*

There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone. There is an off-focus light cast by the moon, and the streetlights are part of the spotlight apparatus on a bare stage set up for you to walk through. You get a feeling of being listened to, so you talk aloud, softly, to see how it sounds.

-Sylvia Plath

(outside my window)

Come on!

Today my professor for a GE literature class went ahead and blurted this in the middle of class (about a classic novel I've been wanting to read)
"I'm not giving anything away - so I can tell you how she murders her daughter. She pulls her head back and takes a saw to her throat."

Then he proceeds to read us the last page of The Things They Carried - once again reassuring us he wasn't giving anything away.
This is such a literary faux-pas I don't even know what to say. I wanted to plug my ears, but then I would have been that girl. I don't consider myself a book snob by any means, but he was being fucking ridiculous. Come on!

On a happier note I re-fell in Love with the comic "A Softer World"
Go here:
http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=373
It'll make you happy,
happy with dark humor and sexual undertones..

She sells sea shells

I took a walk on the beach today after work.
As I was matching my footsteps into the prints of a large dog I suddenly remembered the last time I'd been at that particular beach.

It had been a moody walk. One of those I'll take because I really need nobody in the world to know where I am at that exact moment. (Although I once played hooky in HS for this very reason and then Casey & Lindsay ditched school as well- to find me. It didn't take them very long to find me in Barnes & Noble. Fuck me...even my rebellion/depression is predictable)

So anyway, it had been one of those walks.
I was most likely moping, scowling at happy couples and giggling children, asking myself why I'd chosen a beach for social-escape in the first place.
Then as I was searching for seashells I saw one of the whitest seashells ever. It was so white. I stopped walking and stared down at it. It was one of those little shells that spirals up to a tip. The shell was sitting upright, basically pointed right at me, and I felt instantly happier. This perfect seashell had been waiting for me.

I leaned over to pluck the miracle shell from the moist sand and then squisgh my fingers mooshed right through it. I had pinched my fingertips through a seagull turd.

Despite my disgust and disappointment I still managed to marvel at the metaphor. When something in life looks perfect and feels special - it's usually a pile of shit.

So today I steered clear of any and all seashells. Someday I'll start looking again..

As if

I didn't already love Jason Segel enough.
He's such a funny, intelligent, nerd.
Listen. You won't regret it.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=102232289&ps=cprs

this interview makes me want to dry hump the "images" portion of his google results......wait what?

God?

Last February I got oral surgery for gum recession.
The surgeons front desk had a small glass bowl full of chapstick, glossy labels advertising the business. I took one before walking into surgery.
After the darkest hour of my physical life I snagged one more tube of chapstick on my way out - as a statement.
Both of them had their labels soon ripped off. I wanted no chance of giving them extra business..

The recovery was long. They'd told me it would be a quick recovery!
The recovery was very painful. They'd told me I might have some mild discomfort.

I went in a week later to have the stitches taken out and I snagged another tube of chapstick as my passive way of saying "up yours baldy!"

At the final 3-month checkup I acquired not one, but three more tubes of their fancy advertising chapstick. (That that Dr. QuickrecoveryMilddiscomfort) Labels were torn off and thrown away.

I recently ran out of my last revenge-gloss. I'd grown fond of the light vanilla scent and I felt a little panicked at the thought of finding a new chapstick. This morning I had a teeth cleaning. My dentists office happens to be right next door to the oral surgeons.

I'd constructed roughly three different conversations/scenarios that would be my excuse for going into the surgeons office.
1.) Hello I was wondering if you guys could give me a flyer on teeth whitening? This coffee has got me on a short leash harhar...
2.) I'm here for my 10am appointment. What I don't have one? Oh I forgot I'm next door today whoops silly me harhar...
3.) I'm fucking obsessed with your free chapstick give me more!

I walked in the door and saw the small glass bowl brimming with chapsticks. A man sat waiting for an appointment.
I stood at the counter, the bowl within inches of my folded hands. The receptionist was in the corner talking to the scanner. I was about to say something, but then she chuckled at herself and kept pressing buttons. Like a flash I snagged a tube of chapstick and slid it in my sweatshirt sleeve. HarHar!
I know for a fact the man waiting behind me saw every move I made. But I didn't care. I felt exhilarated.

Without waiting for the receptionist to turn around I left the office and went to get my teeth cleaned.

It's times like those I gaze up at the heavens and whisper a suspicious, thank you?

I Wish

Amidst the stress of finals and the fever of my sickness this week I came to a realization -
if a genie granted me three wishes I am fairly confident one of those wishes would be to dance like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mVEGfH4s5g

It was a blurry morning as I faded in and out of sweaty, sick, sleep, that I sat up straight in bed and decided this. I'm pretty sure a lot of my problems would be solved if I could dance like that.

Don't ask me what my other two wishes would be. Those are top secret.

Springtime is curling its warm body around our little coastal town lately. I feel like we barely got to spend time with winter. I already miss fog and rain. How am I supposed to be my usual depressive & cynical self when the sun is out?
My windows are open and there's a light breeze. Small purple petals from the dangling wisteria are falling like snow.
I guess spring isn't all that bad...

Courtesy Of

Miss Sara Madelyn
circa 2002
As mentioned in #4 of my 10 Things post.

Sara has only improved since these very early adventures with photoshop. Her imagination is a wild animal incapable of being tamed.

I miss you.

Oh and Happy St Patricks Day to you all! Nothing quite like driving around a college town at 10am and seeing dozens of drunken students dressed in green. Oh finals week -

1 Funny Thing

&
1 non-Funny thing.
You choose which is which.

--- One of the cats left a lump of shit on my window sill. I'm trying to decipher the message he intended.



--- While at work today my student asked me to draw Spiderman. As I was drawing I told him in High School I'd had a Spiderman backpack. Puzzled, he looked up and said, "But I thought people in High School didn't wear cartoon backpacks anymore." I shrugged and told him I just liked the movie.
He paused before leaning forward, looking suspiciously into my eyes, and saying, "Maybe you were in the special day class -"
Touché my child..touché..


Currently Listening to:
"Time Running"
by Tegan & Sara

A Bum I know

Today I was walking across the street at school towards the bus stop. A very disheveled man sat on the bench in front of me, most likely a vagrant, so my narrow-mind whispered sit somewhere else. So I did.

After I sat down and surveyed the man a little more I suddenly realized it was my fiction professor from last year. I remember now that he was always pretty absentminded and dusty looking. His fuzzy grey curls, thin-rimmed glasses that magically darken in sunlight, stuttery mannerisms, and soft tan clogs that he doesn't put on all the way but instead walks around crushing the heels under his socked feet.
He was talking on his phone, about semi-colons haha. When he hung up I walked over and sat down next to him prompting him to declare "I've been meaning to call you!" I emailed him last Sept about writing and we've been playing this oh-hey game ever since.

Through the course of the conversation somehow I gave him my # (he never had in the first place like he'd assumed) and we're going to go "get drinks" at some point next week to talk about writing. Does he mean alcohol or coffee? Day or night?

I also found out that he'd been laid off, rehired, and reminds me utterly of Larry David.

I also found out that he went to Grad School with Michael Chabon and they were "oh yeah good friends but then..oh wait here's my bus. Is this your bus? Oh okay well then we'll have something to talk about when we grab drinks..."

Michael. fucking. Chabon. I get to hear first hand accounts, intimate stories, of Michael Chabon pre-pulitzer prize. Fuck. Yeah. Contain your jealousy..

I Saw

a whale today! A wild whale!
The first few times the water sprayed I thought it was a wave crashing against the rock. But then the rock kept moving positions. Then I realized it was a whaallle!! A whiiittewhaaaale! At one point it poked its giant nose above the waves before spinning back below & curling its tail.
I gasped and pointed even though I was standing on the rocks all alone.

Also I turned in my senior project today...what what? Twenty pages of original poetry, sir. Done.

The Best

Missed Connection I Ever Read
(Thank you again Maggie for sending this to me years ago. It still makes me laugh..)


sassy 4 eyes gal on the 6 Parnassus last night -
34 (haight ashbury)
Date: 2007-04-05, 12:47PM

last night after work...
you, sitting in the first seat behind the driver, looking retro in your cat eye glasses, faux vintage red leather jacket and matching lipstick. you were gossiping happily on your cell phone.
me? i was wondering why you didn't shut the fuck up and give your seat to the elderly lady who limped down the aisle in front of you.
hope to see you again.

10 Things

Ten Things I Can See Right Now:

1.) My unmade bed
2.) The light-up Big Bird lamp I got at Good Will
3.) The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath sitting atop Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events "Book One"
4.) A small photo of Brad Pitt's oil-slicked&bare chest from Fight Club that Sara photoshopped Harry Potters (way too young) face on
5.) The blinds to my window
6.) The 4slats in my blinds that Scout destroyed in an attempt to see the birds outside
7.) My bedside clock which still hasn't been adjusted for the time change
8.) A bag of change. Lots and lots of change
9.) The dried bouquet I caught at Laura&Charlies wedding (expect my wedding invitation any day now...)
10.) A plastic crawdad floating in real water

I always

hate going to professors office hours.
Feels way too much like therapy. Sitting in a chair, facing an adult who asks personal details about you, and comments on them. It's even more uncomfortable when the teacher is reading your poetry out loud to you, vocalizing intimate lines about your nipples and orgasms..ehhh....
see you in class tomorrow prof!

Always feel like I should be handed a prescription slip or a bill for $200 by the end of the session.

Poem forthe Day

The Divorcee and Gin
By Kim Addonizio

I love the frosted pints you come in,
and the tall bottles with their uniformed men;
the bars where you're poured chilled
into the shallow glasses, the taste of drowned olives,
and the scrawled benches where I see you
passed impatiently from one mouth
to another, the bag twisted night around
your neck, the hand that holds you
shaking a little from its need
which is the true source of desire; God, I love
what you do to me at night when we're alone,
how you wait for me to take you into me
until I'm so confused with you I can't
stand up anymore. I know you want me
helpless, each cell whimpering, and I give
you that, letting you have me just the way
you like it. And when you're finished
you turn your face to the wall while I curl
around you again, and enter another morning
with aspirin and the useless ache
that comes from loving, too well,
those who, under the guise of pleasure,
destroy everything they touch.

I am

lonely.
horny.
nostalgic.
&
unfulfilled creatively.


Which I suppose describes 80% of the human population

Baloney

Been struggling through a book about Buddhism for my China class.
Getting mindfucked by sentences like this,

-- The power of organized religion to provide sovereign states with a bulwark of moral legitimacy while simultaneously assuaging the desperate piety of the disempowered swiftly reasserted itself - usually by subsuming the rebellious ideas into the canons of a revised orthodoxy.

How many of you out there honestly think I'll be finishing this book before writing the report? Anyone?
The writer is a whore for adjectives and flowery verbs. A stupid, sweaty, male escort to unnecessary literary add-ons.

I bought "Tension Tamer" tea today. I think it may be working? Placebo effect...hello?
I also got a caffeinated one called "Morning Thunder." Now I can't wait for monday morning!

Happy March by the way! Thank the lordy-lord that February is over huh..
Mental hugs to you all


Currently Listening to:
"My Name is Trouble"
by Nightmare of You