isn't as great a scene as Vancouver. And it really isn't music wise, but other than that all I have heard of Vancouver are tales of prostitution, heroin, and the HIV/AIDS crisis there in the 90's that was one of the worst among developed nations. Oh, and that person who allegedly killed about 15 prostitutes in one area, leaving some of the bodies at a pig farm nearby. I think it is time for reading and bed.

"I'm no lunatic man. I am a sane man fighting for his soul."

Drinking scotch and finally getting around to my Research Log workbook crap. I like the woodsie smokey taste of scotch, well this Cragganmore anyway. It is tasty. There is a small part of my assignment that I need to be in the library to do, but I suppose I will just do that sometime tomorrow before it is due. Somehow I doubt all of the books relating to electroconvulsive therapy will be gone by that time, so all should be well.

I'm playing poker at the same time. Multi-tasking! Someone just doubled me up when their pocket queens ran up against my pocket kings. They should have seen it coming. I re-raised preflop and on the flop. Silly people. Everyone wants to dance with the PromQueen. They will call the craziest things.

I am almost done with Dracula, and what a lovely and entertaining read it has been. Stever dug up the soundtrack to Coppola's Bram Stoker's Dracula, and it adds to it. Nothing like music that goes along with what you're reading. Sometimes it is hard to match things up well. Sometimes it is not necessary. In this case, it was pleasant.

Nick Saban rocks

"Give the guy a chance. Give your kids a chance. If they make a bad grade in the first grade, give them a chance. Don't fall into the woods, just give them a chance, support them and believe in them. Just like in 'Scent of a Woman,' you know when the guy is up there and Pacino gives the speech to the headmaster -- give him a chance!"

"We gotta close down the playground cuz not everybody knows how to ride the swing."

Poker with Howard

It is horribly windy out. Perhaps I should say wonderfully. Either way, there is a lot of wind. I am hoping there will be a lovely storm with lots of rain and dark clouds. They are already sneaking in from the west.

Unfortunately, silent movies and Tricked came in the mail today. Also, Van Helsing just showed up in Dracula. It is a most inopportune time, as I have a great deal of homework to do and would much rather be watching Lillian Gish or reading than writing papers, of which there are far too many to be done by Monday/Tuesday. In fact, I should be doing something of that sort right now, but instead I am devoting time to my worthless blog. Be it ever so worthless, I still find it of more use than me predicting what volcano is going to erupt next. In all likelihood, I won't predict the correct one. That is done by better men than I.

All my love, turkey lips

ENDER,
THE BASTARDS WOULDN'T PUT ANY OF
MY LETTERS THROUGH UNTIL NOW. I
MUST HAVE WRITTEN A HUNDRED TIMES
BUT YOU MUST HAVE THOUGHT I NEVER
DID. WELL I DID. I HAVEN'T
FORGOTTEN YOU. I REMEMBER YOUR
BIRTHDAY. I REMEMBER EVERYTHING.
SOME PEOPLE MIGHT THINK THAT
BECAUSE YOU'RE BEING A SOLDIER
YOU ARE NOW A CRUEL AND HARD
PERSON WHO LIKES TO HURT PEOPLE,
LIKE THE MARINES IN THE VIDEOS,
BUT I KNOW THAT ISN'T TRUE. YOU
ARE NOTHING LIKE YOU-KNOW-WHO.
HE'S NICER-SEEMING BUT HE'S
STILL A SLUMBTICH INSIDE.
MAYBE YOU SEEM MEAN, BUT IT
WON'T FOOL ME. STILL PADDLING
THE OLD KNEW,
ALL MY LOVE, TURKEY LIPS,
VAL

DON'T WRITE BACK THEY'LL PROBLY
SIKOWANALIZE YOUR LETTER.

They proved most helpful in extracting the mineral

I crawled out from under the Naboo fighters, started coughing, downed some codeine, and will probably crawl back into bed soon. I am so tired of coughing all the time. "Run its course" my ass. I have been coughing for weeks.

Sat and talked to Pixy today outside the MU for a while. She has a cute slicked down mohawk. We watched the fireman tell people how to escape the smoking buildings. She is almost 25 and has been in school for something like 8 years. I am just beginning. We feel old. How can we be so old? She is precious and was always one of my favorite Borders people. She didn't know I was fired. I think a lot of people don't because it seems like such a strange idea. It does to me as well. Pixy says she sees the weird lady a lot. I asked which one, as there are many. Descriptions brought me to the conclusion that it is the woman that told me I have small boobs. I always kind of liked her for her cheesy-sci fi interests, but not so much for commenting on my breasts when the topic of conversation was grilled cheese... That, and I don't think I have small boobs. Borders was always full of odd people--some of the strangest I have met, as well as some of the nicest. I think about half of them who were over 25 were alcoholics or well on their way.

I drank and iced mocha while reading Dracula. It was the last copy of it at the bookstore. The descriptions were beautiful, and it made me smile, despite its dark content. It has a wonderful cadence to it. I read some of it aloud while sitting in the car, and it really is lovely. No music seemed to match, and I settled on Pink Floyd, which was a surprisingly good choice and not as distracting as everything else. I love Pink Floyd. (How can I be so old?)

There was a television show that was on when I was little that had an old man who would sketch pictures while telling stories. It was not Picture Pages with Bill Cosby, but it was something similar. If anyone can remember the name of it, feel free to make my day and let me know. Maybe it was a more local midwestern thing, as I remember watching it occasionally in my 4th grade class. Mrs. Lichman was always really into reading and any shows relating to it. She read to the class a lot, even though that is an age where you think people would mostly read to themselves. I remember my favorite book at that age was The Westing Game. I'm still quite fond of it. I loved Turtle.

I was thinking today about the things that really make me happy, and books are at the top of the list. I love them. I love reading. I love the smell of new books. I love the smell of old books. I love sitting for hours and just reading. Stories make me happy. Good stories contribute such good things to life. I honestly think some of the best times of my life have been reading books for the first time, or even for the 100th time. Some books are just wonderful. They are my comfort and joy.

I like music, but I hate iTunes. I hate looking at iTunes. I am sure there must be something else I can use. I shall have to look into it.

I must remember to go visit the Moon Tree at school sometime.

The Grim Grotto is dark

The German movies were wonderful. The Cabinet of Dr. Calgari reminded me of MAD's Spy vs. Spy. And I particularly liked the repeated references to the "goddamned soil" in which a vampire must gain his power in Nosferatu. It was amusing. I love silent films. I have added some to Netflix, and have a few on the way in the mail as well.

I think I might write my paper on Thomas Ince's death aboard William Randolph Hearst's yacht. I'll have to go comb the library tomorrow and see if there is enough which is actually true about it, even though I don't have to prove anything. Apparently they're fine with you writing a paper saying nobody agrees, nobody knows, as long as you argue it well. Well being quite subjective, I'm sure. If I can't write enough perhaps I'll write about the use of electronvulsive therapy and whether or not the benefits outweigh the side effects, blah blah oh the humanity blah blah.

The doctor approved my refill of medicine, so now I will be able to sleep without coughing and maybe stay asleep for more than an hour or so at a time. Huzzah for codeine. I'd much rather just be health though. I'm running out of cough drops and bottled water. Made another appointment for Friday. Maybe they'll really fix me this time.

There was a guy in the row in front of me in class today watching porn on his computer. I was glad when he switched to Family Guy instead. Mostly I just see people playing spider solitaire or watching tv shows/movies. He had headphones in and didn't seem terribly interested in the recitation on tectonic plate movements and volcanos. Truth be told, I don't think anyone was really interested except the girl who liked Hawaii. It is a sorry bunch there, myself included.

I don't care what anybody says, the Scully background really is wonderful.

Go ask Alice when she's ten feet tall

I am not outgoing enough. Or nice enough. I would like to be a nice person. I just seem to be an asshole a lot. Maybe it's through sins of omission as opposed to actual mean wrong doings. Is that any better? Probably not. Still haven't picked something to research/argue/whatever. I look at lists of things. Overdone, dull, obvious. Intelligent design, gun control, drugs, racial profilling... Everything has been done before. I'm cold and my stomach hurts from all the DXM, but I can't stop coughing sometimes. I used electrical tape to make faces on the little pumpkins I bought. Remember what the dormouse said.

The genius works alone

I jump up and raise my arms high in the air crying, "What shall we do today? What great experiments shall we perform in our laboratory?"

He is silent behind his computer screen.

I grab the box of Mike and Ike's sitting on the table and pop a pink one into my mouth. "You are not very scientific," I tell him.


This could be you.

Well that is that, and this is this

I only had Russian class today. It was enjoyable. I coughed through the whole thing, but it still was fun. There are all sorts of little things I did not pick up the first time around in middle school. Pronunciation rules I never bothered memorizing, things like that. A boy accidentally referred to himself as an American woman today, and our professor started laughing and said, "Wow. You must work for the East German swimming team!" And then we all had a good chuckle as he pretended to be a woman named Hilda on steroids. Why are Russian teachers always so peculiar? Not that swim teams on steroids aren't funny-they most certainly are! But it must take a certain kind of person really... Anyway, I enjoy Russian even when I am tired. The class is so small there's no opportunity to not pay attention. Maybe after a few years something other than Boris and Natasha will come to my mind when I think of Russian. :) I honestly do have hopes of actually being able to speak/read/write this language fluently. So, naturally, I will succeed.

I walked home after Russian, and it took about an hour. I wasn't going terribly fast, of course, and I did go down a street which I thought went all the way through, only to find that it was a dead end, and I had added about 8 blocks onto my trip. I petted the kitty that is always sitting in the field, until an elderly Asian couple came up to the road (they were working on their lawn) and stared at me. I thought perhaps the cat might be theirs, as it did have a collar on it, so I continued on my way. Music was good to have, and I happily trekked along to NIN and Smumpkins and Manson and Nirvana and Foo Fighters. It was a very merry 90's walk home. I wheezed and coughed a great deal (stupid bronchitis), but it was good to be ambulatory. I'm very fond of being able to walk, even though I am horribly out of shape.

Tomorrow's film night is The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and Nosferatu. German expressionism. It's bound to be fun. If I somehow manage to fail this class after going to all these movies and lectures (the grade is based on just one test), I will kick myself. Repeatedly. And perhaps hit myself on the head with a two by four. No, it wouldn't really help much, but damn, it'd be satisfying and well-deserved. Jon Lewis is right. People will say, "You failed movies?" and think you the dumbest person ever probably.

Where is this phantom diorama?

I washed all the sheets and blankets today. It took all afternoon and evening. There are five blankets. I like the weight of blankets more than anything else. The warmth is secondary. Weight is comfortable. Anyway, it's nice to have everything clean and smelling like Febreeze Tide. Comforters a long time to dry.

Made a musical investment, for I need music while at school. There are too many empty hours, and when it is so quiet I am left alone with my brain, and that is not a very good thing. I do not like silence. I like noises, distractions, anything outside of myself. I like the shit to stop. Conversations, memories, the future. The all buzz through my brain and call out like cattle demanding attention in their lowly state. It is just too loud. I get so very tired of myself. Music is good. Fingernails are pretty. Fingernails are good. (I don't have any. I'm not a real girl. Get someone else to separate the stickers from the backs...)

Kellan is beating me at the moment in fantasy football. I need ten more points. I bought another little pumpkin today. They are hard to resist for fifty cents. There's a big list of suggestions on blackboard for this damn argument research paper. Unfortunately, I still cannot seem to pick one. I really need to. Why don't I have more interest in things? There must be something. I think I will go to sleep.

I had the titular line in Out of Africa

I do not have to get up early tomorrow. This pleases me. I'm used to waking up to Steve's phone playing Franz Ferdinand at 7:45 every morning. Except Thursdays. There is an extra hour on Thursdays. We have pretty much the same schedule since we arranged them as close time-wise as possible, so we always leave and come home at the same time. It is convenient.

I have been reading You Shall Know Our Velocity! by David Eggers. I love his books. Well, the two of them I've read. I would like to get How We Are Hungry: Stories. Normally I'm not a huge fan of short stories, but I find Eggers's writing so entertaining, I will probably give them a try. His books feel familiar, comforting.

Today (Well, yesterday really) I bought a little pumpkin at school. I bought another little one at Safeway. I put it by the big one outside. I will probably buy more pumpkins soon. I love them. They are one of my favorite fruits. Tis the season. It's my favorite time of year. Leaves are falling. The rain is beginning to come more often. Oh, how I'd missed the rain all summer. Oregon just isn't the same without it. The air is cool now, and I can wear long socks up to my knees and sweaters.

Movies I am looking forward to: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, V for Vendetta.

Thursdays child has far to go

I loved Way Down East which I watched for film class this past week. So I found it on amazon for 6.99 or something. I find silent movies so charming. Their ability to put so much story in, even when it's not vocalized and have it be so easily understood, is great. You get to fill in a lot for yourself. Steve compares them to books, and they are sort of. At least, what's left to the reader/watcher. I also bought Tricked by Alex Robinson and a Buster Keaton dvd which has four movies on it. Maybe I'll start a silent movie shelf near the serial killers.

Yesterday was a horribly long day, but almost all of them seem that way to me right now. Fucking bronchitis. I'm still coughing a lot and sniffling abouts. I take the medicine, but alas, it is not magic, and at times it falls miserably short of the goal. I need to write a little five page paper by tomorrow that I have had two weeks to write. I'll churn it out this afternoon after I go to Geo. There's film class at 3:30 as well, which I should go to, and I will. I'm always so tempted not to go to classes wherein attendance isn't required.

Mother is having foot surgery tomorrow. She's having many health problems at the moment, and it makes me worry. I didn't really enjoy discussing what will occur in the event of her death earlier this week on the telephone either. I always have a bone to pick with Death. Definitive little fuck that it is. I do not like to worry. Of course... who does?

Never enough time

New writing strategy: take the codeine and write like mad as you feel yourself getting tired. David Sedaris makes me laugh. I like that he is in English books now. He's a newcomer. I like newcomers. I want to be a newcomer!

Sedaris shows just how disheartening it can be to not understand a language while going through immersion and observing one's fellow students getting ridiculed and poked in the eye with a pencil.

It's 1 in the morning, and I have to wake up far too soon. I shall go to sleep now, for the crap is written, and it's Wednesday already. No qualms here. I hate Tuesdays with a passion. I always have. Not the middle of the week. Not quite the beginning. Nothing going for them. We could get rid of Tuesdays and I wouldn't mind. And adding 12 hours to the day would be great.

1, 2, 3 let's all exploit our misery

I went to the student health center today. I have bronchitis. Again. But the xrays look "good" whatever that means. He says in three weeks I should be better, and if I'm not, then try something else. That really doesn't make me feel much better now, but I have high hopes for this mucinex and hydromet. My body just does not work right at the moment. I'm quite frustrated with it. I'm disgustingly tired, but not sleeping well when I do sleep. Tomorrow I have three classes, one recitation, and movies from 7 till whenever in the evening for film class. I need to write a couple papers this week. I'm feeling a bit worn out, and it is only the second week of school. I am fairly certain I would not feel so overwhelmed were I not sick. Kind of a lousy way to begin my higher education, which is worrisome enough because I really do not want to teach. So what will I do? What do you do with an English degree? Pretend you write better than you do, only to live off of others and shrug it off in an attempt to justify your selfish and impractical dreams? If Cancer Man can't get his spy novels published how on earth will I? Ah, the cruelty of reality. Sigh. Who is John Galt?

You remind me of a man. What man? The man with the power.

I've been meaning to write this for a while. (Mikey made me remember) Here's to my best good buddy Kari Ann. I met Kari in 7th grade. I had heard stories of her from a girl named Shelby (drink your juice. hehe I kill me) the year before. I finally had the pleasure of making her acquaintance in Dr. Iverson's science class. As I recall, I recognized her instantly and introduced myself, but my memory is rather foggy. We could have met at Taco Bell. Who knows really? It was a long time ago! Together we studied clouds, inertia, dead frogs, and fulcrums! We also made the incredible discovery of her big brother Dan's book box in a downstairs closet. It was then that I read Ender's Game for the first time and the rest of Orson Scott Card's books as well as a few series by Stephen R. Lawhead. Needless to say, it was a damn good time in my life for reading.

Kari and I are not terribly similar in terms of anything except gender, strange humor, and a love of cherry banana bread. She's 6'something. I'm 5'3". She's blonde and pretty. I'm a brunette and oogly, as I say. She is super athletic and in 6 months will be a personal trainer. A basketball goddess. What sport wear I own used to be hers. I only watch sports. I don't enjoy playing them let alone love playing them. She is a Christian. I am an Atheist. She liked Survivor. I'm a sucker for cheesy sci-fi. We both like fountains though. You do not want to mention Monty Python around us. We are master craftsmen of Chex Mix. And despite my absolute hatred and abhorrence of the telephone, I am always happy to talk to her over the evil contraption.

She was around when my first boyfriend set the girl scout camp on fire the weekend I dumped him. I think we found it more amusing than heart breaking, although the rumors of him making napalm in his basement were disturbing. (Hey, that brings the grand total of people who have dreamed about me in prison to 2! Going for the record...) She was around when Hannah went crazy. And Mother. And it means the world to me that she came to Oregon in 2001, despite her own health problems, and held Sydney before I gave her away. Made for a good picture -- two people I love so much together. She's stuck by me and my annoying ways for many years now. Few others have. Very few. She has more integrity than you can shake a stick at, and she never fails to make me laugh. Kare Bear is kind. And last but most certainly not least, when she worked at Perkins, I got free pie.

DXM, my best friend

I got my paper written. It isn't very good, but none of them are. They don't expect much anyway. Not enough is expected of people. My lungs feel like they're rattling in my chest. It's painful coughing now. Finished my Russian. It's so pretty written out. All of those letters that look like each other. English is good enough to look at, but Russian is beautiful. Maybe it's because they use cursive almost exclusively when writing. It flows like water. Or vodka. Ah, how I love vodka. I wonder what Emily Dickinson wore. What her favorite dress was. What color was most comfortable. I think I've honestly been in love three times. Infatuated, two times. My faults catch up with me. Or I with them, depending on who is in the lead. Isolation. Desecration. Elephants on parade. Here they come. Do not attempt. I watch Rome. I find it strange that I watch it. Useless randomness. Well, the feeling shitty is catching up to me once more, and I am going to go crawl into bed and dream of a new magical immune system. Complete with sparkly fireworks and a kitten. I had a very strange dream last night involving a train, polished chrome, and trips to important parts in my life. As though I were Scrooge. Why is it always Christmas?

"Reminding myself to not suck"

Why don't I feel anything worthwhile? Small, smaller, smallest. Cough. Supress. Miss. Hit. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.
I dream a lifeless body. The wrong side having won the war. The standard that should have flown wrapped around an ugly wreath of flowers.
I should be writing a paper. Procrastination and I are friends. We're the same size, too, so we can share clothes.
"The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time." -Bertrand Russell

Saturday Morning

Last night I watched Cape Fear (1991). It really wasn't the same story at all the way Scorsese did it. It was an okay movie, but Stever was right when he said it really couldn't stand alone without the other one. Well, maybe, but it certainly wouldn't be as good. Although Robert De Niro was excellent as always, Robert Mitchum was much more scary in the first one, and Gregory Peck was full of integrity and quite sympathetic. Nick Nolte? I could care less what happens to him. He plays the same asshole in everything. Then we watched Confessions of a Dangerous Mind which I found interesting and kinda cute. Normally I'm not a big Drew Barrymore fan. She's downright annoying in Donnie Darko, but she was perfectly fine in this movie.

There has been much juice drinking, pill swallowing, and syrup slurping, but I'm still abismally sick. I'm kind of amazed at how fast it all came on. One day I'm fine then two days later I'm absolutely horrible feeling and having trouble breathing. I'm quite tired, but I cough and wake myself up or sputter for air or something, so sleep wasn't working out so well. So here I am with my wonderful computer. Coughing all over it and sniffling miserably.