Well, it's New Year's Eve. No resolutions, no party, just hanging at home with my family (or most of it) and Jenn. We did some pretty exciting stuff today, let me tell you. Jenn had to drive me home - no, before you ask, I didn't get drunk.
I have this song going through my head. It's sort of a depressing song, but it's New Year's Eve and this song is about New Year's, so I guess it fits.
"So this is the new year, and I don't feel any different...."
Well, I do, but also not really. The New Year really started for me when college started. Don't mean to get all maudlin on everyone, (I say everyone, but I really have no idea who reads this. I get the feeling not many people do. Maybe I'll have to do a roll call sometime.) but college is totally the most funnest and best thing that's happened to me thus far in my (admittedely rather narrow) life. I really really love it. I can't imagine going anywhere besides Messiah or hanging out with anyone other than my friends. I think I might finally be past the point of saying "Can you believe we're in college?!" Now I'm just saying, "Can you believe how much fun college is?!" I love it so much it almost makes me sad, because it'll eventually end.
Crap. I did get all maudlin. Stopping now! Going to play a game or watch a movie or something.
Happy New Year's! Can't wait to see everybody again, even if it does mean going back to classes and having homework!
Friday, December 31, 2004
Thursday, December 30, 2004
William Who?
Yes, I promised myself I would never mess with William Carlos Williams ever again, much less quote him in my blog. But.... well.... This is just so perfect. I have to quote it. And I'm sorry for my own poetry which comes after. I know it freaks people out when I show them poetry - they don't know what to say. Some people think poetry is something that can't be critiqued and ought not to be critiqued. Well, darn (note: r n not m) you, it should be critiqued and I need it critiqued. I'm especially interested in hearing the reactions of those I've showed my poem to before. Is it any better?
----------------------------------------------
Be patient that I address you in a poem
there is no other
fit medium.
The mind
lives there. It is uncertain,
can trick us and leave us
agonized.
But for resources
what can equal it?
There is nothing. We
should be lost
without its wings to
fly off upon.
----------------------------------------------
Riverside Footsteps
I hear them, close beside me,
though my eyes are closed I feel their tempo
- I could almost see them -
Slow, stately,
Creeping, in ballet-step,
China-doll and egg-shell soft,
a graceful effort to keep the peace unbroken.
An uneasy truce between silence and speaking.
Eyes closed, a figure sits,
highlighted by the sun,
melting into shadow,
a half-light, half-dark reminder of the people-conflict.
Ironic that peace sits so close by,
embodied in a human silhouette:
Highlighted by bright colors,
faerie colors,
the antithesis of fading white-washed dreams.
Eyes open, I see the leaves flash golden and fantastic red,
translucent flames before a fiercely glowing sun,
falling, quiet, a shining royal ground-carpet.
A bridge, half-drawn through trees,
built of shadow threads, cobweb thin,
holding three still figures
swinging slightly with the leaves -
echoing stilled contradictions.
Liquid sunlight glides beneath,
a bug upon the waters glinting -
and, as I see the other figures do, I close my eyes,
feeling better warmth on one side,
feeling too the cooling shadow on the other:
both together.
----------------------------------------------
Be patient that I address you in a poem
there is no other
fit medium.
The mind
lives there. It is uncertain,
can trick us and leave us
agonized.
But for resources
what can equal it?
There is nothing. We
should be lost
without its wings to
fly off upon.
----------------------------------------------
Riverside Footsteps
I hear them, close beside me,
though my eyes are closed I feel their tempo
- I could almost see them -
Slow, stately,
Creeping, in ballet-step,
China-doll and egg-shell soft,
a graceful effort to keep the peace unbroken.
An uneasy truce between silence and speaking.
Eyes closed, a figure sits,
highlighted by the sun,
melting into shadow,
a half-light, half-dark reminder of the people-conflict.
Ironic that peace sits so close by,
embodied in a human silhouette:
Highlighted by bright colors,
faerie colors,
the antithesis of fading white-washed dreams.
Eyes open, I see the leaves flash golden and fantastic red,
translucent flames before a fiercely glowing sun,
falling, quiet, a shining royal ground-carpet.
A bridge, half-drawn through trees,
built of shadow threads, cobweb thin,
holding three still figures
swinging slightly with the leaves -
echoing stilled contradictions.
Liquid sunlight glides beneath,
a bug upon the waters glinting -
and, as I see the other figures do, I close my eyes,
feeling better warmth on one side,
feeling too the cooling shadow on the other:
both together.
Diaper Doggie
Well, today I'm stuck at home babysitting the dog until about four thirty this afternoon. Oh how exciting.
I've decided dogs are OK - as long as they stay away from me, don't slobber or chew on me, and someone else cleans up their messes. That's actually a rather big step for me. Before I would have said "I hate dogs in every imaginable circumstance."
Yes, I'm really more of a cat person. Cats are cuddly, don't smell so bad, don't have dog breath, don't need to be potty trained (or house broken or whatever the crap the proper term is), can feed themselves, and don't need to be exercised. You don't have to clean their crap (literally) off the carpet, and they don't chew on your favorite book. They're actually useful - they catch mice and rats and gophers and things, and if you don't like them, they'll leave you alone (with a little training). Take Dad for instance - he doesn't like cats all that much, and he has only to make a certain noise and they run for cover. How'd he train them to do this miraculous thing? He made large sweeping motions with his foot in their direction while making the noise, and, without ever hitting a single one of them, they all learned. Oh yes, cats are great. I love my cats.
The dog? Well, it's a little like having a baby in the house - only it runs around, bites and poops a lot more. OK, maybe it doesn't poop more but it sure poops in some very weird places. And "you can't exactly slap a diaper on a dog" as someone said yesterday.
Crap. That would've been my next move.
I've decided dogs are OK - as long as they stay away from me, don't slobber or chew on me, and someone else cleans up their messes. That's actually a rather big step for me. Before I would have said "I hate dogs in every imaginable circumstance."
Yes, I'm really more of a cat person. Cats are cuddly, don't smell so bad, don't have dog breath, don't need to be potty trained (or house broken or whatever the crap the proper term is), can feed themselves, and don't need to be exercised. You don't have to clean their crap (literally) off the carpet, and they don't chew on your favorite book. They're actually useful - they catch mice and rats and gophers and things, and if you don't like them, they'll leave you alone (with a little training). Take Dad for instance - he doesn't like cats all that much, and he has only to make a certain noise and they run for cover. How'd he train them to do this miraculous thing? He made large sweeping motions with his foot in their direction while making the noise, and, without ever hitting a single one of them, they all learned. Oh yes, cats are great. I love my cats.
The dog? Well, it's a little like having a baby in the house - only it runs around, bites and poops a lot more. OK, maybe it doesn't poop more but it sure poops in some very weird places. And "you can't exactly slap a diaper on a dog" as someone said yesterday.
Crap. That would've been my next move.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
Check Your Words At The Door
Wow, after having so much to say for so long, and posting every day (sometimes twice), I have absolutely nothing to say. No, I mean, really nothing. It's sort of disturbing to have the flow of words checked so abruptly. I have this sort of vague urge to write, but I have nothing to say. I've written so much this past week that I've said everything I need to say. I could revise some stories I suppose, but right now there's really nothing pushing to get out.
So.... Have a good day everybody.
So.... Have a good day everybody.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
What's in a name?
Just a little update: Aaron named the puppy. I believe he settled on Magnum Q. Dumples. Maggie for short. Magnum as in Zoolander, Q. as in something random, and Dumples as in Homestarrunner. Quite a well-rounded name I think.
Oh, and you should also go to www.badgerbadgerbadger.com . Make sure you have your speakers turned on first though. It's quite hilarious, and totally random, and no, it never ends.
Oh, and while we're on the subject of websites.... www.muffinfilms.com rocks my socks off. As does www.makingfiends.com .
Oh, and you should also go to www.badgerbadgerbadger.com . Make sure you have your speakers turned on first though. It's quite hilarious, and totally random, and no, it never ends.
Oh, and while we're on the subject of websites.... www.muffinfilms.com rocks my socks off. As does www.makingfiends.com .
Anticipation
Alas! Alack! Oh lackaday! Jenn won't get here until this evening.... What am I going to do with myself until then? Granted, I've already wasted away half the morning, but just think of all the empty hours stretching before me ....
OK, way too melodramatic, even for me. I'll prob'ly clean my room (so, y'know, you can actually walk in it) and then I'll prob'ly write some more. I've got two or three other stories up my sleeve, and since I've actually finished two bits of fiction recently I'm pretty optimistic about finishing these other ones.
I'm not sure why, but I find myself writing extensively about despair and death right now. It strikes me as weird, because I'm happier and more fulfilled-feeling than I've ever been. Well, maybe not ever but at least in a good long time. So why, at this point, am I writing about all kinds of depressing things? Why not light-hearted frivolity? Why did the frivolity come when I was miserable? I tell you, in ninth grade I wrote the silliest stuff, and I was totally despairing. Now, I'm joyful, and I'm writing about despair, darkness, and death. How completely ironic is that? Why on earth does writing work that way?!
If you have any answers, please inform me ASAP (that's French for now).
P.S. Lemony Snickett is very good. The movie I mean. It's quite funny and ironically enough ends on a rather happy note. (If you've read the books, you know why that's so ironic. If not, read the books. Not all of them of course. That would be depressing. But I highly recommend reading at least one or two.) If you're a stickler for the books though and are hoping that the movie follows it exactly, don't go see it. You'll hate it. But if you want something witty and frivolous to watch, by all means, go to the local movie theatre immediately.
OK, way too melodramatic, even for me. I'll prob'ly clean my room (so, y'know, you can actually walk in it) and then I'll prob'ly write some more. I've got two or three other stories up my sleeve, and since I've actually finished two bits of fiction recently I'm pretty optimistic about finishing these other ones.
I'm not sure why, but I find myself writing extensively about despair and death right now. It strikes me as weird, because I'm happier and more fulfilled-feeling than I've ever been. Well, maybe not ever but at least in a good long time. So why, at this point, am I writing about all kinds of depressing things? Why not light-hearted frivolity? Why did the frivolity come when I was miserable? I tell you, in ninth grade I wrote the silliest stuff, and I was totally despairing. Now, I'm joyful, and I'm writing about despair, darkness, and death. How completely ironic is that? Why on earth does writing work that way?!
If you have any answers, please inform me ASAP (that's French for now).
P.S. Lemony Snickett is very good. The movie I mean. It's quite funny and ironically enough ends on a rather happy note. (If you've read the books, you know why that's so ironic. If not, read the books. Not all of them of course. That would be depressing. But I highly recommend reading at least one or two.) If you're a stickler for the books though and are hoping that the movie follows it exactly, don't go see it. You'll hate it. But if you want something witty and frivolous to watch, by all means, go to the local movie theatre immediately.
Monday, December 27, 2004
Peace
I wasn't sure whether to post this as Persephone or Mackenzie. Some of it's true and some of it's not. The true bits are gathered from several different times and several different places. I guess it's mostly true, with a bit of morbid imagination thrown in. So posting it as Persephone is really a mistake, but at this point.... Who Cares. I'm sure you don't, you mysterious readers you.
Don't worry guys, I'm not suicidal.
Quote echoing in my head: "A glass filled with a clear light for eyes to see that can."
Ten points if you can identify the book, author, and character who thought it. Actually, if you can come up with all that and the chapter it comes from, you get five thousand points.
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Pink is a repulsive color. I’ve always thought so, ever since I was little. In a sunset though - there pink is in its element. Pink isn’t meant for clothes or cars, it was meant for flowers and sunsets. It glows, fading fast, but while it lasts the bloom of earth's youth hangs in the sky. The warmth of it belies the cold of the dark blue sky. The royal purple clouds add a sense of majesty to the scene stretching out before me - only cows and trees in front for as far as my eye can see, with a few houses scattered behind me and off to the left, lamps lighted but barely interrupting the dusk. The thermometer reads a frigid 19 degrees. Standing outside, facing west, wrapped in my coat, I never want to go inside. A crazy impulse takes hold: I’ll sit here forever. Even when the pink and purple are gone, even when deep blue sleepiness covers all the world and makes the windows glow, I'll sit outside, back firm against a tree.
I feel tired, and a little pensive. I feel loved - caught up and held in the arms of silence, peaceful, far away from every lighted window, but for once not minding. The dark is beautiful too. Not as eye-catching as the sunset, but easier to bear. It doesn't make my heart burst with beauty - it nurses me back to health, back to peace-of-mind and stillness-of-heart.
Death has no fear in this cold, this starkly honest dark. Shorn of its principal weapon it seems a friend to be welcomed. It seems akin to the sleepiness and numbness creeping through me. And why should it not be? Death, they say, is the ultimate peace, and right now I’m overwhelmed by peace. I could stay out here in the cold all night, and slowly just become a little sleepier, a little colder, a little sleepier, and a little colder by turns, until sleep finally overtakes me, and cold steals my strength. A cold sleeping, and then never waking.
I study this phrase, pleased with the way it sounds. As close to poetry as I ever seem to get in my pathetically prosaic life. Put that way, I'm almost tempted to try it, to let this peace stretch forever, and longer than forever, until I cease to be me and become someone else - an inanimate object - part of the tree, part of the hard ground, the sparse brown grass, and part of the silent night. Yes, even part of the pink.
Silent night.... Holy night....
All is calm....
For some reason I always hated that hymn. I don't anymore.
I don't think about how my family would react. I don’t think of my friends. I don't wonder who would find me. I don’t think I would care if no one ever found me. I could melt into silence then, like a blue birthday candle melting into frosting on my sixth birthday cake: eventually the two are one. I hold peace and silence firmly in my mind, and the phrase echoes: A cold sleeping, and then never waking.
I hope I die in winter, after a deep snow. I shall just walk out one day - walk out and spend all day walking, to nowhere, from nowhere. Maybe I'll take some friends with me, and they'll turn back after watching the sunset to get hot chocolate and be warm. We’ll laugh, and talk, and eventually I'll say to them, Go ahead - I'll be there in a minute - I just want to walk a little further. Sad to die lying, but they'd never leave me alone if they knew the truth. One or two of them might not leave anyway - I would have to convince them I’d be OK and I’d join them soon.
I wouldn't.
I’d walk until the sunset died and the comfortable shadows engulfed me again. I’d throw a few last snowballs, and maybe have a last frolic and a last snow angel or two. No, that would be undignified; an unnecessary clinging to life.
Just one last snowball.
I'd find a big snowbank, and lie in it, looking up at the starry sky. Maybe near a brook or a river. And I would simply wait to fall asleep, everything peaceful, calm, and hymn-like. And I would wait until the numbness made me sleepy, or the sleepiness made me numb, and in the snowbank, my eyes would close, and my mind would finally stop whirling.
A cold sleeping, and then never waking.
Don't worry guys, I'm not suicidal.
Quote echoing in my head: "A glass filled with a clear light for eyes to see that can."
Ten points if you can identify the book, author, and character who thought it. Actually, if you can come up with all that and the chapter it comes from, you get five thousand points.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pink is a repulsive color. I’ve always thought so, ever since I was little. In a sunset though - there pink is in its element. Pink isn’t meant for clothes or cars, it was meant for flowers and sunsets. It glows, fading fast, but while it lasts the bloom of earth's youth hangs in the sky. The warmth of it belies the cold of the dark blue sky. The royal purple clouds add a sense of majesty to the scene stretching out before me - only cows and trees in front for as far as my eye can see, with a few houses scattered behind me and off to the left, lamps lighted but barely interrupting the dusk. The thermometer reads a frigid 19 degrees. Standing outside, facing west, wrapped in my coat, I never want to go inside. A crazy impulse takes hold: I’ll sit here forever. Even when the pink and purple are gone, even when deep blue sleepiness covers all the world and makes the windows glow, I'll sit outside, back firm against a tree.
I feel tired, and a little pensive. I feel loved - caught up and held in the arms of silence, peaceful, far away from every lighted window, but for once not minding. The dark is beautiful too. Not as eye-catching as the sunset, but easier to bear. It doesn't make my heart burst with beauty - it nurses me back to health, back to peace-of-mind and stillness-of-heart.
Death has no fear in this cold, this starkly honest dark. Shorn of its principal weapon it seems a friend to be welcomed. It seems akin to the sleepiness and numbness creeping through me. And why should it not be? Death, they say, is the ultimate peace, and right now I’m overwhelmed by peace. I could stay out here in the cold all night, and slowly just become a little sleepier, a little colder, a little sleepier, and a little colder by turns, until sleep finally overtakes me, and cold steals my strength. A cold sleeping, and then never waking.
I study this phrase, pleased with the way it sounds. As close to poetry as I ever seem to get in my pathetically prosaic life. Put that way, I'm almost tempted to try it, to let this peace stretch forever, and longer than forever, until I cease to be me and become someone else - an inanimate object - part of the tree, part of the hard ground, the sparse brown grass, and part of the silent night. Yes, even part of the pink.
Silent night.... Holy night....
All is calm....
For some reason I always hated that hymn. I don't anymore.
I don't think about how my family would react. I don’t think of my friends. I don't wonder who would find me. I don’t think I would care if no one ever found me. I could melt into silence then, like a blue birthday candle melting into frosting on my sixth birthday cake: eventually the two are one. I hold peace and silence firmly in my mind, and the phrase echoes: A cold sleeping, and then never waking.
I hope I die in winter, after a deep snow. I shall just walk out one day - walk out and spend all day walking, to nowhere, from nowhere. Maybe I'll take some friends with me, and they'll turn back after watching the sunset to get hot chocolate and be warm. We’ll laugh, and talk, and eventually I'll say to them, Go ahead - I'll be there in a minute - I just want to walk a little further. Sad to die lying, but they'd never leave me alone if they knew the truth. One or two of them might not leave anyway - I would have to convince them I’d be OK and I’d join them soon.
I wouldn't.
I’d walk until the sunset died and the comfortable shadows engulfed me again. I’d throw a few last snowballs, and maybe have a last frolic and a last snow angel or two. No, that would be undignified; an unnecessary clinging to life.
Just one last snowball.
I'd find a big snowbank, and lie in it, looking up at the starry sky. Maybe near a brook or a river. And I would simply wait to fall asleep, everything peaceful, calm, and hymn-like. And I would wait until the numbness made me sleepy, or the sleepiness made me numb, and in the snowbank, my eyes would close, and my mind would finally stop whirling.
A cold sleeping, and then never waking.
Quote
I'm stealing a quote from Jess's blog.
"When people hear good music, it makes them homesick for something they never had, and never will have."
- Edgar Watson Howe
I have no idea who the crap Edgar Watson Howe is, but I'm indebted to him for stating it so clearly. Good music does make me feel homesick (although not all of it. And causing homesickness is not the only measure of what makes good music). It makes me feel homesick for something I've never had, never knew I was missing, and probably never will have. I say probably never because I might someday. If I don't know exactly what it is that I'm missing, I don't know for sure that I'll never have it. Who knows? I'm inclined to think that what we feel so homesick for might be a bit of eternitiy. That would be cool, because then we'll get it eventually.
Yep, those are my thoughts for today. I'm inclined to think they're rather starved-looking, and very few.
"When people hear good music, it makes them homesick for something they never had, and never will have."
- Edgar Watson Howe
I have no idea who the crap Edgar Watson Howe is, but I'm indebted to him for stating it so clearly. Good music does make me feel homesick (although not all of it. And causing homesickness is not the only measure of what makes good music). It makes me feel homesick for something I've never had, never knew I was missing, and probably never will have. I say probably never because I might someday. If I don't know exactly what it is that I'm missing, I don't know for sure that I'll never have it. Who knows? I'm inclined to think that what we feel so homesick for might be a bit of eternitiy. That would be cool, because then we'll get it eventually.
Yep, those are my thoughts for today. I'm inclined to think they're rather starved-looking, and very few.
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Mmhmm
Well, for Christmas I got Relient K's new album. It's quite good. Don't even get me started on how fantastic the visual aspects of the cover design and CD design are. I love 'em. They're simple, but nonetheless fantastic.
My favorite bits of songs:
"So here I sit looking at the traffic lights / the red extinguishes the hope that the green ignites I want to run away I want to ditch my life / Cause all of my mistakes keep me awake at night / and after all of my alibis desert me / I just want to get by / I don't want nothing to hurt me / I had no idea where my head was at / But if my heart says I'm sorry can we leave it at that / because I just want for all of this to end [....] All of my escapes have been exhausted / I thought I had a way but then I lost it / and my resistance was once much stronger / and I know I can't go on like this much longer."
- I So Hate Consequences
"and I've been housing all this doubt / and insecurity / and I've been locked inside that house / all the while you hold the key / and I've been dying to get out / and that might be the death of me / and even though there's no way of knowing / where to go / I promise I'm going."
- Be My Escape
And, my two personal favorites.....
"I feel like / I would like / to be somewhere else doing something that matters / and I'll admit here while I sit here / my mind wastes away and my doubts start to gather / what's the purpose / it feels worthless / so unwanted like I've lost all my value / I can't find it / not in the least bit / and I'm just scared, so scared that I'll fail you / and sometimes I think that I'm not any good at all / and sometimes I wonder why, why I'm even here at all"
- More than Useless
"And this is how I choose to live / As if I'm jumping off a cliff / Knowing that you'll save me / Knowing that you'll save me / And after all the stupid things I did / There's nothing left there to forgive / Because you already forgave me / Yeah you already forgave me / Just keep driving / leave this defeat miles behind me / so far back I'd have to rack my mind just to remind me / I keep trying / To pick myself back up and then move on / and think about the life I'll have when this fragile one is gone / Never forget / There's life after death / and taxes / and forgiveness comes / then all of the rest is what passes away / death and decay can't touch us now / every breath I inhale is followed by exhaling / Sure as the one who never fails, I know will never fail me."
- Life After Death and Taxes
Yep, there's lotsa good stuff on this CD, especially if you actually like Relient K. Highly recommended, in my humble opinion.
Oh, another good line....
"And lately the weather has been so bi-polar and consequently so have I."
- High of 75
My favorite bits of songs:
"So here I sit looking at the traffic lights / the red extinguishes the hope that the green ignites I want to run away I want to ditch my life / Cause all of my mistakes keep me awake at night / and after all of my alibis desert me / I just want to get by / I don't want nothing to hurt me / I had no idea where my head was at / But if my heart says I'm sorry can we leave it at that / because I just want for all of this to end [....] All of my escapes have been exhausted / I thought I had a way but then I lost it / and my resistance was once much stronger / and I know I can't go on like this much longer."
- I So Hate Consequences
"and I've been housing all this doubt / and insecurity / and I've been locked inside that house / all the while you hold the key / and I've been dying to get out / and that might be the death of me / and even though there's no way of knowing / where to go / I promise I'm going."
- Be My Escape
And, my two personal favorites.....
"I feel like / I would like / to be somewhere else doing something that matters / and I'll admit here while I sit here / my mind wastes away and my doubts start to gather / what's the purpose / it feels worthless / so unwanted like I've lost all my value / I can't find it / not in the least bit / and I'm just scared, so scared that I'll fail you / and sometimes I think that I'm not any good at all / and sometimes I wonder why, why I'm even here at all"
- More than Useless
"And this is how I choose to live / As if I'm jumping off a cliff / Knowing that you'll save me / Knowing that you'll save me / And after all the stupid things I did / There's nothing left there to forgive / Because you already forgave me / Yeah you already forgave me / Just keep driving / leave this defeat miles behind me / so far back I'd have to rack my mind just to remind me / I keep trying / To pick myself back up and then move on / and think about the life I'll have when this fragile one is gone / Never forget / There's life after death / and taxes / and forgiveness comes / then all of the rest is what passes away / death and decay can't touch us now / every breath I inhale is followed by exhaling / Sure as the one who never fails, I know will never fail me."
- Life After Death and Taxes
Yep, there's lotsa good stuff on this CD, especially if you actually like Relient K. Highly recommended, in my humble opinion.
Oh, another good line....
"And lately the weather has been so bi-polar and consequently so have I."
- High of 75
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Grey Days
You guys ready for a spot of fiction? I know, I should go away and leave the blog entirely to Mackenzie.... But I so enjoy writing ridiculous little nothings. And yes, comments are welcomed, even critical ones as long as they're not sarcastic, and the more particular you can be the better. Feel free to copy & past into an e-mail and make running comments if necessary.
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The piano sat comfortably in the corner, dusted with care, although the rest of the room was a wreck.
She practically ran over to it, dumping purse and backpack by the door, paying no attention to the answering machine's flickering light or the dirty dishes in the sink. Breakfast dishes - from last week. On her way she rapidly, with an almost panicked air, hung up her raincoat and switched on the lights. They illuminated the grey rain on the window and the clutter on the floor; couch covered in books, desk covered in papers - stories begun and never ended.
She flipped up the lid, running her hands lightly and lovingly across the keys. They were well used and chipped in some places. Other keys carried the marks of a former owner's child - permanent marker. Her frown eased, and she collapsed onto the bench, worries sliding off her shoulders like the rain running down the windows. Grey days are perfect for music.
Slowly, reverently she pressed the first key, letting its peace hang in the air a moment before moving on to the next. She began with a scale, letting the familiar notes come without thought. The soft vibrations under her fingers calmed her. Her breathing slowed, haste receded, and all was right with the world.
She ran through scales, arpeggios, and on to the more rigorous emotional release of the concertos. They flowed out, the well-practiced expressions given new passion by the traumatic day. She finished the last concerto and moved on to her favorite part of practice. The part where she just thought, and for every thought there came a note. Every color, every nuance of light, was translated into music. Sometimes no music came, and that was frustrating - after working for a bit she would go back to Mozart, or Beethoven, settling unwillingly for the music of others. Sometimes, like today, the notes came easily enough. It only took a little searching to find the earthly echoes of her heart's song. She played grey soft light, she played embracing wet, she plaed on as the rain fell from dark weeping clouds.
If she had any articulate thought, it amounted to little. Only, "This is life, this is love, this is passion, this is the only thing worth working for and worth facing every day for. Blast the landlord, blast Mrs. Pierce, and blast violinists! This is breathing, this is soul-song."
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The piano sat comfortably in the corner, dusted with care, although the rest of the room was a wreck.
She practically ran over to it, dumping purse and backpack by the door, paying no attention to the answering machine's flickering light or the dirty dishes in the sink. Breakfast dishes - from last week. On her way she rapidly, with an almost panicked air, hung up her raincoat and switched on the lights. They illuminated the grey rain on the window and the clutter on the floor; couch covered in books, desk covered in papers - stories begun and never ended.
She flipped up the lid, running her hands lightly and lovingly across the keys. They were well used and chipped in some places. Other keys carried the marks of a former owner's child - permanent marker. Her frown eased, and she collapsed onto the bench, worries sliding off her shoulders like the rain running down the windows. Grey days are perfect for music.
Slowly, reverently she pressed the first key, letting its peace hang in the air a moment before moving on to the next. She began with a scale, letting the familiar notes come without thought. The soft vibrations under her fingers calmed her. Her breathing slowed, haste receded, and all was right with the world.
She ran through scales, arpeggios, and on to the more rigorous emotional release of the concertos. They flowed out, the well-practiced expressions given new passion by the traumatic day. She finished the last concerto and moved on to her favorite part of practice. The part where she just thought, and for every thought there came a note. Every color, every nuance of light, was translated into music. Sometimes no music came, and that was frustrating - after working for a bit she would go back to Mozart, or Beethoven, settling unwillingly for the music of others. Sometimes, like today, the notes came easily enough. It only took a little searching to find the earthly echoes of her heart's song. She played grey soft light, she played embracing wet, she plaed on as the rain fell from dark weeping clouds.
If she had any articulate thought, it amounted to little. Only, "This is life, this is love, this is passion, this is the only thing worth working for and worth facing every day for. Blast the landlord, blast Mrs. Pierce, and blast violinists! This is breathing, this is soul-song."
Christmas Day
Well, today was great. It was everything anticipated and more! Mom woke us up at 7 am instead of the planned 8 am because she just couldn't wait any longer to give Aaron his puppy. She was as excited as a ten year old! It was fantastic. We all crowded into Aaron's room where he was peacefully and unsuspectingly sleeping, and Mom put the puppy on his bed. Aaron sort of woke up and stared at us, patently saying "What?!" He thought at first it was one of our cats, and actually had to be told "You got a puppy" before he looked around and actually observed what was happening. His face broke into a disbelieving grin, and he grabbed his glasses and took a long look at the puppy, petting it and (I think) still wondering if he was asleep. It was a great start to Christmas.
We fulfilled our traditions, although not singing this year. That was kind of sad, but considering the circumstances, understandable. I got a digital camera for Christmas! It is a fantastic camera! And I'm so so excited! Now I'll actually take pictures of my friends and send them home. They'll be able to associate faces with names. That'll cut down on the number of amusing confusions. I better do something to make up for how obnoxious I was with the camera today. I took tons of pictures and videos of perfectly normal stuff. It was great.
And now, on to the rest of Christmas with my family. We're totally just chilling after an afternoon at Grandma and Grandpa's, where we played "Apples to Apples" and ate tons of amazing food. If I'm hungry tomorrow, it'll be a miracle. Oh yes, you Martin/Horsts know how much we eat at family get-togethers! The entire thing revolves around the food. Grandma surpassed herself this time. It was wonderful. My tummy is very happy.
Merry Christmas!
We fulfilled our traditions, although not singing this year. That was kind of sad, but considering the circumstances, understandable. I got a digital camera for Christmas! It is a fantastic camera! And I'm so so excited! Now I'll actually take pictures of my friends and send them home. They'll be able to associate faces with names. That'll cut down on the number of amusing confusions. I better do something to make up for how obnoxious I was with the camera today. I took tons of pictures and videos of perfectly normal stuff. It was great.
And now, on to the rest of Christmas with my family. We're totally just chilling after an afternoon at Grandma and Grandpa's, where we played "Apples to Apples" and ate tons of amazing food. If I'm hungry tomorrow, it'll be a miracle. Oh yes, you Martin/Horsts know how much we eat at family get-togethers! The entire thing revolves around the food. Grandma surpassed herself this time. It was wonderful. My tummy is very happy.
Merry Christmas!
Friday, December 24, 2004
Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve, and all's well! No more of this eve eve foolishness, the real thing has arrived! Unfortunately with it has arrived a bout of sickness. "Man down!" We yell, hovering anxiously around Aaron's bedside.
Ok, so that was a little bit of an exaggeration. But Aaron is feeling pretty sick. So we hope he feels much better tomorrow morning, when the big surprises start to come.... Boy, I am really excited this year. I'm so excited I can barely sit still. No problem there though, Mom has plenty of cleaning chores to keep us busy until late in the afternoon.
Merry Christmas Eve!
Ok, so that was a little bit of an exaggeration. But Aaron is feeling pretty sick. So we hope he feels much better tomorrow morning, when the big surprises start to come.... Boy, I am really excited this year. I'm so excited I can barely sit still. No problem there though, Mom has plenty of cleaning chores to keep us busy until late in the afternoon.
Merry Christmas Eve!
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Christmas Eve Eve
For those of you who are so avidly waiting to hear the state of my health, good news! I feel much much better, although I sound much much worse! Imagine Frankenstien. Now imagine Frankenstein with a head cold. Now imagine Frankenstein with a head cold on helium. That's about how I sound. I'm actually finding it rather amusing, since I don't feel miserable.
Our tree is up, and beautifully decorated. We fulfilled the age-old Martin ritual of turning off the lights and listening to Christmas music while gazing at our beautifully lit tree. We've begun wrapping presents, and placing them sparsely around the bottom of the tree. Most of the presents wait in hiding until Christmas eve, when they make their furtive appearance. That is, they try to be furtive and fail miserably, as we usher them in with lots of mysterious comments. A sample of a typical Christmas eve conversation at the Martin household:
Aaron: "You'll love what I got you!"
Avery: "What is it?"
Aaron: "I'm not telling!"
Avery: "Can I shake the box?"
Aaron: "No way!"
Avery: "I wanna know what it is!"
Aaron: "You'll see tomorrow!"
It goes on, but that's about the gist of the 45 minute discussion that almost inevitably follows.
And now, I go to wrap presents and instigate just such a discussion....
Our tree is up, and beautifully decorated. We fulfilled the age-old Martin ritual of turning off the lights and listening to Christmas music while gazing at our beautifully lit tree. We've begun wrapping presents, and placing them sparsely around the bottom of the tree. Most of the presents wait in hiding until Christmas eve, when they make their furtive appearance. That is, they try to be furtive and fail miserably, as we usher them in with lots of mysterious comments. A sample of a typical Christmas eve conversation at the Martin household:
Aaron: "You'll love what I got you!"
Avery: "What is it?"
Aaron: "I'm not telling!"
Avery: "Can I shake the box?"
Aaron: "No way!"
Avery: "I wanna know what it is!"
Aaron: "You'll see tomorrow!"
It goes on, but that's about the gist of the 45 minute discussion that almost inevitably follows.
And now, I go to wrap presents and instigate just such a discussion....
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Sick
I'm sick. Supposedly this would translate into more time to write since I don't have enough cranial capacity for anything else. In reality it means I was unconscious for half the day, sprawled out on the couch. I don't think I even have the energy to wrap the rest of my Christmas presents.
Go 'way now, I'm gonna sleep some more.
Go 'way now, I'm gonna sleep some more.
Monday, December 20, 2004
Relaxing
Ah yes, I'm here at trusty ol' Persephone, typing up the story of my life. Well, not quite.
Today has been lovely and lazy. I slept until 8:30 (I know! But my body's on a schedule - I couldn't convince it to sleep any longer, even though I tried.) and then, due to the fact that I had no clean pants, did laundry and didn't get dressed until close to noon. I read all morning. I highly recommend "Citizen of the Galaxy." It's quite good, even though the motivations are a little weak in places. But what are a few weak motivations compared to a good plot, a realistic and happy ending, and good character development? I'm also reading "Have Spacesuit - Will Travel" and it's good thus far. One of those really ironically funny books. I also just finished reading a Ngaio Marsh book (can you guess my chief occupation the last couple days?) which I really liked - I need to read the other two I got for Christmas. I like Inspector Alleyn, even if he's not quite a Lord Peter Wimsey.
I just got back from outside. I bundled up in all my recently acquired winter clothing and sallied forth, ready to do battle. It was all rather pointless to gear up since I just went outside to take some pictures, but it made me feel Christmasy. There's no snow, which I find inexpressibly depressing. What is it, five days before Christmas? And there's no snow. Oh well.
Yes, the neighbor boys are here. I mean, it's vacation, where else would they be? It's not like they have houses they could play at. It's not like we have a yard they could go out in. I think we adopted them and nobody told us. No, I don't really mind. It's a reminder of the reality of the situation, but sometimes I just want my house to myself. Particularly when I'm in my pajamas with no hope of getting dressed anytime soon and they decide to invade my room and use my computer.
Bored? I'm not bored. Why would I be bored? I have plenty of stuff to do..... OK, I'm bored out of my mind. But it's a lovely relaxing kind of bored. I think I'll go sit in the sun and soak up a little more boredom.
Today has been lovely and lazy. I slept until 8:30 (I know! But my body's on a schedule - I couldn't convince it to sleep any longer, even though I tried.) and then, due to the fact that I had no clean pants, did laundry and didn't get dressed until close to noon. I read all morning. I highly recommend "Citizen of the Galaxy." It's quite good, even though the motivations are a little weak in places. But what are a few weak motivations compared to a good plot, a realistic and happy ending, and good character development? I'm also reading "Have Spacesuit - Will Travel" and it's good thus far. One of those really ironically funny books. I also just finished reading a Ngaio Marsh book (can you guess my chief occupation the last couple days?) which I really liked - I need to read the other two I got for Christmas. I like Inspector Alleyn, even if he's not quite a Lord Peter Wimsey.
I just got back from outside. I bundled up in all my recently acquired winter clothing and sallied forth, ready to do battle. It was all rather pointless to gear up since I just went outside to take some pictures, but it made me feel Christmasy. There's no snow, which I find inexpressibly depressing. What is it, five days before Christmas? And there's no snow. Oh well.
Yes, the neighbor boys are here. I mean, it's vacation, where else would they be? It's not like they have houses they could play at. It's not like we have a yard they could go out in. I think we adopted them and nobody told us. No, I don't really mind. It's a reminder of the reality of the situation, but sometimes I just want my house to myself. Particularly when I'm in my pajamas with no hope of getting dressed anytime soon and they decide to invade my room and use my computer.
Bored? I'm not bored. Why would I be bored? I have plenty of stuff to do..... OK, I'm bored out of my mind. But it's a lovely relaxing kind of bored. I think I'll go sit in the sun and soak up a little more boredom.
Saturday, December 18, 2004
Poetry
This is poetry. Mackenzie would never ever ever write poetry or post it on her blog.... It's just little ol' me, Persephone, typing away on myself, and Mackenzie had nothing to do with it. Nothing whatsoever. She didn't even think of reading this in FYS.... Yeah, comments would be welcome, but not sarcastic ones.
Snow Thoughts - September 17th or thereabouts
In the unlit silence I wait alone
contentedly, comfortably cold.
While half-dreams, and day-dreams, and proto-memories
rush through my mind;
finding partial voice in written words.
I remember - in the snow walking
talking as a life-line, a life-light,
keeping night at bay - I was never afraid with you.
Reality is distant - ethereal, unreal.
The chill, the brisk invigorating damp invites reflection,
though sentimental.
An elusive half-scent
calling back the exact moment I realized best-friendship.
Has it been forgotten?
Alone I wait, and write, and think,
remembering, re-living
the overlooked - till the gypsy winter wind came.
I haven't felt this wind, this smell, in years.
Dancing wind, joyous wind!
Echoing, resounding, coming larger, clearer,
tangible, and more so every minute.
Remember when we walked in snow?
Agonizing over boys and human stupidity,
that rapidity of forgetfulness only people boast.
Cold, but conversation warms us more.
We pace, laughing,
you, a sage swathed in a blue down coat,
remember?
Snow Thoughts - September 17th or thereabouts
In the unlit silence I wait alone
contentedly, comfortably cold.
While half-dreams, and day-dreams, and proto-memories
rush through my mind;
finding partial voice in written words.
I remember - in the snow walking
talking as a life-line, a life-light,
keeping night at bay - I was never afraid with you.
Reality is distant - ethereal, unreal.
The chill, the brisk invigorating damp invites reflection,
though sentimental.
An elusive half-scent
calling back the exact moment I realized best-friendship.
Has it been forgotten?
Alone I wait, and write, and think,
remembering, re-living
the overlooked - till the gypsy winter wind came.
I haven't felt this wind, this smell, in years.
Dancing wind, joyous wind!
Echoing, resounding, coming larger, clearer,
tangible, and more so every minute.
Remember when we walked in snow?
Agonizing over boys and human stupidity,
that rapidity of forgetfulness only people boast.
Cold, but conversation warms us more.
We pace, laughing,
you, a sage swathed in a blue down coat,
remember?
Return
Well, I'm back from Ohio. Had a fairly good trip, but I was half asleep the whole time, so if I was irritating, I apologize. I have very little memory of what I did or said in the past couple of days. I'm rather in a sleep-deprivation induced fog, alleviated slightly by long naps in the car. So if I make no sense whatsoever, that is the reason. Speaking of rabbits.....
Yeah, I'm going to bed now.
Yeah, I'm going to bed now.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Song of the Sefaknee
Song of the Sefaknee:
Persephone, persephone,
I look at you, so proud and free
My mind it flies,
Right up a tree
If i could
I would decree
Illegal immigrants go for $50 a head
Persephone, persephone
you take from me
a cup of tea
and rhymes of ee
persephone
with rogers your last
and an aberration in the middle
the only thing that rhymes is a kid named taye biddle
my contacts are dry
my toe is so sore
if i were looking for more
i would herewithforeto fly out the door
and something about a second mortgage and skin cream
Contributed by L. W. Moonyham
Persephone, persephone,
I look at you, so proud and free
My mind it flies,
Right up a tree
If i could
I would decree
Illegal immigrants go for $50 a head
Persephone, persephone
you take from me
a cup of tea
and rhymes of ee
persephone
with rogers your last
and an aberration in the middle
the only thing that rhymes is a kid named taye biddle
my contacts are dry
my toe is so sore
if i were looking for more
i would herewithforeto fly out the door
and something about a second mortgage and skin cream
Contributed by L. W. Moonyham
Persephone K. Rogers
So, Aaron decided I needed a pen name. His pen name is L. W. Moonyham. Avery's is Francis Budote. I don't know how or why they came up with these, but they did. So Aaron decided I needed one. He started with something like "Margaret H. Pifflefish" or "Margaret H. Lumphead' and decided that "Margaret H." sounded too much like a kid's author - and the last names just weren't working either. Eventually we ended up with "Persephone K. Rogers." I rather like it. It has a ring to it. Then we decided my computer was going to be named Persephone K. Rogers, since it is the main venue for my writing. In a sense, it is my vault, in which I keep my writing secrets. So if you hear me refer to Persephone, I'm most likely talking about my computer.
Persephone! Persephone!
I bow my head, I bend my knee!
Before thy authorial might
I feel so ethereal, so slight.
Without your inspiration dear,
I'd have so much more to fear.
Hark, what is that name I hear?
Persephone! Persephone!
Quote of the day:
"Hey Baby, you wouldn't happen to have six fingers on your right hand would you?"
Persephone! Persephone!
I bow my head, I bend my knee!
Before thy authorial might
I feel so ethereal, so slight.
Without your inspiration dear,
I'd have so much more to fear.
Hark, what is that name I hear?
Persephone! Persephone!
Quote of the day:
"Hey Baby, you wouldn't happen to have six fingers on your right hand would you?"
Home
I made it home everybody, safe, sound, and totally just running on adrenaline. I got 5 1/2 hours of sleep last night. I've been averaging about that much all finals week, and my eating schedule has been totally screwed up too. I have lotsa funny stories, but I really just want to hang out with my family and not think or type or anything right now, so you might get them later and you might not. At any rate I'll keep you loosely updated the next couple weeks.
Thanks again to Kaitlin for giving me a ride to the airport!
Ooh ooh! I had to page Mom at the airport! My plane got in about ten minutes early, so they missed seing me, so I asked a security guard to page them. I've always wanted to page someone. I finally got to. Abbi met me at the airport too, and Aaron. It was good. I feel like Christmas should be tomorrow.... But instead I'm heading to Ohio to see Tammi and Blake Matthew, and then back on Saturday, and off to Nashville on Sunday to go to a MWS concert with Abbi. Should be fun..... And maybe I'll even be able to catch up on some sleep!
Until Monday......
Thanks again to Kaitlin for giving me a ride to the airport!
Ooh ooh! I had to page Mom at the airport! My plane got in about ten minutes early, so they missed seing me, so I asked a security guard to page them. I've always wanted to page someone. I finally got to. Abbi met me at the airport too, and Aaron. It was good. I feel like Christmas should be tomorrow.... But instead I'm heading to Ohio to see Tammi and Blake Matthew, and then back on Saturday, and off to Nashville on Sunday to go to a MWS concert with Abbi. Should be fun..... And maybe I'll even be able to catch up on some sleep!
Until Monday......
Monday, December 13, 2004
Snowman WHAT?!
Attached to a bag of marshmallows, the following rhyme made its Messiah debut:
Santa checked his list not once, but twice.
He found you've been naughty, not nice.
Since coal is so expensive, here's the scoop:
He filled your stocking with Snowman poop!
Santa checked his list not once, but twice.
He found you've been naughty, not nice.
Since coal is so expensive, here's the scoop:
He filled your stocking with Snowman poop!
Bethany
Today, after dinner (I spent three hours there) we were all sitting around outside Lottie, talking about random things and wasting time. It was wonderful. Somewhere along the way, Jess revealed the fact that if she had gotten cast in Wind of a Thousand Tales, the J-term theatre production, she would have stayed longer. She said, "So I guess you can blame Bethany." (Bethany, I gather, is the casting person, whatever they're called.) Liz, without thinking, replies, "So, does that mean we should be paying her?"
We all just sort of died laughing, and oohing, and saying how mean that was. Morris was especially flabbergasted. I'm not sure he's used to Liz's witty outbursts yet. She does come out with some good ones, that's for sure. As does the rest of the group! Between us, we keep each other in stitches the majority of the time. It was great.
Plus, I actually got a good deal of work done today. I finished my drawing final, which isn't as good as I'd like, but then nothing ever is. At least it's done, and I still have time to tweak it should I see the need. I also finished photoshopping all my pictures for the visual lit final. Now I only need to lay out the squares and layer my transparencies on top. After I make the transparencies. But that shouldn't take me more than half an hour.
Yes, today has been a good day.
And Jess, just so you know, we aren't paying Bethany (whoever she is) anything.
We all just sort of died laughing, and oohing, and saying how mean that was. Morris was especially flabbergasted. I'm not sure he's used to Liz's witty outbursts yet. She does come out with some good ones, that's for sure. As does the rest of the group! Between us, we keep each other in stitches the majority of the time. It was great.
Plus, I actually got a good deal of work done today. I finished my drawing final, which isn't as good as I'd like, but then nothing ever is. At least it's done, and I still have time to tweak it should I see the need. I also finished photoshopping all my pictures for the visual lit final. Now I only need to lay out the squares and layer my transparencies on top. After I make the transparencies. But that shouldn't take me more than half an hour.
Yes, today has been a good day.
And Jess, just so you know, we aren't paying Bethany (whoever she is) anything.
Sunday, December 12, 2004
He's dead?
So, to make up for the few semi-serious thoughts that have been creeping onto my blog, I'll tell you a story about yesterday.
We were sitting at lunch (and by we I mean Morris, Liz, Kaitlin, Matt, Joel, Jess, Sharon, me and.... um.... I don't remember who else. A lot of people came and went.). And Morris was asking us questions about cultural expectations of gender roles within a romantic relationship. He was getting a large variety of responses. I don't know if he got what he was looking for (considering that most of us have never been in a romantic relationship), or if his survey and assignment will go well, but I hope it does, because I thought it was a very, very amusing conversation, and we have him to thank for beginning it. (On a side note, I'm sort of glad chivalry is dead. I don't think I like the idea of paying for meals or carrying books or whatever just for form's sake. I think there are a lot more meaningful things a guy could do to show his affection. Oops, sorry, a serious thought again. What is this world coming to? Serious and semi-serious thoughts left and right!) And somehow, in the midst of actually thinking about the subject at hand, we got on the topic of how to pronounce the word "aunt" and what each pronunciation connotes. And somehow from there we got to the topic of great-uncles. Someone said that it was a shame no one knew their great uncles anymore, and someone else said all theirs were dead or something, and Kaitlin bursts out with, "I have a great uncle! Oh no wait, he's dead!" and then starts laughing uncrontrollably.
She said the first part so excitedly and indignantly, and the second part so surprisedly, I just couldn't help laughing. I'm sorry if that was callous. It was, however, hilarious. Morris says to Kaitlin, "I don't know what was funnier, the way you said that, or the fact that you immediately start laughing."
Ah yes, the derangement of the lunch tables! I wish I had a copy of Morris' tape. He taped a good bit of that conversation, and it would be quite fascinating to hear it again. I wonder if he's found the message Liz left for him yet?
We were sitting at lunch (and by we I mean Morris, Liz, Kaitlin, Matt, Joel, Jess, Sharon, me and.... um.... I don't remember who else. A lot of people came and went.). And Morris was asking us questions about cultural expectations of gender roles within a romantic relationship. He was getting a large variety of responses. I don't know if he got what he was looking for (considering that most of us have never been in a romantic relationship), or if his survey and assignment will go well, but I hope it does, because I thought it was a very, very amusing conversation, and we have him to thank for beginning it. (On a side note, I'm sort of glad chivalry is dead. I don't think I like the idea of paying for meals or carrying books or whatever just for form's sake. I think there are a lot more meaningful things a guy could do to show his affection. Oops, sorry, a serious thought again. What is this world coming to? Serious and semi-serious thoughts left and right!) And somehow, in the midst of actually thinking about the subject at hand, we got on the topic of how to pronounce the word "aunt" and what each pronunciation connotes. And somehow from there we got to the topic of great-uncles. Someone said that it was a shame no one knew their great uncles anymore, and someone else said all theirs were dead or something, and Kaitlin bursts out with, "I have a great uncle! Oh no wait, he's dead!" and then starts laughing uncrontrollably.
She said the first part so excitedly and indignantly, and the second part so surprisedly, I just couldn't help laughing. I'm sorry if that was callous. It was, however, hilarious. Morris says to Kaitlin, "I don't know what was funnier, the way you said that, or the fact that you immediately start laughing."
Ah yes, the derangement of the lunch tables! I wish I had a copy of Morris' tape. He taped a good bit of that conversation, and it would be quite fascinating to hear it again. I wonder if he's found the message Liz left for him yet?
Writing Style
Ah yes, today has been interesting. Quite fun. Unproductive in the homework sense of the word, but extremely fun. Liz writes the best fairy tale adaptations ever!
So, I was thinking: What's my writing style? Am I secretly one of those deep, brooding writers? Am I sarcastic writer? Am I a silly writer? Can I manage poetic stuff? Can I manage hilarious stuff? I know I can never equal Liz in cynical hilarity, but could I manage other sorts of hilarity? I do tend to write about extremely ridiculous things or extremely serious things. So, weaving back and forth between theatre major and [quotation marks with hands] "emo" seems to be my style. But wait: Is that even a style? Will my style change in ten years? Will I finally be able to write something good in ten years? = )
There's a couple of writing styles I just idolize, and it seems that I'm not really good at any of them. Interesting concept: what if what you think is a crappy writing style is the best writing someone's ever seen in say, the ridiculous genre? Is it unethical to neglect your gift for ridiculousless in liu of another style you prize more highly, such as satire? Or is it unethical to settle for something less than what you love?
Maybe I'm just way tired. I think that could be it.
So, I was thinking: What's my writing style? Am I secretly one of those deep, brooding writers? Am I sarcastic writer? Am I a silly writer? Can I manage poetic stuff? Can I manage hilarious stuff? I know I can never equal Liz in cynical hilarity, but could I manage other sorts of hilarity? I do tend to write about extremely ridiculous things or extremely serious things. So, weaving back and forth between theatre major and [quotation marks with hands] "emo" seems to be my style. But wait: Is that even a style? Will my style change in ten years? Will I finally be able to write something good in ten years? = )
There's a couple of writing styles I just idolize, and it seems that I'm not really good at any of them. Interesting concept: what if what you think is a crappy writing style is the best writing someone's ever seen in say, the ridiculous genre? Is it unethical to neglect your gift for ridiculousless in liu of another style you prize more highly, such as satire? Or is it unethical to settle for something less than what you love?
Maybe I'm just way tired. I think that could be it.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Survey
OK, so I've now read like three blogs with this same survey on it. But what the hey, it looked a little more interesting than most surveys, so I'm filling it in. And there ain't nothin' you can do about it.
Ten random things about me:
10. I'd never gotten my hair styled until this year
9. Yes, I like Relient K's mood ring song.
8. I now think of 12pm as early to go to bed.
7. I would like a nose piercing
6. All my guy friends think a nose piercing would look stupid
5. Almost all my female friends think a nose piercing would be cute/funny.
4. I'm a hypocrite
3. I'm quite inept most days, especially socially
2. I write bad poetry.
1. I like to sing hymns on top of cemetary hill.
Nine places I've visited:
9. Hershey
8. Paris
7. Toledo (Spain)
6. Madrid
5. Alaska
4. My old hometowns
3. All Those Other Colleges
2. A nice little dreamland - wish I could get back there.
1. The state of confusion - quite often.
Eight things I want to do before I die:
8. Get my master's
7. Create something I'm proud of, not just for a day, but something that stands up under ten years' scrutiny.
6. Yeah.... I have something to say here, but I so don't want the whole world to know. So you'll just have to guess.
5. Get published
4. Have my artwork (oh yeah, I guess I need to make art before this happens) hung in a museum.
3. Own a mini cooper.
2. Drive in snow
1. Become impassioned with an over-arching vision of my purpose in life.
Seven ways to win my heart:
7. Give me a mood ring and then stick around through all its color changes.
6. Be patient with me and every-freaking-body else.
5. Play me music.
4. Love your family - it's not even strictly necessary to say that you love them, just show how much you love them by the way you talk about them and act toward them.
3. Reassure me that I don't have to be perfect - I'm acceptable just as me.
2. Be willing to listen to me, and let me talk through issues out loud until I read a conclusion.
1. Love God - don't say you love Him. Words come a dime a dozen. Show me you love Him by the way you love people, and the time you set apart specifically for Him.
Six things I believe in:
6. God, His love, the truth of His word.
5. Chocolate can cure almost any mood swing.
4. Peanut butter and jelly are back in vogue.
3. I don't ever get enough time to read.
2. I believe in disappearing to cemetary hill and singing hymns.
1. Strawberry milk really is the best beverage ever.
Five things I'm afraid of:
5. Spiders!
4. Needles!
3. Creepy people!
2. Dying in Wisconsin!
1. Being left!
Four favorite things in my dorm room:
4. My family pictures
3. My violin
2. My Gustav Klimt poster of an autumn forest
1. My computer
Three things I do everyday:
3. Take foot, clean well, insert into mouth. (I sometimes manage both)
2. Sleep
1. Procrastinate
Two things I'm trying not to do right now:
2. Work
1. Procrastinate
(I know! If I'm trying to avoid both, what's left?)
One person I want to see right now:
1. Foamy! Heeheehee!
No, really, to be serious..... [in a sing-song voice] I'll neeever teeeelllll..... lala lalala la! Heeheehee!
"That's right! Cross the street so you don't have to deal with me!"
Ten random things about me:
10. I'd never gotten my hair styled until this year
9. Yes, I like Relient K's mood ring song.
8. I now think of 12pm as early to go to bed.
7. I would like a nose piercing
6. All my guy friends think a nose piercing would look stupid
5. Almost all my female friends think a nose piercing would be cute/funny.
4. I'm a hypocrite
3. I'm quite inept most days, especially socially
2. I write bad poetry.
1. I like to sing hymns on top of cemetary hill.
Nine places I've visited:
9. Hershey
8. Paris
7. Toledo (Spain)
6. Madrid
5. Alaska
4. My old hometowns
3. All Those Other Colleges
2. A nice little dreamland - wish I could get back there.
1. The state of confusion - quite often.
Eight things I want to do before I die:
8. Get my master's
7. Create something I'm proud of, not just for a day, but something that stands up under ten years' scrutiny.
6. Yeah.... I have something to say here, but I so don't want the whole world to know. So you'll just have to guess.
5. Get published
4. Have my artwork (oh yeah, I guess I need to make art before this happens) hung in a museum.
3. Own a mini cooper.
2. Drive in snow
1. Become impassioned with an over-arching vision of my purpose in life.
Seven ways to win my heart:
7. Give me a mood ring and then stick around through all its color changes.
6. Be patient with me and every-freaking-body else.
5. Play me music.
4. Love your family - it's not even strictly necessary to say that you love them, just show how much you love them by the way you talk about them and act toward them.
3. Reassure me that I don't have to be perfect - I'm acceptable just as me.
2. Be willing to listen to me, and let me talk through issues out loud until I read a conclusion.
1. Love God - don't say you love Him. Words come a dime a dozen. Show me you love Him by the way you love people, and the time you set apart specifically for Him.
Six things I believe in:
6. God, His love, the truth of His word.
5. Chocolate can cure almost any mood swing.
4. Peanut butter and jelly are back in vogue.
3. I don't ever get enough time to read.
2. I believe in disappearing to cemetary hill and singing hymns.
1. Strawberry milk really is the best beverage ever.
Five things I'm afraid of:
5. Spiders!
4. Needles!
3. Creepy people!
2. Dying in Wisconsin!
1. Being left!
Four favorite things in my dorm room:
4. My family pictures
3. My violin
2. My Gustav Klimt poster of an autumn forest
1. My computer
Three things I do everyday:
3. Take foot, clean well, insert into mouth. (I sometimes manage both)
2. Sleep
1. Procrastinate
Two things I'm trying not to do right now:
2. Work
1. Procrastinate
(I know! If I'm trying to avoid both, what's left?)
One person I want to see right now:
1. Foamy! Heeheehee!
No, really, to be serious..... [in a sing-song voice] I'll neeever teeeelllll..... lala lalala la! Heeheehee!
"That's right! Cross the street so you don't have to deal with me!"
Friday, December 10, 2004
Hypocrisy
The hypocrisy of the human race never ceases to amaze me. Yes, I'm speaking about humanity at large. No, I'm not talking about any person in particular unless you count me as a person - I'm really starting to wonder. But today, being inside my head made me despise myself. I am a hypocrite. No matter how hard I try to keep my words, motives, and doings consistent, I fail. I realized that anew today. Last day of the semester, and in the midst of my celebration I pause to think solemnly about my own hypocrisy, then return full force to celebrating. Illustrating again my seeming dedication to the Brotherhood of Hypocrites.
[deep breath]
Mini rant is over. You can return to your normal, undisturbed lives.
[deep breath]
Mini rant is over. You can return to your normal, undisturbed lives.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Multiple Thoughts
Ok, so today I have a lot to say. So you are forewarned: if you don't feel like listening to me for more than five minutes, get out while you still can. This post is not for the faint of heart.
On the good side: I think I'm finally overcoming my fear of grouped theatre majors (they're quite intimidating in a pack, y'know). I sat at a table of theatre majors and Shannon at lunch, and actually talked some. Only to Kaitlin and Shannon it's true, but I didn't completely retreat into my shell. How cool is that?
See previous rant about deck the halls festivities and you'll be able to reason out my response to the arrival of the actual deck the halls contest. I ranted, raved, and disappeared for about four hours.
A question I've been wrestling with: Why do artists make/not make self-portraits? I heard someone suggest the other day that some artists don't make them out of modesty. But is that right? Do some artists not do self-portraits because they hate themselves? Or they're sick of looking at themselves? Do some artists make self-portraits because they want to gain insight into themselves by describing their physical appearance? Or is it simply lack of other material? Why do I have such an objection to making a self-portrait that bears a physical resemblance to me? I even struggled a good bit with a self-portrait that bore no physical resemblance to me whatsoever. I thought it was an interesting question anyway. And you're getting the abbreviated version of my ponderings you lucky person you. I could go on for hours - I already have, but there is a limit even to the dedicated blog reader's attention span.
In FYS today, Chad, Kayla, Nathan, and Anna did their group presentation about William Carlos Williams. They explicated "The Polar Bear." The second and third lines say "the deep snow/ the male snow" and the group was trying to get at what this parallelism could mean. Particularly at what the adjective "male" implied. They wanted a guy's perspective - so Andrew said, "A burly military guy." They also wanted a girl's perspective - so Lucy volunteered something to the effect of "You think of more power, drive, and a little bit of danger - possibly malicious intent." The guys looked positively taken aback, and the girls started laughing and clapping. It was absolutely hilarious! I don't think Chad (who was asking the questions) quite expected that response. However, I think it was a typical girl-thought about the adjective "male." It's certainly not a perception unique to Lucy, although no one else could have expressed it in quite that way. I'm so sad that it was our last normal class period. I'll miss that class a lot. I love my professor, and there's such a great group of people in that class. A few brilliant people, a few funny people, a few absolutely hilarious people, and a couple eccentric people. Altogether a good group.
Oh, and now for a classic Mackenzie blunder. I somehow managed to lock myself out of my computer last night. It was messing up, so I restarted it, and it gave me this freaky screen about being locked out, I needed to type in my password etc. I didn't even know you could lock the computer, so I was flabbergasted. I typed in every single password I've ever used for anything, and some that I thought sounded sort of likely if I'd been completely high when I originally set the password. Nothing worked. So today I was asking around and trying to find out what the ITS hours were so I could get my computer fixed. Shannon was telling me this story about when she did exactly the same thing, and her mom said "You didn't set a password! All you do is hit enter." Since I didn't exactly remember making a password either, I decided that was worth a try. Eight hours later, when I arrived back in my room after a long day of school-related festivities, I still thought it was worth a try. Guess what? It was worth a try! It worked! No, I hadn't set a password while I was high (Wait - high? I've never been high! I swear!), I didn't forget my password, and I didn't write it down and lose it somehow (Me? Lose important things? Never!). I also managed to fix it without calling in ten people to help me! It was an amazing feeling. So yes, here I am, on my computer again. I got a lot more done without it though.
Quote of the day: "My Mom's Canadian! Thanks a lot!"
- Compliments of Kaitlin, whose mother actually is Canadian.
On the good side: I think I'm finally overcoming my fear of grouped theatre majors (they're quite intimidating in a pack, y'know). I sat at a table of theatre majors and Shannon at lunch, and actually talked some. Only to Kaitlin and Shannon it's true, but I didn't completely retreat into my shell. How cool is that?
See previous rant about deck the halls festivities and you'll be able to reason out my response to the arrival of the actual deck the halls contest. I ranted, raved, and disappeared for about four hours.
A question I've been wrestling with: Why do artists make/not make self-portraits? I heard someone suggest the other day that some artists don't make them out of modesty. But is that right? Do some artists not do self-portraits because they hate themselves? Or they're sick of looking at themselves? Do some artists make self-portraits because they want to gain insight into themselves by describing their physical appearance? Or is it simply lack of other material? Why do I have such an objection to making a self-portrait that bears a physical resemblance to me? I even struggled a good bit with a self-portrait that bore no physical resemblance to me whatsoever. I thought it was an interesting question anyway. And you're getting the abbreviated version of my ponderings you lucky person you. I could go on for hours - I already have, but there is a limit even to the dedicated blog reader's attention span.
In FYS today, Chad, Kayla, Nathan, and Anna did their group presentation about William Carlos Williams. They explicated "The Polar Bear." The second and third lines say "the deep snow/ the male snow" and the group was trying to get at what this parallelism could mean. Particularly at what the adjective "male" implied. They wanted a guy's perspective - so Andrew said, "A burly military guy." They also wanted a girl's perspective - so Lucy volunteered something to the effect of "You think of more power, drive, and a little bit of danger - possibly malicious intent." The guys looked positively taken aback, and the girls started laughing and clapping. It was absolutely hilarious! I don't think Chad (who was asking the questions) quite expected that response. However, I think it was a typical girl-thought about the adjective "male." It's certainly not a perception unique to Lucy, although no one else could have expressed it in quite that way. I'm so sad that it was our last normal class period. I'll miss that class a lot. I love my professor, and there's such a great group of people in that class. A few brilliant people, a few funny people, a few absolutely hilarious people, and a couple eccentric people. Altogether a good group.
Oh, and now for a classic Mackenzie blunder. I somehow managed to lock myself out of my computer last night. It was messing up, so I restarted it, and it gave me this freaky screen about being locked out, I needed to type in my password etc. I didn't even know you could lock the computer, so I was flabbergasted. I typed in every single password I've ever used for anything, and some that I thought sounded sort of likely if I'd been completely high when I originally set the password. Nothing worked. So today I was asking around and trying to find out what the ITS hours were so I could get my computer fixed. Shannon was telling me this story about when she did exactly the same thing, and her mom said "You didn't set a password! All you do is hit enter." Since I didn't exactly remember making a password either, I decided that was worth a try. Eight hours later, when I arrived back in my room after a long day of school-related festivities, I still thought it was worth a try. Guess what? It was worth a try! It worked! No, I hadn't set a password while I was high (Wait - high? I've never been high! I swear!), I didn't forget my password, and I didn't write it down and lose it somehow (Me? Lose important things? Never!). I also managed to fix it without calling in ten people to help me! It was an amazing feeling. So yes, here I am, on my computer again. I got a lot more done without it though.
Quote of the day: "My Mom's Canadian! Thanks a lot!"
- Compliments of Kaitlin, whose mother actually is Canadian.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
SpongeBob
Jess: you are insane.
That said, it's a good kind of insane.
Jess got this idea that we should go to Burger King tonight because Sponge Bob was coming. For a reason I don't know, I agreed, and we made plans. We tried to convince a lot of other people to come too, but only Liz would come with us. Everybody gave us these stupid excuses about homework. Psh. I mean, what college student ever does homework?
Sponge Bob was there! He was large, and yellow, and sort of squarish. Liz took pictures of me and Jess with Sponge Bob, and as we were leaving, Jess says,
"Thanks buddy! I wish I knew if you were a man or a woman!"
As you can imagine, Liz and I just died laughing. It was such a blunt, incredibly rude thing to say. And so funny!
Then Jess and Liz and I frolicked back to Messiah listening to "It Might Be Giants" (Boy are they unique!) and laughing. We somehow got onto the subject of skanking (which, for those of you who don't know, is a type of dancing typically done to ska music) and, after she parked her car, Jess showed us how to skank. Liz caught on fairly quickly. Me? Um.... Not so much. The dreaded curse of homeschooling! I can't dance, never will dance, and have decided I don't care to try. Not even the polka, thank you very much!
So after we danced up and down my hallway to the Supertones (skanking and polkaing) and screamed, and acted like theatre majors, and in general made my floor wonder what the crap we were smoking (I never talk to any of them, and say nothing to anyone, and am a recluse), we decided to read a play. Little Women. Yeah. Three theatre majors - and me. It was interesting. I still can't act, but it was pretty freaking fun. Then we decided to grab four random plays, and alternate reading a line out of each of them. It was pretty funny at times, but at others it just didn't make sense.
Ah well, I can't act, I can't dance, but I have crazy theatre major friends, so I guess it's all good.
"Thanks buddy! I wish I knew if you were a man or a woman!"
[chuckle]
Priceless.
That said, it's a good kind of insane.
Jess got this idea that we should go to Burger King tonight because Sponge Bob was coming. For a reason I don't know, I agreed, and we made plans. We tried to convince a lot of other people to come too, but only Liz would come with us. Everybody gave us these stupid excuses about homework. Psh. I mean, what college student ever does homework?
Sponge Bob was there! He was large, and yellow, and sort of squarish. Liz took pictures of me and Jess with Sponge Bob, and as we were leaving, Jess says,
"Thanks buddy! I wish I knew if you were a man or a woman!"
As you can imagine, Liz and I just died laughing. It was such a blunt, incredibly rude thing to say. And so funny!
Then Jess and Liz and I frolicked back to Messiah listening to "It Might Be Giants" (Boy are they unique!) and laughing. We somehow got onto the subject of skanking (which, for those of you who don't know, is a type of dancing typically done to ska music) and, after she parked her car, Jess showed us how to skank. Liz caught on fairly quickly. Me? Um.... Not so much. The dreaded curse of homeschooling! I can't dance, never will dance, and have decided I don't care to try. Not even the polka, thank you very much!
So after we danced up and down my hallway to the Supertones (skanking and polkaing) and screamed, and acted like theatre majors, and in general made my floor wonder what the crap we were smoking (I never talk to any of them, and say nothing to anyone, and am a recluse), we decided to read a play. Little Women. Yeah. Three theatre majors - and me. It was interesting. I still can't act, but it was pretty freaking fun. Then we decided to grab four random plays, and alternate reading a line out of each of them. It was pretty funny at times, but at others it just didn't make sense.
Ah well, I can't act, I can't dance, but I have crazy theatre major friends, so I guess it's all good.
"Thanks buddy! I wish I knew if you were a man or a woman!"
[chuckle]
Priceless.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Introducing Abby!
Well, I thought you'd like to hear from my roommate, so here's one of our IM conversations.... Don't worry, we're not always that crazy. I'm mczquiz, and she's dearabs911.
mczquiz: Wow guys, my roommate is so excited!
dearabs911: yeah - she gets kinda hyper after 11
dearabs911: :-)
mczquiz: lol.
mczquiz: Crazy.
dearabs911: you know you'd be bored without me
mczquiz: Oh yeah!
mczquiz: Crazy Jess. What would I do without her?
dearabs911: prolly the same thing you'd do without me - just play solitaire for the rest of your life
mczquiz: hey!
mczquiz: lol!
mczquiz: [sneakily looks around, grabs a pretzel, offers one to roommate]
dearabs911: weirdo :-)
mczquiz: Admitted!
mczquiz: It's a chronic condition, brought on by too little sleep and too much college fun
mczquiz: .
dearabs911: and too much solataire! how DO you spell that blasted word anyhow??
mczquiz: solitaire.
mczquiz: I think.
dearabs911: okay the roomie's going to go shower
dearabs911: you hold down the fort while i am gone
mczquiz: I'll do that.
mczquiz: Have fun in teh shower.
dearabs911: thanks
dearabs911: i'll tty when i get back
mczquiz: Ok.
mczquiz: I'll miss you!
dearabs911: this is so lame
mczquiz: Seriously!
dearabs911: :-)
mczquiz: But it's so funny!
And, for your random enjoyment, an excerpt from a conversation with Jess..... She really is full of adrenaline.
mczquiz: Jess!
mczquiz: Have you been here long?
mczquiz: Check out my blog!
mczquiz: It has pictures of my new baby cousin on it!
JarsOfAdrenaline: yeah
mczquiz: I can't believe I actually figured out how to post pictures to my blog.
JarsOfAdrenaline: good for you!
mczquiz: And I didnt' even crash the network....
mczquiz: knock on wood.
JarsOfAdrenaline: *knock knock*
mczquiz: Yeah.
mczquiz: Seriously.
mczquiz: It would be so fitting
mczquiz: if it kicked me off right now.
mczquiz: Because I spoke ill of it.
JarsOfAdrenaline: uh oh
JarsOfAdrenaline: it knows
mczquiz: Yeah,
mczquiz: it's coming after me!
mczquiz: Run!
mczquiz: Ahhh!!!!!
JarsOfAdrenaline: :-D
JarsOfAdrenaline: i have no motivation, i'd just sit there and do nothing anyway
mczquiz: Awww....
mczquiz: Play some motivational music.
JarsOfAdrenaline: can't. my roomate owns the radio.
JarsOfAdrenaline: and all she listens to is country and rap
mczquiz: Ewww!
JarsOfAdrenaline: my two most hated music genres
mczquiz: No wonder you're not motivated!!!
JarsOfAdrenaline: i went to sleep and woke up to the most HORRID rap in the world. i was so crabby
mczquiz: EWWWW!!!!!!
JarsOfAdrenaline: but you can read all bout it in a few minutes when i finish my blog
mczquiz: I would drop out too if I had to work in those conditions.
JarsOfAdrenaline: yeah, i'm ready to go
mczquiz: You have to come visit me though.
JarsOfAdrenaline: oh yeayh
JarsOfAdrenaline: yeah
JarsOfAdrenaline: most certainefinitely
mczquiz: Good.
mczquiz: And if you don't,
mczquiz: I'll string you up by your toes
mczquiz: and tickle you till you're blue.
mczquiz: = )
JarsOfAdrenaline: uh oh
JarsOfAdrenaline: except you probably won't be able to find me
JarsOfAdrenaline: Yoe isn't on any map you would have
mczquiz: I have a map.
mczquiz: oh.
mczquiz: crap.
mczquiz: The internet!
JarsOfAdrenaline: doubt it
mczquiz: Mapquest + stalkerlink = strung up
JarsOfAdrenaline: besides, my house is invisible
JarsOfAdrenaline: yeah
JarsOfAdrenaline: so there.
mczquiz: lol!
mczquiz: You're hilarious!!!!
mczquiz: An invisible house!
mczquiz: Only a theatre major!!!!
JarsOfAdrenaline: hey!
JarsOfAdrenaline: My mom's Canadian!
JarsOfAdrenaline: thanks a lot!
mczquiz: lol!
mczquiz: Brilliant!
mczquiz: I need to put that on my profile,
mczquiz: particularly since it isn't true
mczquiz: .
JarsOfAdrenaline: ha
JarsOfAdrenaline: how do you know
mczquiz: She's my MOM for goodness sakes!
JarsOfAdrenaline: oh YOUR mom
JarsOfAdrenaline: i thought u meant kaitlins mom
mczquiz: lol!@
mczquiz: NO!
mczquiz: is she canadian though?
JarsOfAdrenaline: geez.
JarsOfAdrenaline: i dunno
mczquiz: WE should ask.
JarsOfAdrenaline: ha
mczquiz: She lives in NY,
mczquiz: so it's not improbable.
JarsOfAdrenaline: dude!
JarsOfAdrenaline: do u have classes tomorrow afternoon?
mczquiz: Yeah.
mczquiz: Do you?JarsOfAdrenaline: just one. but anyway
JarsOfAdrenaline: SpongeBob Squarepants is going to be at Burger King tomorrow
mczquiz: he is ?!?!
mczquiz: Freaky!
JarsOfAdrenaline: i think so... there was a sign that said "come see spongebob, tuesday, 4-7"
mczquiz: That is so hilarious.
JarsOfAdrenaline: wouldn't that be cool to get a picture with SpongeBob???
mczquiz: lol!
JarsOfAdrenaline: we should go after dinner!
mczquiz: I'm eating with Sharon in the union @ 5:45, d'you want to go after that?
mczquiz: Join us for dinner
JarsOfAdrenaline: (HA - like a need to be running around with SpongeBob when my ten page Bible paper is due the next day)!
JarsOfAdrenaline: if u see Lucy...or Liz...or Matt.. or Kaitlin...or anyone else cool, tell them
JarsOfAdrenaline: we can all go frolic to spongebob
JarsOfAdrenaline: *just wait, it'll be something stupid, and he won't even be there"
mczquiz: Alright!
mczquiz: E-mail them!
JarsOfAdrenaline: this is so fun!
JarsOfAdrenaline: i love being dumb
Yeah, so my day has gotten progressively funnier.
mczquiz: Wow guys, my roommate is so excited!
dearabs911: yeah - she gets kinda hyper after 11
dearabs911: :-)
mczquiz: lol.
mczquiz: Crazy.
dearabs911: you know you'd be bored without me
mczquiz: Oh yeah!
mczquiz: Crazy Jess. What would I do without her?
dearabs911: prolly the same thing you'd do without me - just play solitaire for the rest of your life
mczquiz: hey!
mczquiz: lol!
mczquiz: [sneakily looks around, grabs a pretzel, offers one to roommate]
dearabs911: weirdo :-)
mczquiz: Admitted!
mczquiz: It's a chronic condition, brought on by too little sleep and too much college fun
mczquiz: .
dearabs911: and too much solataire! how DO you spell that blasted word anyhow??
mczquiz: solitaire.
mczquiz: I think.
dearabs911: okay the roomie's going to go shower
dearabs911: you hold down the fort while i am gone
mczquiz: I'll do that.
mczquiz: Have fun in teh shower.
dearabs911: thanks
dearabs911: i'll tty when i get back
mczquiz: Ok.
mczquiz: I'll miss you!
dearabs911: this is so lame
mczquiz: Seriously!
dearabs911: :-)
mczquiz: But it's so funny!
And, for your random enjoyment, an excerpt from a conversation with Jess..... She really is full of adrenaline.
mczquiz: Jess!
mczquiz: Have you been here long?
mczquiz: Check out my blog!
mczquiz: It has pictures of my new baby cousin on it!
JarsOfAdrenaline: yeah
mczquiz: I can't believe I actually figured out how to post pictures to my blog.
JarsOfAdrenaline: good for you!
mczquiz: And I didnt' even crash the network....
mczquiz: knock on wood.
JarsOfAdrenaline: *knock knock*
mczquiz: Yeah.
mczquiz: Seriously.
mczquiz: It would be so fitting
mczquiz: if it kicked me off right now.
mczquiz: Because I spoke ill of it.
JarsOfAdrenaline: uh oh
JarsOfAdrenaline: it knows
mczquiz: Yeah,
mczquiz: it's coming after me!
mczquiz: Run!
mczquiz: Ahhh!!!!!
JarsOfAdrenaline: :-D
JarsOfAdrenaline: i have no motivation, i'd just sit there and do nothing anyway
mczquiz: Awww....
mczquiz: Play some motivational music.
JarsOfAdrenaline: can't. my roomate owns the radio.
JarsOfAdrenaline: and all she listens to is country and rap
mczquiz: Ewww!
JarsOfAdrenaline: my two most hated music genres
mczquiz: No wonder you're not motivated!!!
JarsOfAdrenaline: i went to sleep and woke up to the most HORRID rap in the world. i was so crabby
mczquiz: EWWWW!!!!!!
JarsOfAdrenaline: but you can read all bout it in a few minutes when i finish my blog
mczquiz: I would drop out too if I had to work in those conditions.
JarsOfAdrenaline: yeah, i'm ready to go
mczquiz: You have to come visit me though.
JarsOfAdrenaline: oh yeayh
JarsOfAdrenaline: yeah
JarsOfAdrenaline: most certainefinitely
mczquiz: Good.
mczquiz: And if you don't,
mczquiz: I'll string you up by your toes
mczquiz: and tickle you till you're blue.
mczquiz: = )
JarsOfAdrenaline: uh oh
JarsOfAdrenaline: except you probably won't be able to find me
JarsOfAdrenaline: Yoe isn't on any map you would have
mczquiz: I have a map.
mczquiz: oh.
mczquiz: crap.
mczquiz: The internet!
JarsOfAdrenaline: doubt it
mczquiz: Mapquest + stalkerlink = strung up
JarsOfAdrenaline: besides, my house is invisible
JarsOfAdrenaline: yeah
JarsOfAdrenaline: so there.
mczquiz: lol!
mczquiz: You're hilarious!!!!
mczquiz: An invisible house!
mczquiz: Only a theatre major!!!!
JarsOfAdrenaline: hey!
JarsOfAdrenaline: My mom's Canadian!
JarsOfAdrenaline: thanks a lot!
mczquiz: lol!
mczquiz: Brilliant!
mczquiz: I need to put that on my profile,
mczquiz: particularly since it isn't true
mczquiz: .
JarsOfAdrenaline: ha
JarsOfAdrenaline: how do you know
mczquiz: She's my MOM for goodness sakes!
JarsOfAdrenaline: oh YOUR mom
JarsOfAdrenaline: i thought u meant kaitlins mom
mczquiz: lol!@
mczquiz: NO!
mczquiz: is she canadian though?
JarsOfAdrenaline: geez.
JarsOfAdrenaline: i dunno
mczquiz: WE should ask.
JarsOfAdrenaline: ha
mczquiz: She lives in NY,
mczquiz: so it's not improbable.
JarsOfAdrenaline: dude!
JarsOfAdrenaline: do u have classes tomorrow afternoon?
mczquiz: Yeah.
mczquiz: Do you?JarsOfAdrenaline: just one. but anyway
JarsOfAdrenaline: SpongeBob Squarepants is going to be at Burger King tomorrow
mczquiz: he is ?!?!
mczquiz: Freaky!
JarsOfAdrenaline: i think so... there was a sign that said "come see spongebob, tuesday, 4-7"
mczquiz: That is so hilarious.
JarsOfAdrenaline: wouldn't that be cool to get a picture with SpongeBob???
mczquiz: lol!
JarsOfAdrenaline: we should go after dinner!
mczquiz: I'm eating with Sharon in the union @ 5:45, d'you want to go after that?
mczquiz: Join us for dinner
JarsOfAdrenaline: (HA - like a need to be running around with SpongeBob when my ten page Bible paper is due the next day)!
JarsOfAdrenaline: if u see Lucy...or Liz...or Matt.. or Kaitlin...or anyone else cool, tell them
JarsOfAdrenaline: we can all go frolic to spongebob
JarsOfAdrenaline: *just wait, it'll be something stupid, and he won't even be there"
mczquiz: Alright!
mczquiz: E-mail them!
JarsOfAdrenaline: this is so fun!
JarsOfAdrenaline: i love being dumb
Yeah, so my day has gotten progressively funnier.
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Today: Boring as crap. I am still alive though, and the reason today was boring is that I had so much free time on my hands. Who'd a thunk it? I thought I'd never have free time ever ever again. I mean, yeah, there's stuff I could be doing, but it's not due quite yet and I've got a good start on it. Unfortunately most of my friends are still busy as crap, so I can't throw a party or anything.
So, a meaningless speculation. Why have I suddenly started eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches again? I mean, it's weird enough to want to eat an extra meal at 8 or 9 in the evening, but to eat pb&j is even weirder. I ate pb&j every day in kindergarten. I wouldn't let Mom pack anything else (or so she says). Then, after kindergarten, I hated them with a passion. I wouldn't eat them if you paid me. Now, all of a sudden, after 'growing up' I'm eating pb&j again. Why?
Although to tell you the truth I don't feel any more mature than when I left home. If anything I feel less mature. I feel like I've gone into my second childhood without ever really leaving the first. I feel like I'm 'dressing up' as a grown-up, and one of these days, like when I go home for the summer, I'll take off the dress-up clothes and go back to being fifteen. But I've probably already told everyone that at least once. And, weird as it seems, I'm stuck in a semi-adult state for a good few years yet. I don't think I can revert back to non-grown-up anymore than I can fast-forward to completely-grown-up-and-forty-five-years-old.
So what makes an adult? What is maturity? Can I be done with immaturity yet? Or am I stuck with some measure of immaturity for the next fifty years? Can I speed up this adult process/thing? Because let me tell you, I'm kinda tired of being in between. I mean, I love frolicking and having fun, but I hate the immaturity I find in myself sometimes. And then I hear myself talking, and I'm like, "Wow, she is insufferable. When did she get so stuffed-shirt? She needs to be a kid again." After which the whole cycle starts again. Gah!
I told you it was meaningless speculation. But no, you had to go read it anyway. Serves you right if you're bored.
So, a meaningless speculation. Why have I suddenly started eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches again? I mean, it's weird enough to want to eat an extra meal at 8 or 9 in the evening, but to eat pb&j is even weirder. I ate pb&j every day in kindergarten. I wouldn't let Mom pack anything else (or so she says). Then, after kindergarten, I hated them with a passion. I wouldn't eat them if you paid me. Now, all of a sudden, after 'growing up' I'm eating pb&j again. Why?
Although to tell you the truth I don't feel any more mature than when I left home. If anything I feel less mature. I feel like I've gone into my second childhood without ever really leaving the first. I feel like I'm 'dressing up' as a grown-up, and one of these days, like when I go home for the summer, I'll take off the dress-up clothes and go back to being fifteen. But I've probably already told everyone that at least once. And, weird as it seems, I'm stuck in a semi-adult state for a good few years yet. I don't think I can revert back to non-grown-up anymore than I can fast-forward to completely-grown-up-and-forty-five-years-old.
So what makes an adult? What is maturity? Can I be done with immaturity yet? Or am I stuck with some measure of immaturity for the next fifty years? Can I speed up this adult process/thing? Because let me tell you, I'm kinda tired of being in between. I mean, I love frolicking and having fun, but I hate the immaturity I find in myself sometimes. And then I hear myself talking, and I'm like, "Wow, she is insufferable. When did she get so stuffed-shirt? She needs to be a kid again." After which the whole cycle starts again. Gah!
I told you it was meaningless speculation. But no, you had to go read it anyway. Serves you right if you're bored.
Sunday, December 05, 2004
Island
I'm listening to "I am a Rock" by Simon & Garfunkel right now. It was a friend's theme song for a while. Boy, that brings back some memories. You remember? I wonder, is it still apt? Somehow I suspect not. Something to do with oh, your heart taking a vacation? = )
I can't wait till Christmas!
And now, off to the homework I ought to have been doing for the past hour.
But first: Tammy had her baby! She called this morning to tell me about it. I mean, wow. She's only eleven months older than me, and she just had a baby. Blake Matthew (If I'm remembering correctly - she called only ten minutes after I woke up so I was still pretty out of it), seven pounds thirteen ounces, and twenty-two inches long. Both are safe and sound, still in the hospital, and it sounds like Tammy's rather tired but happy.
Now I'm off to do the homework I ought to have been doing for the past hour.
I can't wait till Christmas!
And now, off to the homework I ought to have been doing for the past hour.
But first: Tammy had her baby! She called this morning to tell me about it. I mean, wow. She's only eleven months older than me, and she just had a baby. Blake Matthew (If I'm remembering correctly - she called only ten minutes after I woke up so I was still pretty out of it), seven pounds thirteen ounces, and twenty-two inches long. Both are safe and sound, still in the hospital, and it sounds like Tammy's rather tired but happy.
Now I'm off to do the homework I ought to have been doing for the past hour.
My Day Today
Well, today has been quite a day! The highlights:
I spent about three hours at lunch today with Jess and Sharon and Liz. They taught me several fascinating theatre major games. Hilarious theatre majors! I love them! I was absolutely rolling on the ground laughing! I would seriously be a theatre major just for the joy of being flamboyant and ridiculous, and hanging out with such great, random people! It's so freaking awesome!!!
Now if I could just act! If I could just throw myself into other people, into random roles, into random exercises, the way I can lose myself in a book or a painting, or follow through with random impulses like eighties day. I mean.... Yeah, I would be at least a theatre minor. Just for the sheer joy of insanity!
Then, when I thought all the excitement was over and I would just have to go do my homework, Jonny decided to come visit! So he hung out for a good while, and went to the Inklings meeting, which was great fun. Everyone was being brilliant as usual, and funny as usual, and it was great. Especially the vision of a little red man running around with a plough on his back, and every time he stopped, he would just swing it down and began plowing as if his life depended on it. Even funnier is the picture of a crowd of these little red men plowing as if their lives depended on it. And the floors of their houses would have to be dirt, so they could plow whenever they wanted. And the little red wives would matter-of-factly tramp down the dirt again. And the little red men would plow it up again. Round and round the mulberry bush. Or around the kitchen table as the case may be.
Yeah, the image just makes me die laughing! I feel like I need to write a story about it. And then a version of Tristan and Isolte (or Tristram and Isolde as the case may be). But before that, I need to go to sleep. Goodnight all you random people who read my blog! (Or wait.... Maybe that's good morning.)
I spent about three hours at lunch today with Jess and Sharon and Liz. They taught me several fascinating theatre major games. Hilarious theatre majors! I love them! I was absolutely rolling on the ground laughing! I would seriously be a theatre major just for the joy of being flamboyant and ridiculous, and hanging out with such great, random people! It's so freaking awesome!!!
Now if I could just act! If I could just throw myself into other people, into random roles, into random exercises, the way I can lose myself in a book or a painting, or follow through with random impulses like eighties day. I mean.... Yeah, I would be at least a theatre minor. Just for the sheer joy of insanity!
Then, when I thought all the excitement was over and I would just have to go do my homework, Jonny decided to come visit! So he hung out for a good while, and went to the Inklings meeting, which was great fun. Everyone was being brilliant as usual, and funny as usual, and it was great. Especially the vision of a little red man running around with a plough on his back, and every time he stopped, he would just swing it down and began plowing as if his life depended on it. Even funnier is the picture of a crowd of these little red men plowing as if their lives depended on it. And the floors of their houses would have to be dirt, so they could plow whenever they wanted. And the little red wives would matter-of-factly tramp down the dirt again. And the little red men would plow it up again. Round and round the mulberry bush. Or around the kitchen table as the case may be.
Yeah, the image just makes me die laughing! I feel like I need to write a story about it. And then a version of Tristan and Isolte (or Tristram and Isolde as the case may be). But before that, I need to go to sleep. Goodnight all you random people who read my blog! (Or wait.... Maybe that's good morning.)
P.S. Just for a random fact, the spell check on this thing does not recognize the word "blog." How's that for ironic?
Saturday, December 04, 2004
Change
So yeah, I just randomnly decided to change my blog colors etc. I'm not sure if I like it yet, but we'll test it out and see. What do you guys think? Does it scream "Mackenzie"?
Friday, December 03, 2004
Crap
Crap. I've just read all my friends' blogs (that I know of), and visited all the websites I like (that I know of) and listened to music, and I still have time to waste. I've even written this post (made up entirely of nothing) in an attempt to waste more time. I might actually have to get some work done now.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Christmas Spirit
Wow, all you readers (like, two?) are really cursed..... I mean, lucky today. You get two posts from me. This one, however, is a soapbox. I'm sorry. I apologize in advance for all the stupid/offensive things I'm about to say, and if you have school/hall spirit, I'm especially sorry.
I just got back from a floor meeting about the "deck the halls" contest. Or rather, I just escaped from it, fleeing headlong into the refuge of my own room. I mean, welcome week was traumatic enough, having to do activities with the entire building, running around in a field, not knowing what was going on, competing with some random people for some random prize. I don't know about anyone else, but sweating is not my favorite way to meet people. It's not really that much of a bonding experience either. In fact, it's rather a degrading experience. "All right! Put the freshmen through their paces! What else can we think up?" The only remotely enjoyable part was wading through the river, and even that was spoiled when it turned into a wet t-shirt contest. Stupid girls.
Now they want each hall to come up with as many cheesy Christmas decoration ideas to impress the judges as possible. Who freaking cares what judges think of our Christmas decorations? Forgive me, but the very thought of being judged takes all enjoyment out of it for me. I would say that I have Christmas spirit: I love giving gifts and surprising my family, I love hanging out with them, I love giving my friends gifts. I love sitting quiet with my family and listening to Christmas music in preparation for Christmas. I love bringing Mom & Dad breakfast in bed. I spend a lot of time preparing for Christmas, and I think it's great to celebrate Christ's birth. I mean, heck, we should celebrate it every day, but I'm OK with the idea of setting a particular day apart to remember it. I love our family's tradition of reading Luke 2 every Christmas morning. And it's precisely because I love it so much that I hate this stupid hall-spirit thing.
How dare they turn Christmas into a contest!
For me, putting up Christmas decorations is a family activity, not a point of quibbling in a residence hall. I love our Christmas decorations because every single one has a story behind it. It was either made by someone in our family, or was bought on a special occasion, or has a special memory attached from when we were little. My mom even has 'ornaments' I drew when I was in kindergarten and wanted to 'help'. I protest against these every single year, but I think it's freaking cool that she's kept them. They're lousy art, but they're a hilarious reminder of being a kid. I remember making those ornaments! It's nice that someone else remembers too. It takes us three hours at least to decorate our tree usually, because we all help, and we all talk and say, do you remember? Whose is this? When did we get it again? It's almost a passing down of oral Christmas tradition.
I like Christmas. I like decorating for Christmas. I don't want it spoiled by some stupid contest! Tell me it isn't sacrilege. I dare you.
I just got back from a floor meeting about the "deck the halls" contest. Or rather, I just escaped from it, fleeing headlong into the refuge of my own room. I mean, welcome week was traumatic enough, having to do activities with the entire building, running around in a field, not knowing what was going on, competing with some random people for some random prize. I don't know about anyone else, but sweating is not my favorite way to meet people. It's not really that much of a bonding experience either. In fact, it's rather a degrading experience. "All right! Put the freshmen through their paces! What else can we think up?" The only remotely enjoyable part was wading through the river, and even that was spoiled when it turned into a wet t-shirt contest. Stupid girls.
Now they want each hall to come up with as many cheesy Christmas decoration ideas to impress the judges as possible. Who freaking cares what judges think of our Christmas decorations? Forgive me, but the very thought of being judged takes all enjoyment out of it for me. I would say that I have Christmas spirit: I love giving gifts and surprising my family, I love hanging out with them, I love giving my friends gifts. I love sitting quiet with my family and listening to Christmas music in preparation for Christmas. I love bringing Mom & Dad breakfast in bed. I spend a lot of time preparing for Christmas, and I think it's great to celebrate Christ's birth. I mean, heck, we should celebrate it every day, but I'm OK with the idea of setting a particular day apart to remember it. I love our family's tradition of reading Luke 2 every Christmas morning. And it's precisely because I love it so much that I hate this stupid hall-spirit thing.
How dare they turn Christmas into a contest!
For me, putting up Christmas decorations is a family activity, not a point of quibbling in a residence hall. I love our Christmas decorations because every single one has a story behind it. It was either made by someone in our family, or was bought on a special occasion, or has a special memory attached from when we were little. My mom even has 'ornaments' I drew when I was in kindergarten and wanted to 'help'. I protest against these every single year, but I think it's freaking cool that she's kept them. They're lousy art, but they're a hilarious reminder of being a kid. I remember making those ornaments! It's nice that someone else remembers too. It takes us three hours at least to decorate our tree usually, because we all help, and we all talk and say, do you remember? Whose is this? When did we get it again? It's almost a passing down of oral Christmas tradition.
I like Christmas. I like decorating for Christmas. I don't want it spoiled by some stupid contest! Tell me it isn't sacrilege. I dare you.
Apology
In order to make up for my last post, which sounded extremely panicked, here's a nice long one. All about the eighties. You lucky person you!
So, Jess and I were talking on IM Monday night about (what else?) mullets and Matt's mullet in particular. We decided that, unfortunately, it wasn't feasible to break into his room with a crowd of people, handcuff him, drag him outside and cut his hair. Nor was Chad likely to be bribeable. So we came up with an alternative plan: we'd get a lot of people together, dress up in eighties' clothes with the freaky sideways ponytails, and surprise him at lunch or something.
Keep in mind, this was at 1:30 in the morning. It seemed like an absolutely brilliant idea, and we couldn't imagine anyone disagreeing. Next day, a grumpy phone call and several skeptical looks later, we were wondering if two people in eighties garb were enough to make our point. What was our point? Keep wondering. I don't think we knew ourselves. Partially it was to enjoy the hilarity of the situation, partly it was to make up for mocking Matt so badly the day before, and I swear part of it was brought on by sheer theatre-major-ness. Granted, I'm not a theatre major, but four of my closest college friends are theatre majors, so I've been exposed to lot of radiation - I mean, foolishness. = )
We did, however, rally Sharon, Kaitlin, Stacy, and Lucy. Sharon decided to dress up too, and donated several valuable and brightly-colored scrunchies to the cause. Lucy even wore her hair in a sideways ponytail! Kaitlin I think dressed up, but it's kinda hard to find eighties clothes on such short notice. Stacy enjoyed watching us.
Jess decided that she was going to call Chad and make him make sure Matt was at breakfast the next morning, since that was the only meal on Tuesday we could all get together. I only heard Jess's half of the phone conversation, but let me tell you, it was freaking funny! Jess deserves one hundred points for bravery. Calling up a guy you barely know and delivering an anonymous message? Yeah.
The look on Matt's face was absolutely priceless when he walked in and saw all of us at the table all eighties looking. I have no idea what it meant, but it was funny. We all went to chapel together and enjoyed the stares of friend and foe alike. It was rather fun. In fact, it was so much fun I went and got my yearbook picture taken - yes, all dressed up. Hey, if I don't have proof of some kind, no one will ever believe me.
Suckers. You might have guessed I had it in me somewhere. = )
So, Jess and I were talking on IM Monday night about (what else?) mullets and Matt's mullet in particular. We decided that, unfortunately, it wasn't feasible to break into his room with a crowd of people, handcuff him, drag him outside and cut his hair. Nor was Chad likely to be bribeable. So we came up with an alternative plan: we'd get a lot of people together, dress up in eighties' clothes with the freaky sideways ponytails, and surprise him at lunch or something.
Keep in mind, this was at 1:30 in the morning. It seemed like an absolutely brilliant idea, and we couldn't imagine anyone disagreeing. Next day, a grumpy phone call and several skeptical looks later, we were wondering if two people in eighties garb were enough to make our point. What was our point? Keep wondering. I don't think we knew ourselves. Partially it was to enjoy the hilarity of the situation, partly it was to make up for mocking Matt so badly the day before, and I swear part of it was brought on by sheer theatre-major-ness. Granted, I'm not a theatre major, but four of my closest college friends are theatre majors, so I've been exposed to lot of radiation - I mean, foolishness. = )
We did, however, rally Sharon, Kaitlin, Stacy, and Lucy. Sharon decided to dress up too, and donated several valuable and brightly-colored scrunchies to the cause. Lucy even wore her hair in a sideways ponytail! Kaitlin I think dressed up, but it's kinda hard to find eighties clothes on such short notice. Stacy enjoyed watching us.
Jess decided that she was going to call Chad and make him make sure Matt was at breakfast the next morning, since that was the only meal on Tuesday we could all get together. I only heard Jess's half of the phone conversation, but let me tell you, it was freaking funny! Jess deserves one hundred points for bravery. Calling up a guy you barely know and delivering an anonymous message? Yeah.
The look on Matt's face was absolutely priceless when he walked in and saw all of us at the table all eighties looking. I have no idea what it meant, but it was funny. We all went to chapel together and enjoyed the stares of friend and foe alike. It was rather fun. In fact, it was so much fun I went and got my yearbook picture taken - yes, all dressed up. Hey, if I don't have proof of some kind, no one will ever believe me.
Suckers. You might have guessed I had it in me somewhere. = )
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
I Don't Have Time
OK, so I don't really have time to post about all the funny things that have been happening lately - I will later though, never fear - but I thought I'd let everyone know I'm still alive. I'm still kicking, still doing homework, and still lacking sleep. If you have an extra hug laying around anywhere, I could really use one.
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