- Bath & Body Works has Sugar Plum again this year. Sugar Plum is a special holiday scent that has kind of come to encompass the entire spirit of Christmas for me. Last year they didn't have it and I was totally crushed. I was just in there about three weeks ago and I asked if they were going to have Sugar Plum again this year, and they said no. Well I went in there a couple of days ago, and VOILA, there it was! They were out of the body spray, though, so I'm going to keep on looking. YAY SUGAR PLUM!!!!
- I had sushi for the first time. It was actually good. I was kind of scared of it, but I was too distracted by trying to figure out the chopsticks to be too nervous. Plus, we were at this nice Japanese restaurant, so I was trying to act all sophisticated and grown up. Which meant no whimpering. My favorite were the shrimp tempura rolls.
- This year the shopping bag that I was carrying my Christmas presents home in ripped in Penn Station. Last year it ripped when I was still in Philadelphia. So there was definitely an improvement. Next year I'll just order the presents on the internet and have them shipped directly here. Hindsight being 20/20, I can see that I should've done it that way this year.
- My oven got fixed. The pilot light had gone out, so all we had to do was re-light it. The cookies got baked, the rice pudding got made, and a jolly time was had by all.
- I still like tacos.
Monday, December 24, 2001
Thursday, December 20, 2001
So this afternoon, I thought I smelled gas leaking from my stove. I opened the windows, went out for a few minutes, came back, and didn't smell it anymore. So I figured hey, I'm cool. I was imagining it.
So then at about 9pm I decide I'm going to start making Christmas presents...which for me means baking cookies and making multiple batches of rice pudding. So I turn on the oven so it will preheat to 300 degrees, and set about mixing ingredients. When I have the milk, butter, sugar and rice all nice and mixed in a casserole dish, I open the oven.
And I am greeted by cold air. Cold air and the smell of gas.
Which means that my oven is broken and needs to be fixed. It also means that I have 4 cups of milk sitting in a casserole dish in my fridge.
And to top it all off, if my oven is not fixed in time, not only will I have sour milk and wasted sugar, but I will also have no presents for Brian's family. Nor will I be able to cook the lovely turkey cutlets I bought. Grr.
I called maintenance and left a message, but OF COURSE they won't come until AT LEAST tomorrow...probably when I'm away at the airport. Great.
Monday, December 17, 2001
I am feeling much better. I can actually breathe through my nose now - I have had this small vase of lilies in my living room all week, and I smelled them for the first time today. It's a shame because they really smell amazing.
Just when I thought I had the whole wedding thing under control, I started looking at registry stuff. Holy cannoli! I'm all a-fluster again.
I'm just trying to think of things to write because I haven't been posting much lately, and I don't want to disappoint my loyal readers. All 9 of you.
I get to see Brian in 3 days! I haven't seen him since August, so I am mucho thrilled.
I have chosen not to edit that sentence, because I have no idea where "mucho" came from and I just love randomness.
Hey guess what! This is entry #225! I think I can officially call myself "prolific". Some people do a "10 best" entry when they get to 100 entries...I am going to save it for #250. Mostly because #100 went by without my noticing.
Well it's time for my late night bubble bath. See yas.
Sunday, December 16, 2001
Not even a sheet set. $70 for the flat sheet. $70 for the fitted sheet.
Don't even ask how much the comforters cost.
By the way, I am doing some preliminary research for registering for stuff for my wedding.
You know what? All of the nice stuff is expensive. Like, reeeeeally expensive.
Friday, December 14, 2001
"Now there," I thought, "is a woman with a plan."
Thursday, December 13, 2001
Today at 11am, I had my last Juries ever. Basically what Juries are, is at the end of each semester, you type up a list of all the songs you've been working on, go up in front of all of the voice teachers, sing one of the songs, and then sing one that they pick. You have to do it every semester except for spring of Senior year. So this was my last one.
Seriously, and with all modesty, I've been absolutely kicking ass all semester. I've sounded better than I've ever sounded in my whole life. (I can prove it; I recorded myself practicing a couple of times.) I was reeeeeeally psyched for Juries this year. There wasn't a single song on my list that was underprepared, I sounded fabulous on all of them, and the acting was solid for all of them, too.
On Sunday morning, I woke up with a sore throat and a little bit of a cough. I made it through the choral concert I was singing that day, but barely.
On Monday, my voice was a little scratchy, I was coughing a bit more, and I felt generally woozy and out of it.
On Tuesday (yesterday), I woke up with practically no voice at all. I spent all day attempting to cough up my lungs. I was coughing so hard that I developed a lower back ache. (No joke.)
Today I woke up feeling a little better, but not much. I took care of myself all morning, drank a lot of tea with honey and lemon, took some Robitussin...even took some Tylenol Sinus, even though I'm not supposed to take decongestants (because of my heart thing...I wouldn't even call it a condition; one of the valves doesn't close all the way). I tried to warm up slowly...it seemed that my voice was coming back, little by little. I would by no means sound as fabulous as I've been sounding all semester, but I'd at least get the notes out. I actually sat down on the steps outside of the auditorium and prayed to get my voice back. I put a cough drop in my mouth and hoped for the best.
When I finally went up to sing...well, let's put it this way, I cried when I was done. I got thorugh it fine, but when I sat back down, I collapsed into tears. The teachers were all fabulously nice to me...my teacher, Mary Ellen, told me not to be so hard on myself. But I wasn't being hard on myself, I told her, I was just angry. It wasn't fair. They all said that I did a good job and I have a beautiful voice. "I just wish you could've heard it," I croaked.
I know that Juries aren't really a big deal. I had realized this by the time I got through Sophomore year. I know that I don't have anything to prove - to them. But for me...I needed this. I needed to do well, for myself. Last semester, when I didn't even get called back, let alone cast in the role I wanted, and was devastated, it was doing well at Juries that helped me to feel better about myself. Once again, I didn't get cast, and I needed to do well, to prove to myself that I don't suck. And I know that it isn't my fault that I caught the cold from Hell and lost my voice...but I'm just really disappointed that I missed my last opportunity to show them what I can do.
Well, back to my Composition project. I'll be back with happier thoughts later, I promise.
Sunday, December 9, 2001
Billy locked his keys in his car ysterday. With the motor running. And all of us standing around in tuxes and formal dresses (on our way to a concert we were singing) on Pine Street.
So then after the concert, this conversation took place between myself and a friend of mine:
Him - "Hey, there are my parents."
Me - "Oooh! Can I pretend to be your girlfriend?"
Him - "Why?"
Me - "Uh...I don't know. Because."
I was thinking about it, and that's just what theater majors do. We pretend to be the girlfriends of our gay friends - or at the very least, we pretend to have some kind of flirtation going on. You know, to cover up the truth. It's like an instinct.
One of the first things he said to his parents after introducing me was that I'm getting married.
He's a music major. They are not fun like us theater people.
If I'd been feeling adventurous, I would've said, "Yup, I'm getting married. TO YOUR SON!!!"
But I didn't.
Thursday, December 6, 2001
It's shaping up to be a really good paper...except for the whole thing about it being too short. My succinctity is really a curse.
I know that "succinctity" isn't really a word. I make words up all the time. Usually when I make up a word, it is to replace a phrase. For example, the only other way I can think of to say what I said above is "My gift for stating things succinctly is really a curse." But "stating things succinctly" is, in effect, a verb (modified by an adverb), and I was looking for a noun, so I would've had to have added "my gift for." Now isn't "succinctity" a much nicer, more SUCCINCT way of putting it?
I'm sorry. I'm not usually this wordy. It's the damned (pronounced dam-ned) research paper. It's got me in verbose mode.
Monday, December 3, 2001
After Mass, I went to The Gallery (the closest thing to a mall we have here in Center City - again, part of my weekly routine), and actually bought a bunch of stuff today (I can't tell you what; most of it was Christmas presents). I dug deep into the bowels of my wallet to find enough money to get a Baja Chicken Gordita (a gordita is more filling than a soft taco, thanks to the pillowy flatbread), and headed home.
I always walk past Lord & Taylor (in the Wanamaker Building...you know, where the Mannequin movies take place) and admire the outfits in the window displays that I'm not sophisticated enough to wear, even if I could afford them. (Side note - it was in front of Lord & Taylor where those Asian Tourists took a picture of me.)
Today, one of the mannequins was wearing this beautiful sparkly headband thingie - it's hard to describe, but it would be PERFECT for my wedding. I think. I have to take a closer look at it (and see how much it costs) first...which means going inside...
So there I was, wearing jeans, a long-sleeved Britney Spears "Oops!" Tour t-shirt, a denimn jacket that's about 12 sizes too big for me and sneakers from Payless, and carrying a big ol' shopping bag from Old Navy. And my Taco Bell was getting cold.
I was NOT about to go in there for the first time dressed like that.
I don't know why I'm so intimidated by this store...but I am. I'm going to have to recruit a friend or two to go in there with me and look for that headband...and I'm going to have to wear real shoes. (ETA: It turned out to be a necklace, but nobody who was working in the store when I went to ask was able to tell me WHICH necklace. -2/7/08)
Sunday, December 2, 2001
Did you know that the libraries at universities dedicated solely to the arts don't have very many scholarly books? I shouldn't be surprised, I guess. That's what I get for trying to write a scholarly research paper.
But you know what? It's not like my grade in this particular class really matters anyway, so I'm considering writing this on a piece of paper and handing it in: "There are different versions of many of Shakespeare's plays, and nobody knows which one is the real one."
I have this amazing gift for being concise.
Saturday, December 1, 2001
And no matter what you do to cut costs, you're going to end up paying not much less than that.
Because when it comes right down to it, you want to have good food, and a good photographer, and you don't want a terrible dj, do you? And do you really want to skimp on your WEDDING DRESS?? And the little things...OH THE LITTLE THINGS!
If you're a spoiled youngest child with a guilt complex about being spoiled, planning a wedding can be a stressful experience.
They were literally covered with dust.
For those of you who don't dance or do theater, character shoes are dancing shoes with heels (mine are 1.5"), relatively flexible soles, and ankle straps. I have all of these issues with my feet and ankles so I haven't danced in them in years.
They still fit my feet like a glove, though. That's an odd metaphor to use in this context, isn't it? Okay, to be more accurate: They still fit my feet like shoes that I wore in many shows, requiring them to be on my feet for several hours a day.
This was really pointless. Sorry.
They went okay. My singing audition could've been (a LOT) better, but the monologues and the dancing went pretty well.
I had a bit of a crisis today when the callback lists went up and my name was entirely absent...AGAIN.
I was settling into a nice downward-spiral of self-loathing (I even bought myself some Taco Bell - there's nothing like a Baja chicken taco for comfort food), when the choreographer called me to say that I WAS, in fact, called back; my name had been left off of the list entirely by accident.
So even though I wasn't called back for any actual roles, and I wasn't called back for the Sondheim review that I really wanted to be in, I WAS called back for the ensemble of Sweet Charity. The dancing ensemble. The "Hey, Big Spender" ensemble.
I am happy. Whether I get in or not, I was called back to be a dancer. I've always wanted to be a dancer. =)
It's good that it turned out to be an oversight; I was about ready to crush some heads.
Friday, November 30, 2001
The one detail about my wedding that I've done the most thinking and planning and agonizing over is the flowers. I was even planning on doing them myself - you can do that, you know. There are all these companies that will ship bunches of flowers to you for wholesale prices, and then you arrange them yourself. So I was going to do that. I was looking forward to it. (Remember, I do want to be a florist someday.)
Then I realized that since my wedding is the same week as Christmas, the shipping situation would be uncertain. And I didn't want to risk it. So I went to see a real florist.
Now, having done the research and practicing in order to arrange the flowers myself, I knew exctly what I wanted and why, I knew that it would work, and I even knew HOW to do it. I just didn't know how to acquire the flowers themselves.
So the florist tries to tell me that you can't make a lily bouquet in the size I want. They're just too big to make a bouquet that small. Well just a couple of weeks ago, I MADE a bouquet out of 10 lilies, and thought to myself, "Nah, it needs to be a little BIGGER than this."
And honestly, if you went to a wedding, and the bows on the pews were navy blue (not baby blue or sky blue...NAVY blue), would you think that either: a, I was pregnant with a boy and trying to tell everyone this in a covert way; b, the bows were left over from a christening and I was too cheap to get my own; or c, HEY LOOK, NAVY BLUE BOWS! THEY MATCH EVERYTHING ELSE!
Wednesday, November 28, 2001
Tonight I had the dance audition for next semester's show (Sweet Charity), and there was this whole big drama about whether I would make it on time. See, the first group was at 6. On Tuesday nights I go to choir rehearsal out in the suburbs, and the van for us city dwellers leaves at 6.
Now rehearsal usually ends at or around 9:30 and we're back to the city by 10 or 10:15. The last audition slot was at 10:30, so I figured, cool, I'll make it with just enough time to stretch out and warm up, even if rehearsal runs a little late.
WELL, today rehearsal ran later than it ever has, as far as I can remember. A WHOLE HALF HOUR LATE. I was literally SHAKING, I was so pissed off. Have you ever been so mad, that you cried? It's not fun.
So we don't even leave until 10:08...and it takes about a half an hour to get back.
Luckily, we made remarkably good time. We didn't run into any traffic...until we were 2 blocks away from where the audition was (where I was going to be dropped off)...traffic was practically at a standstill. It was 10:28 by this point.
SO I jumped out of the van and RAN MY ASS OFF for the last 2 blocks.
Mind you, I have exercise-induced athsma. I made sure I had my inhaler in my hand before I leaped out of the van.
So I get to the building, ignore the security desk (I'm pretty sure I was supposed to sign in) run up the stairs to the second floor...and find that they were running 10 minutes behind schedule.
HOLY GOD WAS THIS WHOLE ORDEAL STRESSFULL!!!!
All this for a show I know I won't get into anyway. I'm just auditioning because it's required.
Wednesday, November 21, 2001
I'm excited because I'll be doing some serious wedding planning while I'm there.
Also because I love Thanksgiving, because I love turkey and cranberry sauce and sweet potatoes and rice pudding. I'm never hungry enough to eat more than a tiny little fraction of a meal, but for some reason on Thanksgiving, I'm actually HUNGRY. And I eat. A lot.
Oh and I'm getting my hair trimmed. I love getting my hair trimmed. I'm weird like that.
Tuesday, November 20, 2001
I thought that the master class I had to go to was tonight; I thought that auditions for next semester's shows were tonight, tomorrow and Wednesday. I was wrong. They're all next week.
I will be uncharacteristically prepared for auditions this semester. Just as well; it's their last chance to realize the talent that is gurgling inside of me and put it to good use.
But Sweet Charity rehearses on Good Friday and Holy Saturday (they referred to it as Easter Saturday....um, what? Holy Saturday! Right?) ... so anyways I don't really want to deal with that. I don't even go to CLASS on Good Friday.
Not that I'm likely to get cast anyway. I'm not a dancer and the senior class has been basically ass-f*cked as far as casting the entire time we've been here.
Except for the favorites, of course.
Don't get me wrong, they're incredibly talented people and would deserve every role they've gotten...if it weren't for the fact that this is an educational institution, and the productions are allegedly an integral part of the training.
Which raises an interesting question about collegiate theater, in the context of a conservatory training program.
It is perfectly understandable and acceptable, in my opinion, in a "traditional" university, to cast the same people over and over again on the grounds that they are "the best" (or at the very least, the favorites) on the logic that it would make the best show.
But when the productions are allegedly part of the training that ALL of the students are PAYING to receive, then what is more important? Putting on the best show possible, or giving as many students as possible the opportunity to LEARN?
Which is not to say that the people who don't ever get cast wouldn't make for a fabulous show, too. That's what makes it so frustratingly bizarre; amazingly talented people are passed over for utterly unknown reasons. I can't even truthfully say that it all has to do with politics.
It's like they choose from the very beginning of freshman year who's going to get all the good parts, and they stick to that.
And these people are usually incredibly talented, deserving, lovely, kind people...usually the least back-stabbing, most honest people around. So I don't blame them.
I blame the people in charge.
Well they have one more chance to redeem themselves in my eyes.
I hope they don't blow it. Not for my sake, but for the sake of collegiate-theater-in-the-context-of-a-conservatory-training-program everywhere.
I honestly meant for this to be a really short entry.
Sunday, November 18, 2001
-- Click Here To Take The Test --
I was right last time, most of my answers were affected by it being so late.
But I still rated high for obsessive-compulsive. I guess it makes sense. But as I also said before, at least I didn't rate "very high".
First of all, Campbell's condensed chicken noodle soup was 79¢ a can. Granted, chicken noodle isn't my favorite variety of condensed soup (chicken & stars is), but hey, for half the regular price, how could I argue? I got 3 cans.
2-Liter bottles of Pepsi were 99¢ so I picked one up.
I almost got shrimp because they seemed to be of a nice large size & good quality, but the price was on the high side so I passed on that.
Tyson chicken breast was 1.99 per pound, so I got two packages.
I also got the Progresso Chicken Vegetable that I've been craving, and a bag of cranberries for 99¢ to make a garland & decorate my christmas tree with. (It's getting to be that time!)
And then evil pigeon lady checked me out (checked out my groceries, I mean - she works there, remember) and SHE WAS NICE TO ME!!!! Weird.
So now I'm eating my soup and listening to Children of Eden - which happens so be my favorite musical. I've had this CD for about 3 years and I just adore singing along. Imagine my delight when my voice teacher pulled out "The Spark of Creation" a couple of weeks ago and suggested that we should work on it. I couldn't be more thrilled. =)
Hey, it's me in a good mood! How about that!
Saturday, November 17, 2001
I am tired.
Too bad my neighbor decided to have a party tonight.
Too bad I had to call my landlord and let him know.
People, people...I know that it's Friday night and all...but when I signed my lease, I agreed to be quiet between 10:30pm and 8:00am, as did he when he signed HIS lease.
I've asked nicely. It didn't work. So I started calling to complain.
One day my landlord called me and told me that he had given this guy a warning, and if he got any more comlaints, the guy would be evicted. (Apparently, I'm not the only one who complained. I'm the only one who's able to hear the loud music, since he's right below me, but EVERYONE can hear what goes on in the courtyard.)
That following weekend was the time when I yelled out the window, asking him and the really loud girl who comes over a lot to be quiet, because they were keeping people awake. (This was on a Saturday night.)
He yelled back, in an exceedingly rude tone of voice, "Why? You don't have to work tomorrow."
WELL HOW THE HELL DOES HE KNOW WHAT I DO ON SUNDAY MORNINGS?
There are people who live in this building who work at hospitals. There's a policeman who lives in this building. I DO happen to work on Sunday mornings sometimes, at church. And I was planning on waking up the next day to go to church.
It just seemed really rude to me.
My landlord's voicemail got 3 or 4 calls from me that night, between 12 and 4am.
Mind you, my landlord had just CALLED ME 8 days earlier, to tell me that this guy would be evicted if anyone else complained.
So I was pretty sure that he'd get evicted. I was all excited...
This was in September. The early morning hours of the 16th, to be exact.
Well, he's still here, so either my messages haven't been reaching my landlord, or he lied to me.
I'm still trying to get him evicted, though.
The fact that he's the only downstairs neighbor I've ever had who I've actually SEEN, because he's in my math class, means nothing to me. You might think that having some idea of who he is would make me less likely to want him thrown out on his ass, but I honestly don't give a rat's ass. I don't care. It doesn't even matter to me that he is one of four whole people in the class (out of about 30) who know what the hell is going on. Get him the hell out of here. He is by far the worst neighbor I've ever had.
Thank you for listening.
And despite being outside, they turned the music on inside, too.
I hate them all.
There are two doors; the one that doesn't lock, and then the one that does. There's this tiny little 3 foot by 3 foot area in between. And she stands there and smokes.
How difficult is it to walk the extra 2 steps outside?
It's not like it's even been COLD.
I hate people sometimes.
Tuesday, November 13, 2001
Nia: "How did you that? Who knows that off the top of their head?"
Lou: "It's just something I had to memorize."
Lou: "In high school."
Me: "Well no wonder people from New Jersey don't have any practical knowledge."
Lou: "I hate you."
Lou doesn't really hate me. He's my best non-fiance friend in the whole wide world.
And I didn't mean to say that people from New Jersey are stupid or anything. But most people I know who were educated in New Jersey have gaps in their knowledge.
For example, Portugal is not a city in Brazil.
Mostly it's just that people from Long Island hate New Jersey. It's part of our heritage.
Or maybe it was just the people in my senior year social studies class. Alex and Ross used to call New Jersey "the armpit of the country".
Keep in mind that I'm marrying someone who grew up in South Jersey. Which is really a lot like Long Island in a lot of ways.
I have just made myself look really, reeeeeally bad, and any of my readers who are from New Jersey just vowed never to read me again.
Oh well, I'll just get some new ones from google. BARELY LEGAL FAKE BOOBS BRITNEY SPEARS.
Ahem. That is all.
Monday, November 12, 2001
Imagine my surprise when one of them put his arm around me and the guy with the camera took a picture of us.
I guess I just look American or something.
Sunday, November 11, 2001
Saturday, November 10, 2001
Evil pigeon lady works at Food Rite.
I don't think I've ever mentioned her before. There's this lady who lives in my building, who dumps bags and bags of bread (not bread crumbs, BREAD) on the sidewalk on our street, drawing flocks and flocks of pigeons that I have to literally WADE through to get home from class.
Oh, yeah, and I have reason to suspect that she's the one who left the front door of the building unlocked, allowing unscrupulous people to enter the building, pry my door open and steal my stuff about a year ago.
So anyways, I don't know why I never noticed that she works at Food Rite, but she does.
So THAT'S where she gets the bread from.
Well at least we know that they're not selling US the stale bread.
Friday, November 9, 2001
I have no idea how it happened.
I blame my alarm clock.
Well, sleeping through class at home is better than sleeping through class while actually IN class. Which I've been on the verge of for the past two weeks.
Seriously, the class is boring.
So boring that I couldn't even wake up to GET to it.
So maybe I don't blame the alarm clock. No, I blame the class that I slept through.
It is the class' fault that I didn't wake up to go to it.
I hope it's happy.
Thursday, November 8, 2001
I have never in my life set out to write something political or controversial, but the play that I am working on right now...well, it makes a pretty strong statement. And I didn't mean to make a statement with it. That's just how it came out.
I'm not going to say what it's about, because I don't feel like dragging controversial topics into this diary. I will tell you, however, that I got the idea for it while listening to the song "Brick" by Ben Folds Five. (Remember that song? From 1998? It was a good song.) I kept thinking, "I wonder what happened to these people after this all happened."
So I just basically told you what the play is about...assuming you know what the song is about...but I'm not going to say any more.
And I'm babbling again.
That is all.
Of course it's pointless.
The day after I finished my website and got it up (it might still be up but I haven't touched it in years - 3/29/07), I intended to go to bed early...like, 11:30. As I was getting ready for bed, a couple of lines of dialogue popped into my head, for the play I've been trying to write since May. I keep on writing it and rewriting it and I'm never happy with what I come up with. Now these two lines of dialogue were really good. So I grabbed a notebook and a pen and I wrote them down.
Three hours later, it's 2am and the whole second half of the play is written.
The next night, I sat down at around 10:30 to type out what I'd written. 3am rolls around and the whole first draft is done.
Inspiration doesn't strike me; it smashes me with a sledgehammer.
Saturday, November 3, 2001
9:30pm rolls around, and all I can think of is soda. Soda! SODA! SODA!! So I put on my sneakers, grab two quarters, go around the corner and buy a can of Cherry Coke from the machine in front of Food Rite.
I've been known to say that the only good thing about Food Rite is that they sell uncooked shrimp. I take that back. I also enjoy that their soda machine only costs 50 cents - and it has Cherry Coke and Root Beer! Not many soda machines can claim that!
So anyway, I later realized that I drank a can of Cherry Coke at 9:30pm, so I probably won't be going to bed early tonight.
Are there any 12-step programs for caffeine?
Wednesday, October 31, 2001
Well, in addition to that, everyone who's ever lived above me has a tendency to move furniture around in the middle of the night.
I wish I understood people.
Sunday, October 28, 2001
I can deal with seeing a mouse here and there. I have been dealing with it for what seems like forever. I gave up trying to catch them because they were too smart for the traps, and I never told my landlord to call an exterminator because I don't want to have to deal with finding dead mice all over my apartment.
But I just saw two - maybe more (I couldn't tell) - mice scurrying around my bedroom. Running out from underneath my bed, climbing over the pile of clothes that are still in my suitcase from last week's trip to New York.
I am calling my landlord first thing Monday morning.
I am slowly going insane.
The logistics of planning a wedding that's taking place in New York, when I live in Philadelphia, the groom lives in New Orleans, I will be moving to New Orleans 6 months before the wedding, the groom's family is in South Jersey, and various members the wedding party live in Philly, South Jersey, North Jersey, Alabama, and possibly even London by the time of the wedding...ARE ENOUGH TO MAKE ME INSANE.
Thank God I still have a year and two months to figure it all out.
Saturday, October 27, 2001
1. Days when the temperature changes by 30 or 40 degrees overnight.
2. Days when it is so windy that my scarf won't even stay wrapped around my neck.
Allow me to explain. The things that I call "ass-fruits" are actually called gingkos or something like that. I got the name from Lucas, who called them "ass-berries", but they look like little citrus fruits so I changed the name.
They grow on trees with pretty fan-shaped leaves and really nice blossoms in the spring...but the fruits. My GOD, the fruits.
For a full month or two every autumn, the fruits cover the sidewalk and road underneath the tree (there are three of them on my block). And these fruits...STINK. Heaven forbid you should accidentally step on one; your shoes will stink for days.
It's difficult to enjoy a nice, breezy autumn day when you're hopping around, playing ass-fruit hopscotch.
And it's even worse when the temperature just dropped 30 degrees overnight.
Friday, October 26, 2001
What makes me really laugh is that one site had a page called "Quincinera & Sweet 16"...and all the tiaras said "15" on them.
Gee, I wish I'd had a tiara with a great big "15" on it for my Sweet 16.
I know exactly what kind of headpiece I'm looking for, but I'm having some trouble locating it online. They don't have it at my bridal salon either. OH WELL. I've got over a year to keep on looking, right? Right.
Unless you're reading this in my archives over a year from now. In which case...sorry, boys, I'm married.
It's not my fault you're 40 and the best job you can get is as a cashier at a second-rate Rite Aid. (I call it "second-rate" because the Rite Aid that's ONE BLOCK away is much bigger and generally better.)
So I went to CVS to buy my dishwashing liquid. The cashier was friendly. I will go there from now on, without exception.
And I was like, "Yes it is."
And then I realized why it is that I never won Peacemaker of the Month when I went to Catholic School.
Thursday, October 25, 2001
Tuesday, October 23, 2001
10. the end of the baseball season, aka the Yankees kicking everyone's butts
8. every school year I begin is one school year closer to the end (I'm on my last one, yay!)
7. the leaves changing color
6. squash (the vegetable, not the sport)
5. it's not too hot, but not too cold either
4. sweet potatoes
3. breezy days
2. caramel apples
1. my birthday
Tuesday, October 16, 2001
This is one of the things she said (not exactly word for word, but I'll try to remember as best I can - I'll get the gist of it, at least):
"One time I was walking on the beach with my daughter Sami, and she asked me, 'Once you have a husband, how do you keep him?' I picked up two handfuls of sand, and with the one hand, I made a fist and squeezed really tightly, and she saw the sand leak out from between my fingers. I left my other hand open, and the sand stayed there. She learned a fundamental truth that day: force is not the same thing as love."
Did she, Marlena? Did she really?
Where's Sami been lately, anyway?
Regardless, it's a good message.
You know what, though? When you're older, you're better able to handle the pain. I was 12 when I got my ears pierced, and it barely hurt at all. I was 17 when I got my second hole, and yeah, it hurt, but I held my best friend's hand and got over it. (Actually, the pain was mostly due to the fact that the posts of the earrings were bizarrely thick.)
When you're a baby, though, you don't know that it would "hurt more" if you had it done when you're older. All you know is that it's the probably the worst pain you've ever experienced. Does the fact that the baby won't consciously remember it later really make it okay? (Let's not forget the importance of the subconscious...and besides, you don't consciously remember your mother holding you during those first crucial months of life, but we all know how important that is to our future development.)
I was in Claires today, and a couple was having their baby's ears pierced. I've heard a lot of babies cry, but I've never heard a baby cry like that.
First off, did you know that you can order ANYTHING on the Taco Bell menu, with chicken instead of beef? It's true. I was standing in this colossally long line at Taco Bell today, all psyched to be getting my Baja Chicken Gordita and Chicken Soft Taco, and I found myself gazing longlingly at the picture of the regular, hard beef taco.
Now mind you, I haven't eaten beef since I was twelve, and I don't even consider it food anymore.
But I do love me some crunchy taco shells.
I decided that I would make some veggie tacos (using veggie "crumbles" - like ground beef, but not) sometime in the near future, and get my Chicken Soft Taco as usual.
And then I saw the sign.
It beckoned me to "Turn my Taco Bell favorite" into an "indulgence" by substituting "marinated chicken".
It was like a dream come true.
I was a little bit nervous as I stepped up to the cash register, because I've been going to Taco Bell for years and years, but I'd never had a special order. Special orders are usually a pain in the ass (I despise mayo with a hatred unknown in the universe, so I know whence I speak), so I was a little apprehensive about placing a special order at the peak of the lunch rush.
"I'll have a Baja Chicken Gordita, and...can I get a hard taco with chicken?"
She didn't even look up.
I was golden.
I was soooo excited that it never occurred to me that a chicken taco in a hard shell would be exactly the same thing as a chicken taco in a soft shell, only in a hard shell. In other words, it wasn't all that remarkable, as far as taste is concerned.
But oh, the shell...it was a hard shell. There's just no getting over that.
Monday, October 15, 2001
Sunday, October 14, 2001
Oh, well. I don't need visitors, I've got my computer.
That sounded really pathetic, didn't it?
Pretend I didn't say it.
Saturday, October 13, 2001
I've been telling you all about the lessons I've learned from watching Days of Our Lives lately. I said that you can stab a guy and shoot him three times, but if he's pure evil and looks like Dave Navarro, he won't die.
Make that seven times. Yup. Shot seven times and he's still breathing.
Isn't that insane?
Oh, and they surprised me today...Belle & Shawn went into a janitor's closet to make out and didn't get locked in. I thought this was a TV show!
It's 3am, I must be lonely...looooooneleeeeeeeey.
Don't ask me why I'm still awake...I don't know. Actually, I do. I was educating myself about stylesheets at Webmonkey, then I was catching up at the MSW message boards (since I've barely been online all week) and then I read all of Uncle Bob's entries that I missed.
And now I'm going to go to sleep.
Sometimes I wish I could just fall asleep earlier. Like, even if I was sitting at my computer, it would be so great to just keel over and fall asleep with my head on my midi keyboard. Just so that I could sleep like a normal human being. You know, experience daylight.
It sucks because I love the sun. I hardly ever see it.
That's an exaggeration, by the way.
I'm going to sleep now. Goodnight.
Friday, October 12, 2001
I've been mostly resting because I am kind of sick. I lost my voice through over-use and all of this congestion is rising up around it. Also my throat is so irritated that I keep on coughing all the time. This probably seems pointless, so to point out the gravity of the situation, I will remind you of two facts about me that you may not know:
1. I have a heart condition (relax, it's nothing serious), and I'm not allowed to take decongestants.
2. I'm a musical theater major. I sing. No voice means no singing. I had to sit out a mock audition today. Boooo.
So how did I lose my voice, you ask? Well...remember the Sweet 16 I mentioned? You know how loud the music is as Sweet 16's? I was trying my best to talk over the music all night, and it just ripped my voice to shreds. The music was so loud and everyone wanted to talk to me about the wedding. Of course, nobody else's voices were affected. I guess the fact that I was already a little sick contributed.
You'd think that all the years of voice training I've had would've made it possible for me to talk loudly without injuring my voice, but apparently not.
Monday, October 8, 2001
It isn't about Holy War. It isn't about US involvement in the Middle East. It isn't about the immorality of the American people.
It's about the Emmy Awards.
They wanted to get rid of the Emmy Awards.
They couldn't bear to watch Frasier win again, either.
(In case you don't remember, the Emmy Awards were postponed due to security concerns in the wake of 9/11. -3/22/07)
Friday, October 5, 2001
Well, I'll just sum it up this way: I clapped my hands, I screamed an unnaturally high-pitched squeal, I jumped up to my feet with such force that the remote controls on the couch went flying across the room, I threw my pillow up in the air. (I guess that's why they call it a throw pillow...HAHAHA.)
In one word:
(This entry was in reference to the revelation that Ross was the father of Rachel's baby. -3/22/07)
Thursday, October 4, 2001
Wednesday, October 3, 2001
"It's getting to be good funeral season. December, January...all the people shoveling snow. It's terrible to talk about it, but you know...it puts food on the table."
His family owns a funeral home, by the way.
1. The key to keeping a marriage fresh is walking in slow motion. (Of course!)
2. If you are a high school student on a school trip in Puerto Rico, and you are reported drowned, the news media in your hometown will be notified, but your parents won't. (Never mind if you actually were drowned or not.)
And let's not forget the lesson that we learned last week: you can stab guy and shoot him three times, but if he's pure evil and looks like Dave Navarro, he'll still be able to get to a deserted island in an inflatable motor boat in the middle of a hurricane...and faster than three teenagers on jetskis, too.
Tuesday, October 2, 2001
Don't you hate that?
Monday, October 1, 2001
Trey Parker & Matt Stone are working on the movie version of the show "That's My Bush" (which was cancelled b/c it was too expensive to produce). The movie is going to be called George W. Bush and the Secret of the Glass Tiger.
I can't wait.
(I'm still incredibly disappointed that this never panned out. - 3/20/07)
we sat on my back porch and watched it.
I dreamed that the buildings all fell down
we sat on my back porch and we watched it."
-"Busted", Matchbox 20
Just my little piece of proof that anything can seem prophetic in hindsight.
Sunday, September 30, 2001
Today I slept until almost 2pm (I am sick, I need my rest!), watched "Maternity Ward" on TLC (my new favorite cable channel) and went grocery shopping. They had acorn and butternut squash, which makes me happy b/c I love squash. The thing is, they were both marked "2 for $1", which seemed kind of odd. I looked more closely at the sign, and realized that it said, "2 for $1 per pound"...which doesn't make a lick of sense when you think about it. I figured it meant 50¢ per pound...but apparently it meant 69¢ per pound because that's what it says on my receipt. I swear, if I didn't live around the corner from this place, I would never shop there.
Today I discovered that Gerber brand "Lavender Wash" (aka, lavender scented baby wash) is the most awesome thing I've ever bought. It smells great, leaves my skin soft, provides for a nice, smooth shave (I'm too lazy to use a separate shave gel), and it doesn't turn my skin all red and bumpy. I truly believe that if you have sensitive skin, the best thing you can do for yourself is take a little trip down the baby aisle.(However, I'd never even dream of using that stuff on my BABY - too chemical-y. I don't even use it for myself anymore. It's all about Burt's Bees for us now. - 3/20/07)
Saturday, September 29, 2001
Friday, September 28, 2001
Thursday, September 27, 2001
Wednesday, September 26, 2001
When I was 14, I thought Eddie Vedder was the hottest thing on the planet
The guy I had a crush on for the 2nd half of freshman year (of high school) could recite pi to the 100th place, or something like that. That wasn't why I had a crush on him; it's just a fact. Also he was a Pearl Jam fan.
I watched "A Wedding Story" on TLC today. I love that show. That song that they play at the end of every episode seriously sucks, though.
My favorite movie when I was in 6th grade was Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.
My favorite movie now is The Princess Bride.
I am officially a "South Park Super Fan" - I answered all of the questions correctly. Not that they were all that difficult. I voted for "The Red Badge of Gayness" as my favorite episode - it's the one with the Civil War reenactment.
The book I am reading right now is "The Way of the Wizard" by Deepak Chopra. It's pretty cool.
One of life's happiest moments, for me, is when I walk past a flower shop and see that they have tulips for the first time that fall. Usually, this doesn't happen until October, but I saw tulips today and it made me very happy.
I started using baby shampoo today, on the logic that I probably won't become allergic to it, the way I become allergic to every other shampoo I use.
That's all. Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, September 25, 2001
Saturday, September 22, 2001
Friday, September 21, 2001
"Long before the Super Dome,
Where the Saints of football play,
Lived a city that the damned call home.
Hear their hellish roundelay:
Home of pirates, drunks and whores,
Tacky, over-priced souvenir stores
If you wanna go to hell,
You should take a trip
To the Soddom and Gomorrah on the Mississip'
Stinking, rotten, vomiting, vile
Putrid, brackish, maggoty, foul,
Crummy, lousy, rancid and rank,
-"Streetcar! - The Musical" on The Simpsons
First, as a self declared "Suzy Stars-and-Stripes" (I stayed up last night printing out stickers and magnets of the ribbon I have on the right, to hand out to people today...just because), I am troubled that people are hanging the American flag BACKWARDS. The blue field ALWAYS goes in the upper LEFT-hand corner - even when it's vertical. Which means that it isn't enough to rotate it, you have to flip it over, too.
Second: if you have very wide hips, you shouldn't wear very low-waisted jeans. I'm not being judgemental or sizist or anything; I just think that there's such a thing as dressing to your own best advantage. Dress to hide your flaws, not accentuate them. Duh.
Also, if you're a guy (and I don't care how gay you are), you shouldn't wear lace-up jeans or other such womanly clothing on a day-to-day basis. When you're dressing up to go to a club or whatever, fine. But for a regular day...it just looks silly (to me, at least).
That is all.
(Here are two exceptions to the flag rule: http://www.ushistory.org/betsy/faqs/q30.htm and http://www.ushistory.org/betsy/faqs/q57.htm - however, this is not what I was referring to in this entry; I was talking about people hanging a one-sided flag vertically, backwards because it is one-sided. For more information, and a neat list of famous people - including the president - violating the flag code, go to http://www.ushistory.org/betsy/flagetiq.html - 3/20/07)
Thursday, September 20, 2001
To sum up: I wasn't carded and I'm disappointed.
Wednesday, September 19, 2001
Tuesday, September 18, 2001
Tomorrow is also my birthday.
My 21st birthday.
I am still trying to decide whether I want to just go through the day as if it's just any normal day (aside from going to the liquor store and buying a bottle of Amaretto and some sour mix), or if I want to wear a sparkly pink tiara and a t-shirt that says "I'M 21!!!"
Maybe I'll bake some cupcakes to bring to choir rehearsal, you know, like we used to do in elementary school...but only if I go the sparkly-pink-tiara route.
Monday, September 17, 2001
I bought myself a cheesecake to eat on Tuesday (instead of baking a cake).
Speaking of Cake, they are a really cool band.
I still think that some kind of military action is necessary...but only for the purposes of protecting innocent people and making sure that those responsible for this can't do it ever again to anybody else. I have seen and heard so much talk about revenge that I am almost sickened. (I'm not quite there yet, however, because I can understand that a lot of people are still very, very angry.) I actually saw a religious leader (I don't remember from which religion) on television today, say that revenge is justified...that vengeance is the right thing to do.
No, no, no, no, no.
Vengeance belongs to God. It is not our place to decide who should receive what punishment. We must act out of a sense of protection and prevention, not out of a sense of anger. Jesus himself forgave the people who crucified him, because they did not know what they were doing. And while it is quite a stretch for me to even think this, let alone believe it (which I am trying to)...these people honestly believed that we, as Americans, all deserve to die. They honestly believe that we are sent by the devil; they believe that our military personnel are the soldiers of the devil; they believe that our civilians are evil. Which in no way excuses the thoughtless taking of thousands of human lives. However, the attitude that the terrorists hold, the attitude that brought this attack about, is the attitude that evil must be punished. These people believed that we had wronged them, and they took vengeance. That is why I am disturbed so deeply when Americans call out for revenge; they are displaying an attitude that, at its root, has much in common with the evil that we want to be rid of.
Those who have studied martial arts (or watched a lot of Bruce Lee movies) know that it never does anyone any good to strike out of anger. When you must strike (and indeed, I believe we must), it is imperative that you do it with a clear head.
I've been searching for a quote that clearly states the message I have been trying to convey, and surprisingly, it didn't come from the Bible or Zen teachings; it comes from a Will Smith song:
"Throughout your life people will make you mad,
Disrespect you and treat you bad.
Let God deal with the things they do
'Cause hate in your heart will consume you, too."
Saturday, September 15, 2001
Friday, September 14, 2001
My point was going to be that it just didn't seem worth the risk. It was when midtown was being evacuated that I came to this decision.
Well anyways, I'd been saying for the past couple of weeks that I just want to pretend my birthday doesn't exist, since the last couple I had were pretty disappointing. Well, I got my wish, but I wish I hadn't.
Thursday, September 13, 2001
I just had to close my window b/c the delivery trucks and stuff sound like airplanes to me.
My loud neighbor is blasting music again. It isn't pissing me off this time, it's just adding to my nervousness.
There was a guy handing out copies of the Gideon Bible in front of my school today...it's that pocket-sized version that contains the Psalms and the New Testament. As I held it in my hands, waiting for the elevator, all that I could think was, "This is what they give you when you go to boot camp."
Wednesday, September 12, 2001
My alarm went off at 9am. I hit the snooze button, then I hit it again...then my phone rang. I grumpily dragged myself out of bed and across my apartment.
"You should turn on the TV, hon. A couple of hijacked planes crashed into the World Trade Center. They think one of them has structural damage. I thought you should know."
I gathered up my pillows, moved to the couch, and set the alarm on my phone for 11am, convinced that I would fall back asleep in front of the TV. As soon as I turned it on, however, I knew that I was wrong.
I sat there, utterly intrigued and a little frightened, watching the story play out. I'll never forget hearing, "I don't want to alarm anybody, but it just felt like there was an explosion here at the Pentagon." At this point I started to panic. This was probably also the first time I burst into tears.
Next I heard about the plane that went down near Pittsburgh. Now I was really frantic. Philadelphia could be next, and I live about five blocks from City Hall. In fact I live directly in the shadow of the Drake Tower, one of the taller buildings in Center City. "Every year I learn another reason why it's not good to live right in the middle of a major city," I thought (the protests surrounding the RNC last summer were quite frightening).
I tried to call my mother's cell phone but was unsuccessful. All I wanted was for her to tell me what to do. Should I go to class today? Should I stay put? Should I try to get out of the city? Philadelphia Int'l Airport was announced to be closed a full 10-15 minutes before the FAA closed all of the Airports in the US; I think that this was the moment that made me fear for my life.
At around 10am I decided to take a shower and get dressed, so as to be ready in case of...I don't know what. When I came back into the living room, I saw that the first tower had collapsed. I absolutely could not believe it. One tower? It was inconceivable. I cried harder than I had ever thought possible. Then I flew into a panicked frenzy, running around my apartment, throwing clothing (and wedding-planning materials) into my suitcase, packing up my laptop, throwing school work and first-aid supplies into my messenger bag.
Then I sat down to wait. The second building collapsed, and I didn't know how to react. I wanted to flee, but I had nowhere to go, and the public transportation was basically shut down; besides which, I would have to go towards the highest buildings in the city to get to the trains.
When I learned that all Philly schools were closing at noon, I knew that I would not be going to my 1pm ballet class, whether UArts was closed or not (I still don't know whether it was). Besides fearing for my life, it just seemed so trivial.
It was at around this point that I started keeping a diary, and this is what I wrote throughout the day and evening:
Everything seems so trivial. How could I possibly even think about going to class at a time like this...a ballet class, no less.
This is it. Is there really any way to get over this? To recover? Things can't ever possibly be the same again. How can anyone ever feel the same when they look at the NY skyline & the twin towers are gone?
They used our own planes against us. God.
Obviously the plane that crashed outside of Pittsburgh didn't hit where it was supposed to. God I shudder to think where it was supposed to hit.
Why on earth would they tell everyone with a TV where they're bringing the President?
Finally, local NY news (on VH1). MTV is still showing their regular broadcast. How dare they; they are owned by the same people.
If I were in NY, I would totally go to give blood.
I hear helicopters.
At least they stopped the construction [on the Kimmel Center in Philly] around noon.
LIE is shut down west of 106/107. My parents live just west of 106/107.
Why are people criticizing the military? What could they have possibly done to prevent this? They used our own planes w/our own citizens aboard. We would never have forgiven our military if they had shot down our own people. That was the evil genius of it - even if we had known what they intended - which we couldn't possibly have known - there's nothing that could've been done.
Another building fell down. My God.
I napped from about 2:15-2:45, and when I woke up, everything seemed even more surreal.
Sen. Hilary Clinton (D-NY) is doing a hell of a better job of being calming than our esteemed President.
Lord, help their families. Help them to understand why this happened. I know that there is some reason why you allowed this to happen, but help us to understand it; if not in our heads, then at least in our hearts.
I want to be in a Church somewhere but I'm afraid to leave my apartment. I just want to wake up tomorrow and find that none of this had really happened. What scares me the most is the future. What is going to happen? How many more people are going to die as a result of this?
There are still helicopters; I can hear them. I wonder if everything will be back to normal tomorrow. I wonder if anything will be back to normal, ever.
Why does it have to take something like this to bring together everyone in the country? To erase political schisms and agendas. Why can't it be like this always?
God bless America, indeed.
I just start crying and I can't control it.
Holy shit. $5 per gallon for gas in Kansas.
The Palestinians who are celebrating...they are calling out, "God is great." People who hide behind religion to commit horrific acts are cowards. These things are clearly against God's laws and wishes, no matter who your God should happen to be.
I should be doing homework. I have sooo much to get done. But I can't bring myself to leave the TV, and I can't bring myself to do something as trivial as play analysis or math problems.
New York City. How did this happen to NYC? Manhattan...we've always felt so invulnerable.
How can the Twin Towers just be gone? I never got to do the tourist thing...
I hope I see a bloodmobile tomorrow. It's a shame I'm not Type O.
They really need to do a better job with [Philadelphia] Mayor Street's teleprompter. They're making him look stupid.
Still, the helicopter
My children will not know what it's like to drive past Manhattan and see the skyline that I grew up with. They won't know what it's like to feel safe.
I've been watching the news for about 11.5 hours now. It's all so inconceivable. This didn't really happen, did it?
Tuesday, September 11, 2001
Wednesday, September 5, 2001
Tuesday, September 4, 2001
And I thought to myself, "Geez! It seems like I was just up there, teetering perilously atop a stepladder, replacing the lightbulb in that sorry excuse for a lighting fixture."
Then I remembered that the last time I had to change a bulb was when all of them blew out around the same time, which was shortly after I moved in...which was a full two years ago.
My, how time does fly.
So I was clicking "random" on my different diary rings and I ended up at this one stereotypical 14-year-old's diary. The difference was, at the bottom were a bunch of countdowns (kind of like the one I have to my wedding). One was until her 15th birthday (almost a year). One was until her boyfriend's 21st birthday (less than a month). One was until her 18th birthday, and one was until her WEDDING DAY (when she's around 19).
Yuk, yuk, yuk. I'm all for "age is a number" and all, and I've had my share of "you're too young to be getting married" comments (incidentally, from people who DON'T know me at all), but this girl is barely 14. Her boyfriend is MY AGE and there is just something wrong with that as far as I can see. I remember when I was 14, MY GOD it's like I was a different person then...I couldn't even IMAGINE having dated someone SEVEN YEARS OLDER than me...and in NO WAY could I EVER imagine dating someone SEVEN YEARS YOUNGER than me now.
I have no doubt in my mind that this "wedding" of hers will probably not pan out; but that still doesn't erase the fact that it's just plain CREEPY that she's even DATING this guy. Yuk, yuk, yuk.
Sorry about all the shouting, but I am just appalled. Yuk, yuk, yuk.
Monday, September 3, 2001
Keep in mind that I still have a year and almost 4 months to go until the wedding. (Then again, I've already been engaged for almost 10 months...and I've been buying the magazines for longer than that, I admit it.)
I was going to save all of them so that by the time the wedding came, I could get my picture taken standing next to the stack of magazines that was taller than me. Then I realized that the stack would probably fall over and kill me. So instead I'm just saving the covers from all of them. Don't ask me why...I guess to prove what a crazy magazine addict I am. I am the queen of wedding magazines!!! hahahahahaha!
(I think I still have all of those covers filed away somewhere. - 3/19/07)
Sunday, September 2, 2001
-- Click Here To Take The Test --
At least I didn't rate "Very High" in anything.
My answers might have been affected by the fact that it's (almost) 3am - I must be lonely - and I am quite the tired Kerry. I just can't muster up the energy to fold up and put away all the laundry on my bed and it's just easier to stay on the internet in the other room. My fingers feel funny.
I must be lonelyyyyyyy hey well she says baaaaabyyyyyyyy yeea-uh well I can't help but be scared of it aaaaaaaaall sometimes....
I am writing this in Notepad b/c "sorry, we're just doing some fixing to the site right this second, so certain users can't add entries. it'll be back very soon!"
The funny thing about this disorders test, is that a while back (like a year ago, at least), I thought that an internet quiz that told you what's wrong with you psychologically would be really awesome, and I was going to write to thespark.com and suggest it...I don't remember if I ever did. At any rate, The Spark has the best quizzes, and this one was kind of interesting and I think I'll go to bed now.(When you change your time zone in the Blogger settings, it changes the time stamp on all of your previous entries as well. This entry was originally written at 2:58am. - 3/19/07)
I'm watching MTV, and I'm seeing the video for "Short Skirt/Long Jacket" by Cake for the first time, and it is soooooo cool. I mean, I totally adore the song, and for the video, they just kind of went up to random people on the street and had them listen to the song on headphones and videotaped their reactions. People either hate it or love it. A bunch of them are dancing like idiots in the middle of the street. I cannot express how cool it is.
I also saw the video for "Weapon of Choice" again...I still love it.
I guess in order to actually see videos on MTV, you have to watch pretty late. I mean, some of the shows they have are pretty cool...but wouldn't you expect MTV to be MUSIC TELEVISION, and MTV2 to be shows and such? How much does it suck that in order to get 24-hour music videos, you have to pay more, b/c MTV2 isn't on basic cable? I think that's pretty dumb.
Remember when VH1 was totally uncool? I love VH1 b/c their shows have to do with MUSIC. They were having a "below the belt" marathon on today (it's a kind of documentary show about sexuality in rock & roll) and one of the people they interviewed in a lot of the episodes is one of my professors. On TV, she seems so calm and knowledgable. In real life, she's on speed.
Hip hip videos...they still make videos like this? Girls in bikinis with bouncing boobies, guys being "tough"? Geez.
thus commences today's train-of-thought entry.
Saturday, September 1, 2001
My legs hurt.
My smoke alarm just went off and I had to disconnect it.
One of the SNL's with Pearl Jam is on Comedy Central right now and I am enjoying it.
It's kind of funny, when I think about it. When I was 14, I was soooo into Pearl Jam. Now that I'm 20, I'm soooo into NSync.
Like I said before, I'm living backwards.
Friday, August 31, 2001
Thursday, August 30, 2001
When I first moved into this apartment, sophomore year, I actually became physically ill from lack of sleep. This is maybe the 3rd or 4th person who's lived down there AND THEY'VE ALL BEEN LOUD. I don't care if I sound like a crotchety old man. I need my sleep! I have class in the morning! (Yuk.)
I think my favorite downstairs neighbors were the couple who was always fighting. One time I thought someone was banging on the ceiling to get my attention because they were locked in the bathroom or something. Because there was quite a lot of screaming, too. Apparently, these people just banged on the ceilings when they fought, or something.
Next came the guitar player. Can't *really* complain, b/c I know that in order to perfect your tone, you have to practice with distortion and amplification. But every time I tried to take my mid-afternoon nap...at least it wasn't in the middle of the night.
Also *wonderful* (sarcastic) was the one who would bang on the ceiling when I would bang on the floor as a way of saying "shut up". (In my defense, there's no way for me to go downstairs and knock on their door, because their door isn't on the inside of the building; it is only accessible through the courtyard and I don't think my key opens the door to the courtyard. Besides I would have to get dressed, exit the building, walk all the way around, etc...)
Also in my defense, it does say on the lease to be quiet after 10:30.
I got tired of stamping on the floor; now I keep a tap shoe next to my bed, which I just kind of hammer away with. It harkens back to the days when I would put on my tap shoes and practice in the kitchen of my dorm room when our downstairs neighbor got obnoxiously loud. And, yes, his music was OBNOXIOUSLY loud. I can say this with complete confidence, because he made the concrete floors & walls shake. Ya gotta be pretty loud to make concrete shake.
Tuesday, August 28, 2001
Seriously, he was so specific and committed and natural, it was amazing.
There was this song about Sundays at diners, that was an amazing parody of Sunday in the Park with George. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. It was brilliant.
I was expecting to see a lot of aging Rent-heads (like myself) in the audience. Instead the tiny little theater was filled with old people. It was a little disappointing.
Monday, August 27, 2001
Never thought I'd miss New Orleans. I guess it goes to show that Home is whatever the h*ll you're used to.
Sometimes I think it totally blows that I live in a majorly overpriced apartment, and yet I have to do things like buy and install a new toilet seat myself. I could've called my landlord and asked for one...but Geez, when the ceiling was falling down it took them months and months to come and fix it.
Oh yeah, and when they finally did, they dripped plaster and white paint all over EVERYTHING. It should take me about 3 or 4 hours to scrape it all off of the bathtub...oh yeah, and there's some on my favorite turtleneck sweater, too. (Which wasn't even in the bathroom.)
Isn't that a nice thing to come home to?
I would still be scraping and otherwise cleaning, but my back hurts. Here's a tip: if you're trying to unscrew a big ol' plastic bolt and it just keeps on turning and turning but you're not making any progress, try looking for the nut on the other side and holding it in place with pliers or something; don't just try to pry the mofo off with a hammer. And try to be observant enough to notice that there IS a nut w/out having to do an internet search for "toilet seat replacement".
On the upside, the toilet sure does look spiffy.
Saturday, August 25, 2001
Friday, August 17, 2001
Thursday, August 16, 2001
I'm slowly working my way through the stuff I read or was supposed to read or should have been required to read but wasn't, in high school. I hated it then but I'm devouring it now. The "required reading" table at Barnes & Noble totally rocks.
Now I just have to refresh my French and learn Italian. (Because, you know, I could end up living in Italy someday. God Bless the Navy.)
I hate school. But I love learning. Yeah, I'm one of THOSE.
Of course he told me the crazy surprise twist a long time ago - to be fair, at the time I had no desire to see it (all he talked about was how bloody it is).
I'm sure that the movie would've been a lot cooler if I'd been surprised. BUT. Knowing the twist, I did notice a lot more.
The other cool thing was that Brian warned me when the especially bloody parts were coming up so I could look away. I am Jack's sense of squeamishness.
I love that freakin' movie.
My favorite part is when Brad Pitt (I mean, Tyler Durden) falls off the bike. Hehehe.
My other favorite part was listening to Brad Pitt rant and rave about "you are not what you own" just a couple of hours after I read about the mansion he and Jennifer Aniston bought. Ah, Hollywood.
PS, "Who leaves a country packed with ponies to come to a non-pony country?" (I'm watching Seinfeld.)