Because Who Really Sleeps on Christmas Eve?

I just found this and had a good laugh! I figured that maybe you guys were ignoring the normal convention of, you know, sleep and might need something to waste your night away with.

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That was it. Cameron had to go. Damn the world to hell and back, but there was no way he was staying. He had done it.

He insulted David Lee.

When it was Axel, I could take it. Meatloaf? Yeah, okay, apart from his mad musical genius, he’s just plain weird. But, damn it, when you mess with Van Halen, you mess with me.

You could tell that none of the hellfire and damnation deathrays I was sending were getting through that shaggy, thick-headed skull. He just continued to push the grocery cart, past the couscous and long-grain brown rice, oblivious to my glares and the rock gods he’d just insulted serenading us in the background. I mentally boiled him in the Chef Boyardee I was standing next to as he turned, wondering where the list (me) went. And stopped, innocent, blue eyes questioning.

“Is something wrong?”

Is something wrong?? After six months of cheap, nickelcade dates and midnight discussions (ok, make-out sessions), he asks me if something is wrong?

Oh, he’s gone.

“Cameron,” I said in my calm, cool, negotiator voice, “I think that maybe we need to take stock of our relationship. You know, take a step back, have a look…assess things.”

“Next to the Spaghettios?”

I coolly examined the ruddy cheeked Chef Boyardee on the can I now had in my hand. His forced smile irritated me far more than it should; I like ravioli.

“Assess? We’re not a factory line-up, Jaqueline.” He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, those blue eyes smugly meeting mine, savoring my full name on his full lips. Seeing my inner demon roaring towards him through my boiling eyes, he changed his stance, one hand on the cart, the other languidly resting on his hip, utterly relaxed. Except for those blasted, blue eyes; they burned with newfound pleasure. David Lee Roth sang on, unrepentant about his “hots” for teacher.

I’d pluck those eyes out for David Lee if it was the last thing I did in this mortal life.

“Cameron….”I started, gripping poor, forgotten Chef in my hand.

“Jac-que-line .” He sent back.

And that’s when I chucked Chef’s smiling face at his head.

--------------
“You threw a can of Spaghettios at his head!?” Carla, my best friend for, like, life asked. Again. See, I’ve known Carla since 8th grade; we sat by each other in art. It was the whole, if-we-don’t-team-up-we’ll-be-socially-scarred-for-life-by-the-freaks-around-us. And, no, I’m not being judgmental or stuck up or something. Two of the guys at our table slipped a roofie into our 20something choir teacher’s coffee in high school. Charming fellows. Yeah. Survival was paramount.

“Ravioli. It was Chef Boyardee…” I stared at the swirling, psychedelic dots on her tablecloth, tracing them with my finger. Poor Chef. He didn’t deserve such a cruel fate.

“Hey!” Carla snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Chef, Mickey D, who cares? Point is, you are dang lucky that store owner only kicked you out instead of calling the psychoward to take you away.” She watched me switch to jabbing the small, orange dots. “Something which, quite frankly, I would’ve done. Who throws a can of soup at their boyfriend in the middle of Smith’s? Even if he is a sadistic bastard?”

I glance up, irritated, hands stopping their pointless, inward course. She’s staring down at me, eyebrows through the ceiling. She needs to pluck.

Twilight Spoof

So, I was really excited to hear that Stephenie Meyer had sold the movie rights to her book (twice, actually). I thought, well, it's such a popular book, they can't do a half-baked job on it. Then....the trailer came out. Don't get me wrong, I thought they did a great job picking Bella and Edward, visually at least. And Edward's voice, oh, Edward's voice - so good. But ask me if I'm excited about the movie now. Yeah. Not really. I mean, I'll see it (of course I'll see it - I'm going to see HMS3 and I don't even remotely like HSM), but I've pretty much decided it won't be as good as I want it to be. Besides, in the grand tradition of movies-based-off-of-books, the book is generally better - pretty much 98.5% of the time (Pride & Prejudice being the only exception I can think of now(yay for making up statistics!)).

Anyways, I say this to preface the awesomeness that follows - a spoof trailer that my sister sent me that is pretty much fabulous. It's a goldmine of one-liners, I sweat (or I swear, but let's just be nice and say I do neither).

I miss Brit.

I miss Brittany. It's so strange - we haven't seen each other for a year, but it doesn't seem that long. I don't feel like we haven't talked for months. Maybe it's the dreams.

I have a dream about Brittany about once every two months or so. Not one with her, about her - she's always a main character. I'm guessing this stems from our kind of falling out. Except there really wasn't any falling out. More like a fading out. I was tired, too tired to think of anything but me (and that not even well), so I couldn't even be there for her or even just with her. And it surprises me how sad I am about that. I miss her like the dickens. I'm kind of a jerk. *sigh*

That's what I get, I guess. I wonder how many relationships I've screwed up by just ignoring them? Ugh, I won't think about it. Too many are coming to mind.

All the Single Ladies Have It, and All the Single Boys Want It.

WARNING (AND THIS IS ACTUALLY A WARNING): The following is my two-hour feminist speal spawning from a Beyonce video. And, no, it's not like you've already assumed it is. But, yes, it is slightly incoherent, and you might learn some strange things about me. As if there weren't enough already. Oh, well, no turning back now *muwahahahahahahah!* PS I don't know why the rest of this won't turn blue. Blogger Hates Me.

Lately – lately being last night and today – I’ve been really into this new music video by Beyonce. It is basically, as Kym would put it, porn. Three gorgeous black women in all their bootylicious glory, wearing skin-tight leotards, gyrating and grinding to every male fantasy out there. But, if we ignore men and their blatant weakness for the “weaker” sex (which everyone does anyways nowadays), it’s really quite an interesting, um, view.

First of all, let’s ask why I find this so fascinating. It’s not because of the song (though it does have a catchy beat), it’s not because of the scantily clad women (we have established that that effect is generally male-appreciated), and it’s not because I’m a huge fan of Beyonce’s. What I first noticed, aside from the leotards, was the dancing. And because of said leotards, the emphasis the dancing gave to their muscles. It’s a fact – I like muscles. Not in any creepy fetish-y way. I just think they are beautiful, especially in motion. To me, the human body is God’s finest piece; a sculpture that’s never completely stationary, always moving, always breathing, always living. Only death can take away that beauty, and only then for a bit.

Point is, their dancing fascinates me. Their muscles reaching and contracting, stopping movement cold in a second – in layman’s terms, it’s wicked awesome. But this was only the tip of the iceberg. Being so interested in the dancing led to other observations – I liked their bodies. Once again, not trying to be freakalicious here, and, no, I’m not being redundant. I liked seeing these full-bodied women, definitely in good shape (more than can be said for yours truly at the moment) who’s bodies and attitudes unequivocally declared, “I am Woman. Don’t need to roar to tell that.”

This impressed me because all my life I’ve struggled (ish) with the idea of femininity. Now, I know that true femininity is defined by tenderness and the capacity to nurture, but I can’t help but be drawn into the world’s ever-enticing tendency to judge by appearance, and sometimes it’s just hard to see my own femininity. And it’s not just me. When I mention my feelings of sexual (gender) ambiguity to friends, they comment that they don’t internally sense themselves as female either. It’s a fact we know – we know we’re women – but I don’t think we all really acknowledge it. I see aspects of my personality that seem far more masculine than feminine and some that (sadly) no self-respecting male would admit to having either. And in a world where everything feels black and white sometimes, that’s pretty confusing.

But I digress. I liked seeing these women own their bodies and handle them well, like they could move their own piano without breaking the legs – and probably do it in some killer heels, too. Acknowledging this brought on new questions though. What gave them their sense of femininity if it wasn’t a sense of delicacy?

This led to a quick pass through a very obvious train of thought – they’re womanly because they’re sexy, how could I possibly think that?, do I think my only alternate route to womanhood is through sex appeal? Can I be white and own my body like that? And more shallow musings that we all have but don't like to admit.

Let’s say we were only able to display our womanly charms in two ways – by casting our role as either the weaker or the wilier sex. If that were the case, and knowing BYU for its ensign of chastity, which of the two do you think most female students here would choose? The weaker or – for p.c.’s sake – the more delicate role, of course. This is a natural response to our religious upbringing. And it is, I feel, in large part out of respect for our boys – I feel their plight, even if I don’t understand it.

It may very well be that these paradoxical views of women came from the desire to create one’s female identity clashing with the struggle to respect and appease man’s perspective as well. Tons and tons of psychological research has been done on this subject, I’m sure, since it comes from the never-ending confusion that is the male-female relationship. One obvious example that comes to mind (and, Kym, don’t slay me, I’ll look it up later, this isn’t a paper for a journal, these are just my random thoughts which don’t generally include psychoanalytic theories etc, etc) is Freud’s Oedipus Complex, as interpreted by Jung. As a society, we see the opposite sex not only as lovers, but as fathers and mothers, family members, coworkers, friends, etcetera, etcetera. It’s no wonder we sometimes get confused by how we’re supposed to treat them!

This is where a lot of feminists get really pissed at guys, and, honestly, I can kind of see where they’re coming from. This overt-awareness of their own sexuality feels like it inhibits our self-expression or demeans us when they are distracted by our “femininity” and not taking us seriously. Yes, we like being attractive, and if we didn’t like sex, rape would have been legitimized from the get-go if anyone wanted the species to last past one generation. But we don’t want you staring at our chests when we’re discussing quantum theory. There is a time and place, buddy.

However, man alone did not create those binding views of woman, and as long as they don’t run free with it, we need to be more obliging in helpinf them see us as sentient, not just sexual, beings. So, they are not to blame, initially, for their carnality.

But thousands of years of being human and screwing up as only humans can has ingrained these stereotypical notions of femininity into our heads. And because so much of it is because of the male’s inability to, as a whole, acknowledge the sexual female as nurturing and intelligent as well, we tend to blame our limited choices on them. We can either be the mother or the whore. Anything else and we’re just not feminine enough.

I don’t know if any of this is making sense. It's all pretty circular, but hopefully some grains of thought come out comprehensible. It's hard to churn all my 19 years of not-learning-much into a philosophical discussion, especially when the other end of the wire is my own ignorance and a silent (for now) internet audience.

I hope I’m not coming off as jaded either. I’m not bitter with the men of the world, not for any crime they didn’t commit themselves, I’m just bitter with the result of the world’s ignorance and conceit. Ignorance and conceit that has been piling up, building pressure for thousands of years. Pressure that is now firmly thrust on my very broad, very female shoulders. It’s hard to find good femininity in such a scarce market, but that scarcity makes it necessary to grab whatever’s available, however flawed and unfit it may be. Until I find a better place to shop, a place that has weight-lifting, baked-goods, shot-gun shooting, and little black dresses, I’ll just have to live with this ill-fitting, insecure society.

Post-Mentally-Exhausted-Script: Here's the video, if you want to see the cause of my maunderings. It will probably seem inadequate compared to the train of thought it provoked, but what can I say?

Half-Past Awesome

Muse is mana to my little, emo soul.

So I Need to Be Canadian, Eh?

I keep wondering if I should start writing on more practical matters in my blog. I come across so many interesting blogs when I'm looking up stuff, just random people throughout the universe blogging away their lives. They all seem to make their blogs strangely informative and useful, whereas I just blather on and on about myself since no one can tell me to shut up. I don't know the age to someone's favorite, obscure band member, I don't have that awesome painting by that random Arabic-Seattlite (though based on my frantic searchings, no one else does either), and I can't tell you how to make kimchi or rice balls or what fashion faux pas Cory Kennedy has dove into lately. My blog has no meaning!

So, after a good five minutes of thought, I've concocted a general stereotype for these blog.Masters. Here is a summary of my thoughts:

Strangely enough, the blogverse contains a large amount of Canadians. They're from all over the Great Maple Leaf (man, what a sad nickname) but their parents are never actually from Canada. Still, they're very proud to raise a hand to the good ol' red and white. Hm. Step 1 to Becoming a blog.Master: Become Canadian.

So, these Canadians (eh?) are generally around their mid-twenties and all seem to have some sort of food fetish - be it baking or eating out, they always take pictures of their food (do they not feed you in Canada!?!). They also love awesome things like languages, books, and Asian pop culture. Minus the food-pics bit, I'm basically one of them. Oh, and being Canadian.

Not that in their blogs they're ever actually in Canada. They always seem to travel, visiting wickedly awesome places like France, UAE, Korea, Hong Kong, etc, etc. Then they write about how they've been skiing in the desert or eaten live octupus. Step 2 to Becoming a Great Blogger: Eat an octopus ALIVE!!!! *lightening flashes*

To sum up (because I have to go to class now), I guess what I have to do to attract large amount of blog-stalkers is: 1. start taking pictures of what I gustate 2. travel to absurdly cool places 3. eat live sea creatures and 4. emigrate to Canadia (yes, Canadia - do you have a problem with that?). Then and only then can I call myself a true Blog.Master. She bangs.

Say Hello to my Little Friend!

So! The obsession with Korea holds, and today's awesome new discovery is *drumroll* - Michelle!

Now, before you ditch me and go back to your mind-numbing internet pursuits, let me explain. Michelle is a girl I met today, as I was leaving the IC (International Cinema). We'd both just seen 'Afterlife' this, odd, little Japanese flick and as I was practically running away from all possibility of socialization, she snagged me and asked me what the heck was up with that movie. This little discussion turned into a 45 minute chat about pretty much anything and everything and got me so exci-

*pause*

A strange swell of music just graced my ears, and by the time I realized that no, that synthesizer is not in my head, it was gone. Odd.

*un-pause*

-ted I had to check myself from launching into an hour-long interrogation about her culture. Some things did slip out, but I managed to keep a relatively sane appearance and now have her number and a promise to watch anime with her sometime (AND she loves anime! So good!). I swear, my night is made.


Oh, and Kym - she referred me to this one site (mysoju.com) that has a glorious plethera of Asian dramas and movies. Soooo, basically I'll never sleep or be productive again. Yessssssss........

KOREAN DRAMAS DRIVE ME CRAZY!!!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
STUPID, CLOSED-MOUTHED SUN-WOO! IDIOTIC REPRESSED YOUNG-HEE!!!!


UGH!

Taste Sweet Love

My pinky hurts like a mo-fo. Mere.

So, this weekend I rediscovered my love for Asian dramas (specifically Korean ones) when I found Baek Seol Gong Ju/Snow White/Taste Sweet Love. A kitschy little show, it's about a strong, slightly odd girl who is in love with her best friend of 8 years, but who just won't notice her like that. The twist is that he asks her to let his brother stay there a couple of days since his return from Japan, but little does he know they already met there - and had an interesting encounter of their own.

Anyways, it all comes down to the fact that I've watched 5 episodes, which comes to 5 hours, and there has been little to no plot progression. Mind you, I have 11 episodes to go, but still. I mean, come on.

What finally got to me (besides the fact that she's been pining for Jin-woo this whole time when Sun-woo is clearly the one to go for) is when they brought in another character, this whining, pain-in-the-butt Japanese girl. And this is where the Korean appeal went straight over my head.

Let me clarify. This show is weird. The women act weird (loud, annoying, over-exagerated, push-overs, etc), the friends are all mooches, and there are so many social no-no's (I don't care what culture you live in) that I'm cringing every other second!

Now, all of this isn't a complete turn-off if you look at it in the right light. I find it fascinating. I love listening to them speak, I love watching them address each other, and I LOVE how wonderfully clean it is. While keeping the romance.

But when they brought in Minaki? She cried like a 3-year-old in their hall until they let her in. Not the type of crying that feels you with compassion, no - the type that fills you with irrational anger. I had to mute the sound because I was this close to chucking my lab top across the room. And I don't want to wake Kym up (who is currently laughing in her sleep, bytheway).

Ugh, my brain.

Another oddity was the emphasis on good-looks. Our main character, Young-Hee, was caught up in the crisis of whether or not to get plastic surgery to improve her chances with Jin-Woo. And the character, although dressed very oddly, is really pretty. In fact, when I saw a picture of the actor before I watched the show, I was surprised at how quirky she could be - she looked too cute to be quirky.

It might be the PMS or the late night or the peanut butter cookies talking, but after a while I couldn't take this gorgeous Korean girl putting herself down, even for pretend. Throw in an extremely obnoxious Japanese chick, and I was surfing the web for hanboks faster than you could say 좋습니다.

Bleh. Well, I guess I'll stop ranting about silly things - as a disclaimer-after-the-fact, I really do like this drama, I'm just frustrating with it. I'll keep watching. But not till I sleep for 6 hours, wake up, work, study, hate school, grocery shop, act friendly at FHE, and collapse into bed at 10. Where I'll watch it till I hate it, and start the vicious cycle all over. *sigh* Quel horror....



Credit for the montage goes to Meagan Louie, linguistics lover, baking extraordinaire, avid reader, and fellow k-drama addict. May she keeping on rocking her awesomely chosen world.

Le Colegio Du Monos Locos

I am here! I am here, I am here, I am here!

Well. Things are progressing pretty nicely here at the Y. I have not stolen Daniel's cleaver and gone on a shanking spree across campus yet (and if you're thinking 'It's impossible to shank someone with a cleaver!' I urge you to think again, my friend). Still, class hasn't started yet, so there's still time.

Man, I have so much awesome music right now! Gym Class Heroes, We The Kings, Cobra Starship, and, yes, Rebelution. I have like 5 different favorite songs; I've never had that many favorites at a time. Gotta love Warped Tour....

And I'm obsessed with the video for 'Bring it (Snakes on a Plane)'! My desire to eat the lead singer to The Academy is... has not waned the least. I only hope I can find someone in my sphere of living that is that attractive to me. And is attracted to me. And has ambition and passion. And works hard. And does the dishes. And is perfect.

I know he seems impossible, but I will find him! I seriously don't want to just settle with someone. And I know myself well enough to believe I won't. But I can't help but hope for this amazing guy to come and sweep me off my feet! There's gotta be someone really spectacular (for me, at least) out there. I just need to work on myself so I won't be "settlee" either. In the meantime, I'll just stare at William Brecker's beautiful neck...makes me feel vampiric just thinking about it *grin*.

Anyways, my bipolar day (every day here is bipolar) is ending on a bright note since we discovered that we can leech off someone's internet! Which I am using to write this and apply for jobs, making me much less stressed. Hallelujah!

Well, off to more serious job hunting. I leave you all to another day. Au revoir!

P.S. B, he's not wearing knee-high boots in the video - that's just a kerchief or something tied around his knee. Still, very hot boots.

P.P.S. I'm still deciding whether I want to be social or not - Kym and I tried it a bit Sunday and it got me the attentions of a certain parkour enthusiast, Mike. I've promised to go parkour with him sometime, and I hope that his interest is purely parkour-oriented, as I am not feeling very dateable at the moment. Unless William Brecker decide to quit the band and go to BYU. And move in across the way. Then I'd have to rethink my avoidance of males *grin*.

Warpin' the World, One Tour at a Time

WARNING: THIS POST IS EXTREMELY LONG AND MAY CAUSE IMPATIENCE, BLOOD CLOTS, CRINGING, PREGNANCY, OR BRAIN FAILURE. NEVER READ TIA'S BLOG WITHOUT FULL REALIZATION OF THE TIME WASTED THAT YOU COULD BE USING TO SAVE WHALES AND SOYBEANS.

5:41 PM Sunday, August 10, 2008

Yesterday was great. 50 bands, gorgeous canyon view, (12:39 AM Tuesday, August 12, 2008) kindly mosh girls, vineyard streaking…the list goes on and on. Sooooo awesome.

Suffice it to say, Saturday we went to see Warped Tour at The Gorge. Which is Gorgeous. Interestingly enough, I was actually very reluctant to go. All week I’d been hemming and hahing, pretty sure it’d be a total bust like every other concert I’ve been to. Not to mention I knew the massive amounts of partying that would be going on at such an event – a fact made true by all the pot I smelled that day. Smelly, skunky pot.

But back to the story! The day started out bueno with a home-cooked breakfast and about 20 trips between B’s and my house. It got even better when we got lost and stopped by a port-o-potty for B, and I brilliantly suggested we run unencumbered by worldly fetters down the scenic grapevines. Aka, we streaked. It was brilliant, it was exhilarating, and it was just plain embarrassing when I was finally free of those cotton panties. Not to mention slightly uncomfortable with those small bugs trapped between my bosom and bra. Note: when stripping self of clothes, be sure to throw them above ant-infested areas. Still, very exhilarating.

Having officially decided the trip was then worth it even if The Gorge was wiped out by alien invaders before we got to see Ludo...we pressed on. A short drive and a couple of confused directions later (as well as a discovery of said ant’s departing gift) we were back on track.

This is where Tia starts whining, because Tia doesn’t really feel like being around swearing, smoking, drinking, half-naked people all day. And our arrival at the entrance proved I would have to deal with just that. An hour and a half of miserable grossness ensued, the highlight of which was a girl throwing up on the people behind me, and soon I was almost throwing my ticket at whoever would take it. What stopped me, and I’m actually pretty serious, was that I didn’t have my own car to drive back and would have left NiNi and B stranded if I’d stolen his.

Happily (and kind of sadly), we got in, I got over the drugs, swearing, and nakedness, and Warped Tour turned out to be ze bomb! It was like a giant carnival, but with music everywhere, as if someone’s iPod had become a living creature and we all wandered around the songs we wanted. Ludo was fantastic, which cemented my love for them, and so was the crazy band of smiling Japanese girls after them. My favorite image of that day has to be seeing a red-dyed Mohawk-sporting punk moshing to these cute little Asian girls playing Caribbean music on their trumpets and trombones. So classy. So Warped Tour.

We all ran amok and gained some sense of stability by 4 when all of us (B, Me, Hilde, Niners, Ross and Vince) actually met up by the giant schedule board and decided what bands we would see. Five minutes of waiting for Mandy, whom we hadn’t seen all day, and we left. It may sound harsh, but none of us really expected her to be there (though ironically she texted me at 4:10 wondering where we were). We all went to see Rising Against, which Vince wanted to see, and I broke Hilde and NiNi in to their first real mosh pit. Which in turn broke both Hilde’s and Vince’s flip-flops and my new glasses. It just goes to show that this horror (which really was horrible) couldn’t even ruin my day, it was that good.

It did however dampen my spirits enough to skip Katy Perry (she was bad apparently, oh well!) and stake out our spot with Branden. And by stake out I mean lay in the sun cuddling our bags as theft prevention. This goodness led to wonderfulness as NiNi and Hilde both began to massage my calf and head (respectively) and I seriously felt the best part of the day just lying there surrounded by B’s snores, Hilde’s hands, NiNi’s nails, Vince’s camera snapping, and Ross’s stoic silence. C’est bliss.

This is when the cuddling broke out and our calm serenity gave way to mad puppy piling. I say ‘puppy’ because we were more like that than any other creature, poking and prodding each other into place until we’re all comfortable. Until about 5 minutes later and we all have to do it again. I swear, it’s impressive how we manage to get into this tangled mass of limbs and actually stay comfortable. At one point, Hilde, NiNi, Vince, and I actually had our heads hooked together like Lincoln Logs. No joke – we’ve got a picture to prove it.

This pretty much made up the pattern for the rest of the night – cuddle, mosh, cuddle, mosh. Quite possibly the strangest combination ever, but, hey, it worked. By the time we’d left the venue, Branden’s face matched his shirt (he wore pink as a signal to every gay man there), Hilde was wearing my tennies as I dazed along in socks, and everyone had everyone else’s crap. It was fabulous. We all just kept repeating “Today was great. Today was awesome. Today was really great!” and so on. Not even their tent falling over could break the spell (though Vince did not like the choco muffin theivage – muffin whore *grin*). ‘Course, NiNi, B, and I just went home, so a wet, sagging tent wasn’t exactly stopping us from a good night’s sleep!

Suffice it to say, it rocked. We acted crazy, but not too much, we made some awesome memories (I will always love Hilde’s face when that guy whacked her chest with a stamp that said, “STREAKER” *laughs uncontrollably*), and we made a good new friend. I wish I could say we made two, but I’m afraid Ross failed in every way Vince succeeded. *sigh* Oh well, I don’t blame him. We’re not your average group. And I don’t mind that some people think our group of friends is a cult. Streaking with fellow cult members is fun *grin*.

Oh, Sinner Man, Where You Gonna Run To?

I have to be one of the least creative people on the planet. I come to my blogs, think of a title, can't think of a title, and just type whatever phrase (generally accompanied by music) pops into my head. And, alas, you all are the luckless recipients of my madness.

Suzie Homewrecker

Man, life is chaotic right now. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to get it together in time for fall, but I know that if I don't, it will suck even more than last year. My friends are insane, and NOT HELPING *grumblegrumble*. You know who you are, even if you don't read my blog. Ugh, my ulcer.

I keep finding myself thinking about slowing pulling money out of my account and running away to Greece before anyone knew any better. And then I find myself slowly pulling my hair out, wondering whether life would be any better there (though I'm almost certain it would - give me a foreign country and no language skills over life any day).

I don't mean to mope. But every time I read everyone elses blogs I wonder if I'm the only one not loving life like crazy right now, and it makes me feel even more dejected. I suppose it could be blamed on the fact that most of your families read your blogs. I wouldn't talk like this if I knew my mom would read it.

Bleh. Just bleh. Anyone who read my posts would think I was the saddest thing. But I only ever feel like writing when I'm feeling pathetic. Bleh.

On a good note, I did win a free ticket to Warped Tour and two backstage passes. All for handing over a pint or so of my oh-so-positive blood. Tres cool. However, the excitement is slightly dimmed by thoughts of camping over - I may skip out on that. Whatev.

Sing to me, Preacehr Man!

Okay, so today's patient of interest is a 6some year-old clergyman with a wife 7 years older than him, an extensive knowledge of music (he majored in it), and a tryout for the New York Metropolitan Opera in 1969.

SO COOL. I meet the neatest people in this office.

Evil Genius Secretaries and Octagenarian Race Cars

If I ever get old (heaven forbid) and can only get around using one of those "Jazz Chair 2000!"s, I'd race small children down the massive aisles of CostCo, from the massive 52" Panasonics all the way to the cream-cheese frosting cakes. Their parents would be so pleased to find exhausted, nap-ready toddlers, that they'd buy me a big batch of CostCo muffins right then and there. Then I'd take my warm chocolate chip muffin (which I'd heated in the sampler's microwave), buzz on down to the nearest college dorm - mad-dogging drivers the whole way - and promptly race college freshman down their vomit-stained halls to burn off my high blood-sugar (cause, you know, I'm diabetic - I just don't care), until I finally run into a wall and have to flee the crime scene.

Now, I didn't necessarily see a wrinkled octagenarian zooming past my door with a panting 6-year-old in tow, but I do see a fairly large number of "Jazz Chair 2000"s and what-not. And looking at their slightly deadened faces as they peter along, I can't help but think of all the madness you could do with those things! I mean, they're named things like "Quickie S-525" and "Pride Quantum Blast HD" and what not. And when they're not mimicking sexual innuendos ("Quickie S-525"? Come on.), they're trying to sound like Quiditch broomsticks. So if you ask me, they're just begging to be taken out for a good time, not to mention once you reach that age and level of morbidity, you can pretty much do anything you want.

I love my job.

I am, if you haven't deduced, currently at my site of employment, wiling away the hours before I rush home into the arms of my beloved sis. Yep. Shae's coming, for all that don't know, and she will be staying for a month! Yay! Happyhappyjoyjoy. This is indeed and eventful time, what with Willy's wedding, my birthday, and Shae/Tori's visit (don't know when Tori's planning on coming up, but now certain it should be when Shae's here).

WARNING: These next two paragraphs are meant for Kym, and therefore hold little merit for anyone else. But if you want to waste your time, why not?

So. KYM!!!! HOW ARE YOU!?!?!?!?!?!?!? There's my little shout out to you, Kimberly Dear. I keep having dreams now where we're living in the dorms again (which have magically transformed into my room and Hilde's dorm combined) and you're introducing me to your FABulous new friends, which are just FABulous and think I'm just FABulous as well. I hope your spring/summer is doing freaking awesome and I'm glad I can at least keep up with the basics through blogs (I miss you, Kym, I really do). Running into your mom is quite funny, actually, because every time I do I remind her that you're not there (or so she says). I think I may have to turn mission impossible every time I see her and duck and roll behind tables and what-not so as not to cause undue grief. Should be interesting.

U nysekf (Haha, I just typed that without looking at the screen OR the keyboard. Mad skills.) Ahem, I myself am doing quite dandy. I'm storing up on motivation and home-goodness so hopefully I won't be quite as much of a witch in the fall. But I give you full permission to burn me (you don't even have to check and see if I float first) if I am. I'm quite interested in meeting our new roomies, and I think I'll just scare the crap out of them at first so it just gets better as we go. If they know how freaky I am than at least they won't be surprised when they see it.

Anyways! I might start an emailing campaign to keep in touch witchu, Kimbo, because blogs are so impersonal and you know how much I hate cell phones. Feel free to email back or simply bask in the erratic goodness that is my writing. All ist gut.

My lunch hour (which should technically be a half-hour, but I'm answering the phones as I type, so I'm letting that extra half-hour slide) is almost up and I have to turn back into professional, loveable Tia, then I get to rush home to my crippled mom, preggo bird sister, and crazed beast-for-a-pet. Oh, what fun will then ensue. Cheerio, beautifuls!

Hong Kong Garden

You know what has a great soundtrack? Marie Antoinette. You know what's a gorgeous movie? Marie Antoinette. You what I've seen three times in the last two days? Marie Antoinette.

I love Kirsten Dunst. She really is such a great actress - I love the zest for life that she brings out in Marie Antoinette's character. Even better, she doesn't play the same person every time. She actually changes acting style and mood for each film. She can't be typecast.

Well, off that vein. Now onto the only other thing I do (besides watch 'Marie Antoinette') - work. I've discovered some less than pleasant aspects of adults in my last couple of weeks working at the clinic. One being that they're basically teenagers who've just learned to suppress everything good about being young.

Of courses that's an exaggeration, but it does fit my feelings about certain doctors I work with. I've learned through not-at-all-subtle hints that one of my doctors basically hates the other. He accuses him of stealing, criticizes his patient relations, gets ticked if he leaves a cover off a piece of equipment, etc. But he doesn't tell any of this to him - he tells it to me. Me!.....gossipy wench...

And what's even worse, I get along with said-accused doctor. It's a type of ease we'd never have had if we were the same age, but since I'm half his age, we can be perfectly comfortable teasing each other. But the point is, since I'm so friendly with hated-doctor (sorry, I don't want to use names - Kym might know these guys and I don't want to be gossipy. I just want to rant) and hating-doctor hired me, he looks at me like I've betrayed him sometimes! And he keeps checking to make sure I don't favor the other doctor when I schedule appointments. It's to the point where I don't even want to schedule anyone for hated-doctor in front of hating-doctor. Hideous.

Bleh. That said, I do rather enjoy my job (though not more than I enjoy getting off and coming home). I have learned something, even if it paints me as a selfish b - I could never keep a steady office job. Not if I only had myself to feed - I'd hate it. If I do happen to live alone for any period of time, supporting myself, I'm going to do random, interesting jobs that you've never heard of. Or at least something that's outdoors. Maybe I will just fly away to Greece and lead tourists on Burfel hunts around Naxos.

Dang, I hate being responsible. I know I sound immature and whiney, but it really does feel like it's tying you down. Like you can't really experience this world when you're stuck keeping a house/car/etc. Maybe I should just run amok across the world, get it out of my system. Heaven knows this is probably my last chance.

Mere. Bleh.


PS The title is one of the songs on the soundtrack - supreme. Fabuloso. Bellemisimo. Etceterasio.

PPS Oh, so one funny thing that happened at work (besides talking with this guy named Angel in very sad Spanish (don't look Sra. Janke, just don't)) today was I got insulted by an automated insurance menu. I was calling up to verify as usual and I got an automated program that used vocal cues instead of a regular, ol' button mashing one. Clue: I hate these. They always wig out if they hear a noise in the background and people stare at me when I'm talking to one because I'm being very articulate.

Anyways, so I'm talking to this carbon-copy of a human being, and it's the end of the day, and it's not taking me anywhere I want to go. So, I start whining at it and moaning the option I want. And it keeps saying "Dental? Yes?" "Associates? Yes?" "Medical? Yes?" and all I freaking want is Vision! Yes! So finally I start singing the words to it, messing with the inflections because by now I'm just trying to eke some sort of pleasure from this phone call, and it goes "Mental Health? Yes?"

Well, at that I burst out laughing and promptly hung up on that insulting b-word. Then I hummed away happily as I messed with all of hating-doctor's files. *grin* J/k.

I'm Actually Feeling Serious for Once...

I've been waiting....I've been waiting for this moment all my life. But it's not quite right.s

It's kind of amazing how songs pull out truths you'd never have thought of on your own. In a sort-of-kind-of-diary entry (I really can't call them that) on my comp, I wrote how, to me, logic is expressed by words and feelings are expressed by art.

No, that wasn't it. *soft laugh* It's funny, I can't even explain my view of feelings in words right now. Hm. Must not be feeling very artistic. Well, after rereading it, the original explains it so much better. And, B, there are so many tings I want to talk to you about, so many new ideas I've had that I want to share, but for now I only have this imperfect medium to work with - and it doesn't express enough. I guess we'll just have to wait. For the moment, pay close attention to the last paragraph. I don't know. Hopefully it'll get something of what I'm thinking across (PS these are for the thoughts on the 'shattered mask' bit - mind you, not the shattered mask, but the thoughts).

4:28 PM Thursday, February, 21, 2008

Art is intense. I was sitting in History, studying for my exam (which I should be studying for/taking right now), when I noticed a phrase describing what makes up civilization – something akin to “a sophisticated interest in art and science”. It was at that moment that I had an epiphany that has been pulling at my mind unbeknownst to me since. Science is man exploring the limit of logic, and art…art is man exploring the limit of feeling.

Now, I know that isn’t exactly earth shattering; but we may know something our whole lives and never realize it, while the things we do realize shake us to our core. They stick with us, bleed into our bones till everything we do is eternally altered because of that one simple thought.

This particular epiphany gained strength when I sat down in this cozy little alcove on the fourth floor of the JFSB (my fav building at BYU), and started looking even more into miss Cornelia Parker of Great Britain. I saw several sculptures that intrigued me even off of Google Images, but it wasn’t till I saw what she did to Rodin’s The Kiss that I knew I was forever hooked.

Don’t ask me why – I’d never seen this particular sculpture before, though it’s apparently quite popular, and all she did to it was wrap string all over it. But in it there was such an invocation of feeling that I suddenly knew what art was meant for. Art is meant to put into expression what words cannot. Art is pure feeling, of all sorts, and is the outlet for all the imperfections and shortcomings of our mode of language. All the meanings left unsaid, simply because they cannot be said.

*sigh* I crave sunlight. It’s like my manna from heaven, my own personal plant food. I don’t need it, but by golly if I’d thrive without it.

Like most epiphanies, this one didn’t just hit me, Bang!, then walk away. I had to simultaneously analyze my love of all things artistic (which translates to my love of feeling) and my own sense of wanting to live. Just to live. But marching firmly against these personal factors of mine are my perceptions of my religion (not my actual religion, mind you, but the perception of it) and the worry that I could fall into the trap of only feeling, never thinking. My over-fondness for stimulation (and I mean that as in emotional, intellectual, spiritual, and physical stimulation) has gotten me in trouble in the past.

But feeling, living, seeing, is such a part of my existence, that I’m afraid I’ll repress it too much in an attempt to simply temper it. At times I feel as if I’ve held too much in and I have to let it out. That book, A Bright Red Scream, noted that come people start cutting because they’ve repressed feelings or secrets for too long, feelings or emotions that have to come out and cutting acts as an outlet for them. Literally taking a blade to your skin and opening yourself to the world in the only way your shut off mind knows how.

Needless to say, we don’t want that. All these thoughts and maunderings have led to one coherent fact. Like many realizations of mine, I decided that feeling and thinking are things we must do in moderation. It seems to me that only feeling, never thinking, leads to chaos, and likewise only thinking, never feeling, leads to nothing. So all that’s left is for me to find the middle ground. Or the ground that I can stand on and not go crazy. *Sigh*

Because Caitlan Reminded Me (Whether She Realized It or Not)

I decided a while back that I ought to put up some of the things my teacher's say that I deem valuable enough to actually write down.....and I forgot about it until I saw Caitlan's post about her crazy HMFD teacher(s). So, here's to the beautiful people who teach me!

"It looked like Walt Disney threw up on it!" (describing a particularly colorful fungi)

"There's this one where it looks like someone took an egg beater and stuck it in its face and said, ' Look! It's a bat!'" (describing a particularly ugly bat)

"Throw those peas away and eat your candy!"

"We live in an arctic, godforsaken part of the planet. Oh, excuse me - 'This is the place.'" (too funny - will explain to non-Mormons later *grin*)

"Water is bad. We call that 'drowning'."

"Learn logarithms or die!"

"Now notice that we are - this is going to sound spiritual almost - we are....star babies." (I don't even remember, but his expression was priceless...)

"You are like diamonds and you are like....star babies."

"We are not promiscuous like sunflowers."

"Cinco! My pet toad!" (we were talking about mutation that day - guess why he was named Cinco *grin*)

"And you can guess what we named the other one..."
(class) "Cuatro!!"

"Then we steal their babies and eat them." (<------- Do you see where I get it from!?!?!)

Those all were, if you couldn't tell, from my mad-scientist Bio professor, Dr. Nelson. No, seriously, he looks like Christopher Lloyd from "Back to the Future".

And these next few are from that wonderful man who teaches my film class - I can only remember his first name. Tom. They're way funnier when you know how he acts.

"It's like they want to tie the poem to a chair with rope and torture a confession out of it!"

"Jerry Springer is Satan." (He was joking. I think.)

"'Cause then we'd have flying horses, and then my analogy would fall apart."

"Ego is crack for the soul."

"You look awfully disappointed being the father of a blind boy - do you wish he'd fall off a cliff? Look! They're breaking through the blast doors!" (Tom talking about crappy sound directors in movies - using dialogue as cues to the audience, instead of having cinematic elements, like sound, do it.)

Crazy/Beautiful Memorias

do i love you, my oh my........river DEEP, mountain HIGH (YEAHYEAHYEAH!)
If I lost you, would I cryyyyyyyyYYYYYYYY!!!!!!! Oh, how I love you BABEH, babeh, Babeh, BABEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

....

I want to go home.

AAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WANT TO GO HOME!

No Comment

I really have nothing to say. I should be spending this valuable, post-pizza time hitting the books (which of course means the internet) for meine Nature Experience de infierno. But instead I'm cross-legged on my floor, looking through ads and writing you. Quel fromage, I say. What the cheese.

Well. I could go make zucchini bread. That bloomin' pizza set my junk cravings off, flashing and sirening over every single sugary ad like police raiding a German bakery. Why German? Why not?

Steph thinks I should make zucci bread. I've just decided to call it that. I may even have to name my daughter 'Zucchini' so I can call her 'Zucci' for short. I'll make up some ridiculous story about how when I was pregnant with her I had the most horrid cravings for our neighbor's fresh zucchini, and I made her father go steal it for me. Till one day he got caught and arrested for trespassing (our neighbors will be the cantankerous sort). And that will take care of both her insecurities about her freakish first name and why she doesn't have a father *wicked grin*.


*sigh* I wish I could just scribble on forever. But, alas! My bed is calling me. Zucci bread will have to wait.

I Love Being Mad/One Card Short of a Full Deck/Knitting with Only One Needle/And Just Freaking Insane

Okay, so as I was productively skipping class in the JFSB today, I found some fun little blogs. They made me happy, so I thought I'd share them:

(This just made me happy)
http://talentedunemployedjd.blogspot.com/2008/03/ive-got-another-confession-to-make.html

(And this one's just a little bit of fun)
http://todayinseven.blogspot.com/

.....

*dies laughing*

So, now it's, what , 7:58 and I'm still at the JFSB, still skipping class (and life for that matter), browsing my old comp. entries (sort of diary entries, but more like random expressions of madness), and I find this:

"10:54 PM Saturday, November 10, 2007

So much for the afterglow…..

La meré. I am le tired. And le fried. And just plain sucky. I don’t need le French for that one.

Well, this feels good. It has been such a jolly long time since I’ve written anything remotely related to a journal, especially on le computer. And now, on this pathetic Saturday night, I’ve returned.

Man, what crap. Yeah, I’ve been at college for, what, almost five months? And I’m already burned out and ready to screw it all? Yeah, that’s jolly stuff.

Problem is I’ve been jacking off for so long it’s just hard to stop. I’ve never had to work for anything. My days as an academic thus far have been like this:

*Teacher standing at front, lecturing to a konked out class. Me painting my nails (electric blue, no less) in the front row. And, for the sake of my screwed up mentality, let’s put me in a freaky, Catholic schoolgirl skirt and a DD cup*

Teacher: And that’s how the human genome was finally decoded. Now, would any of you like to replicate the DNA strand of the arabidopsis thaliana on the whiteboard here?

Class: *snores*

Teacher: Ah, Tia, why don’t you enthrall us with your exquisite grasp of biogenetics?

The distraction causes my oh-so steady hand to jerk, coloring my pinky blue.

Me, irritated: Oh, you want me to demonstrate my mad mental skills in front of such an unworthy audience? Is that it?

My chair flies into deep space as I shoot up, going into a flying spin kick right in Teacher’s face. Screw genomes. Brazilian Jujitsu kicks its *** anyday.

Well. Yeah. That’s about how it felt anyways. The part about the nail polish is true (though not the nungas, thank heavens). Having Hilde’s around was enough to put me off big breasts for life."

I freaking love my screwed up self.

Because Branden Wants It....

...even if he doesn't know it.

Awesome song: Love Me Dead by Ludo

http://profile.imeem.com/461zpM/music/RT-wAInz/ludo_love_me_dead/

Por lo manos, imeem is an awesome sight too.

I Can't Sleep....*grumblegrumble*

And so the week of insomnia continues. Happily, tonight I am kept up by the excitement for tomorrow and not the dread of it. I'm full of all those racing thoughts that just won't let you sleep, no matter how pocked and saggy your skin, how tired your muscles, how headache-y your brain. Ah, I live for these nights.

I'm feeling...benign? Maybe mild; Thesaurus.com says I'm feeling "downright neighborly" (glory, I love that site). Calm is certainly there. I've felt more calm today than I have (on a weekday) for a while. At least a couple weeks. Strange how that works. I am also listening to Two-Star Symphony, this awesome quartet from Houston, TX that has a strong flavor of Russia - to ignorant, ol' me at least. They are so cool I feel the need to promote them.

Nifty Tex-Russian musica aside, I am also looking up all the bookstores in the greater Tri-Cities area. I've decided that being eighteen and out of school two months earlier will make job-hunting far more attractive than it was in high school, and since I'll be relatively early, I can be choosy. At least at first. Then, when no one hires me, I'll settle for frying spuds for the King (Kimberly Ann, we still haven't played that game *pointed look*).

Hmmmmmm, let's see.....other than that I may be going up to Boise this weekend. Mi madre y padre will be there and I really want to go. I'm trying to resign myself to the fact that I may not, but I want to cheat my last stretch of Spartan existence and recharge with the fam. I want to ask Dad for a blessing and Mum for hair dyeing tips and make Willy unlock my phone (and check out his relationship w/ Jess) and so forth. Then I can come home and suck it up for a couple more weeks. Happily, in fact.

Well, that'd be grand, but who knows. I do know that tomorrow's gonna suck it up if I don't go to sleep soon (though it's pretty much already gonna suck - I have to get up in 3 hours). Bleh.


PS Here's a site where you can listen (and even download - ooerg!) Two-Star Symphony. "Something She Said" is my favorite so far.

http://music.download.com/twostarsymphony/3600-8281_32-100790363.html

Because Everyone is Doing It (and I Like Tag)

Favorite Color:Hahahahahahahaha!!!!

Favorite Animal:

Bad Habit:

Favorite Food:

Favorite Hobby:

Place I live: Go Clockwise (Los Lunas, Las Vegas, Richland, Provo)

Favorite Song:

*snort* S'not even my favorite song (though who has one of those, seriously?), but the picture was just too perfect!

My Job:

Favorite Author:

Favorite Dessert:

Ambrosia, straight from Mt. Olympus.

Picture of Me:

Hey, if the shoe fits.....

I Freaking Love to Color!!!!

And I'm Freaking restless to boot. I couldn't sleep due to the aforementioned problem, and just when I got down from my bunk, Aryel charged in. Good timing, because I've calmed down, but I've also gotten a little bit of my psycho out of my system. Poor Kym though, she's probably cursing her name by now *grin*.

Anyways, I'm just posting this for the heck of it. I'm now going to go rest my soul...or read until I drop dead. Either way, don't be surprised one day if you wake up and I"m texting you from Hawaii or Greece. I'd totally jump ship if I could slip the money out from under my dad's nose. Sadly, he checks my account regularly, so no flying away anytime soon.....*wistful stare off in the distance*

Where Have All the Bishies Gone? Why, There Right Here - In Deutschland!

Ok, topic of the day: Bill Kaulitz.

Just a sidenote - he's a man. A very freakishly pretty man.

I found this 'guy' while I was surfing around imeem last night, and after seeing his face I had to click on the ad. Not surprisingly, I thought he was....a girl.....and even better was after I'd read all about him and his twin brother (who pulls the gangsta look - I"ll show in a sec), I still thought he was a girl. They even blatantly stated "he..." "he...." "he...", etc., but I just couldn't look at that face and think: boy.

I had it almost figured out to wear it was a huge gimmick and he really was the twin sister (manga widens my range of believability), but then I heard him speak. And sing. And much as I'd like to think that that's just a very husky girl, I might have to just cede and give him his sex.

*sigh* Well, the sad result of all that strange fascination is now I can't/don't want to take my eyes off of him. He's just plain appealing to the eye and because I've officially given in and named him male, he is now my new fantasy toy. One day, he will walk around Salt Lake (I've decided that's the most believable place, though campus would be a lot more convenient), bump into me, find himself strangely drawn to me, get converted, and woo the heck out of me. I really have read too much manga<---He's our age, by the way. Oh my gosh, he's such a girl.

Ah, well, I figured I'd chalk it down to a strange impulse/attraction/sick fascination. I like different things, black things, and pretty things, and he certainly embodies all of those. Freaky.


Bill No-Makeup - still a girl (look at those eyes).

So hot....it's just not normal.This is the only picture I can find where he looks anything like a guy. Oh, and here's his twin.




Ok, so I know this is way more pictures than anyone asked for, but I just couldn't help myself. There are strange powers of attraction at work here, and I'd be the last to understand them.

Anyways, I wanted to write something actually intelligent about the band to redeem my return to adolescent worship, but I have to go to class. So, I'll just have to let you research. There was a good article by a German guy, but I've lost the link. Anyways, name of the band's Tokio Hotel, if you want to check them out.

PS Their music doesn't particularly slay me, per se, but they are freakishly popular internationally, so maybe it's just me.

Hey, cherry, do you belong to the physics club?

I. Found. The most. AWESOME. Pair of boots today.

Doc Martens, plaid interior, ribbon laces, and they fold down half-way like Bender does to his boots in The Breakfast Club. Sweet!



Oh, and that's not even the best part - they're only $70 at Famous Footwear. Everywhere I've tried to find them online, they're $150. Yeeeeesssssssss......I am so going to go buy them tomorrow. I've wanted Doc Marten boots half my life (and, no, I'm not exaggerating).

Well, on a less shallow note, my life is dandy. I've actually had a pretty good day (though my head is starting to object to that no sleep thing I had going for me last night), and I already bought a pair of nice, brown sketchers and new running shoes today. So my feet are in Hermes heaven. And it was sunny and warm....still! I'm amazed, to say the least, but definitely still appreciative!

Ah, boots.....really I can't deny it. I'm still euphoric from simply deciding I was going to own those boots. Euphoria!!! Utter, rapturous, worldly joy! And that's just from deciding - imagine what I'll be like when I actually buy them.

Hallelujah!

Mini-Man Blog!

Ok, so here's a quick, short blog mostly meant to advertise my other blog, College Life in Color, blah, blah, blah. It's basically my picture blog, so for those of you who wish they were an even bigger part of my life, here it is: http://tiaslifeinathousandpictures.blogspot.com/

Oh, and the 'man' part comes from having lost my voice *coughcough*.

One of these things is not like the other one....

Hahahahahahahahahaha! I love myself....

And, by the way, I'm going to see Cloverfield this Friday with Sarah....and Sam *slow smile*.

Blood-letting and AZ-Town

I am now sitting in the D4 terminal of the Phoenix, AZ airport (don't actually know the name) waiting for my flight. Which is delayed. So instead of eagerly rushing back to all of you *cough* darling people, I am pouring out my personal life on this very public access internet. And I am wondering if the rather attractive guy to my right is reading what I type. If so, tres amusant.

Anyways, my weekend was fabulous. I ate much good food (best curry ever), watched many movies which I'd already seen before, climbed many large, very red (yes!) rocks, and played with meine tres awesome sissy. And, no, I am not too old to say sissy - shut your face.

But, point is, it was wonderful and I thoroughly ignored my phone and I am now listening to Meatloaf, like a good little girl, and I am just sighing away my life right about now. Because I don't want to go back. I was just talking to Branden and I was saying how I wouldn't have minded the SLC airport facing a disastrous blizzard or, you know, a comet and I could stay in AZ for another day! Or, like, forever!

Alas, I know that this would be bad (haha, hot guy left - maybe he finally saw himself on my screen *wicked grin*). And Kym might very well hyperventilate (please hyperventilate if I ever
leave you without a moment's notice. Please??) if I don't show up ever again, so I mun come back. Ah, well...twas a short but beautiful dream.

Ew. And I just realized I smell - maybe that's why he left. *despondent sigh*Will anyone ever except me and my pungent ways? PS, I swear I showered today, but 'airport' is just not very conducive to freshness, and airport in Arizona is just plain bad for the health - even at 10 PM in February. Trust me.

Well, I feel like not only am I wasting the lives of all those truants who might be reading this, but your's too, amigos queridos. Thus I will retire - ish. Which means that I'm bored writing and now I'm going to watch Scrubs. Luvs! *grin*


PS Forget the title - I just named an folder in my pictures that and I liked it so much I wanted the public to see.

Scandalous!

Sooooooo, if we didn't know it already, I've determined that Tia's evil twin comes out at night. Usually after 1. She's seductive and know what she wants and, dang, she can get it. Like, if Sam were with me right now, I could march up to him and just take him. I am utterly convinced that in this mood, he'd have no chance *evil laughter*.

I saw Sam tonight. I wasn't quite to the point of 'no return' (that's basically what it is), but I was still revved up from my previous burst of confidence and I pulled another bit of smooth Tia bonding. I think I'll just work it until he's comfortable with me, and then I'll pounce! He'll be so thrown off, he won't be able to do anything but take it *more evil laughter*.

Well, curfew chased him off, but I stayed around (we were all in my neighbor's apartment) and we all had a good boy/kissing/hugging/Tia's *ahem* kinkiness talk. It was quite fab, won't lie. But the result of it was this mood and my realization that Kym is right. Kimmy wants a husband; I want a boy toy.

Now, that isn't exactly the most flattering thing - it doesn't say much for my reputation - but it's true. And it's not necessarily sexual (though I do miss cuddling like nothing else). I've realized that I just don't want anything from a guy now but his sheer existence in my life. And thinking back to my brief, fling-y relationship with Matt, it was the same deal. I just wanted that, well, fun that comes with having a boy. A boy toy.

*sigh* Well, we'll see what happens. I've decided that I'm going to get Sam to ask me out within a month - just a date, nothing serious. Amidst all these scandaloso thoughts, I have realized the consequences of seducing a premie. Fear not, I'd rather not face God's wrath by diverting one of His missionaries from His chosen path. In the end, Santa Tia has control over Scandalosa Tia. Mostly.

*wicked grin*

All_nighter

AHH!

Ragings of the Insomniac

Oh. My. Gosh.

I was just laying in bed, having finally made it under the covers, when all of a sudden twenty million thoughts started racing through my head. Here's a quick preview: curly hair, Sam, Jen Mag, Bio midterm, elf makeup, Valentines Day, Arizona, treating myself, Sam, my entire wardrobe, the tumbling gym, Las Vegas, my journal, ohmygosh do I have insomnia?, crazy procrastinator, picking, fasting, my waistline, my hair, my desire for a boy (not even a man, for heaven's sake), the sleep I'm not getting, and on, and on, and on. Basically, I'm going insane.

I can't sleep. And it's horrible. I have not been able to fall asleep before 2 AM the past week. Now, part of it is the fact that I sleep in till at least 10 and don't go to bed when I'm tired at 11. But, seriously, I feel so physically dead and mentally jazzed at the same time, and it's driving me insane. Insane!

It's so funny, because I used to not go to bed because I didn't want tomorrow to come, and now I can't sleep because I'm so anxious for it. Honestly, isn't there some sort of a compromise? Can I not have just 5 hours? Please, all that is good and true and just and holy, please???

*sigh* I know that last request isn't legit - I've hardly done my part to earn those measly bits of sleep. But I'm just so dang tired....I wish I could just conk out right here, on my keyboard. *sigh* Alas, twill not be so.

Poo.