The world through Benadryl-colored glasses

Gerald is relating to me a story from the marvelous world of retail. There were always certain things I liked about selling things to people, and certain things I didn't like. Usually people. They do seem to cause the most troubles for everyone. And anyone who works in such a capacity has had people throw things at them, yell at them, insult, curse, and generally take out their frustrations on them. It's part of living in America. You at one point in time work shit jobs where you have to deal with annoying things that you really shouldn't have to deal with because jobs should be about work and doing that work and work should not often involve people acting unreasonably. A naive sentiment? Maybe. I think people are better than what they feel and don't bother to think about. People have trouble with reason. Even me, the unfeeling Miss Marjie. I do miss selling books though. That would have been an okay job if it weren't riddled with angry management. At times I even miss Winco, but that is really only because you meet the most interesting people (because everyone has to buy food), have good insurance (because it's "employee owned" but not for reals). Mostly Winco was just a matter of how much endurance you have. How much shit you can take for how long. There's a picture of Winco in the dictionary next to "building character." The point of this, I feel badly for Gerald. But I envy him as well. He seems less encumbered.

I finished The Subtle Knife and have moved merrily along to The Amber Spyglass. HDM is dark and fun like a blueberry cappuccino. I wonder if they really will kill God. They're almost a little too purposeful. Reminds me a little of Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Bugs have returned. Winter is over. I have bites and I itch and am miserable. Allergies are returning. Claritin-d makes hearts beat funny. Funny faster, not funny skipping/exploding/etc. Contacts + allergies = blah. I hope to remedy this with glasses, for which I have made an appointment next month. I plan on doing many useful things next month. I am going to go to the dentist, too. That is why I must floss... I should floss every day, but like most people, I do not have the discipline. Which is strange considering I use pre-wash rinse, then brush my teeth, then use mouthwash. Another stage added in can't be so hard, right? No, quite the opposite. I take the time to put sun screen on every day regardless of the weather or where I'm going, but I just can't seem to get myself to floss all the time. One day, when my gums are rotted away and my teeth dangle like yellow and blackened bits of corn from bloody strings, I'll think back on this and wish I had heeded my own advice.

Kobe lost today. That doesn't mean he has to like it.

I'm at classicscifi.com, and their listing of movies includes things like Citizen Kane, Dude, Where's My Car, and Arsenic and Old Lace. Someone's on crack. And it's not me.

Sing me Spanish techno

Monday morning. I'll pretend like I don't mind. I took benadryl last night when I wasn't feeling well, and now I'm all a grog. Instead of doing homework like I should have been on the weekend, I spent most of my time watching Star Wars (Yes, all six). In the end, freedom was restored to the galaxy, and the same plot holes were unfilled. I think watching all of Star Wars is akin to resetting one's brain. I feel a good deal better having watched them. It's been a while.

I registered for three classes in the summer. I'm going to get some annoying baccore out of the way before next fall, and also indulge in another film class because two just weren't enough this year, especially when the last one ended right before The Godfather, which is in my top five favorites. Speaking of which... 1. The Godfather 2. 2001: A Space Odyssey 3. Citizen Kane 4. Psycho 5. Ed Wood/Fargo. 5 and beyond are usually subject to change... It's hard to make top fives.

When I feel dejected I read Ayn Rand. "Wrecked on the jungle floor! Jackie, dressed in cobras. Giving me ideas. What I really need now is ideas..."

I added a link to sequart.com where Mikey writes his articles. It's the S over there. Check it out sometime. The whole site is pretty enjoyable reading. Reviews. News. Synopses. It's a whole different world really and graphic novels and such goodies could go in a zillion directions. The site is full of ideas and opinions and the cutest nostalgia. Interesting and fun to read. Anyhoo, in relation to Mikey's latest Square Bound, I like bonus materials. I'm willing to pay extra for bonus schtuff in graphic novels and dvds. Бог его знаем. There's just too much I don't know. More info! Forwards! Letters! Sketches! Tell me how it was made and why. And then have someone entirely unrelated to the project tell me more! I'm serious. Anyway, yeah, check it out and read the other articles, too. Sometimes they get an idiotic one thrown in, like some asshole going off on age old novels and literature whilst simultaneously touting the superiority of the comic book, but mostly it's worth reading. And Mikey writes well. Kind of like pistachio pudding. If I sound a little too overly jolly it's because I like when people write. I really do. It seems so much more structured thought out than speech, and what people think through, they really mean. And when people write so happily and well about art and creative works, well, it's all that much more fun to read.
< /Marjie wishing for super powers>

Apparently hair-chopping establisments close on Easter and early on Easter Eve, so I had to trim my hair myself, and it is no small job. It requires a certain amount of manual dexterity to be able to reach around one's head and evenly cut hair. It's good enough though. It's just hair. I wonder if I take less stock in my appearance because I do not feel the need to be attractive for anyone. Well, there's Steve, of course, but I'm pretty sure he could care less how I look provided I'm not ghastly (which, unfortunately, is the case at times). Incidentally, it's all his fault I didn't get any homework done this weekend. He put in Episode I, and that was that. He knows I'd never stop in the middle. I think we agree Episode II is the worst of them all, but you can still enjoy it. Espidoe III is actually pretty okay. If only we could forget that NoOooo at the end. Absurd. Also, I want the old music back at the end of Return of the Jedi. I don't mind the party all over the galaxy. I don't mind digital Hayden Christiansen. In fact, I like that. But I want the old music back. Now you only hear it in the video game. Another reason to devote endless hours to it, I suppose. Also, I'm happy Steve likes Star Wars. It's difficult dating people who think you're weird if you start making sounds like a power droid. Pretending to be a walking battery is more fun than you might think.

Time for school.
Isn't it always?

New Tool

Vicarious -- Tool

Eye on the TV cuz tragedy thrills me.
Whatever flavor it happens to be.

Like. . .
Killed by the husband.
Drowned by the ocean.
Shot by his own son.
She used a poison in his tea, and kissed him goodbye.
It's my kind of story. No fun 'til someone dies.

Don't look me at like I am a monster.
Frown out your one face, but with the other stare like a junkie into the TV.
Stare like a zombie while the mother holds her child.
Watches him die. Hands to the sky, crying "Why, oh why?"

Cuz I need to watch things die (from a distance)
Vicariously, I live while the whole world dies.
You all need it too, don't lie.

Why can't we just admit it?
We won't give pause until the blood is flowing.
Neither the brave nor bold will write us the story,
So we won't give pause until the blood is flowing.

I need to watch things die (from a good safe distance)
Vicariously, I live while the whole world dies.
You all feel the same so why can't we just admit it?

Blood like rain falling down.
Drawing on the grave and bound.

Part vampire.
Part warrior.
Carnivore and voyeur.
Stare at the transmittal.
Sing to the death rattle.

Incredulous at best is your desire to believe in angels in the hearts of men.
Pull your head on out your head, and reason, give a listen
Shouldn't have to say it all again.

The universe is hostile, so impersonal.
Devour to survive, so it is, so it's always been.

We all feed on tragedy (it's like blood to a vampire)

Vicariously, I live while the whole world dies.
Much better you than I. . .

Don't lie

How many of you have tried to move an object using The Force^TM

Marjie to Monday: Fuck you.

I slept horribly, dreaming that John Sacrimoni was going to kill me if I didn't give him $60,000, so I had to flee to Russia in a zeppelin. I found a hole in the back of my pants. A very large rip of a pocket. Who knows how long it's been there today while I was at school. My hair looks like a fucking mop. I sneezed on my Russian homework and had to recopy it. My classes this term either bore or worry me. Sometimes life just feels like a crapfest. I'm not looking forward to anything. Okay. I'm looking forward to Peter David doing the Dark Tower series. But that's it.

Chaucer, why must you torture me

"Sire olde kaynard, is this thyn array?
Why is my neighebores wyf so gay?
She is honoured overal ther she gooth
I sitte at hoom; I have no thrifty clooth"

TELL ME ABOUT THE FUCKING GOLF SHOES!

I'm not afraid to say it (Okay, I am [yes, this is an inner monologue (you didn't think I had the guts to do one more in here, did you? [all right, it's not that funny anymore(it never was)])]). I don't like Chaucer.
I like Dave Eggers... and Madeleine L'Engle... and that funny man, Dante, with his pretty Beatrice and sinners stewing in a pot.
I like Mark Twain's tall tales, Boccaccio's soap operas and The Deeds of Paksennarion. (Can I get a hell yeah for Elizabeth Moon? The cheesiness is half the fun).
I like wars in space, victorian melodramas on earth, and aristocracies breathing heavy manners and tradition into their perfect lungs.
I like all kinds of stuff. But I do not so much like Chaucer. It is true, the language is a barrier, and I implore him, get to the point. Please, just get to the point. But he won't. I imagine Chaucer writing The Wife of Bath, malevolent and cackling, some precognitive powers at work, showing him that he could very well torture people some 600 years later with long and boring prologues. Spears to the brain, if you will. Although I recognize reasons why Chaucer is important, I find that I just don't care.

I mean come on, "Moot they welked nekke be tobroke!" Translation: "May thy wrinkled neck be broken in pieces!" Of course it's charming in a weird sort of way, like some people, you like them or can understand why other people do, but you really can't put your finger on why? But still, Chaucer is hardly something I would want to be sitting and reading for hours. So the mystery is this: why do people like Chaucer? I've seen the fellow in lists of favorite authors any number of times. I've heard some say they love Chaucer. So there must be something here that I'm just not gettin'. Why is this so enjoyable? I don't think it is...

"Thou seist that oxen, asses, hor, and houndes
They been assayed at diverse stoundes
Bacyns, lavours, er that men hem bye.
Spoones and stooles, and al swich housbondrye
And so been pottes, clothes, and array
But folk of wyves maken noon assay
Til they be wedded--old dotard shrewe!
And thanne, seistow we wol our vices shrewe."

I finished Under the Banner of Heaven. It is worth reading despite its flaws. Packed full of information, but one really must sift, as there are many things that cannot be proven, and so therefore should be taken with a grain of salt... sometimes a large one. If it helps, have a margarita with it! Jon Krakauer grew up in Corvallis. It is an okay town. And it was an okay book.

Fellytone

I made banana nut muffins yesterday (in Christmasy baking cups!), so I had one this morning. я завтракаю! My bag feels like it has gold bricks in it. I have lots of books I need to return to the library. I'll probably keep Under the Banner of Heaven and finish it despite its obvious flaws. Stever has a nine am class, so I get up an hour earlier in the mornings. Can't say that I like it, but neither does he. I'll have an hour to kill before Russian, which will no doubt be spent in a cushy chair in the engineering building drinking a latte or Red Bull and daydreaming of sleep. For some reason my telephone doesn't seem to have an alarm clock on it. I think I accidentally deleted it somehow.

I should not have read the Half-Blood Prince again. Alas, two days later and I'm still sad Dumbledore is dumbledead. I've only read it four times or so. The others I've read more. I never tire of magic. I'm one of those people who has no problem reading their favorite books over and over and over and over and over. And although Harry Potter books are more of a class of their own, not in my favorite category, they still are worth a good deal of time. Because they're pleasant and jolly and there aren't nearly enough good and happy things in the world.

Must z00m off to school now. What a dull entry. Ah well. Can't win 'em all.

Thievery

I hate this daylight savings time bullshit.
Also, firefox is being a bitch and I'm getting this "There was a possible error contacting the ATOM server" crap all the time now. I don't know how to fix it.