This day is inspired. It's positively stimulating.
At first I was unsure about the possibility of today being a good day. I woke up with my face about an inch away from the wall and I freaked out because all I could see was beige for a few seconds and I had no idea where I was. I took some cold medicine last night and it knocked me out quite effectively so I was probably in a really deep sleep.
The weather made today. I actually had to play the Electric Light Orchestra's "Mr. Blue Sky" after I got back from my first class.
Earlier this week one of the boys in my class made sushi for everyone which was delicious. He made three kinds which he wrapped in nori (seaweed.) I opted for the veggie, which is usually my style. Tuna and crabmeat were the other choices. The stuff was actually quite good. It was a little weird eating sushi and soy sauce at 10:40 in the morning but it was a delightful treat. Today a girl brought in homemade samosas. That was a lot more unusual in the morning than the sushi. Indian spices aren't really good during the breakfast hours. Just so you know. But it was still very good.
I generally prefer Middle Eastern cuisine to Indian cuisine. I tend to appreciate the subtlety of their spices moreso than the taste bud blitz that a lot of Indian food is known for. Earlier today I had an intense craving for kofta. I'd never think to season ground beef with cinnamon but I'm very grateful that someone did.
Right now I'm heading out to meet with one of my actors for the film I'm working on. We're shooting his scene tonight and I have to get him to fill out a consent form and make sure his wardrobe is good and stuff.
I'm wearing my boyfriend's shirt right now. It's very comforting.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
The circle of warmth
This year's senior class gift at my college is called The Circle of Warmth.
It's essentially a massive firepit lined with bricks that members of the senior class are currently purchasing. It's a shady way to get the project done--coercing poor college students into handing over their cash in the name of a false promise of some sort of brick-lined firepit legacy. These kids are vulnerable. They don't know where they're gonna be next year or the year after that. They need to hold onto something *ahem* concrete here on campus. Might as well be a glorified chunk of clay at the edge of a hole in the ground.
The location of the Circle of Warmth (which actually sounds like an embarrassing stain on the front of a young boy's pants on the first day of school) is right in the middle of this beautiful section of lawn that I cut through daily to avoid the haste of the sidewalk. They're breaking up my lawn.
I like fire as much as the next girl. Actually, I really like fire a lot. Some might say that I like fire to a fault. But I can't imagine having a good time around a fire that's smack in the middle of the lawn facing the grease dumpsters behind the student union, the tennis courts, the student activity center (which looks like Auschwitz!), and one of the freshman dormitories. The whole point of having a bonfire is to escape into the mystery and seduction of the night sans apprehension. So how am I supposed to travel forth into a parallel nighttime universe of fire-inspired wantonness and lust while a bunch of haggard cafeteria workers stare across the lawn at me during their smoke breaks?
I want my bonfires to be in the woods in secret. I want to feel free to throw random items into the raging flames just to see what colors they make. I want to make out and carry on. I want to dance like those chicks from "The Crucible." I want to make out with John Proctor from "The Crucible." I mean, I understand that he's a fictional character but hypothetically speaking, that's the kind of thing that I would do around my bonfire.
And I certainly wouldn't engrave inspirational messages on a bunch of overpriced bricks around the pit. If I did they would say things like "Devo RULES!" or "I like rice cakes!"
My point is, this Circle of Warmth (or COW) completely goes against everything a good firepit stands for. And I don't want to take any part in it. And I will ardently oppose any event that takes place in this future firepit.
I hope that my senior class gift is a bookcase or a sapling.
It's essentially a massive firepit lined with bricks that members of the senior class are currently purchasing. It's a shady way to get the project done--coercing poor college students into handing over their cash in the name of a false promise of some sort of brick-lined firepit legacy. These kids are vulnerable. They don't know where they're gonna be next year or the year after that. They need to hold onto something *ahem* concrete here on campus. Might as well be a glorified chunk of clay at the edge of a hole in the ground.
The location of the Circle of Warmth (which actually sounds like an embarrassing stain on the front of a young boy's pants on the first day of school) is right in the middle of this beautiful section of lawn that I cut through daily to avoid the haste of the sidewalk. They're breaking up my lawn.
I like fire as much as the next girl. Actually, I really like fire a lot. Some might say that I like fire to a fault. But I can't imagine having a good time around a fire that's smack in the middle of the lawn facing the grease dumpsters behind the student union, the tennis courts, the student activity center (which looks like Auschwitz!), and one of the freshman dormitories. The whole point of having a bonfire is to escape into the mystery and seduction of the night sans apprehension. So how am I supposed to travel forth into a parallel nighttime universe of fire-inspired wantonness and lust while a bunch of haggard cafeteria workers stare across the lawn at me during their smoke breaks?
I want my bonfires to be in the woods in secret. I want to feel free to throw random items into the raging flames just to see what colors they make. I want to make out and carry on. I want to dance like those chicks from "The Crucible." I want to make out with John Proctor from "The Crucible." I mean, I understand that he's a fictional character but hypothetically speaking, that's the kind of thing that I would do around my bonfire.
And I certainly wouldn't engrave inspirational messages on a bunch of overpriced bricks around the pit. If I did they would say things like "Devo RULES!" or "I like rice cakes!"
My point is, this Circle of Warmth (or COW) completely goes against everything a good firepit stands for. And I don't want to take any part in it. And I will ardently oppose any event that takes place in this future firepit.
I hope that my senior class gift is a bookcase or a sapling.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
U-Haul My Heart
The other day I was snuggling with my sweetie and I began to tell him that he was like one of those rentable storage units. He interrupted me before I could justify the statement. And to be honest, at the moment I didn't really know where I was going with it. I just wanted to talk my way out of it. But now that I've had some time, I've really found ten ways that my partner in love is like a storage unit. I am changing his name to a pet name that I have given him to protect his identity. Becuase who wants to be linked to the creepy blog girl who compares her boyfriend to a storage unit?
1. When I'm with him I invest a lot of myself in him--my time, my energy, my own physical being. In this way, I store a large part of myself within the confines of Puma's heart. I would similarly store large quantities of my belongings in a storage unit.
2. When I am with Puma--that is to say when I invest these parts of myself in the storage unit that is Puma--I feel safe and secure. I feel like I can store anything in him. I can tell him everything and give him everything that I have and it will all remain completely unassailable. If I were to store my belongings with a reputable storage unit company, they would also be secure in this way (in a much more physical, literal sense of course.)
3. There is plenty of space in my relationship with Puma. Not only do we have much space between us, but we also respect one another's independence. Many storage units offer lots of cubic feet for spacious and comfortable storage. They are also often found in long strips, side by side, separated only by thin walls. In this way they share a close connection and an architecturally sound bond but they are still separate entities. Puma and I are related in a similar fashion.
4. Sometimes you only get to visit your storage center once in a long while. Maybe you have nowhere to put the stuff and then you find room or you buy a new place with more space to fill. And then you open up the metal storage unit door and you see all of the incredible things that you forgot that you had. And you're overcome by this wave of happiness and nostalgia for the things that you loved so much that you haven't seen for such a long time. I love Puma in this way. I only see him once in a while and when I do I am instantly reminded of how much I live for his touch and all of the wonderful ways that he loves me and I forget how I ever lived without these things in my presence for so long.
5. Often there are discounts for longer stays in storage centers. If you put your stuff in them for a long time, you save money. When Puma stays with me for an extended period of time, or I with him, we save money on gas and tolls.
6. A storage unit is not lactose intolerant. Coincidentally, Puma is also not lactose intolerant. I am. In this way, I am not like a storage unit.
7. When you get your own storage center, you get a matching key and nobody else has that key. It's yours, especially for you. I have given Puma the key to my heart for him to use at his discretion and I feel like I have the key to his. I'm not sharing with anybody. I don't want anyone stealing my stuff.
8. Squirrels often keep their nuts in storage units. Not necessarily in the big industrial ones that people pay for, but they actually do a fair amount of accumulation in special spaces. Squirrels also like nuts. I am nuts about Puma.
9. Many storage units offer optional temperature control so that the items inside can be safe from the elements. Again, we're dealing with an issue of safety and security here. When Puma is around, everything feels safe. Additionally, however, Puma does have the ability to control my temperature. If I were a vinyl record being stored within Puma the storage unit, I'd probably be in danger of melting because he is an incredibly dishy storage unit and I would likely be feeling a little hot and bothered inside him. (Provided that vinyl records have to deal with the raw aching heat of human sexuality.) When I am not with Puma I feel a little bit cold. His voice is my thermostat though. And when he speaks to me on the phone my temperature rises and I feel comfortable again. Sometimes even a little bit balmy.
10. The doors on storage units are often made of jointed strips of metal that curve and roll up slowly when they are opened. Sometimes they take a lot of time and strength to get into. My courtship with Puma was like this slowly rising storage unit gate. The promise of good stuff on the inside was gradually revealed each time I made contact with him. And as I got to know him, everything inside of him that makes him the incredible man that he is became increasingly apparent to me. Eventually the door was completely open and I saw everything that he had to offer and I passed through the threshold that the storage gate allowed me and I immersed myself in his love...or the sundry items that were stored beyond his door. There might have been an antiquated green sofa in one corner or an old rocking horse and a crib. Or just a bunch of comic books and action figures.
I feel like there is so much in store for me and my fellow. There will definitely be more awful puns too.
1. When I'm with him I invest a lot of myself in him--my time, my energy, my own physical being. In this way, I store a large part of myself within the confines of Puma's heart. I would similarly store large quantities of my belongings in a storage unit.
2. When I am with Puma--that is to say when I invest these parts of myself in the storage unit that is Puma--I feel safe and secure. I feel like I can store anything in him. I can tell him everything and give him everything that I have and it will all remain completely unassailable. If I were to store my belongings with a reputable storage unit company, they would also be secure in this way (in a much more physical, literal sense of course.)
3. There is plenty of space in my relationship with Puma. Not only do we have much space between us, but we also respect one another's independence. Many storage units offer lots of cubic feet for spacious and comfortable storage. They are also often found in long strips, side by side, separated only by thin walls. In this way they share a close connection and an architecturally sound bond but they are still separate entities. Puma and I are related in a similar fashion.
4. Sometimes you only get to visit your storage center once in a long while. Maybe you have nowhere to put the stuff and then you find room or you buy a new place with more space to fill. And then you open up the metal storage unit door and you see all of the incredible things that you forgot that you had. And you're overcome by this wave of happiness and nostalgia for the things that you loved so much that you haven't seen for such a long time. I love Puma in this way. I only see him once in a while and when I do I am instantly reminded of how much I live for his touch and all of the wonderful ways that he loves me and I forget how I ever lived without these things in my presence for so long.
5. Often there are discounts for longer stays in storage centers. If you put your stuff in them for a long time, you save money. When Puma stays with me for an extended period of time, or I with him, we save money on gas and tolls.
6. A storage unit is not lactose intolerant. Coincidentally, Puma is also not lactose intolerant. I am. In this way, I am not like a storage unit.
7. When you get your own storage center, you get a matching key and nobody else has that key. It's yours, especially for you. I have given Puma the key to my heart for him to use at his discretion and I feel like I have the key to his. I'm not sharing with anybody. I don't want anyone stealing my stuff.
8. Squirrels often keep their nuts in storage units. Not necessarily in the big industrial ones that people pay for, but they actually do a fair amount of accumulation in special spaces. Squirrels also like nuts. I am nuts about Puma.
9. Many storage units offer optional temperature control so that the items inside can be safe from the elements. Again, we're dealing with an issue of safety and security here. When Puma is around, everything feels safe. Additionally, however, Puma does have the ability to control my temperature. If I were a vinyl record being stored within Puma the storage unit, I'd probably be in danger of melting because he is an incredibly dishy storage unit and I would likely be feeling a little hot and bothered inside him. (Provided that vinyl records have to deal with the raw aching heat of human sexuality.) When I am not with Puma I feel a little bit cold. His voice is my thermostat though. And when he speaks to me on the phone my temperature rises and I feel comfortable again. Sometimes even a little bit balmy.
10. The doors on storage units are often made of jointed strips of metal that curve and roll up slowly when they are opened. Sometimes they take a lot of time and strength to get into. My courtship with Puma was like this slowly rising storage unit gate. The promise of good stuff on the inside was gradually revealed each time I made contact with him. And as I got to know him, everything inside of him that makes him the incredible man that he is became increasingly apparent to me. Eventually the door was completely open and I saw everything that he had to offer and I passed through the threshold that the storage gate allowed me and I immersed myself in his love...or the sundry items that were stored beyond his door. There might have been an antiquated green sofa in one corner or an old rocking horse and a crib. Or just a bunch of comic books and action figures.
I feel like there is so much in store for me and my fellow. There will definitely be more awful puns too.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
The best band of the world
I just found a blog on blogspot that is dedicated to Evanescence. It's in Spanish but my spanish skills are somewhat limited, especially when it comes to translating the excited and probably nonsensical rantings of an Amy Lee-obsessed Los Angeles teen blogger.
So for now I'm waiting on some friends from Notre Dame.
Yesterday I revisited "Reality Bites" and I feel like at this point in my life I'm ready to evaluate it for what it really is. When the movie came out, I was eight years old. I saw it a few months after it came out on video--my sister got it for her birthday and we watched it together. What I remember most about seeing it for the first time was that everyone in the movie reminded me of my sister--especially Winona Ryder's character. I didn't get anything they were talking about but I fell in love with it because the characters reminded me of the cool people that my sister hung out with. And I thought Ethan Hawke was cute.
I've watched this movie several times since and now it carries extra weight with me. Especially now that I get what's happening. But mostly I feel like this movie is really important to me and to other people for the same reason it was important to me when I was a kid. The characters captured the essence of Generation X (which is a term that I am reluctant to use, but oh well) and the film itself speaks really strongly of a particular time in history.
"Reality Bites" is different than a film like "American Graffiti" which profiles a specific pocket of time in retrospect. Ben Stiller made "Reality Bites" about a group of grungy college graduates in 1994...in 1994. If the film were to be made next week, it would be completely different because we'd have the ability to objectively evaluate culture in the early nineties. Ben Stiller took what he knew about himself and the members of his generation and exploited that information. It works.
I guess this is why I like films like "Reality Bites" and "Swingers" and "Slacker"--even "American Beauty" is one of these films in many ways. It always fascinates me when directors and writers are able to step back and realize certain aspects of their own humanity at a specific and current point in time. "Swingers" has been dismissed as a cult film because of the way it looks at the short-lived swing revival of the nineties. But it also explores some pretty timeless stuff. There will always be guys picking up girls in bars, trying to make names for themselves, and attempting (with difficulty) to move on from failed relationships. All of this stuff just happens to occur in the underground bars of LA in 1996. So maybe there's swing dancing and shameless homages to Quentin Tarantino. It happens.
So for now I'm waiting on some friends from Notre Dame.
Yesterday I revisited "Reality Bites" and I feel like at this point in my life I'm ready to evaluate it for what it really is. When the movie came out, I was eight years old. I saw it a few months after it came out on video--my sister got it for her birthday and we watched it together. What I remember most about seeing it for the first time was that everyone in the movie reminded me of my sister--especially Winona Ryder's character. I didn't get anything they were talking about but I fell in love with it because the characters reminded me of the cool people that my sister hung out with. And I thought Ethan Hawke was cute.
I've watched this movie several times since and now it carries extra weight with me. Especially now that I get what's happening. But mostly I feel like this movie is really important to me and to other people for the same reason it was important to me when I was a kid. The characters captured the essence of Generation X (which is a term that I am reluctant to use, but oh well) and the film itself speaks really strongly of a particular time in history.
"Reality Bites" is different than a film like "American Graffiti" which profiles a specific pocket of time in retrospect. Ben Stiller made "Reality Bites" about a group of grungy college graduates in 1994...in 1994. If the film were to be made next week, it would be completely different because we'd have the ability to objectively evaluate culture in the early nineties. Ben Stiller took what he knew about himself and the members of his generation and exploited that information. It works.
I guess this is why I like films like "Reality Bites" and "Swingers" and "Slacker"--even "American Beauty" is one of these films in many ways. It always fascinates me when directors and writers are able to step back and realize certain aspects of their own humanity at a specific and current point in time. "Swingers" has been dismissed as a cult film because of the way it looks at the short-lived swing revival of the nineties. But it also explores some pretty timeless stuff. There will always be guys picking up girls in bars, trying to make names for themselves, and attempting (with difficulty) to move on from failed relationships. All of this stuff just happens to occur in the underground bars of LA in 1996. So maybe there's swing dancing and shameless homages to Quentin Tarantino. It happens.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Isn't it good...
Sometimes I need days like this:
I woke up today a half an hour before my alarm was set to buzz, completely alert and ready to attack the day. Of course, I took advantage of the extra thirty minutes of sleep that I was awarded. And even though I would have slept to the alarm had I not woken up, it felt like a special treat to get that "extra" half hour.
I read about the economy in China. The numbers and the acronyms that assaulted me in Chapter 5 of "Understanding Contemporary China" were almost as numerous as bicycles in Beijing.
Before class I had a scare about a particular assignment that caused me to buckle down and get to work on it and a bunch of other things. So fear was the driving force behind my accomplishments this afternoon but at least things got done.
Everything else that happened today is secondary to the way the weather is making me feel. I jumped on picnic tables today. I skipped on the sidewalk. I hopscotched over the engraved bricks at the side of the Union. I'd never read those bricks before and some of them are quite amusing. My personal favorite was "GOD BLESS AMERICA AND BW!" There was one brick that said "Carpe Diem!" so I jumped up onto this new shiny picnic table that they put up over break and began to recite "O Captain! My Captain!"
The breeze is so refreshing. The ground is wet but the sun is shining. Even now it still feels like the sun is shining.
I mailed a letter today. If you've never mailed a letter before, do it. As soon as I dropped it in the box I got nostalgic for a time that I never really got to experience. I've never known days without phone calls. I lived more than half of my life without e-mail but now I don't know if I'll be able to function normally in society without it. My grandma used to send me letters. They'd be printed on these little sheets of white paper--just a few inches up and down. They were always eight and ten pages long and she wrote in this great pointed script that slanted at such an extreme angle across the page. I felt like I was on some great adventure, just moving my eyes along the text.
Those were the only letters I ever got. My cousin Meryl and I wrote to one another a few times but those were rare occasions. So this year I've sent more letters than I have in my entire life. I think I sent four to Kevin last semester and I got a few back. It's really cool to open your mailbox and to see something personal. I hand-wrote this particular letter. Hopefully the recipient will be able to read my handwriting. I'm kind of a slob but I tried to be neat.
Anyway, I have to see a lady about some sweatpants. How archaic is that?
I woke up today a half an hour before my alarm was set to buzz, completely alert and ready to attack the day. Of course, I took advantage of the extra thirty minutes of sleep that I was awarded. And even though I would have slept to the alarm had I not woken up, it felt like a special treat to get that "extra" half hour.
I read about the economy in China. The numbers and the acronyms that assaulted me in Chapter 5 of "Understanding Contemporary China" were almost as numerous as bicycles in Beijing.
Before class I had a scare about a particular assignment that caused me to buckle down and get to work on it and a bunch of other things. So fear was the driving force behind my accomplishments this afternoon but at least things got done.
Everything else that happened today is secondary to the way the weather is making me feel. I jumped on picnic tables today. I skipped on the sidewalk. I hopscotched over the engraved bricks at the side of the Union. I'd never read those bricks before and some of them are quite amusing. My personal favorite was "GOD BLESS AMERICA AND BW!" There was one brick that said "Carpe Diem!" so I jumped up onto this new shiny picnic table that they put up over break and began to recite "O Captain! My Captain!"
The breeze is so refreshing. The ground is wet but the sun is shining. Even now it still feels like the sun is shining.
I mailed a letter today. If you've never mailed a letter before, do it. As soon as I dropped it in the box I got nostalgic for a time that I never really got to experience. I've never known days without phone calls. I lived more than half of my life without e-mail but now I don't know if I'll be able to function normally in society without it. My grandma used to send me letters. They'd be printed on these little sheets of white paper--just a few inches up and down. They were always eight and ten pages long and she wrote in this great pointed script that slanted at such an extreme angle across the page. I felt like I was on some great adventure, just moving my eyes along the text.
Those were the only letters I ever got. My cousin Meryl and I wrote to one another a few times but those were rare occasions. So this year I've sent more letters than I have in my entire life. I think I sent four to Kevin last semester and I got a few back. It's really cool to open your mailbox and to see something personal. I hand-wrote this particular letter. Hopefully the recipient will be able to read my handwriting. I'm kind of a slob but I tried to be neat.
Anyway, I have to see a lady about some sweatpants. How archaic is that?
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Moments in the Woods
I traveled to the West Side Market with my mom today. Basically it's a year-round outdoor produce market in downtown Cleveland. I hadn't been there since I was a kid. I remembered getting stepped on amongst aisles of shouting vendors and mountains of strange fruits. I remembered the piles of pink meat under glass, the vacant eyes of the speckled silvery fish on ice. I remembered getting lost and feeling scared.
Not much has changed. In fact, nothing has changed. I'm aware of more now I guess. Today when I passed the bloody piles of meat I didn't think to myself that I didn't want to eat meat ever again. I thought that I would try to dismiss the image so I could keep enjoying ribs and burgers without remorse. Of course, later at Half Price Books my cashier proudly sported a hat that said "VEGAN" across it so I immediately flashed back to those awful slaughterhouse images of my afternoon at the market.
Anyway, I had a moment with one of the vendors. He was relatively young I guess--maybe twenty-some years old. He was Puerto Rican and he had a really suprising smile. It kind of caught me off guard as I passed. So I smiled back and caught myself lingering there in that moment. So a few seconds later when I broke my gaze I turned back to see that he was still watching me. For some reason I winked. I don't ever wink. It felt good to do it. I knew I'd never see him again. I wasn't that attracted to him. I wasn't going to buy fruit at his stand so it's not like I would have gotten a discount for flirting. I told my mom about what happened and she made fun of me.
So my mom bought some cabbage, I suppose for St. Patrick's Day. I got some mangos and encouraged my mom to get some garlic because it was decently priced and looked delicious. And really, garlic is one of those things that you just need to have around the kitchen at all times.
I wanted some pomegranates but they were really expensive. I hate that! People keep saying how good they are for you and how awesome the juice is but who wants to spend three dollars on a piece of fruit? Not me! But the seeds are so good! Garr! A lady heard me get excited about the delicious-looking starfruit and she asked me what it was like. So I described it to her. I felt cool. Ask me about fruit! Ha.
So back to Half Price Books. I'd never been there before but we passed it so we went in. This place is my toy store. I seriously had so much fun. It's all used books and a few new ones and they're so amazingly priced. I bought a novel called "The Last Cigarette" for 89 cents. It's pretty good so far. I'm only about40 pages in. I'll report back later. I looked at the store for a few items for my sweetie but nothing was good enough. And no Jackson Caine! I was angry.
They also had vinyl at this place and used CDs and tapes. I was thisclose to buying a Color Me Badd CD but for some reason I didn't think it was worth two dollars. Color me crazy...
My mom said that some kid was macking on me in the bookstore and following me around. I usually don't notice if men are showing interest in me. I wish I would have seen what he looked like because I always think it's funny when guys notice me. I guess I looked available today? Who knows.
Strike on the tinder, ho!
Not much has changed. In fact, nothing has changed. I'm aware of more now I guess. Today when I passed the bloody piles of meat I didn't think to myself that I didn't want to eat meat ever again. I thought that I would try to dismiss the image so I could keep enjoying ribs and burgers without remorse. Of course, later at Half Price Books my cashier proudly sported a hat that said "VEGAN" across it so I immediately flashed back to those awful slaughterhouse images of my afternoon at the market.
Anyway, I had a moment with one of the vendors. He was relatively young I guess--maybe twenty-some years old. He was Puerto Rican and he had a really suprising smile. It kind of caught me off guard as I passed. So I smiled back and caught myself lingering there in that moment. So a few seconds later when I broke my gaze I turned back to see that he was still watching me. For some reason I winked. I don't ever wink. It felt good to do it. I knew I'd never see him again. I wasn't that attracted to him. I wasn't going to buy fruit at his stand so it's not like I would have gotten a discount for flirting. I told my mom about what happened and she made fun of me.
So my mom bought some cabbage, I suppose for St. Patrick's Day. I got some mangos and encouraged my mom to get some garlic because it was decently priced and looked delicious. And really, garlic is one of those things that you just need to have around the kitchen at all times.
I wanted some pomegranates but they were really expensive. I hate that! People keep saying how good they are for you and how awesome the juice is but who wants to spend three dollars on a piece of fruit? Not me! But the seeds are so good! Garr! A lady heard me get excited about the delicious-looking starfruit and she asked me what it was like. So I described it to her. I felt cool. Ask me about fruit! Ha.
So back to Half Price Books. I'd never been there before but we passed it so we went in. This place is my toy store. I seriously had so much fun. It's all used books and a few new ones and they're so amazingly priced. I bought a novel called "The Last Cigarette" for 89 cents. It's pretty good so far. I'm only about40 pages in. I'll report back later. I looked at the store for a few items for my sweetie but nothing was good enough. And no Jackson Caine! I was angry.
They also had vinyl at this place and used CDs and tapes. I was thisclose to buying a Color Me Badd CD but for some reason I didn't think it was worth two dollars. Color me crazy...
My mom said that some kid was macking on me in the bookstore and following me around. I usually don't notice if men are showing interest in me. I wish I would have seen what he looked like because I always think it's funny when guys notice me. I guess I looked available today? Who knows.
Strike on the tinder, ho!
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Then I'm a Philistine.
Tonight I saw the Violent Femmes at the House of Blues in Cleveland.
I like the Femmes but I don't know a lot of their music--just a small sampling. And they have a pretty big repertoire so I guess I sort of expected to feel a little alienated at their show tonight. A friend of mine has a connection at the House of Blues and he offered tickets to me, my roommate, and another mutual friend of ours.
The Femmes were really polished. The middle of their set lagged terribly though. It wasn't until the end of the show that they really kicked it into gear and at that point my mind was in a completely different place.
I've never felt more isolated at a concert in my life. Usually I get really lost in the music and I can ignore the crowd around me and just enjoy the art. But tonight I was distracted by every little thing. I was constantly aggravated my the traffic patterns of the surrounding crowd. I got shoved in every direction by people who couldn't just have a drink at the bar--they had to keep milling in and out of the standing section. At least nothing got spilled on me. Eventually I just moved to the back of the venue against the wall. I couldn't see a thing from there so I got even more distracted and I began to observe specific people in the crowd.
There was a young couple to my left. The woman had dark knotted hair and bushy eyebrows and she hung dangerously from her lover's shoulders, totally drunk and oblivious to the fact that he was looking through her the entire evening. He kept his hands on her waist which gyrated obscenely against the natural rhythm of the music. I think he was trying to hold her in one place.
There were two young girls behind me who kept stepping on the toes of my Chucks. This was unfortunate because my feet were already uncomfortable to start with--don't ever wear Chucks for extended periods of time. I'm pretty sure they were a couple as well. I didn't get a good look at them but they were both fairly attractive indie girls which made me think that they were genuine for some reason. One of them had loosely braided blonde hair tied back haphazardly into a ponytail. I didn't see much more. At least I don't remember much more.
Another couple stood in front of me. I'm think that the man is a sociology professor at my college. He kept smiling at me which I'm sure his date appreciated. The two of them swayed a lot which didn't make much sense, given the genre and general driving pace of the music. I guess certain things slow down when you're in love or something. Or you want them to. So they swayed. I caught myself swaying with them a few times. He kept heading over to the bar and bringing her more drinks. Honestly I can't imagine how much he spent on alcohol that night.
I guess I just focused on the couples in the crowd tonight because I was feeling jealous of them. It's really funny actually. When I didn't have anyone I was always jealous of couples I saw together in public. Then for a while I got over that and I was jealous of people with iPods in public. Now I have an incredible man in my life and I'm back to my old ways again.
I'll take what I can get for now. I'll revel in the nightly phone calls, the delightfully irrelevant (and often irreverent!) voicemail messages, the occasional e-mails that get filed into a folder called "Sap." I'll wait a week or so between visits. I can do that. It's getting harder though. Spending those two nights and odd hours with him made me realize just how much I love being around him.
I'm happy though. I'm so happy. I don't know what to do with myself. I danced earlier tonight. So maybe I'll start dancing more now.
I like the Femmes but I don't know a lot of their music--just a small sampling. And they have a pretty big repertoire so I guess I sort of expected to feel a little alienated at their show tonight. A friend of mine has a connection at the House of Blues and he offered tickets to me, my roommate, and another mutual friend of ours.
The Femmes were really polished. The middle of their set lagged terribly though. It wasn't until the end of the show that they really kicked it into gear and at that point my mind was in a completely different place.
I've never felt more isolated at a concert in my life. Usually I get really lost in the music and I can ignore the crowd around me and just enjoy the art. But tonight I was distracted by every little thing. I was constantly aggravated my the traffic patterns of the surrounding crowd. I got shoved in every direction by people who couldn't just have a drink at the bar--they had to keep milling in and out of the standing section. At least nothing got spilled on me. Eventually I just moved to the back of the venue against the wall. I couldn't see a thing from there so I got even more distracted and I began to observe specific people in the crowd.
There was a young couple to my left. The woman had dark knotted hair and bushy eyebrows and she hung dangerously from her lover's shoulders, totally drunk and oblivious to the fact that he was looking through her the entire evening. He kept his hands on her waist which gyrated obscenely against the natural rhythm of the music. I think he was trying to hold her in one place.
There were two young girls behind me who kept stepping on the toes of my Chucks. This was unfortunate because my feet were already uncomfortable to start with--don't ever wear Chucks for extended periods of time. I'm pretty sure they were a couple as well. I didn't get a good look at them but they were both fairly attractive indie girls which made me think that they were genuine for some reason. One of them had loosely braided blonde hair tied back haphazardly into a ponytail. I didn't see much more. At least I don't remember much more.
Another couple stood in front of me. I'm think that the man is a sociology professor at my college. He kept smiling at me which I'm sure his date appreciated. The two of them swayed a lot which didn't make much sense, given the genre and general driving pace of the music. I guess certain things slow down when you're in love or something. Or you want them to. So they swayed. I caught myself swaying with them a few times. He kept heading over to the bar and bringing her more drinks. Honestly I can't imagine how much he spent on alcohol that night.
I guess I just focused on the couples in the crowd tonight because I was feeling jealous of them. It's really funny actually. When I didn't have anyone I was always jealous of couples I saw together in public. Then for a while I got over that and I was jealous of people with iPods in public. Now I have an incredible man in my life and I'm back to my old ways again.
I'll take what I can get for now. I'll revel in the nightly phone calls, the delightfully irrelevant (and often irreverent!) voicemail messages, the occasional e-mails that get filed into a folder called "Sap." I'll wait a week or so between visits. I can do that. It's getting harder though. Spending those two nights and odd hours with him made me realize just how much I love being around him.
I'm happy though. I'm so happy. I don't know what to do with myself. I danced earlier tonight. So maybe I'll start dancing more now.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Still thirsty!
List of the day's beverages:
9:00 AM: One Diet Coke--I started my day with a cool can of my favorite soda.
12:25 PM: One glass of water, one smoothie--I enjoyed a smoothie alongside a hummus Pita Wrap at Aladdin's Eatery after a day of scouting locations. I scheduled a day of shooting at Record Revolution in Coventry. (Yay for first choices!)
3:00 PM: One cup Guatemala--I actually have a Starbucks gift card (eesh!) so I asked Sam to meet me at our local shop for a cup. I treated. She had caramel apple cider. I tried the Guatemala. I noted a woody aroma and taste in what was a surprisingly elegant and bold cup of coffee. Later I found out that Guatemalan is known for that woody presence. Yay for my sensitive palette! Also yay for being with Sam. She rules.
5:00 PM: One Canada Dry--I came back to the casa and played through some of my songs. I like drinking Canada Dry when I sing because it is refreshing and it leaves a nice coat of syrup on my throat--diet drinks don't do that. I played through "Mad World" (the Gary Jules version), "Such Great Heights" (the Iron & Wine version), and one of the songs I wrote for my guy.
7:00 PM: One cup Caruso's Jazzy Java--I saw a coffeehouse-style play tonight. My friend Mike was in it. I went by myself and so I felt hip and important. I rocked pinstripes and tucked in my designer blouse. I felt totally artsy and intelligent. I even took notes in my program. Well, actually it was mostly prose that had nothing to do with the production. I had this drink before the show.
7:30 PM: One cup Caruso's Columbian--Since I love Columbian, I tried a cup of this before the show as well. Yes, I am a caffeine junkie. Bite my face. This one was rich and playful just like I like my Columbian to be. Kudos!
9:00 PM: One cup Caruso's Hylander Creme--Mmm. I had this at intermission between the two plays. Both plays were stage adaptations from old radio shows. ("Sorry, Wrong Number" and "The Hitch Hiker.") This cup was flavored with toffee and butterscotch or something I think. Delicious, and a perfect compliment to the slice of carrot cake that I ordered.
11:00 PM: One glass Shiraz--Since my mother was an usher at the theater where I saw the plays, I went with her to the theater. She works with a kid named Rob who is in a band called Return of Simple and they were playing at Wilburt's downtown tonight. So we went there. Rob graduated from BW and the other kids in the band go to BW. So there were a lot of folks from school there. My friend is the band's photographer so I rapped with her for a while when she wasn't shooting. Two of my really good guy friends were there and I spoke with them. The wine was good. I'm a big fan of shiraz.
So I've measured my day in beverages. Tomorrow it might be snacks. Or songs. I don't know.
9:00 AM: One Diet Coke--I started my day with a cool can of my favorite soda.
12:25 PM: One glass of water, one smoothie--I enjoyed a smoothie alongside a hummus Pita Wrap at Aladdin's Eatery after a day of scouting locations. I scheduled a day of shooting at Record Revolution in Coventry. (Yay for first choices!)
3:00 PM: One cup Guatemala--I actually have a Starbucks gift card (eesh!) so I asked Sam to meet me at our local shop for a cup. I treated. She had caramel apple cider. I tried the Guatemala. I noted a woody aroma and taste in what was a surprisingly elegant and bold cup of coffee. Later I found out that Guatemalan is known for that woody presence. Yay for my sensitive palette! Also yay for being with Sam. She rules.
5:00 PM: One Canada Dry--I came back to the casa and played through some of my songs. I like drinking Canada Dry when I sing because it is refreshing and it leaves a nice coat of syrup on my throat--diet drinks don't do that. I played through "Mad World" (the Gary Jules version), "Such Great Heights" (the Iron & Wine version), and one of the songs I wrote for my guy.
7:00 PM: One cup Caruso's Jazzy Java--I saw a coffeehouse-style play tonight. My friend Mike was in it. I went by myself and so I felt hip and important. I rocked pinstripes and tucked in my designer blouse. I felt totally artsy and intelligent. I even took notes in my program. Well, actually it was mostly prose that had nothing to do with the production. I had this drink before the show.
7:30 PM: One cup Caruso's Columbian--Since I love Columbian, I tried a cup of this before the show as well. Yes, I am a caffeine junkie. Bite my face. This one was rich and playful just like I like my Columbian to be. Kudos!
9:00 PM: One cup Caruso's Hylander Creme--Mmm. I had this at intermission between the two plays. Both plays were stage adaptations from old radio shows. ("Sorry, Wrong Number" and "The Hitch Hiker.") This cup was flavored with toffee and butterscotch or something I think. Delicious, and a perfect compliment to the slice of carrot cake that I ordered.
11:00 PM: One glass Shiraz--Since my mother was an usher at the theater where I saw the plays, I went with her to the theater. She works with a kid named Rob who is in a band called Return of Simple and they were playing at Wilburt's downtown tonight. So we went there. Rob graduated from BW and the other kids in the band go to BW. So there were a lot of folks from school there. My friend is the band's photographer so I rapped with her for a while when she wasn't shooting. Two of my really good guy friends were there and I spoke with them. The wine was good. I'm a big fan of shiraz.
So I've measured my day in beverages. Tomorrow it might be snacks. Or songs. I don't know.
Friday, March 03, 2006
PSH!
March is my favorite month for film. We've got the promise of the Oscars, the Independent Spirit Awards, the death of the February movie lull, and the Cleveland International Film Festival. That being said, here are my Oscar predictions for this year. This is truly a crazy year for the Oscars--lots of underdogs and huge discrepancies between movies that should win, and movies that probably will. (Thanks a lot, Ang Lee.) So I may not do as well this year with my picks. My record was set last year with 14 predictions out of the 20-some major ones. The year before it was 13. This year I've seen all of the nominated movies except for Transamerica and Munich. And of course I haven't seen some of the documentary shorts and foreign shorts and whatnot because I live in Cleveland and those movies usually take about a year to get here.
Best Motion Picture--Brokeback Mountain (But Crash should win)
Best Actor--Philip Seymour Hoffman, Capote
Best Actress--Reese Witherspoon, Walk the Line
Best Supporting Actor--George Clooney, Syriana (But I believe that Paul Giamatti should win)
Best Supporting Actress--Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardener
Best Director--Ang Lee, Brokeback Mountain
Best Adapted Screenplay--Larry McMurty & Diana Ossana, Brokeback Mountain
Best Original Screenplay--Paul Haggis and Bobby Moresco, Crash (But it would be so kickass if The Squid and the Whale won)
Animated Feature--Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit
Art Direction--Memoirs of a Geisha
Cinematography--Brokeback Mountain (But Good Night and Good Luck should win)
Costumes--Memoirs of a Geisha (All those kimonos!)
Documentary Feature--March of the Penguins
Documentary Short Subject--God Sleeps in Rwanda (total shot in the dark)
Film Editing--The Constant Gardener (A total underdog but I'm sticking by it. Crash will probably win.)
Foreign Language Film--Tsotsi (South Africa)
Make-Up--Chronicles of Narnia
Original Score--John Williams, Memoirs of a Geisha (If Gustavo Santaolalla wins I will hit someone. And it might be you. Or Ang Lee.)
Original Song--It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp, Hustle & Flow
Short Film (Animated)--The Moon & the Son: An Imagined Conversation
Short Film (Live Action)--Six Shooter
Sound Editing--King Kong
Sound Mixing--Walk the Line
Visual Effects--King Kong
Best Motion Picture--Brokeback Mountain (But Crash should win)
Best Actor--Philip Seymour Hoffman, Capote
Best Actress--Reese Witherspoon, Walk the Line
Best Supporting Actor--George Clooney, Syriana (But I believe that Paul Giamatti should win)
Best Supporting Actress--Rachel Weisz, The Constant Gardener
Best Director--Ang Lee, Brokeback Mountain
Best Adapted Screenplay--Larry McMurty & Diana Ossana, Brokeback Mountain
Best Original Screenplay--Paul Haggis and Bobby Moresco, Crash (But it would be so kickass if The Squid and the Whale won)
Animated Feature--Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit
Art Direction--Memoirs of a Geisha
Cinematography--Brokeback Mountain (But Good Night and Good Luck should win)
Costumes--Memoirs of a Geisha (All those kimonos!)
Documentary Feature--March of the Penguins
Documentary Short Subject--God Sleeps in Rwanda (total shot in the dark)
Film Editing--The Constant Gardener (A total underdog but I'm sticking by it. Crash will probably win.)
Foreign Language Film--Tsotsi (South Africa)
Make-Up--Chronicles of Narnia
Original Score--John Williams, Memoirs of a Geisha (If Gustavo Santaolalla wins I will hit someone. And it might be you. Or Ang Lee.)
Original Song--It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp, Hustle & Flow
Short Film (Animated)--The Moon & the Son: An Imagined Conversation
Short Film (Live Action)--Six Shooter
Sound Editing--King Kong
Sound Mixing--Walk the Line
Visual Effects--King Kong
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Better Than the Dentist
The day was long. I made it a point today to be where there were people but for the most part I felt isolated and anxious, even when I came across good company.
I've been spending a lot of money on coffee lately. This is foolish because I could easily get a coffee maker for my room and get free coffee from my mom. But I've become so comfortable heading down into the basement of the union with my little punch card. I wait impatiently in line behind a few of the same sorority girls and philosophy majors who feel the need to order tedious custom drinks with names like "Mocha Monkey Meltdown" and "Orange Mango Paradise Smoothie." (The sorority girls are always sincere. The philosophy majors order to be ironic and take delight in giving their silly orders condescendingly to the barista behind the counter.)
My barista is tall and sturdy. He's got thick black glasses like mine and a chin that sort of curves upward at the tip which makes him look like he's smiling even when I know he's not. His green apron clings to his belly and when he leans forward I see it tighten around him.
I order a 16 oz cup of Columbian when I can. Sometimes they don't brew Columbian so I have Irish Creme or Costa Rican. On Tuesday they were out of Columbian so I waited nervously in a chair trying to concentrate on Lawrence Ferlinghetti while my hands shook unsteadily for their next caffeine fix. When the pot was finally brewed it was too hot to enjoy. So I waited some more. My barista fills it to the top every day. He stopped asking "Room for cream?" about two weeks ago. It was a big step for us.
Anyway enough about coffee. Tonight I had a Lifetime movie marathon. People lied about coming but we still had a decent turnout. The dialogue in those movies is priceless. I would love to have a job writing Lifetime Original screenplays.
In a few short days the roommate and I are going to be heading down to Beaver County. I'm overwhelmed with anticipatory excitement. I always feel amazingly clean and happy after a good road trip and this one is particularly special. Roommate, the open road, and two incredible gentlemen lie just beyond the horizon. Then there is the Violent Femmes concert this Thursday night with Mr. Green and roommate.
I'm having difficulty going to sleep. I don't think my heart wants to stop racing for anything right now. And it's not the caffeine. I'm sure of it. It's got to be the Devil's Sting.
I've been spending a lot of money on coffee lately. This is foolish because I could easily get a coffee maker for my room and get free coffee from my mom. But I've become so comfortable heading down into the basement of the union with my little punch card. I wait impatiently in line behind a few of the same sorority girls and philosophy majors who feel the need to order tedious custom drinks with names like "Mocha Monkey Meltdown" and "Orange Mango Paradise Smoothie." (The sorority girls are always sincere. The philosophy majors order to be ironic and take delight in giving their silly orders condescendingly to the barista behind the counter.)
My barista is tall and sturdy. He's got thick black glasses like mine and a chin that sort of curves upward at the tip which makes him look like he's smiling even when I know he's not. His green apron clings to his belly and when he leans forward I see it tighten around him.
I order a 16 oz cup of Columbian when I can. Sometimes they don't brew Columbian so I have Irish Creme or Costa Rican. On Tuesday they were out of Columbian so I waited nervously in a chair trying to concentrate on Lawrence Ferlinghetti while my hands shook unsteadily for their next caffeine fix. When the pot was finally brewed it was too hot to enjoy. So I waited some more. My barista fills it to the top every day. He stopped asking "Room for cream?" about two weeks ago. It was a big step for us.
Anyway enough about coffee. Tonight I had a Lifetime movie marathon. People lied about coming but we still had a decent turnout. The dialogue in those movies is priceless. I would love to have a job writing Lifetime Original screenplays.
In a few short days the roommate and I are going to be heading down to Beaver County. I'm overwhelmed with anticipatory excitement. I always feel amazingly clean and happy after a good road trip and this one is particularly special. Roommate, the open road, and two incredible gentlemen lie just beyond the horizon. Then there is the Violent Femmes concert this Thursday night with Mr. Green and roommate.
I'm having difficulty going to sleep. I don't think my heart wants to stop racing for anything right now. And it's not the caffeine. I'm sure of it. It's got to be the Devil's Sting.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Una Mezcla
One day I'll record my system for making mixes. It's a complicated process but I think it has the potential to blow minds.
Right now I've got my CDs laid out in front of me on the floor. Windows Media Player and iTunes are both open. There's a spiral notebook to my right and it's filling up quickly with little notes and question marks and sloppily scrawled arrows and stars.
The mix CD is a perfect way for me to express myself. I have an incredibly eclectic collection of music that I love sharing with/imposing on other people. As much as I enjoy knowing that other people are listening to music that I love, I also think that I'm a pretty generous and considerate mixer. The reason it takes me so long to mix is because I spend a large amount of time thinking about which songs the recipient of the mix would truly appreciate.
I once got a mix from a friend who didn't get it. I took two days flipping through my collection and creating a compilation of stuff that I knew he would really enjoy. And in return I got a generic disc full of current radio sap with a few of those "obscure" songs that everyone knows. And then I found out that he gave the same mix to his girlfriend the next day. So I still haven't listened to it. He, on the other hand, thanks me over and over again for introducing him to new music that he'd never heard of and that he really appreciates. I will never recycle a mix.
I always wonder if I take it too seriously but then I just tell myself that it's a hobby and people have a tendency to get really into their hobbies so it's okay. And usually the receivers of my mixes are happy with them.
The mix that I'm working on right now is tricky.
Right now I've got my CDs laid out in front of me on the floor. Windows Media Player and iTunes are both open. There's a spiral notebook to my right and it's filling up quickly with little notes and question marks and sloppily scrawled arrows and stars.
The mix CD is a perfect way for me to express myself. I have an incredibly eclectic collection of music that I love sharing with/imposing on other people. As much as I enjoy knowing that other people are listening to music that I love, I also think that I'm a pretty generous and considerate mixer. The reason it takes me so long to mix is because I spend a large amount of time thinking about which songs the recipient of the mix would truly appreciate.
I once got a mix from a friend who didn't get it. I took two days flipping through my collection and creating a compilation of stuff that I knew he would really enjoy. And in return I got a generic disc full of current radio sap with a few of those "obscure" songs that everyone knows. And then I found out that he gave the same mix to his girlfriend the next day. So I still haven't listened to it. He, on the other hand, thanks me over and over again for introducing him to new music that he'd never heard of and that he really appreciates. I will never recycle a mix.
I always wonder if I take it too seriously but then I just tell myself that it's a hobby and people have a tendency to get really into their hobbies so it's okay. And usually the receivers of my mixes are happy with them.
The mix that I'm working on right now is tricky.
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